#I have never seen someone else suspect foul play

[sharpscion]

[ Rat-Tat Tooey ]

"I've never seen so much food in one place in my life." She supposes they are small so it would be easier to acquire such a bounty. But it still is just so much. "I don't even know where to start. It all sounds so good."

scáthach looked out at the bountiful harvest placed before them, constantly being restocked and added upon by small mouse servers. each one looking more proud as they dropped off the food in front of shrunken student and teacher alike. he was content to watch as they worked, truly just amazed at the spectacle he was witnessing. with lord seliph taking a break from festivities for some food and drink, this was the only chance scáthach would have to truly take in the odd sights of this ballroom.

he hadn't expected her to join him there in amazement, though, or even to pick up a conversation with him. altena had been crucial to their success in the liberation, but they'd never really spoken to each other. She too busy with her familial termoil, and him trying to keep lord seliph safe from any potential harm. it was only natural to suspect her, to keep a closer eye, but she had proved him wrong. it did make him feel bad, to look at her with accusatory eyes, but he could at least make up for that now. "it is hard to believe that some mice and bugs could make all of this..." he spoke idly, picking up a plate to furnish with the most prime looking of dishes for lord seliph.

"to be honest, it's a little off putting seeing a sight like this... but, well- we all have to eat, i suppose." that and he hadn't noticed any foul play from their eccentric servers, and so he couldn't find a reason not to trust them. almost everyone at this point had accepted this strange reality, and taken drinks and food from mice and crickets. he might as well accept it, just as they have, or else this night would continue on very slowly. "i might suggest this cut here, and possibly some of these sides here too." he pointed out some cuts of

meat and some homey sides of food. nothing he would have grabbed for his lord, but they were things he often enjoyed as comfort food when possible. should he ever have a chance to come back here tonight, he might grab some himself.

"if you'll excuse me though, altena... i have someone waiting on me."

[dragonmasterhiccup]

“Well, yeah, I guess I wanna learn how to make them, but it’s just…” She sighed. “What if it fails miserably, and it doesn’t work at all?” She’d probably never touch it again.

She raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms over her chest. “Oh, really? I need to experience that? Or do you just want me to experience that? There’s a difference y’know.”

“Well, like I said, they’re probably not as cool as this one, so don’t expect much.”

She nodded back. “Thanks, Valka!”

“I guess you’re right with that one,” she replied, shrugging.

“Camicazi! Hey!” She smiled. “Yeah, I’m feeling better. Sorry I’ve been gone for so long-“

Gobber blew the horn, cutting her off, and the race began.

“Who are you rooting for? Wait, lemme guess, it’s Astrid, am I right?”

Danny conversed with Camicazi as the race progressed, still making sure to stay focused on the dragons and their riders.

A little ways through, she spotted someone out of the corner of her eye. It was Spitelout. He had moved closer to the Chiefs platform, though not too close; there were still about six rows of people beside him, preventing him from moving closer.

Danny turned around, looking back at Hiccup and nodding her head in his direction. She was a little nervous, but she knew she was fine; Hiccup and Valka were right there, along with Toothless and Camicazi.

"Then we rework it, make a few tweaks here and there, until it does work. I told you how many versions of the flight suit I went through, didn't I?" It might take time, but they'll get there.

He chuckled. "Oh, no, you need to experience it!"

Camicazi confirmed she was rooting for Astrid as well, but also the twins. She liked them and their shenanigans.

Hiccup watched as the other riders flew, glad that everyone seemed to be having a good time. Toothless whined softly, and the young chief laid a comforting hand on his friend. "I know, bud, I miss it too. Maybe we can join in next time?"

The crowd cheered as Snotlout netted another sheep. It was a close game today, with a three way tie between Astrid, Snotlout, and the twins. Fishlegs was only slightly behind, but it was anyone's game, really.

By the time Danny had seen Spitelout, Hiccup was on his feet, cheering for his friends in the excitement.

He returned her nod with a reassuring smile, before glancing over and spotting Spitelout in the crowd. Valka stood next to Hiccup. "You don't believe he'll try anything, do you?"

"No, he and I sorted it all out this morning. He won't be touching Danny, and he won't have anyone else do it for him."

"Well, that's good news, but doesn't that still leave you open for him to harass in some way?" There was some concern to her voice as she spoke.

Hiccup shrugged. "Possibly, but I'm not too worried, I can handle it." His voice lowered. "At this point, the whole tribe saw him try to undermine me. If anything happened, he'd be the first anyone would suspect of foul play." His voice returned to normal. "Besides, I told him I wanted to work with him, not against him. For how...thick headed he can be, he does have some good insight and ideas here and there. He was on Dad's council for a reason."

His mother didn't seem too satisfied with that answer, but she nodded, sitting with the girls to watch the last of the race.

Hiccup nodded at Gobber, who then gave the signal. "Last lap!"

The young chief stepped forward, and knelt down to speak with Danny and Camicazi.

"At this point, anyone can win. Who do you think will, though?"

[pungent-things]

Greater Dreams and Open Letters: Part 2

Greater Dreams and Open Letters: Part 1

A full year has passed since Shane Newville’s Open Letter to All Who Treasured Monty Oum. Many people want to forget this letter existed, and I don’t blame them. The amount of turmoil and conflict this letter brought forth was severe, traumatizing, even. People took multiple sides by supporting Shane, Rooster Teeth, or opting to wait out the storm. It was not a good few weeks to be in any fandom related to Rooster Teeth.

Ultimately, nothing happened. Rooster Teeth never acknowledged the letter’s existence. Total silence. People gradually forgot about the letter and standard fandom operations resumed.

Why bring it back now after so much strife? Good question.

In my previous post (linked at the top) I was quite clearly on Shane Newville’s side, and I still am. Time has passed since then, and I’m still searching for closure.

According to Wikipedia, Rooster Teeth was acquired by Fullscreen in early November of 2014, for an undisclosed amount under the guise of “gaining the resources and tools needed to compete against other producers”. When was the last time you heard of a company buy-out another for an “undisclosed amount”, especially from a company that prides itself with being open to its community? This lack of disclosure becomes an alarming trend, especially when Shane’s Open Letter gets involved.

February 2, 2015. People were told Monty Oum died from an allergic reaction during a simple medical procedure. It took 15 months to find out the “allergic reaction” was from a maintenance allergy shot. Why keep this information from the public? For the longest time, many people believed the reaction was caused by anesthesia, which would have made sense. But a maintenance allergy shot? Inside of a hospital? Where these procedures are performed on a regular basis?

He [Monty] had only gone in for a maintenance allergy shot— this sort of thing doesn’t happen. -Page 15, At the Hospital

Shane suspected something wasn’t right.

Rarely, a serious systemic reaction called anaphylaxis (pronounced an-a-fi-LAK-sis) can develop. Symptoms include swelling in the throat, wheezing, a feeling of tightness in the chest, nausea or dizziness. Most serious systemic reactions develop within 30 minutes of allergy shots. This is why it is strongly recommended you wait in your doctor’s office for 30 minutes after your injections. Your allergist is trained to watch for reactions, and his or her staff is trained and equipped with the proper medications to identify and treat them. -Source in reblog

I have to ask why this detail was omitted from Rooster Teeth’s original announcement of Monty’s death. When Satoru Iwata died later that year, the details surrounding his death were made fully available to the public. So, why not for Monty? Why omit so much? Did the full story make the circumstances surrounding his death suspicious? Was the vague report just a trap to stop people from looking into things further?

I was suspicious from the very start. Whenever someone neglects to tell the full truth, my trust in them drops significantly, and this was the second instance of omitting the truth in three months.

There are three major points in the Open Letter that I want to draw attention to:

In fact, throughout Volume 2 and up to his death, Monty was trying to figure out a way to take RWBY offsite to his own studio (likely somewhere in LA), with his own team (myself, Sheena, Kristina Haku Nguyen, Max Song, Ein Lee, maybe a few more animators, etc.) so we could craft it the way he intended it to be from the start.

[...]

Of course that was not exactly a realistic situation... at least not yet. But he wanted to do things his way. He did not like what was happening and where production was taking things as it continued to grow bigger and less efficient. -Page 13, A Small Team

After much discussion over coffee he came up with an awesome tool for Poser he called the “Pivot Tool”, where we could easily animate the change of weapon parenting from its holster, from one hand to the other, or both, etc. It would let us change between world and local rotation, and it had a built­in blur tool for weapon spinning. It was something we had been hoping to make for years and it was finally ready to go. However, for Volume 3 they decided we weren’t allowed to use this awesome tool because it “breaks” the new pipeline they implemented.

Monty also developed a facial rig to make all the new animators happy. Everyone else on the team came from the professional industry where they are used to using Maya and standard face rigs with little objects off to the side representing the eyes, brows, mouth, etc. Monty’s tool simulated those facial rigs that Maya animators were used to using because they kept complaining about how much easier it was to do in Maya. Unfortunately, no one got to use it because it was later decided not to be important enough, or something. So this tool went to waste. -Page 12, New Tools

Monty liked to create characters based on people that he knew. Winter Schnee was created in Sheena’s likeness, and it was his intention that she would also be doing her voice. Sheena is a great concept artist and had already crafted her design. This had been approved by Monty for Volume 3 back in December of 2013. Not only did Rooster Teeth take away any possibility of Sheena playing the part, the design was scrapped and recreated as what we eventually saw in Volume 3. -Page 18-19, Winter Schnee

These three points are some of the most important parts of Shane’s Open Letter.

The first point: Monty taking RWBY offsite with a small team, including his wife, Sheena Duquette. Ideally, Monty should never have considered taking production offsite if his current studio at Rooster Teeth wholly supported his workflow. The simple fact that he wanted to should speak volumes about what he thought of standardization. Not to mention that Rooster Teeth saw fit to ignore Monty’s workflow, which had worked for the company for years, in order to conform to industry standards.

The second point: New tools for Poser. I’m no animator, but I can understand how useful the tools Shane described could be when it comes to animating. The facial animation tool could be seen as an olive branch toward the standardization Rooster Teeth was undergoing. Many of the animators worked with Maya, which came with tools for facial animation, tools that Monty did his best to emulate. Unfortunately for Rooster Teeth, that meant sticking with Poser instead of converting to Maya, lest they invoke Monty’s wrath. Monty’s popularity meant that Rooster Teeth couldn’t say no in order to keep him from turning his fanbase against the company. How strange for Monty to fall into a coma less than a month after developing these new tools.

The third point: Winter Schnee and Sheena Duquette. For some unknown excuse, Rooster Teeth despises Sheena.

It was at some point in March that we finally had our first pre­-pre-­production meeting to start talking about how to move forward with the show. Right away, one of the producers made a strong statement that I did not like.

“Just so you know, Sheena has absolutely no business, whatsoever, with any part of RWBY.”

It was clearly aimed at me, the only one in the room who actually spent time with Sheena and Monty discussing RWBY. -Page 16, March

These people singled out Sheena, announced her alienation as their first order of business in their first meeting, and no one has any idea as to why. Monty approved of Sheena’s design of Winter Schnee back in December of 2013, and even wanted her to voice the character. Why would Rooster Teeth spend the resources to fully scrap a Monty Oum approved character design and defy his wishes? Why is Sheena portrayed as such a threat to them?

These points feel more like a motive than anything else.

Rooster Teeth wanted to standardize their work environment and alienate Sheena, for some excuse. Monty got in the way just by doing what he loved for the fans. How does a corporation deal with someone like this?

The thing is, Rooster Teeth might not have had a choice. It is completely possible that Fullscreen was the one to make the decision in the end.

RWBY was gaining popularity at an astounding rate. Fullscreen wanted to profit from its success, so they offered to buy Rooster Teeth and provide the “resources and tools” that would undoubtedly interfere with Monty’s workflow and original vision. Rooster Teeth couldn’t say no, but Monty would have rejected those “resources and tools” vehemently. As soon as Monty and Shane develop their own animation tools that likely emulated those provided by Fullscreen, Monty suddenly falls into a coma and dies ten days later.

Instead of having to deal with the crippling aftermath of Monty taking RWBY development off-site, he dies, Rooster Teeth and by extension Fullscreen get to enjoy a massive wave of monetary support on the deceased image of a Hero, and no one ever thinks to suspect foul play.

Coincidences don’t line up like this by mistake. Something rotten occurred at Rooster Teeth, and I would love to hire a private investigator to find out exactly what happened.

[ahundredtimesover]

Fight for You (08) | JJK

Pairing: Jungkook x (f.) Reader

Genre/Tags: bodyguard!jk x heiress!reader; angst, smut (18+)

Chapter Warnings (series warnings in the masterlist!): foul language; tears ☹️ sexual content (making out, breast play, fingering, unprotected sex [but please be safe!]) (18+)

Chapter Word count: 11k

Series Summary: Working at a private security agency has its perks. The downside? Being the personal bodyguard of spoiled, rich heiresses like you. But there are things that Jungkook didn’t expect, like rejecting you, falling for you, and realizing what he’d been missing all along.

A/N: We’ve reached the end! Thank you for enjoying this couple and their little story with me. 😊 Huge thank you to Ash @jimilter​ for this wonderful banner! 💞 This made everything much more alive for me.

Listen to: Losing You by Busted, Daylight by Taylor Swift, Love Me Like You Do by McBusted

Series Masterlist || Previous | Epilogue

##

Your mind is going a thousand miles a minute, coming up with different other “matters” that need to be discussed involving you and Jungkook that aren't about your secret relationship. 

But you see the way your father eyes you both with a stern look on his face and you know he’s doing this on purpose - making you nervous until you crack. 

“What is it, father?” You start, trying to look as unbothered as you possibly can in a situation like this. “Is something wrong?”

“I’ll cut to the chase,” he responds. “I’ve been alerted that you two are in a romantic relationship.”

You visibly swallow hard and briefly glance at Jungkook who’s staring at the wall behind you with a hard look on his face, as if internally processing the shock of being found out, something he’d been so worried about. 

You try to figure out how it might’ve happened - you trust the people who know about you and Jungkook with your life and are sure they’d never put you in a situation like this. 

You quickly trace your steps, knowing you didn’t see each other the past week, until the night of the party flashes in your mind and you feel like crying at the thought that someone might’ve seen you and you’re the reason why you could potentially lose everything.

“The par—“

“The orphanage,” your father says, surprising you and Jungkook.

“That can’t be,” you mumble, thinking it’s one of the last places you’ll ever be found out.

“One of my people visited yesterday,” he continues. “He was curious why the center staff were so anxious when he introduced himself as someone who’s working for me - accompanying him everywhere, steering him away from certain rooms… It all seemed suspect and made him wonder what they could possibly be hiding when you had nothing but good things to say about them.”

You’re nibbling your lips and gripping your fingers out of dread, as you play the previous day in your mind and wonder why nothing had seemed off to you. 

“But their records seemed clean and there was no funny business at first glance but he lurked around after he left the center, perhaps hoping he’d catch any of the staff and see what they’re up to. And well, they were up to something, alright. Well, you were.”

Your father retrieves an envelope from his drawer and shows several photos of you and Jungkook by your car from yesterday - going out of the orphanage together holding hands, giving each other hugs, sharing a kiss. 

There’s no way either of you could deny this, so you deflect, as something else has caught your attention.

“Why did you send one of your people there?” You question. “I gave a full profile, did my own vetting. I’ve been going to the orphanage for years; I know them so well already. Were you doubting the project and me?”

“I wasn’t, but the directors were.” Your father releases a deep breath. 

“I got Sejin from management support to check out the orphanage so I have information to back you up if I need to but that’s not the point here, ____.” He hardens his glare. “The point is, you and my bodyguard have been romantically involved all this time. Behind my back. And I can’t have that.”

“I’m deeply sorry, Sir,” Jungkook says with a guilty look in his eyes that somehow hurts more this time than before. 

Is he sorry for being with you?

“I’m not,” you argue, your tone harsher now. 

“___,” Jungkook says, eyeing you, as if telling you to keep it down. 

“Why should I be sorry for loving him?” You exclaim, the words you’ve been keeping to yourself finally coming out. 

Your father’s eyes widen in shock and from your peripheral vision, so do Jungkook’s.

“___, do you even know what you’re talking about?” Your father scoffs. “Don’t mistake this for some silly crush just because he took a bullet for you. I won’t put it past you to misinterpret your feelings or even his actions just because—“

“I know what I feel, father,” you interject. “And it’s not some silly crush or an infatuation or something fleeting. I liked him even before he saved me in that alley. That’s why I had him replaced,” you sigh, looking down on the floor as you hear Jungkook hold his breath. “Because I liked him so much that I couldn’t be around him if I couldn’t be with him.”

The silence from both men is deafening and you don't know which one scares you more - your father’s or Jungkook’s.

“And after what happened, I just grew to like him more. He’s so good to me, and he respects and trusts me,” you continue. “And I know you may think it isn’t right but—“

“Of course it isn’t, ___! He’s my employee, and you’re my daughter. This is a conflict of interest! I’m paying him to protect me, not to fool around with you!”

You see Jungkook release his breath, clearly shaken but trying hard not to break.

“But nothing’s changed!” You argue. 

“Neither of us are compromised. I mean, it’s hard to find time to be together but he fulfills his duty for you without fail and I carry out my functions as expected. Yesterday was his personal time; he has the right to spend it how he wants, especially since he devotes 6 long days following you around and making sure that you’re safe. And he hasn’t failed a single time ever since we got together,” you counter, almost breathless now.

“He’s helped me so much because unlike many people in my life, he actually believes in me, believes I’m capable and that I’m good and he’s done way more for me and made me feel more important than any of my shitty exes combined. And that’s the kind of man he is - he has so much heart and he’s so good at taking care of people, duty or not.”

You feel so many emotions as you stare back at your father, perhaps the most tense it’s ever been between the both of you. You’re ready for his scolding, even if the only time you ever answered back was when you were 13 and you never did it again.

It’s not in your nature to be like this, especially towards your father, and he seems as surprised as Jungkook is with how you’re standing your ground this time.

Your father sits back and crosses his arms, his eyes scrutinizing. “Why didn’t you just have him removed from the security team, then, instead of having him replaced?”

“Because this job is important to him,” you explain, briefly looking at Jungkook. “It matters so much to him. He works so hard to be as good and as skilled as he is, to be respected by his clients and his superiors. You know what he’s like. And he’s always—”

“Hey,” Jungkook takes your shaking hand to calm you down, a resigned look on his face. “It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not. He has to know what I feel about you, what we feel for each other,” you respond, about to grip his hand before he slowly lets it go.

“Oh, I know. I see it,” your father says, surprising you. “I’ve never seen you fight for anything or anyone like this. Not even for yourself.”

You bite your lip to stop yourself from crying, the emotions suddenly overwhelming, leaving you speechless for a few moments.

“It’s because I love him. And I can’t lose him.”

You turn to Jungkook who’s unable to meet your eyes again. 

Maybe it’s still too early for him. Maybe he’s still surprised. But you expect him to at least acknowledge what you feel or even express what he feels, and not act like he doesn’t know what to do. 

“You mean that? You love him?” Your father asks.

“Yes,” you answer, feeling defeated. “And I don’t want to be with anyone else if it’s not with him.”

His eyes flit from you to Jungkook, looking for more cracks, for any reason to decide if this is truly unacceptable, until he speaks again. “Fine,” he sighs, catching you by surprise.

“I don’t trust any of the men that have been offering themselves to date you. Clearly, all of them have ulterior motives and bad records. I can’t have us be vulnerable like last time and…” He releases a breath as he holds your gaze. “I trust Jungkook. And I trust you.”

They’re words you never thought you’d hear from your father and you’re elated at the thought that he’s not as upset as you thought he would be despite his initial reaction. 

You hadn’t wanted to waste your time thinking about the what if’s, happy enough to just be with Jungkook, enjoying your time together and figuring things out. You knew one day you’d have to face this situation and getting your father’s approval just means much more than you imagined.

Your father speaks, his voice stern once again, cutting through the hope you’d been filled with at the thought of his acceptance.

“But your job is to protect, Jungkook. It’s complicated and I can’t have you as part of my security team anymore. And I won’t pay you to be my daughter’s personal bodyguard just so you can do whatever it is you’ll be doing…”

“So that means he’ll be reassigned. He can’t. I mean, we’ll barely have time together, then,” you say worriedly.

Your father turns to Jungkook. “But I also can’t have you date her when that’s what you are.”

“With all due respect, Sir, it’s a dignified job. I’m proud of it, I’m proud of what I do and what I am,” Jungkook says, the most he’s said this whole time.

“And I’m not saying it isn’t. Heck, what you do is way more dignified than what the people you’re paid to protect do. Except for us, of course,” he manages a chuckle. 

“But my daughter is the heir of the Lee Group. You can’t be her bodyguard or even anyone’s for the rest of your lives together. People are gonna talk and that’s—”

“Then let them talk,” you interject.  

“And then what? You’ll just let them say things about you? About Jungkook? They doubt you enough.”

“Well, then that’s their problem. He’s not doing anything wrong—“

“___, do you know what being the successor of this company entails?” Your father’s tone is sharp again. “I don’t care if it’s their problem; it’s still our problem. We have an image to maintain. We need to associate ourselves with people who won’t taint that image. He may have a pristine record but he’s still just a bodyguard. People won’t look at his good heart, they’ll look at his title, his job. You should know that.”

“But—“

“How will our people trust you to make the hard decisions, to be mature in crucial situations if you can’t even accept this simple reality, ___?”

You catch Jungkook’s defeated face and you hate that your father is making him feel inferior, knowing he has more integrity than most people you know. 

You understand the situation but it doesn’t mean you’re not disappointed. You don’t care what Jungkook does for a living; you just hate that others do. Your world doesn’t take too kindly when it comes to people like him, with an upbringing that isn’t grand and a profession that doesn’t rake in millions. 

This is too big for you to fight and right now, with Jungkook barely saying anything, you feel like you’re fighting it on your own.

“But what else can he do?” You huff in desperation. 

“He can come work for the company,” your father says. 

“But I’m trained to protect, Sir,” Jungkook contends. “It’s all I’ve known to do.”

“And there’s more you can do. There’s logistics, operations, even security. You’re good at many things. I’m sure we’ll find something for you. It’s better than you remaining in the agency or working for another company.”

“I don’t like being handed things to me, Sir. I’m sorry but my conscience won’t be able to handle that.”

“I know. And I admire you for sticking to your principles but dating my daughter requires changes, Jungkook. You should know that, too. It may not seem fair but we have a reputation to uphold, especially her because she’ll be taking over the company, and that requires you being part of our world.” Your father sighs. 

“You don’t have to like it but what won’t you do for the person you love?”

Your father is met with silence and the more the life from Jungkook’s face drains, the harder it becomes for you to breathe, as if this is the hardest decision he’s ever had to make. His job or you. The fact that it doesn’t come as easy as you thought it would be is just making your heart break even more. 

“You can just work on the arrangements with Mr. Han and your agency and you can proceed to applying for the company, as it’s really the only compromise that’s gonna work. I won’t manipulate it; I’ll let Human Resources handle everything.”

You look at Jungkook who’s clearly shaken, his eyes wide open in shock that his world and everything he’s ever known is slowly slipping from him, just as yours is, as you realize the longer time passes where his heart really is, and it doesn’t seem like it’s fully with you.

“Can you give us some time, father? We still have things to consider,” you say weakly, trying to force yourself to want this for Jungkook. 

Much as it hurts to give it time because it just proves that you’re just another option and not the only choice, you say it for him, knowing he’s unable to.

“Fine,” your father hums. “But both of you can’t pull this again,” he warns, taking the photos and shredding them in the machine. 

“Don’t talk in public, don’t make eye contact, not unless you’ve settled things down. Keep your word that you’ll at least keep everything a secret until he’s out of the agency and in the company.”

You and Jungkook nod but you don’t think that request would be hard to follow because right now, it’s suddenly difficult to be around him.

**

It’s you this time who builds a wall so high up that you can’t see anyone calling your attention on the other side. 

You preoccupy yourself with work for the next couple of days, pouring everything into it, from end-of-year projects to the sponsorship program design and launch. You skip your cafe runs and head straight to the office and stay there for the next 12-14 hours, as you squeeze in your meetings during the day and work on other things during the evening. 

You shrug off others’ concerns of you not getting enough rest; you nod at their advice to take a break, and you smile through their assurances that they’re there should you need someone to talk to.

You don’t let your mind wander to Jungkook, as the thought of him - his face, his words, his inaction - causes a pang in your chest. 

It’s three days later when you see him for the first time since being at your father’s office. Clad in your trenchcoat and sporting sullen eyes and a face that’s lost its shine, you head out the elevator across from where he does as he escorts your father to the lobby. 

You bow to him and he gives you a stern look as if in warning and you don’t even spare Jungkook a glance, and this continues for the rest of the week when you’d briefly see him around the office. 

You don’t respond to his messages, either. 

You’re giving him time, you tell yourself. You thought that fighting through this together was a given but you suppose that’s the selfish part of you that’s talking; he did say he has more to lose and you try to understand where he’s coming from. It just hurts to think that he needs time to think when it comes to losing you, too.

Your best friends, Namjoon, Mr. Sim, and Mrs. Hwang don’t know any more than your father finding out and you letting Jungkook think his options through. It’s your cop out answer but when they try to comfort you by saying you’ll work it out, you shrug in response because right now, you really don’t know if you would. 

**

Jungkook’s mind is a mess and like how he tends to be when things aren’t alright with you, he doesn’t know what to do. 

It had been easier before, he thinks now. After you learned about Soo-ah and ran out his door, the most important thing for him was to talk to you, tell you his side, let you know he’s sorry and that contrary to what you thought, he really wanted you.

But he doesn’t know what to say this time around.

You’d admitted to him, in the presence of your father, that you don’t want anyone else but him, that you love him, and that certainty scared him. 

You have the privilege to be certain; he doesn’t. You’d known from the very beginning what you wanted from him, what you could give him, but he doesn’t. 

With Soo-ah, who didn’t have much, Jungkook tried to give her everything. But even after all the years of hard work, of holding out for her, of hoping and waiting and ensuring that the love they had for each other when they were younger wouldn’t die, he didn’t feel like he was enough. He didn’t feel like he could give her what she wanted, whether it was money or something more.

And now with you, the woman who has everything, he still feels that way. 

Maybe it’s really him. Maybe he just isn’t meant for this. Maybe he just isn’t made to love. Maybe that’s the irony - he could give what he can, give all of himself - his time, his body - yet he still doesn’t know how to love. Or maybe, he doesn’t think he’s worthy of it in the first place.

And it’s you at the end of it, hurting because of him.

**

It’s Sunday morning and you still haven’t returned any of Jungkook’s calls or texts. Usually by this time, he’s already in the car with you on the way to the orphanage. 

He hates to think you don’t want him there with you but he goes there anyway after much thought. He tells himself that he misses you and admits that the whole situation with your father’s ideal arrangement has just exposed all of Jungkook’s fears when it comes to being you. 

Knowing what he has to give up reminds him that all he is, is his job - the one he gave his life to when he’d felt lost all those years ago, the one that gave him the opportunity to be anything more than the neglected child who had to learn how to survive on his own. It’s difficult to acknowledge, but one he doesn’t have a choice but to accept.

The front gate opens to reveal a sympathetic Ina who’s trying her best to look comforting.

“Did she come in today?” Jungkook asks. 

“Yeah, she left an hour ago. She didn’t stay long, actually; she just wanted to see the kids quickly.”

He sighs in disappointment, confirming that on the one day you could be together, you really chose not to be with him.

“You know, the way she looked at the kids started to change ever since you started coming,” Ina mindlessly says, her own sadness at the situation overtaking her. 

“She used to just look at them with so much love so she could give them hope, until she started feeling hope herself, too. Like she started to believe she could truly have everything, that she could really be happy. And I’d bet a lot and say that’s because of you.”

Jungkook tries to envision that image of you, but whatever he conjures somehow just pains him more.

“She gave me a lot of hope, too,” he says. “I… I just don’t think I got to tell her that.”

The silence lingers and Jungkook lets it comfort him for now.

“Can I ask something though?”

He looks back at her then nods.

“I know that she loves you, that she admitted that to you in front of her father, and that you didn’t say that you love her, too.”

It’s hard to but he recalls that day, how he’d been too overwhelmed, too afraid that he didn’t say it back.

“Then why do you look at her like you do?”

This catches him off guard and all he can do is look back at her with those crestfallen eyes, unable to give a proper response.

**

Ina’s words ring in Jungkook’s head, like a sad song he knows he has to stop listening to but he just can’t help not to. He doesn’t know how he looks at you but he knows what he feels when he does. 

It’s nothing like the rundown alleys and fish markets of his childhood where the feeling of safety was in the familiar. It’s not like the old streets of home and the laughter of his first love that used to be his lifeline.

How he feels is like that family restaurant with your favorite noodles, like the park where you watched the rain together, like the mattress on his floor where you held each other and it felt like home. 

He looks at you and it feels like the fresh ocean breeze that's soothing, like the cold waves that give him a sense of calm.  With you, the safety is in the unknown, but that there’s you holding his hand and guiding him through. 

Jungkook once told you that he doesn’t really like the ocean. It makes him feel powerless, he’d said.

Powerlessness. Losing control. Not in the ways that strip him of his dignity and personhood but the kind that enables him to surrender, to let things that burden him go. It feels liberating and exciting. It’s comforting. It’s also absolutely terrifying. 

And that’s why when he goes to your house and you open the door, all he can bring himself to do is cup your cheek with his hand. And while he’s reminded of how it feels when you’re there, keeping him steady, he also feels like being in a dark tunnel of uncertainty where he’s held back by his own thoughts, unable to reach the end of it where you are.

You close your eyes and revel in his touch, one you always miss yet also feels unfamilIar every time. 

The surprise and longing quickly wear out and all you feel is hollowness and also pain. 

You want him to hold you but you also don’t want to get burned. 

So you take a step back and pull away.

“Don’t do this to me again, Jungkook,” you plead. “Don’t make me believe you want me, too, when you really don’t.”

“But I do, ___,” he replies, wanting to reach out but he clenches his fist on his side instead. “You have to know that I do.”

“Clearly not enough. Everytime we go one step forward, you always pull away two steps back. And I don’t know what else to do,” you choke back your tears. “I love you. God, I love you. But you keep hurting me. And you’re being unfair.”

“It’s not easy for me, okay!” He admits, burying his head in his hands in frustration. “There's so much of me in everything I do, there’s so much of myself I can’t let go of,” he sighs. “There’s just so much at stake, there’s so much to lose. But I don’t want to lose you, too.”

It’s the kind of confession that’s more heartbreaking than anything because of its uncertainty. It’s a push and pull between who he is and what he wants and you don’t know who’ll win.

“Then give me a chance. Give us a chance. Stop being a coward and love me back,” you beg. “If you can’t, then don’t lead me on, don’t drag me around until you decide you’re good enough. Because you know I’ll always want you, I’ll always wait for you. But that’s not fair to me. If you can’t let go of whatever it is that’s holding you back, then just let me go.”

He sees you clench your jaw to keep yourself from crying, and the sound of your choked back tears lets him know how hard you’re trying. 

He’s seen you cry too many times and every time it’s because of him, he says he won’t do it again but somehow, he just always ends up hurting you. 

“I’m sorry, Jungkook, but I can’t be around you right now,” you manage to say as you wipe a lone tear that slides down your face. “I, uhm, I’d really like for you to leave, please.”

It’s not meant to be a test. It is hard for you to be with him right now knowing that his heart and mind are a mess and you don’t seem to be enough to ease his worries. But it doesn’t mean that watching him drop his head then turn to walk away doesn’t hurt as much as it does, and you wish he hadn’t come at all. 

You close the door and walk back to your living room, straight into Yoongi’s arms, as he’d heard what transpired and immediately made his way to you. He hugs you and lets you cry, and it’s not long after when you feel Hoseok caressing your back, telling you to let it all out and that they’re there, ready to shoulder your pain with you.

“How come I can’t ever make him stay?”

It’s a question neither of them knows the answer to, so like they always do, they sandwich you in a hug until your sobs subside.

“People end up hurting those they love because they don’t feel they deserve the love they’re receiving,” Hoseok tells you, the same line he said all those years ago when you almost lost them.

“How do I show him that he deserves it?” You whimper, as your best friends wipe your tears away.

“You can keep trying,” Yoongi answers. “You know what it’s like to have people give up on you, and what it’s like to have people stick around. Loving is in the waiting too, isn’t it? We wait until they’re ready to be loved by us, and we wait until they’re ready to love us back.”

**

Jungkook winces in pain as he hits the sandbag, clutching on his wounded hand but punching the filled leather once again. 

Jin could only watch in helplessness as his friend allows himself to get hurt like this, like payback for hurting you the way he constantly does. 

“Fuck!” Jungkook yells, pulling the glove off and throwing it on the floor. 

“Maybe if you hadn’t punched that poor wall the other day, you could probably still do your workout properly. Ever think of that?” Jin snickers, taking his first aid kit and tending to the cuts on Jungkook’s knuckles. “Seriously, you’re an idiot. You’re lucky it’s not broken.”

“I know how to punch it hard enough for it to hurt but not enough to break,” Jungkook responds blankly, eyeing his blood-tainted hand and recalling the afternoon he left your house a few days ago. He was so frustrated with himself then and mindlessly punched a wall on the way home.

“And it was sharper than it was harder. Not a big deal.”

“Yeah, not until that wounded hand hinders you from performing at your job because it’s the most important thing right now, right?” Jin chides. “Not the girl who’s done nothing but love and fight for you, the one who makes you happy but the one you can’t be brave enough to love back?”

This truth hurts, much more than Jungkook’s bleeding flesh.

“Why am I like this?” He asks.

“I don’t know. I ask myself the same thing.”

“See, this is why I can’t be good for her,” Jungkook groans. “I’m—“

“Scared,” Jin finishes. “For a guy trained to protect, who risks his life for other people for a living - I mean, you took a bullet for her - you’re a pretty cowardly guy. You’re scared of good things. You’re scared to commit.”

Jungkook clenches his jaw, knowing he asked for this, and he doesn’t have an escape because if there’s anyone who knows him, it’s Jin.

“I always wondered why you still took the Lee assignment when you said the one before this would be your last,” the older man says. 

“You already saved up enough, Kook; you had what you needed to go back home but you didn’t. And I think that’s because you couldn’t commit to Soo-ah. You’d spent the last decade working to be what you thought you needed to be for her and then when you finally were, you just copped out.”

Jungkook sighs at the slap of reality he knows he deserves. 

“What was it you were scared of? Going home? Loving her? Finally building a life with her, even if it’s the one you worked so hard for?” Jin presses as he bandages Jungkook’s knuckles.

“In hindsight, you wouldn’t have met ___ if you didn’t take this job but it’s the same problem again, isn’t it?” Jin continues. 

“You build something with her, then have it slip through your fingers… You try so hard to be with her, and now you’re doing it again - not committing, not fighting for it, like you’re so scared to take things once it involves another person. What good will keeping this job do when you can’t keep around the person who matters most?”

Jin’s words echo in the empty gym. They haunt Jungkook all the way home and as he lays in bed, he forces himself to face the ghosts of the last 29 years of his life and all that went wrong and all that he lost.

He’s so hung up on his past and so afraid of the future, of what he could have and who he can be with because he doesn’t think he can make them stay. His mom left, his dad gave up on him, Soo-ah let the love die…

And he’s afraid that given all that he is compared to you, there’s not much he can give. After the excitement dies down, he doesn't know what comes after; he doesn’t know how he can make you stay. So he pulls away and allows the other things to blind him instead until he forgets the most important things - you, and what he feels about you. 

Jungkook mulls over this for the next few days as his mind is constantly filled with your laughter and your smile and your touch. His anxiety heightens when he gets a message he doesn’t expect.

[From: Unknown Number] Hi, Jungkook. It’s Ina. I got your number from Mr. Sim but anyway, I found something I was hoping to give you. Drop by the center if you can 

**

Ina stands by the gate and hands Jungkook a photograph of you and him, the scene of not long ago at your father’s office playing in his head.

“Remember the party we had last month where ___ bought the older kids some film cameras so they could take pictures? We just finished printing the films of the last batch and I found that,” she says, watching Jungkook stare at the photo.

It’s of you holding one of the babies in your arms with Jungkook standing nearby, his body turned towards you. He’s not sporting the widest smile but it’s the kind that’s comfortable, certain, with a tinge of longing that isn’t sadness but hope. It’s a look he never realized he has on when he’s with you. 

“I told ___ that you have a look of love whenever you’re both here, and it’s always when you’re looking at her,” Ina claims. 

Jungkook tries to memorize the details of the photo - your smile, his body language, the brightness of your eyes and the clarity in his. 

“She’s adamant that you’re probably just thinking about your childhood but I believe it’s something more, don’t you think? It’s not the past you’re thinking of anymore, is it?”

Jungkook shakes his head, the smallest of smiles forming on his lips. 

“Thank you, Ina. I just hope it’s not too late.”

**

Jungkook sits in the gazebo of the park that you two had stayed at once to wait for the rain to subside. That was when you’d told him about your nightmares and how amidst the fear, all you wanted was to know that he was okay. 

There’s all of you in here, as you are in every place you’ve both been to and share a memory with. 

A memory. He wants more of those with you. He realizes as each day passes, he wants everything with you.

“Wow,” Jin’s voice breaks through Jungkook’s thoughts. “I don’t think we’ve ever met anywhere that isn’t the gym or some street food stall. I’m starting to reevaluate our friendship.”

He sits next to Jungkook and eyes the photo that his friend is clutching.

“I’m not scared to love her,” he says, ignoring Jin’s remarks. “I already do.”

He hands the photo and Jin’s face softens into a smile. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen this look on you, Kook. You look like—“

“Someone who imagines a future,” Jungkook finishes. “Someone who sees it with the person in front of him. And in all the years I held onto Soo-ah, I don’t know why it wasn’t always easy to imagine a life with her. But that…” He motions towards the photo. 

“That’s apparently how I look like every time I’m with ___ and when we’re with kids. Maybe when we’re cooking or cleaning in my apartment, too. Or when I give her a bath like how she likes it. Or when she treats my cuts from my workout. Or when I listen to her talk about her day and when she sends me messages everyday to tell me to be careful wherever I’ll be. And I love all those. I want all of those. Everyday.”

“I sense a but.”

“But… I don’t know. Is this normal? Fearing something you want so much?”

Jin sighs as he watches his friend bury his head in his hands. There’s not much he knows that Jungkook is afraid of. Except, perhaps, losing you. And that’s only possible if he’s with you in the first place.

“It is,” Jin scoots closer. “You said she told you to not be a coward and to love her back. And you said you’re not afraid of that. You’re a fearless man, Kook. But you also need to understand something.”

Jungkook peers at the person who’s stood as his brother, father, and best friend all these years, his eyes begging for anything to make this feeling go away just so he could bring himself to be with you. 

“ ___ loves you, Kook. Whoever, whatever you are or aren’t - she has so much love for you. You just have to be brave enough to realize that you deserve it,” Jin pats his back. “Accepting love takes courage, too.”

**

Jungkook clutches the photo in his hand, a now precious item that reminds him of what he wants and that he needs to be the one to break the walls surrounding him that’s been keeping you out all this time. 

He pauses to catch his breath, urging himself to keep running the last two blocks to your house. He needs to see you right now and tell you everything. Or show the picture if he can’t.

He’s halfway there when a car honks and catches his attention.

“Jungkook?” A familiar voice calls out.

“Mr. Sim! Is she—“ Jungkook peeks at the front and back seats to find them empty.

“___ just left for Jeju. I left right as the plane took off.”

“Is… Is it for work?”

Mr. Sim shakes his head. “She just booked it this morning, actually, said she needed to get away to think.”

To think. Think about what? How much more you can take? If it’s still worth it? If you should just end this? 

“Fuck,” Jungkook groans, internally smacking himself for taking too long to come here. “Thanks, Mr. Sim. I’ll just—“

“What are you waiting for? Get in if you don’t want to miss the next flight out!”

Jungkook rushes to the passenger seat and processes what needs to be done, seeing that his mind is all over the place and he definitely didn’t expect to be chauffeured to the airport so he could see you as soon as possible.

Mr. Sim takes his phone and hands it to Jungkook with a number on the screen. “Call this. Ask for the quickest flight there. Say we’ll be in the airport in half an hour.”

Jungkook does as instructed and immediately books a ticket. He tries to steady his breathing and think that in less than three hours, he could already be with you. That’s if you’d listen and take him back.

He turns to the man on the wheel and the focused look on his face. 

“Why are you helping me?” Jungkook murmurs. “All I’ve done is hurt her.”

“But you never intended to, did you?” Mr. Sim says. “Because if you did, I’m kicking you out of the car right now.”

Jungkook sees the older man’s playful smile but he shakes his head and confirms that he never meant to but that it doesn’t make it any better.

“____ is like a daughter to me, Jungkook. She never let the lack of love in her life keep her from loving others the best way she knows how,” Mr. Sim shares. “And if you were running to her house so you could tell her you love her, too, then I need to make sure that you get to her as soon as possible, okay?”

His warm and fatherly smile, the one you’d said before always comforted you, now brings Jungkook some comfort, too.

“I just know that I’ve never seen her this happy and content. And that counts for something, right?”

“It does, Mr. Sim. It counts for a lot.”

**

“So,” Namjoon leans forward, close to you as you peer out the window of the plane. “Are we still mad at him? Forgetting him? Forgiving him? Trying to make him jealous?”

You snort at your bodyguard and his myriad of options and turn to him. “We?”

“Yes. We. I’m loyal to you,” he furrows his brows.

“I thought Jungkook’s your guy?”

“Yeah, before he broke your heart again,” Namjoon says. “It’s been kinda crappy not hearing you laugh and be your usual bratty self the past weeks, you know?”

You stick out your tongue. “I know. I miss myself too. And him,” you sigh. “I really miss him, Namjoon.”

“I know.” He pats your head. “So forgetting and making him jealous are out of the question.”

You nod and giggle. “We’re going there to think.”

He doesn’t miss the quick faltering of your smile and the way you almost force yourself to look okay, to convince yourself that it’s going to work out.

“I just want him to choose me, you know?” You say as you look out the window again. “I want him to choose me even when he’s scared or worried or unsure. Because I’ll always choose him. But I also can’t help but think how selfish that is.”

“It isn’t. I mean, it’s all you can really ask from someone, right?” Namjoon responds. “But I get where Jungkook is coming from. I’ve spent enough time with him to know that there are many things he needs to unlearn. Even if he knows what makes him happy, choosing it isn’t always the easiest thing.”

**

You’re thankful for the warmer than usual weather today that’s allowed you to bask in the feel of the sea enveloping you and your aching heart. 

The water is still cold, though but you’d sucked it up and let yourself get used to it the deeper you went. You just like being here, looking out to the vastness of it all and enjoying the weightless feeling when you’re floating, keeping your mind at ease, allowing you to just be.

With your arms spread out, you let the water carry you. The sky is pretty today, and you remember all the times you told Jungkook that it was, with him always wondering why it mattered. The breeze sends chills through you and you let the warmth within you battle the cold until you feel some semblance of balance. 

You know that this is what you need. Being here won’t magically make Jungkook let go of whatever’s holding him back and choose you, but it should be enough to let your thoughts be suspended for a while, let time pass so you could maybe miss him less. Because you know, even if you tried, you can’t ever love him less. 

You close your eyes and with half your head in the water, you hear that familiar hollowness - all the other sounds fade away; there’s nothing but the waves, softly carrying you and you feel liberated like this. 

You used to imagine the mermaids calling out to you when you were younger, your then innocent mind pretending you could hear their enchanting voices, singing your name. 

As a grown up, you know that just lives in your head. They’re not actually calling out to you, so the repeated cries of your name that are getting louder - closer and closer - are clearly just in your imagination. 

But apparently they aren’t, you learn, as you get on your feet and face the person whose familiar voice is calling for you.

“Jungkook?” You mumble, unbelieving of the soaked sweatshirt-clad man in front of you. “Why are you here?”

“Because I love you,” he replies, lips quivering from the cold.

The words are bittersweet, causing a pang in your chest.

“Don't lead me on again, Jungkook. I can’t—“

“I’m not. And I mean it. Just hear me out, please,” he pleads, walking closer to you as you stay rooted in your spot.

He takes a deep breath, knowing this isn’t easy, but he does it because he also knows there’s no other way.

“You were right, I was being a coward. And it’s because I don’t know what real love is supposed to be like,” he admits. “I never experienced it; no one cared enough to stick around in my life. To look out for me. To want me. To fight for me.

At some point I didn’t know what I wanted, what I was aiming or living for. It was all about self-preservation, just earning, being better than my father, that was it. But you showed me possibilities, of what life could be like where I could just be happy, be myself, be with someone who cares for me and loves me for who I am and what I can offer. 

But I got scared because I didn’t know any better. I was scared because I didn’t know what to give you, if I deserved you because you’d fight through hell for me but I couldn’t. It’s ironic but I didn’t know how to fight for anybody but myself; I didn’t know how to look out for anybody but myself.”

He reaches out his hand and tilts your chin to face him, caressing your cheek as he silently pleads for you to believe him.

“You were supposed to be just a job, ___, just a way to earn. But you became much, much more than that. I was stupid and selfish and I hurt you, constantly, and I’m sorry. And I know I don’t deserve this - I don’t know, third chance that I’m asking but better to chase you here than for you to go on another day not knowing this, that I love you. And I want to love you for as long as I possibly can, for as long as you’ll let me.”

There’s nothing you can say to express what you feel at his words, the ones that bare his fears and vulnerabilities. And his desire - to love you, to be with you. Whatever questions or worries you have are drowned by his presence, by his certainty. 

He’s choosing you, and that’s all that matters.

You bury your face in your hands and sob, feeling the pieces of your heart slowly piecing together again.

“Was that terrible? Did I lose my last chance?” 

“No,” you mumble, then you lunge at him, your arms around his neck and his arms around your waist, the sighs escaping from both your lips indicative of how much you’ve been wanting this. 

He waits until your cries subside, his hand caressing your back to comfort you.

“Can I kiss you?” He asks as he brings you back to your feet, his fingers catching the tears that still slowly fall down your face.

You nod, prompting him to cup your cheeks and bring you close to him, his lips gently meeting yours in the most tender, yet perhaps most meaningful kiss you’ve ever shared. 

He kisses you slowly, carefully, like he’s only just discovered your lips and he's mapping them out, savoring what he tastes. 

Your hands are on his wrists, holding on to them like an anchor as you get lost in the feeling of him, in the sensation of his touch and his tongue that’s sliding in your mouth, exploring the space within. 

Your wet muscle entangles with his, dancing together, melding together. He angles your heads so you fit together perfectly, movements at a steady pace, as if you can do this for the rest of your life.

And deep down, you really hope that you will.

You pull away to catch your breath and you look at him, a shy look painted on his face that you haven’t seen in a while.

“Too gentle? Too tame?” He asks.

“It’s perfect, Jungkook. I—“

He kisses you again with the same unhurried, passionate pace.

“Sorry,” he chuckles. “I just missed doing that. And uh, I missed you. So much.”

You smile and fall into his arms, the familiar firmness of his chest and the warmth from his arms around you giving you relief. He feels so much like home, and you don’t ever want to be away from him again.

Jungkook feels the first droplets of a drizzle, prompting him to pull away and take your hand so you could make your way back to shore. 

By the time you get there, the rain has poured and you’re both soaked and you know you won’t be able to make it to your house by car without messing up the seats.

Jungkook waves to Namjoon who’s leaning against the railing by the road with his umbrella, watching you both from far away. He seems to get the message as he gets inside the car, which slowly moves, perhaps matching your pace.

Your house is quite a ways ahead but it’s manageable to walk there, but Jungkook insists that your slippers are no match to his sneakers, so he piggybacks you and walks faster so you could make it back home and have your warm bath before you get sick. 

Slumped over his broad back, you pepper kisses on his neck, giggling as you do, earning you complaints with no real bite. 

“We’ll get to that later, okay? Let’s just make it home,” he laughs.

Past the steps that lead to the main road and into the gate and entrance of your house, Jungkook wraps you in a towel and you both walk up the stairs to your room. He immediately prepares the bathtub, making sure it’s the right temperature, lights your aromatherapy candles, and pours in the chamomile essential oil.

“I’ll just get some clothes from Namjoon, alright?” He says, as he eyes you remove your bathing suit to enter the shower to wash your hair. 

“Okay. And while you’re at it, please tell him to have Mr. Han grant you a day off tomorrow. As per my humble and sweet request,” you smile.

“I will, Ms. Lee,” he teasingly winks, knowing you won’t be able to do anything about it.

**

Jungkook finds you in the tub, hugging your knees to your chest and humming a song.

“Hey,” Jungkook smiles. “I made you some tea.”

He hands you the cup as he kneels on the floor, head level with yours to tuck the damp strand of hair that’s fallen from your bun behind your ear. 

“Did Mr. Han approve your leave?”

Jungkook nods. “He was surprised, didn’t think I’d ever file them. But I said I’m going to in the next couple of months. I’ve got a few trips to make, I suppose.”

“We don’t need to go to all of them, okay? At least not right away,” You say, knowing he meant the out-of-country vacations you expected him to go with you. “We can always just go somewhere nearby if you prefer.”

“I’ll go where you go, okay? Anywhere you want, I’ll be there.”

You feel your heart melt at this, knowing that his sweet words no longer hold the same insecurities as they used to. 

You eagerly nod and peck his lips. “Join me, please.”

Jungkook stands and removes his damp clothes - first his sweatshirt then his jeans. Your eyes focus on his cock as it springs out his boxers as those get off, too. 

“You’re drooling, angel,” he chuckles, watching you watch his every move and clenching your thighs as you do.

“I am, so get in here!” You drag the words and reach out to him but he backs away and says he’ll take a quick shower first.

Much as it delays the time before you get to feel him, you don’t mind, as the frosted glass door offers you a breathtaking view of his silhouette. It feels like everything’s in slow-motion, as you watch his lean body get soaked under the shower, his head rolling back as he washes it, and his fingers combing his hair as he rinses the shampoo off. 

With the water droplets gliding down his taut chest and abdomen and his wet hair pushed back, you now conclude that you love the post-shower look on him more than his slick, suited ones. He truly looks the best and sexiest like this.

He laughs as your eyes refuse to leave his form, knowing how much you want him right now. So does he but it’s different this time - he’s not in a hurry, he’s not out to try to prove himself with how hard and how many times he can make you cum. 

He just wants to savor every moment of having you like this, revel in your soft sounds, and tell you he loves you when he’s inside you.

But he wants to start here, in the tub, with your back to his chest and you sandwiched between his legs. 

He caresses your arms and places soft kisses on your neck.

“You okay? Not feeling sick?” He asks, as his lips trail down your shoulder, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

“I’m okay,” you giggle. “Just enjoying you being so sweet and gentle.”

“Good.” He nibbles your ears. “I want to love you right today,” he says, sneaking a hand on your breast and squeezing it, causing your head to roll back on his shoulder.

“Hmm, that sounds nice,” you mumble.

He takes his time as his fingers play with your nipple, now hardened from pleasure, and your soft pants echo in your bathroom. “You like that?”

“Yes,” you moan, eyes closed as you savor his touch that feels so heavenly on your skin. 

His other hand that was holding your waist, making sure you’re as close to him as possible, descends to your cunt, finding your throbbing clit immediately. He presses and swirls your nub, finding a pace that’s enough to satisfy you while drawing out the time for you to reach your orgasm.

That’s what Jungkook wants today. He wants to make you feel good, but he wants it steady, to slowly build up and then let you enjoy the peak until you slowly crash from your high. He wants to be gentle, gradual yet passionate, meaningful in all the ways he can make it. 

“Yes, so, so good,” you drag out the words. “Keep going like that, please. Yes, yes.”

He smiles to himself and continues his movements - one hand stroking your breasts, another playing with your clit, and his mouth marking your neck and shoulders, his tongue tracing the stains he leaves on your skin.

He gets lost in your sounds, in the way your body responds to him, and in the way time seems to stand still. There’s no desperation from either of you. There’s just patience and tenderness, even as your legs start to shake and your moans become louder.

He quickens his pace on your nub a little, feeling you so close and he wants you to relish this. You hold your breath as you reach the peak and let out a muted scream as you slowly come down from it, suddenly feeling lightheaded at the literal journey that Jungkook took you to feel this kind of pleasure. And it was worth it.

“That was so good.” You finally find your voice. 

You lay limply on his chest and he wraps his arms around you for comfort. 

“I just want you to know,” he mumbles, prompting you to look at him with a curious face.

“I feel like even with my grand speech out there, I still feel like it wasn’t enough. There’s still so much I want to say, I just don’t know how to.”

You shift so you’re now sitting on his lap, both your legs folded on his side that he caresses. You turn to him and can’t help your smile as your fingers trace his features marked with worry and a bit of shyness, too.

“It’s okay. We have time. We have a long time, and I felt what you wanted to say just right now. That’s enough, okay? That will always be enough,” you say, softly kissing his lips. 

“I’m just glad I wasn’t too late,” he sighs. “When Mr. Sim said you came here to think, I thought you were deciding whether or not you still wanted to be with me.”

You shake your head but catch onto something. “Mr. Sim? How did you get here, by the way?”

Jungkook tells you about Ina and the photo, Jin and the park, Mr. Sim and the ride to the airport, and Namjoon and the call, where he told Jungkook to get his shit together and head to the beach immediately.

“Not that I deserved it but wow, I’m really glad they were team Jungkook this time,” he chuckles.

“They’re not on your team,” you playfully roll your eyes. “They’re on ours and they just care about us and our happiness.”

“That’s a nice thought,” he smiles, thinking that he’s never had a support system as large as the one you both have.

“You’ve got us, okay? You have my friends, Namjoon, Mr. Sim and Mrs. Hwang.” You meet his piercing and beautiful and yearning-for-love eyes. “You’ve got family now, Jungkook. You’re not alone anymore.”

His lips start to quiver so he pulls you in for a kiss and he sighs into it because he doesn’t feel like that anymore - scared, alone, powerless. He has people who care, who want him to be happy. And he has you, the person he can imagine sharing a fulfilling life with.

The desire for each other gets strong soon after. You rinse yourselves and dry each other and make it to your bed, with him hovering over you, his eyes tracing the outline of your face.

He kisses you deep and slow, a continuation of all the other things he wants to say. He leaves you goosebumps as he makes his way down - to your breasts, your hips, your cunt that’s dripping for him, even your thighs and toes. 

His mouth returns to yours to swallow your whimpers as he enters you, his length stinging your pussy having been deprived of it for a while. 

“Fuck, I love you so much, angel.”

He thrusts steadily but deeply, causing you to moan at the pleasure. He buries his head in the crook of your neck, kissing softly but mostly to hold him down, keep him from going hard and relentless with you and he finds that it works, especially as you wrap your arms around him, your fingers drawing patterns on his back and his head.

“I love you,” you whisper.

Every part of you feels like home. Everything you do feels like home. Loving you and being loved by you feels like home. He doesn’t want to ever let any of this go.

He pleases you in other ways - sucking your neck, stroking your breast, telling you how perfect and good you are for him in his gravelly voice.

He gradually gets faster, knowing you’re close by the sound of your moans that get louder and desperate by the minute. He goes deeper, making sure you feel all of him - his ridges, his veins, his seed that explodes inside of you. 

With his tongue expertly flicking your sensitive buds, your orgasm follows soon after. He rides your high with you with more kisses, and you smile into them, basking in how good they feel, knowing you’ll be spending more of your days feeling this.

Later that night, you lay in his arms after another round of - a slightly less gentle - lovemaking, your fingers tracing the outline of his abdomen, the thoughts in your head perhaps the same as his.

“We have to talk about what I’m gonna do,” he says, his fingers tracing patterns on your shoulder, too.

“Don’t feel pressured, okay? You can stay in the agency and take another assignment, or you can apply at the company… It doesn’t matter. Do what would make you most happy and secure.” You look at him with an assuring smile. 

“We can do the little secret relationship thing for a while. I don’t mind being stuck indoors with you just doing… things,” you giggle.

He smiles back. 

“I know. But I want to be stable. I want to be good enough for your parents that they’d let me properly date you.”

“Jungkook, you don’t have to—“

“And I mean someone who’s secure, who’s capable in many things, who’s sure of himself and what he can offer,” he clarifies. “I don’t want to drive a wedge between you and them. And I want them to trust me.”

He faces you and cups your cheek, smiling at your enamored look. 

“You’re going to take over the company one day, ___. That’s a lot of pressure and responsibility and based on how your father has been the past few weeks, he’s going to start really preparing you for that role. And I have to be what you need me to be. I want that for you, for us.”

He grins as he wipes the tears from your eyes.

“You’re meant for this, for so many good things in this world. You remind me that so do I and I’ll figure that out with you. But I don’t want to be a problem, okay? I want to hold your hand while we face the rest of the world next to each other.”

**

The next several days pass by with you and Jungkook not having any more close calls. He stays with your father’s security detail, as he asked for more time to weigh out his options with the guidance of Namjoon and Mr. Han. 

The security agency offered him different packages that allowed for flexibility and keeping workable hours that still lets him be with you. There were even assignments to other politicians and even diplomats that he’d only dreamed of.

But much as he likes the job - the discipline, the unpredictability, the training, being on the field… He also knows what that would entail this time.

Every time he’s out there protecting someone else, he’s the one being put in danger. He doesn’t want that anymore. Not only will you be worried all the time, but things are different. He has someone he loves who loves him back - that’s what he’s living for now.

He's going over these thoughts again when the doorbell ringing interrupts him.

“Hi,” you peck his lips as you enter his apartment. “Sorry, my meeting was extended. I was going to—“

You stop in awe at the spread of lobsters and salad with white wine and beautiful flowers in front of you.

Then you pout, thinking back to the time you made him this exact same dinner and he ran out of your house.

“You’re not rejecting me again, are you?” You tease.

“No! Never!” He laughs. “Just thought we’d give lobster dinner another try and replace the memory of that night where I was a complete idiot, yeah?”

“Hmm, fine. I haven’t been able to look at lobsters the same since then,” you giggle. “But… Do you have something to tell me, too?”

He walks over to you and takes your hand, a proud and excited smile gracing his face.

“I tendered my resignation at the agency and uh, while working for your company is ideal, I figured working in one of your subsidiary companies would be a better start. I ran it over your father and—“

“You talked to my father?” You ask in surprise.

“More like, consulted with him if it was a good idea and he said it was okay. It’s good enough distance and we don’t have to be super secretive and we could just—“

Your hug interrupts him this time and he chuckles as he hugs you back.

“I won’t be worried all the time anymore and you could explore more opportunities and… I could just be happy with you,” you mumble.

“Well, it’s a grueling application process but I’m getting advice from really good people, and I have short courses I need to take should I make it and… It’s a lot of work but I’m really excited. I think it would be good.”

“It will. I mean, look at you, getting advice from my father,” you tease.

“Yeah, well, he’s got standards,” Jungkook chuckles. “It’s nerve-racking but like he said, what won’t I do for the person I love?”

**

It’s been quite the challenging last few weeks for Jungkook as he busies himself with the application process. You’ve spent almost everyday helping him prepare - choosing his suits, coaching him for interviews, reviewing him on other things. 

You decided to reschedule all your trips until such time he can take his leaves again but you don’t mind - there are more important things to worry about and you just want Jungkook to focus on his goal.

With enough help from more people than Jungkook expected, he got the job at your subsidiary company that lets him dabble in different units so he could find the perfect fit., 

As his last week of being part of the agency rolls by, you plan a special dinner at your place after his shift ends, but not before having lunch at your parents’ at their request.

You take your seat and are surprised when you see Jungkook enter the dining hall as well.

“Jungkook,” your mother says, surprising you and him. “I heard it’s your last week with us. Please, take a seat and have lunch.”

He turns to you in question and you respond with a confused look on your face, too, unsure of what stunt your parents are playing, although you haven’t heard them complain about your relationship with the man.

“I, uh, are you sure, Mrs. Lee?”

“Yes, please,” she replies, motioning to the empty seat next to you that you now just realize has been set up.

He gingerly walks to where you are, still nervous and unsure, something your father picks up.

“Don’t worry, Jungkook,” he chuckles. “We just want to get to know our daughter’s boyfriend. Wouldn’t you want to get to know your girlfriend’s parents? Outside of work, of course.”

“Yes, definitely, Sir.”

You could feel him shaking and much as you want to say that you've never seen him this worried, you feel nervous of how much he is.

“Look,” your father starts. “I know we haven’t been the best parents for ___ and we’re glad she’s had people to lean on all these years. And that now includes you.”

You glance at them in comfort, an unspoken message to tell them that it’s okay, that you don’t resent them, and that while things aren’t perfect or ideal, whatever relationship you have with them is enough.

“But you have to know that our daughter—“

“Is the heir of your company, yes Sir,” Jungkook says, immediately regretting having to interject and disrespect.

“Yes, that’s true,” your father says. “But she’s also a smart, strong, and good-hearted woman. I’m gonna need you to trust, love, and respect her always. Do I make myself clear?”

He sighs in relief and smiles at you. It’s almost deja vu, looking back to the first time he ever met your father, the excitement and nervousness still present as they were before. But so much has changed now - your parents, you, him. 

He smiles and takes your hand in his, the comfort in your touch enough to soothe his worries and whatever remainder of his insecurities away. 

“Yes, Sir. Understood.”

Series Masterlist || Previous | Epilogue

##

- Permanent Taglist: @sherlynxx @di0rgguk @thequeen-kat @mwitsmejk @fan-ati–c  @cravingforhotchocolate @adoraminie​ @jeonsfreak @helenazbmrskai @weasleyswizarding-wheezes

- SeriesTaglist:  @emsuzz @emmmui  @preciouschimine @blckjeon @shatzkrinslinzki @cantchooseanamebye @jeoncookie-bts @clumsymandu @kookiesbreaky @libra04 @petuliii @this-is-seriousbusinesz @awseokjin @kookxin @doublebunnykoo @parkdatjimin @ohmydarlin-g @jpeachytaev @paraquesufrir @kuzimuzibts @emeriroth @sweetonkookieandtae @lilyflowerguk @jwlmnbt @squishyjk @kissme-ornot @jkbangtan7 @criesinsagitarius @torisecrets @seokjinnie1204 @satorinnie @dovejoon @kaithezaftig @athenakyle @min-chery @jellybearo​ @justvibingsblog​ @kookxin​ @jkiddingjeon 

[exceptionimagines]

Meeting and Dating Jasper Badun

(Not my gif)(Requested by anonymous)

- Unbeknownst to you, you and Jaspers story starts long before you meet for the first time. 

- You see, ever since Jasper was a young lad; one with a gaze that was willing to stray away from petty crime long enough to notice the opposite sex, he’d had eyes for you. 

- ‘But Why?’ You may ask. ‘You were nobody special.’ Not some rich girl he’d watched gingerly step out of her chauffeured car or a model in a store window or some actress on the screen. You were an average person who lived a very average life …but that was just it....

- You were real. A girl from a middle class family: one that went to school, went shopping with her mother on the weekends, got a working class job once she was old enough. A girl who was perfectly normal to everyone else yet perfect to him. 

- He’d watched you from afar for quite some time. Admiring your looks yet also admiring your spirit; your strength. You were living a life he didn’t think himself capable of: a normal, honest life; and you’d never let it break you down. 

- Time in and time out, you worked on your feet all day, burnt yourself on scalding coffee, heaved trash into the bin outside, scrubbed floors until your back ached, and rode a stuffy bus to and from work most days. Yet you still were able to offer him that charming little smile of yours every time you caught each others eye. 

- You probably thought you looked like a mess but he thought you were the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen; even if he thought your choice of lifestyle was a tad bit stupid. 

- His interest in you didn’t go unnoticed of course. Both Horace and Estella; and even little Wink, caught on and teased him about you whenever they could; much to his embarrassment and defensiveness. 

- But, it’s a good thing they did, since they’re one of the only reasons he got anywhere with you. 

- It was a day like any other, you were riding home on the bus, the same bus him and his friends found themselves jumping onto during a quick escape, and, in a brilliant example of Estella's devious nature, she’d spotted Jaspers gaze locked on you and decided that something had to be done. …So she stole your wallet. 

- Like most people, you didn't notice; and neither did Jasper until she was shoving it into his hand and nodding over at you.

- The two of them shared an array of pointed looks before he took a deep breath and tapped you on the shoulder; glaring at her as she happily turned away and pretended to be busy. 

“Excuse me miss,” he’d said to you, holding up the leather square before he offered it forward. “I believe this is yours.”

- In an instant your eyes had widened and you broke out into a chorus of thank you’s, taking your wallet from him and clutching it tightly in your hand; not suspecting an ounce of foul play. 

- And …then it was your stop. You said goodbye, thanking him again before getting off, leaving him and Estella to argue about what he should have done. What, I’m not gonna chase after her as she walks home!?

- The next time the two of you meet, it’s one of the worst days of your life. 

- You’d just gotten fired for no real reason at all and were sat on a bench, trying to calm yourself while rifling through all of your options as you suppressed the urge to tremble and cry. 

- That was when he approached you, greeting you before noticing the state you were in and asking if you were alright; Jasper was always the insightful one. 

- For a reason you can’t really explain; perhaps grief or the need to say something to someone before you exploded, you told him everything that had happened, unloading your problems onto the man who was still practically a stranger. 

- Once you’d finished, he nodded and told you he was sorry that that had happened to you. It was then that he came up with a brilliant idea. 

- If you had the chance to get justified revenge on your ex employers, would you take it? Because that was what he was offering. 

- He, of course, sugarcoated his words and made himself seem like less of an unapologetic criminal but the sentiment was still the same. He could help you get back at the bastards who’d worked you to the bone day in and day out before dropping you without a second thought and all you had to do was give him a little information and a whole lot of trust. 

- What's the saying? Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned? 

- Soon enough, you found yourself helping Jasper and his merry band of crooks into the building/home you’d worked in and keeping a lookout for them as they did their thing. 

- And after that, you were more or less apart of the gang. 

- It’s a couple months later that Jasper finally confesses his feelings for you. You’d just finished dinner, Estella was in her room intent on working on some designs and Horace and the dogs were on the couch watching the game. 

- You and Jasper were still in the kitchen, doing the dishes while exchanging playful banter. It was then that he earnestly told you he was glad you were there. You told him you were too and you shared a knowing look before you both looked back down at what you were doing. 

- It’s not long after that the two of you go on your first date. It’s one of those rare times that Jaspers little family has some money; mainly because you’d just finished illegally obtaining said money, and he’d put it out there that he could go for some pie, looking over at you for a response.

- You can’t say no to him so you agree and Estella stops Horace from saying that he wants some too, telling the two of you have fun. So the two of you go to some little diner on your own and enjoy yourselves on what you consider to be your first date.

- You share your first kiss during another heist. You’re both huddled up in some back room as he’s setting up some electronic interference and before you know it, the close proximity and mutual feelings has the two of you sharing a kiss.

- You’re interrupted by Horace over your radios, bringing the two of you back to reality and forcing you to scramble back to the jobs you were doing but neither of you regret it.

- The petty thief stole your heart and there was nothing you could do about it.

- Oftentimes, when you’re out in public, the pda you’re engaging in is serving a purpose; like when you’re on “a mission” and need to cover your faces or act like an inconspicuous couple, but he does like to show you affection just because as well. 

- A lot of the time he’ll give you little pokes, prods, and touches for no real reason at all; besides just wanting to touch you I suppose. 

- When you’re walking together, you’ll usually have your arms locked; oftentimes pretending to be a couple that's far more posh than you are. 

- Sometimes I just have these weirdly specific forms of affection that I have to try to explain to you guys and this is one of them so I apologize in advance, but you know when couples just sort of magnetically connect when they’re near each other? Like they’ll start out standing near each other and just wordlessly drift closer until ones loosely hugging the other or has something wrapped around them in some way and the others leaning against them? That's the two of you. 

- Lots of face kisses. He likes to loop his arms around your shoulders and press one onto you. 

- Soft, slow kisses; usually with his hands running up and down your arms. 

- I have a feeling that Jasper sleeps in a small, crickety old bed, so when you’re cuddling with each other, you’ll usually have to squeeze in close in an attempt to fit in the same bed. Because of that, you usually wind up laying almost completely on top of him with your head resting on his chest. 

- He tends to avoid pet names when you’re around the others; unless it’s for a particular reason like speaking to some store clerk in front of them, but when you’re alone he lets them slip out a lot more frequently. Most of the time it’s things like luv and babbs or saying things like “atta girl” but he does particularly enjoy referring to you as Mrs. Badun or having you refer to yourself as his wife/him as your husband for one reason or another. 

- Depending on the type of person you are, you either find a decent job and provide the gang with a regular; albeit small, stream of income in-between their heists or you join them in their petty thievery. Although, regardless of the type of person you are, the proud look on Jaspers face when you successfully pickpocket; or do something similar, is enough to make you consider a life of crime. 

- Him getting you out of any trouble you’re in. He’s always looking out for you ahead of everyone else; especially since you’re new to his sort of lifestyle and because he’s the one who got you into the world of thieving.

- Piggyback rides. It’s not your fault Estella throws you in stilettos whenever she can or that she chooses to have long stakeouts until early morning!

- Talking and joking about your disguises. You’ll joke about how he should grow out a real moustache like the fake one he’s wearing or he’ll tell you that you should wear more stockings; grinning like a little shit as you tease him.

- He cannot take compliments or any sort of affectionate words. He’s terrible at it.

- He’s always trying to get you the best that he can. He knows what you want more than anything in the world and he already lies, cheats, and steals …what’s a little more for your sake? 

- Random gifts; none of which are payed for or obtained in an honest way. 

- I feel like the two of you probably collect specific little things and whenever the other person is out and sees said thing, they show their love by bringing it back home and surprising the other with it.

- Getting visited at work. He’ll drop in whenever he’s nearby; usually with Horace and the dogs.

- Horace cluelessly third wheels a lot of the time; though you rarely mind. They’re sort of a packaged deal so lets hope that the two of you get along.

- Cheap dates. Most of the time, Jasper and his little family doesn’t have a whole lot of money to spare so you try not to waste a ton of it on expensive outings. 

- Sneaking into more upscale places and pretending to be richer than you are. It’s surprisingly easy to crash wealthy peoples parties and eat expensive hors d’oeuvres. 

- Once him and his found family get their inheritance, he starts treating you to more luxurious things. You stuck by his side and loved him when he had virtually nothing so now that he has something, he wants to give you everything he could only have ever dreamed of giving you.

- Him cooking for you. He’s the chef of the house so it isn’t unusual for you to come home to a nice candlelit dinner. 

- Him making sure that you take care of yourself, whether that be drinking or eating enough, watching over you while you’re sick, or making sure you get to sleep at a decent time; he’s definitely carried you to your bedroom when you’ve haphazardly fallen asleep where you were sitting. 

- Having tea together. 

- Adopting each others little mannerisms and different ticks.

- Sneaking away to have little moments with each other. 

- Taking walks around the city; sometimes with your little entourage of dogs. 

- Stargazing and taking in the city. It takes no money to admire the world we live in, right?

- Lazy days spent inside doing whatever you feel like. 

- Board games. You and the gang probably have family game nights.

- Him playing the guitar for you.

- Going to jazz clubs.

- Grand gestures; probably organized and partially thought up by Estella/Cruella. They have a knack for making a scene, don’t they?

- Speaking of Estella: the two of you get pretty close and she uses you as a model for quite a few of her designs.

- He can never say no to his girls so you and Estella sometimes team up on him to get your way. Although, you can usually persuade him fairly easily on your own. 

- If you aren’t living with him, you’re probably sneaking him into your house/apartment because you’re living with your parents or under the watchful eye of an old woman landlord. He’s got enough experience sneaking into places so it wont be hard for him. 

- If you’d like to think that you met him after the events of the movie, you’d definitely be shocked to see that your boyfriend lived in a ridiculously expensive mansion. You’d also be terrified during your first meeting with Cruella who looked like a literal movie villain sitting in front of her fireplace with menacing hounds.

- You’re probably the person he comes and rants to whenever Cruella is being, well, cruel. 

“I mean where does she get off? We’re helping her. She doesn’t get to treat us like that!”

- He’s always so happy to see you. It always makes you smile to see him all chipper when he spots you and you can always rely on him to cheer you up.

- He’s almost always the one who talks sense into people so you’re either his worst “client” or the one who helps him deal with things. He’s a sympathetic person who tries to be understanding whenever he can so even if he isn’t sure of what exactly he should say, he’ll still try to help you out if you’re dealing with something. 

- Jasper puts up with a lot when it comes to jealousy, oftentimes letting you be a riot and have your hot girl summer; though he’s definitely a bit snippy afterwards and always keeps a eye on you. 

“Looks like you had lots of fun with him.” He’ll comment after you finish flirting with another guy for one reason or another. 

- He’s always looking out for you in any situation you’re in. The minute things start to heat up, he’s by your side, making sure that you’re getting out of the mess you’re in the second that you can. 

- Whenever he has an issue, he tends to try and have a normal talk with you about them so fights rarely get too out of hand. Although, honestly, sometimes fights are just unavoidable; especially in some of the high stress situations you guys get yourselves into. He can definitely say things he doesn’t mean when he’s upset so there’s that as well. 

- After you’ve had a fight, he definitely tries to bridge the gap by carefully approaching you with some tea he’s made you, softly placing it by you and slowly sitting down to test the waters. He’ll apologize and calmly try to explain his side of things. If you’re the one who needs to apologize then lets hope you have a good reason and apology because he likes holding grudges. 

- He tells you that he loves you pretty casually. He doesn’t like making a whole spectacle about it so he oftentimes says it nonchalantly whenever he’s saying goodbye or in a similar situation. 

- He definitely asks you to move in with him and the gang when they get Hell Hall; though I could honestly seeing you living with them prior to that and maybe even getting married or living your lives like you are. 

[jikookiekosmos]

Classified & Confidential || kth (Part 1)

➥Pairing: detective!taehyung/reader

➥Summary: It’s been years since your close friend passed away, case going cold due to lack of evidence. You never once believed the story the police gave you, since they classified it under an ‘unfortunate accident.’ Now that there are telltale signs of something similar at play regarding someone else you hold dear, you decide to take things into your own hands. You hire world renowned private detective, Kim Taehyung. And he goes above and beyond everything you expected.

➥Genre: strangers to lovers (kinda slow burn), detective au, mystery, angst, eventual smut, fluff

➥Rating: 18+

➥Words: ~7.1k

➥Content Warnings: detective/mystery au, (tw: mentions of death, brief mention of suicide in relation to a criminal case, implied foul play, stalking behavior, non-graphic detailing of a crime scene), slight forensic talk, mentions of nervousness and anxiety, some cursing, mentions of cops/police, unhelpful law enforcement (like they’re kinda terrible with the whole solving this case thing), feelings of unease and tension, we get bestie hoseok, tae is kinda extra but for good reason, no suggestiveness/smut in this chapter but it’s still 18+ due to it involving some of the aforementioned warnings

A/N: This will be a multi-part series that explores some darker themes, and each part will have appropriate content warnings listed; please read at your own risk. This part touches on backstory and introduces the characters, things will start getting a little more intense in the following chapters. I don’t have any kind of specific update schedule but ideally I’d like to get updates out every few weeks at the latest! I hope you look forward to this, and if you wanna be added to a taglist, please let me know~

Thank you @dntaewithluv​​​​ for your constant motivation and support (and for always beta-reading for me, even when we scream at each other about our ideas); hopefully I do Tae justice for you! I love you lots ❤️

taglist: @inlovewiththemoonn @mwitsmejk​ @bangtanhome

⊱──────── ✬ ✬ ✬ ────────⊰

5 Years Ago

The night sky was dark, blanketed by stars as it emitted a peaceful aura. There was no way to bask in the calmness of the night, however, with all the hustle and bustle that surrounded you outside of the apartment complex.

Crime scene tape marked off the area, and many onlookers had gathered to try and get a glimpse of what happened. You were one yourself, but you weren’t there out of sheer curiosity.

Your breathing was ragged, staggered, as you tried to hold yourself together and observed the scene in front of you unfold.

Police wouldn’t let you beyond the tape, despite knowing the person currently covered by the white tarp.

Minutes prior, one of the cops had been politely trying to hold you back as you thrashed around, mind muddled by the vision of your best friend’s face before the tarp concealed it.

“I’m sorry, we can’t let anyone unauthorized come past this tape, please stay where you are.”

“You don’t understand, that’s my best friend, please let me through, please-”

You couldn’t control the volume of your screams, prompting a few of the other bystanders to try and calm you down seeing as you were very clearly distraught.

An unknown amount of time passed before the thickest part of the crowd decided they’d had enough excitement for one night, retiring to their own homes. You stayed planted in your spot, prepared to not move until you got more of an explanation for what was going on.

You’d resigned yourself to the fact that if someone wanted you to leave, they’d have to do it by force, but you eventually complied after two cops convinced you to come down to the station and issue a statement, given your relation to the victim.

They didn’t grill you hard, which was something you appreciated at the time, since you were really in no state to handle a grueling interrogation. You knew you could be marked down as a potential suspect, but everything from their investigation pointed to them believing it had either been an accident or a possible suicide attempt, the latter of which would almost entirely exclude your involvement.

Over the next few weeks, you cooperated with the investigation and helped them with whatever leads you could provide; you were determined that foul play was involved, because you knew your best friend better than anyone, and the story the cops were feeding you wasn’t adding up.

The theory as you knew it was this: she jumped from her apartment window, which was up a significant amount of stories, more than enough to kill a person. A potential suicide note was found at the scene on the nightstand by her bed, typed on a sheet of paper, so handwriting analysis wasn’t an option. The apartment was undisturbed aside from the window having been open.

It almost seemed like a cut-and-dried case, aside from one other small factor: unknown DNA from a hair follicle was found in the apartment alongside the victim’s own.

This didn’t surprise you…at first. You knew Ky had been perusing multiple dating apps and would often invite people over to her place after successful dates. But as far as you also knew, Ky hadn’t recently been on any dates, so there wasn’t a clear reason for that DNA to show up.

Ky had told you in the weeks leading up to her death that she was afraid someone had been following her around, and it unsettled her so much so that she deleted all the dating apps on her phone until she felt safe again.

Sadly, that day never came, and this fact alone caused the nagging suspicion of foul play to burrow itself even deeper into your subconscious.

Since the DNA was unknown, tracing it would be no easy task, but that didn’t stop you. Anything you could do to shed light on what had actually occurred, you were going to do it, plain and simple.

Which is why when the police decided to close the file on the case and label it as an ‘unfortunate accident,’ you were floored.

You begged them to keep focusing on leads when there really weren’t any, offering to aid in any way you could because there was no way that there wasn’t something missing.

Their response?

“Go home, Y/N, there’s nothing else you can do.”

You left the station that day only after you had caused somewhat of a scene, arguing back and forth with one of the lead detectives until you were ‘carefully escorted’ outside. Enraged, you banged your hand against the glass of the door before you slid down the wall beside it, hugging your knees as you tried to compose yourself.

You weren’t sitting that way for long before you felt a gentle tug on your sleeve. You looked up reluctantly and were met with one of the softest pairs of eyes you’d ever seen.

The stranger offered you a kind smile, one that made your heart ache in the aftermath of everything you’d endured the last several weeks. You’d been tackling this situation all on your own, with barely any help from mutual friends or Ky’s family since she’d been estranged from them.

But now, this man stooped down in front of you and smiling at you like everything would be alright…

It almost made you want to believe it.

“Hi, I uh, couldn’t help but overhear about your situation,” he finally spoke up, sounding somewhat bashful. He had bright red hair that peeked out under a cap he wore, and he was sporting a rainbow colored sweater.

A tinge of embarrassment fluttered through you. “Oh. Sorry you had to witness that.”

So this random stranger heard you telling off the police by yelling at them in broad daylight. Way to make a first impression.

To your surprise, he simply shook his head, smile widening. “No, don’t be sorry! I was, uh – happy to be able to listen.”

You quirked an eyebrow. “Ok…may I ask why?”

“Well,” there was that bashful tone again, hand flying to the back of his neck as he looked to the side, “I’d been coming up here for a while, hoping to hear something regarding this case specifically. Usually when I stop by, there isn’t much going on and it’s not like I can just walk in and ask for classified information-”

He stopped speaking immediately once you held up your hand. You didn’t want to be rude, but you were thoroughly confused.

“Is there a reason why you’re eavesdropping for information about this case?”

He nodded eagerly. “Sure is! See, I’m working as a crime reporter, and-”

You scoffed as you pushed yourself to a standing position. “Unbelievable.”

Without sparing another glance to the gentleman, you shouldered past him, earlier hopeful mood soured by the fact that he was just another person looking for a scoop about Ky’s demise.

He was quick to follow, almost jumping down the steps to catch up to you.

“Hey, wait! Please.”

The way he begged pulled at your heartstrings because of how genuine he sounded, and for reasons beyond you, you turned around to face him and decided to hear him out.

You crossed your arms as he sighed with relief.

“Thank you. Ok, to start with, I’m a crime reporter, but I’m not trying to report on this case as everyone knows it.”

Another eyebrow raise from you. “What do you mean?”

The man smiled shyly, brushing away the red hair in his eyes. “I want to bring the injustice of the system to the public’s attention.”

That got your attention. “You do?”

“Yes. And I think your story could help with that.”

“My story?”

He nodded again, this time more eager than the last. “You’re pretty adamant that what happened to your friend was no accident, am I correct?”

Any mention of Ky caused the dull pain in your chest to come back, but at least this time, she wasn’t being mentioned in a gruesome or negative light.

“Yeah, I really don’t think it was an accident. But no one believes me.” You looked down at your shoes, scuffling one against the pavement.

You only looked up again when you felt the stranger’s hand on your shoulder.

“I believe you.”

All of the breath was knocked out of you.

“You…you believe me?”

The smile he gave you this time was bright and sincere as he dropped his hand by his side. “I do. I’ve been following everything posted online or in the newspaper about this case, and some of it just really does not seem plausible. And then after hearing you today, it made so much sense as to why.”

It still bothered you a bit that you were loud enough in the station to be heard outside, but that worry was now being overshadowed by the possibility of having someone else who could stand by you on your conviction.

“It…really means a lot to me that you would even consider my side of things. Truthfully, I think the police only tolerated me this long due to protocol.” You wrapped your arms around yourself.

The red-haired man grimaced at your remark. “Yeah, no kidding. For as long as I’ve been in this line of work, I don’t think I’ve ever seen them take things as seriously as they should.”

“How long have you been doing this?”

“About a year. But trust me, I’ve seen a lot during that time.” His determined expression might have made you giggle under other circumstances because it clashed so much with the rest of his soft demeanor.

“I don’t doubt it.” You walked over to the nearby bench seated a few feet away and the stranger followed hesitantly, only sitting beside you when you didn’t give him any indication his presence was unwanted.

The both of you turned toward each other slightly before you spoke up again.

“So, how can I help you with what you’re wanting to do?”

He seemed pleased that you were on board, eyes shining. “For starters, do you think I could interview you? I’d have to ask some sensitive questions, but I feel like I could have a better understanding of the case that way…only if you’re comfortable, though.”

You swallowed as you thought it over. Your participation in the numerous interrogations during the investigation had now proved to lead nowhere, but maybe this time the outcome would be different.

“Sure, I don’t mind. I’ll tell you whatever you want to know, to the best of my ability.”

The stranger beamed, looking happy enough to nearly jump out of the bench, despite the current subject matter. “Great!”

His cheerful nature was a little infectious, you had to admit, because you already started to feel a little lighter in his presence. A hand appeared in your line of vision.

“My name is Hoseok, by the way. We haven’t been properly introduced yet so that would be the next best step, I think.”

You did giggle this time at his action. “Nice to meet you, Hoseok. I’m Y/N.” You took his hand into your own to give it a small but firm shake.

“It’s my pleasure, Y/N. Now,” he regarded you with that same soft look he had in his eyes when you first saw him at the station, “what do you say we discuss some logistics over lunch? My treat, of course, since you’re agreeing to help me.”

For the first time in ages, the smile that graced your face was wholeheartedly genuine. “Sounds good.”

Thus, the beginning of a beautiful, long-lasting friendship bloomed that day outside of the one place you’d begun to loathe more than anything else. Over the next few years, Hoseok stood by your side in more ways than you could count, and he was now someone you considered to be one of the best friends you’d ever had.

One of the only best friends you’d ever had.

What you never expected was to be seated with Hoseok at the same diner that started your initial conversation about Ky’s case 5 years later, discussing something much too similar for your liking.

⊱──────── ✬ ✬ ✬ ────────⊰

Present Day

You sipped from your coffee mug, enjoying the warm beverage as you waited at the diner. The weather had been less than ideal, with rain pouring all day long and displaying little signs of stopping.

But Hoseok had been adamant about the two of you meeting up after your voicemail you left the previous night.

As you were thinking about your close friend, you heard the bell above the diner door ring, signaling his arrival. He spotted you across the room and quickly rushed over to your table, leaving rain droplets in his wake.

Hoseok shrugged out of his soaked jacket and tossed in into the booth seat beside him as he shook his head to – hopefully – rid himself of the water trying to slide down his face.

“Hey,” he finally breathed out once he was settled. His usual wild red hair was darker now thanks to the rain, stern expression plastered onto his face.

“Hey.” You responded meekly, attempting to give him a weak smile. Your stomach was churning with unease at the conversation you were about to have.

Hoseok took a deep breath before he folded his hands together and rested his elbows on the table. The coffee you’d ordered for him had been pushed to the side, momentarily forgotten.

He lowered his voice. “Are you sure the pattern of behavior is the same?”

You nodded slowly, going over all the details again in your mind. “I’m positive. The only difference is Yuri waited longer to tell me that she thinks she’s being followed than Ky did.”

Ky. Not a day went by where you didn’t think about her, seeing her smiling face when you would close your eyes at night and try to drift off to sleep.

Slumber came much easier these days than it did those first few months, but every now and then the same nightmare would plague you about the night you saw her on the sidewalk.

You shook your head to shrug the thoughts away. Now wasn’t the time.

“Shit,” Hoseok finally responded. “That doesn’t seem like good news for us.”

“My thoughts exactly. Who knows how long this has been going on. And she’s been receiving the same kind of ‘gifts’ Ky would get, too. Random text messages, voicemails from unknown numbers…she tries to brush it off, but I know this scares Yuri.”

“She doesn’t recognize who’s speaking in the voicemails?”

You shook your head solemnly. “No, they’re using some sort of voice modifier.”

Hoseok cursed again, this time under his breath. “Well, what do you want to do?”

You gulped. Truthfully, you didn’t know the answer yourself. On the one hand, everything currently happening to your friend mimicked what happened to Ky, almost exactly. But on the other hand, Yuri made it known time and time again that she thought you were too paranoid for your own good sometimes.

So, you were at a loss.

Yuri and you were close, in a sense. You’d been friends for the last 4 years, working at the same company after graduating from college and even getting transferred to a new one in the same division so as to not be separated. Outside of Hoseok, you considered her your dearest friend.

But at the same time, you knew that Yuri had those she held very dear in her own life that were there before you, and you’d never try to overstep.

Still…the events surrounding Yuri were too specific to be coincidental in your opinion, and if the hunch you had right now was correct, you needed to do something.

You wouldn’t – you couldn’t – let another person die. Not if there was some way for you to prevent it.

Something you didn’t do with Ky, and that would haunt you for the rest of your life-

Hoseok pulled you out of your thoughts by calling your name, frowning deeply once your gaze focused on him again.

“I…I don’t know. I feel like if I push too hard on this, I’ll also push Yuri away, and I don’t want that.” You worried at your bottom lip, your most infamous nervous habit.

“Be that as it may, this doesn’t seem like something you should ignore either. What’s worse: pushing her away but potentially saving her life, or not saying anything and she ends up in danger?”

A heavy sigh wracked through your body.

Your silence was enough for Hoseok to continue with his own line of thinking. “Well, we could consider going to the police-”

“Absolutely not,” you answered fiercely, with more emotion than you’d displayed the entire conversation, “not after how they handled everything with Ky and how they treated you.”

You and Hoseok had made a name for yourself throughout the town as ‘Public Enemies 1 and 2’ with the local police department. You, due to your persistent insistence that they were wrong in their deduction about Ky, and Hoseok because of the article he published that shamed their name.

The article was the first – and last – one that he published under the company that had hired him to be a reporter, seeing as the police department had enough sway to get him fired afterwards. He wasn’t able to find another reporting job anywhere within the town or those surrounding it.

There also weren’t any remaining records of the article anywhere online or in paper publication, but as a ‘fuck you’ to the department, Hoseok had a copy of it printed and hanging up on his wall for anyone and everyone to see. You had always admired how he handled the situation with grace even though it made your blood boil every time you thought about it.

Even so, some good had come from the whole ordeal. After failing to find another reporter job, Hoseok had made a somewhat notable career as a crime novel author, popular among locals because of how he came to be a novelist, and eventually rising to fame due to his own amazing writing skills.

He enjoyed his career and had a happy life, but that didn’t mean you had to forgive and forget the shitty events that happened to get him to that point.

Hoseok nodded in understanding. “Ok, so no police. Does that mean we try to tackle this whole thing by ourselves?”

“Neither of us have any legit experience with this kind of stuff, so that’s out of the question, too.”

Hoseok tapped his chin as he pondered another idea. The way his eyes lit up as it came to him made your lips curve upward.

“What if we go to someone who isn’t involved with the police but does have experience with that?”

“…not sure I’m following you.”

Hoseok huffed in an endearing way. “Have you ever heard of a private detective?”

The word ‘detective’ made you wince, considering your last encounter with one evolved into a screaming match…but it was also how you met Hoseok, so there’s a silver lining for everything.

“I’m not familiar with a private detective, but I’m open to listening to your idea.”

He grinned. “Perfect. Ok, so in my research for my latest novel, I actually ended up looking into some real-life private detectives.”

“And what did you find?” Your own curiosity was definitely piqued now, as it always was when Hoseok would talk about something so passionately.

“There’s one who’s basically world renowned, like he’s really fucking good. And his office isn’t too far from here, it’s basically in the next town over.”

You took another sip from your coffee, swirling the now lukewarm liquid around in your mouth as you contemplated.

“What else do you know about him?”

Hoseok’s shoulders slumped slightly at that. “Not much. The only information I have on him is his name and how you can contact him. From what I’ve read, he seems to be pretty selective with clients.”

“No idea what he looks like?”

Hoseok shook his head. “None. There weren’t pictures or anything like that, I’m not even sure how old he is.”

You hummed as you pictured this mystery man in your head, automatically defaulting to envisioning an older man, maybe in his 50s with already graying hair. A wise old soul who had seen so much in his long years of investigation work.

“Not like all that really matters, I guess. Do you think I should reach out to him?”

Hoseok nodded around his coffee cup before he tilted his head back to take a large sip. “That’s our best shot right now. And if it doesn’t work out, at least you tried.”

Such a simple statement but it made your stomach twist at the memory of Ky and how you weren’t able to save her because you didn’t know how. “Right.”

Hoseok pulled his phone out of his pocket and scrolled through what looked like Google search results. When he found what he was looking for, he texted you the information.

“Kim Taehyung?” You said the name aloud, making sure you got the correct info.

“Yup, that’s him. If you do decide to contact him, let me know how it goes, ok? I’m already worried as is about you delving into something like this again.”

You patted his hand. “I know, Hobi. Don’t worry. I’ll be careful, and I’ll keep you updated as much as possible.”

He smiled brighter than the sunshine. “That’s all I can ask for, bub.”

⊱──────── ✬ ✬ ✬ ────────⊰

You paced around your apartment, staring at the text that Hoseok had sent you earlier. The rest of your time with him at the diner had been calm and helped to quell your nerves, but now that you were alone again, you were riddled with anxiety.

You had typed in this Kim Taehyung’s number into your phone, ready to call him and just get it over with. The worst he could do is decline your ask for help, but you wouldn’t know unless you tried.

After a few more minutes of useless pacing, you finally hit ‘send’ and raised the receiver to your ear.

You were met with an answering machine almost immediately, wondering if maybe you typed it in wrong until you heard ‘you have reached the number for Kim Taehyung.’ The name had been uttered by a human voice, one that was deep and took you off guard.

You had barely enough time to ponder over the voice before you heard the tell-tale ‘beep’ signaling for you to start your message.

“Oh! Um, hello, Mr. Kim. This is Y/N- well my name is Y/N. I was referred to you by a friend of mine who said you may can help me with a situation I’m having. There’s…some suspicious behavior involving someone dear to me and I’m afraid they could be in danger, but I’m not sure who to turn to. I-If you’d like to give me a call back, you can reach me at this number…”

You finished your voicemail with your contact information before thanking him and wishing him a goodnight. Once you pulled away your phone, you checked the time.

10:36 PM. No wonder you got his answering machine.

The anxiety that had settled down while you were leaving your message started to come back, so to combat that you made the decision to go ahead and get ready for bed. There wasn’t anything else you could do right now, anyway.

You texted Yuri just to wish her a goodnight, and when you received a response almost immediately, you breathed out a sigh of relief. At least she was alright and that was one less thing to worry about for now.

You didn’t dream that night – which was a blessing in its own right – as you thought about the deep timbre of the voice from the answering machine. You’d only heard it briefly, but it left enough of an impact, that was for sure.

⊱──────── ✬ ✬ ✬ ────────⊰

You awoke around 8 AM, your typical time no matter what day it was. It was the weekend, so you could get more sleep if you wanted, but a quick check of your phone had you sitting upright at a record speed.

[Unknown] 6:28 AM: I got your voicemail. If you want to discuss your case, meet me at this address.

Your heart thumped faster as you re-read the words over again. The following message had an address attached, and when you opened it, you noticed how it was for the neighboring town.

With all of the context clues, and taking into account everything Hoseok told you yesterday, you figured that it was Mr. Kim who had texted you. Obviously it would be from an unknown number, and he wouldn’t give out any explicit personal details to lead back to him; that’s just how he did things, as Hobi had mentioned.

And if he contacted you back, that meant he was interested in helping you!

Well…he was interested in hearing you out, at least. Still, you wouldn’t pass up on this opportunity. You quickly crafted a response before you started to make yourself presentable.

[y/n] 8:03 AM: Thank you! When should I meet you?

You had just finished brushing your teeth when you heard your phone chime again.

[Unknown] 8:06 AM: Whenever is best for you. I’ll be here all day and don’t have any other clients lined up.

You clutched your phone to your chest. This was really happening.

Once you were done getting ready to head out, it was just past 9 AM. You called Hobi to let him know what you were doing, and his excitement was tangible even through the phone. He urged you to keep him posted about all the details, which you assured him that of course you would.

The drive to the address you’d been given didn’t take too long, maybe around 20 minutes or so. What surprised you when you arrived, though, was the outward appearance of the building.

It looked abandoned, for lack of a better term, and you checked the text message 3 more times to make sure this is where you were supposed to be.

[y/n] 9:28 AM: I’m here…but I’m not sure if this is the correct place?

There was an eerie feeling settling in your stomach as you waited for a response. Maybe this had been some sort of trick? Had someone set you up?

The sound of a deadbolt clicking grabbed your attention, and the door a few feet in front of you opened up to display an older woman. At first, she seemed a bit disgruntled at having an unexpected guest, but before you could apologize for intruding, her gruff expression was replaced with a warm smile.

“I take it you’re Y/N?”

You gulped and nodded, placing your phone back into your jacket pocket.

“Follow me.”

She turned on her heel to walk back into the building, not bothering to wait and see if you would obey. You quickly scurried after her, only stopping once you were a foot or so behind.

You walked through about 3 or 4 different hallways, trying to remember the directions you’d taken but failing miserably. There wasn’t much to this building…you saw what appeared to be a few offices here and there but otherwise, not much else.

“Here we are,” the woman croaked, gesturing with her arm to a much nicer looking door that had gold lettering on the window.

The etchings were bold, and it was very evident where you were as you read the words:

KIM TAEHYUNG

Private Detective

The older woman rapped on the door 3 times with her knuckles before she walked off. You were standing there, dumbfounded, until you heard a voice softly telling you to come inside.

The doorknob clicked easily under your hand, and as you entered the room, you were in awe of how different everything looked.

The office was tidy and, dare you say, extravagant compared to what surrounded it outside of this room. There were two brown leather couches that had a decent sized coffee table seated in between them; further into the office, you saw the same type of leather chairs, one in front of and one behind a large wooden desk. You also spotted a few plants that looked to be well taken care of, one sitting in a windowsill and the other on a small table next to some black filing cabinets.

Whoever had designed this room clearly had a knack for matching furniture together, because it all meshed well and you appreciated the sleek look to everything.

Your eyes ended their scan as you looked over to the far wall, almost letting out a gasp when you noticed the figure across the room whose back was turned to you.

When you softly shut the door, the other person in the room turned around. It took you a second to start thinking properly again, because he was not at all how you pictured he would be.

For starters, he looked much younger than you thought originally, closer to your own age, which you thought was admirable considering his high status as a detective. He had brown hair parted down the middle that was slightly wavy, with bangs covering his forehead. He had very handsome facial features as well, some of the most handsome you’d ever seen, if you were being honest with yourself.

He was wearing dark jeans and a shirt with black and white print that was hidden underneath a black leather jacket. Everything about this man seemed to scream fashionable and it was throwing you for a loop. You weren’t trying to stereotype him based on your own experience with detectives in the past, but he was just…so not what you expected him to be.

You were wondering again if this might be a prank, until he finally spoke up and acknowledged your presence.

“Y/N, is it?”

You nodded dumbly, scrambling to walk across the office as he motioned to the chair in front of his desk. He sat down in his own once you were close enough, and you shrugged out of your jacket before following suit.

There was a moment of silence between the two of you, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. If anything, you felt small under his scrutinizing gaze. He was leaning on one elbow, chin resting in his palm as he stared at you with intensity.

He spoke suddenly, almost making you flinch with surprise.

“So, you mentioned a friend of yours might be in danger?”

You nodded, not sure what to say or if you should say anything.

“Does this friend know you’ve come to a private detective about their situation?”

You opened your mouth, closed it, and opened it again. “Well…no.”

The man nodded, more to himself than you, it looked like. “Alright. That’s not an issue, just have to cover all the basics first.”

“What do the basics entail?”

He seemed amused by your interest as you took the initiative to ask questions now.

His fingertips drummed along the desk, a rhythmic sound that you found to be oddly soothing.

“It entails me finding out as much about your case as I’m willing to before I decide whether or not it’s something I can assist you with.”

He started twirling a pen with his unoccupied fingers, clearly waiting for you to speak first again before he continued.

“What do you want to know?”

“Anything you feel is pertinent to tell me.”

You sighed. “Well, to start with, I think my friend is being followed by someone-”

“Proof?”

You frowned. “I’m sorry, what?”

“Do you have proof? Does this friend have pictures or a video of them being followed, or is it just a feeling?”

“To my knowledge…no. It’s more that they sense it than have actually seen it.”

“And you want me to find out if this is happening or not?”

“Um…yes?”

It was his turn to sigh this time. “You don’t sound very confident in your answer, Y/N.”

His tone rubbed you the wrong way. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“What it means,” he broke off to look away from the pen to your face again, “is that I need to know what it is you want from me before I can agree to help you.”

You were catching onto his game now. He wanted you to very specifically lay it all out for him, instead of leaving him to figure it out by grasping at straws.

“Well, Mr. Kim-”

“Taehyung.”

“Sorry?”

“Taehyung. You can call me that, if you want. I’m not super big on formalities for myself.”

You chewed the inside of your cheek. Why was his presence so overwhelming?

“With all due respect, Mr. Kim, I’ve never done this before. All I know is something isn’t right, and I don’t trust the police to offer assistance in the way I need.”

You swore you saw something flash in his eyes.

“Why don’t you trust the police?”

You crossed your arms and leaned more into the chair. “The last time I worked with them, it didn’t end well.”

“You’ve worked on the force?” He almost sounded impressed.

“No, sorry, poor choice of wording. I tried to help them with a case before.”

“Ah,” his eyes narrowed as he busied himself with the pen again. “Were you a suspect, or?”

“I was close to the victim,” you said softly, almost a whisper.

For a moment, his expression softened. “I’m so sorry.”

You shrugged, inhaling a shaky breath as you looked at your lap. “It’s fine. Just…there’s your answer. I don’t want to work with them again, so I came to you.”

“If I’m able to take your case, I’ll make sure you don’t regret that decision.”

His tone had you picking your eyes back up. You noticed a fire within his own, one that made you feel like he meant every single word he’d just said to you.

“Thank you.”

He carded a hand through his hair, the action drawing your attention to the silver watch that adorned his wrist.

“Can I ask…could you tell me about the case you were involved with?”

A slow nod from you. “If it’ll help, I can do that.”

He motioned for you to continue. As you started telling him the details, you noticed as his eyes widened. At one point, he politely interrupted you.

“Sorry, just – I remember that case. You were involved with that?”

“Yes.” You were twisting your hands together in your lap. “Ky was my best friend.”

“And the police just let the case go cold, without considering all traces of evidence?”

“I begged them not to, but there wasn’t much I could do. They made that known several times,” you trailed off. You thought you heard some semblance of a growl coming from the detective.

“I always knew something was weird about that…every report they published made no sense, and none of the pieces of evidence seemed to corroborate their theories.” His hushed tone suggested he may have been talking more to himself, but you didn’t question it.

“There were signs of suspicious behavior leading up to her death that they never considered, and any time I tried to bring it up, I was shut down immediately.”

“Are these ‘signs’ something you’re noticing now, with your other friend?”

“Yes, exactly.”

Taehyung hummed. “I see. You want to inspect this before it gets out of hand, so you came to me because the police are a lost cause.”

You nodded feebly, voice softer than ever when you spoke again. “I don’t want to see another person die.”

“You won’t.”

His answer startled you, even if it was as quiet as your own. Your eyes met briefly before he started looking anywhere but your face.

Another hush befell the room, and this one seemed more awkward than the last, considering Taehyung cleared his throat before he rifled through one of his desk drawers.

“Before you tell me anything else, I need you to look over something first.”

“Sure, whatever I need to do, I’ll do it.”

A crooked smile tugged at Taehyung’s lips. “You know, you’re a lot more obedient than most of my other clients.”

You…weren’t sure how to take that.

“I am?”

“Yeah. Most of the time they come in with demands and don’t like to listen when I push back on something. It’s part of the reason why I’ve gotten choosier about who I decide to do business with these last few years. But you,” he fished out a piece of paper from the drawer, “are proving much easier to work with. I appreciate that.”

“Oh. Thank you.”

He chuckled, the sound low. “You’re also way more polite than most people I encounter.”

You smiled at him for the first time. “I’m grateful you’re taking the time to hear me out.”

His eyes lingered on yours for just a second before shifting down.

“First and foremost,” Taehyung slid a piece of paper across the wooden desk that separated the two of you, “if we agree to do business, you’ll need to sign this contract. It lists my stipulations and services I can provide.”

You picked up the paper, not quite sure what to expect.

“Take your time to read over all of it carefully, just so everything is clear on both our ends.” He leaned back in his chair, the sound of squeaking leather breaking your concentration for a moment.

You scanned through every line, all of the contract terms seeming straight-forward and easy to agree to-

-but the last line caught your attention.

“Could you explain this last part, please?”

Taehyung leaned over to look at which line you were pointing to before he let out a soft chuckle. “Ah, that. My #1 most important rule. Never get involved with clients’ personal lives.”

“But don’t you have to sometimes?”

“For work, yes. But this is more referring to what happens outside of that. Things can get…messy.”

“You talk like that’s happened before.”

Taehyung smirked but offered nothing more to that specific conversation.

“So, are we in business?”

You didn’t have to ponder long before you signed the contract with a flourish. When you passed it back across the desk, Taehyung smiled.

“Perfect,” he stood up to shake your hand, “I’ll be in touch with you shortly, once I’ve reviewed your case.”

You returned the shake. “Thank you, Mr. Kim.”

He squeezed your hand once before letting it go.

“The pleasure is all mine.”

You waited to see if there was anything else he might need from you, shifting your weight from one foot to the other. He leaned down and sifted through his drawer once more, this time pulling out a Manila file folder.

“I use these to get the typical information needed for me to start my research. It just asks for client’s name and contact info, as well as a summary about what you’re wanting from me and other names of those involved. In this instance, it would be your friend. You can give me as little or as much info as you think I need.”

He handed the folder to you, and upon opening it up, you saw everything he had just mentioned to you on a sheet of paper stapled to the inside.

“I’d prefer you fill it out now so you can leave it with me, but of course I can’t force you to do anything.”

His tone suggested he was teasing, but you were quick to sit on one of the couches and begin filling out the paper. It didn’t take you very long, and when you were done, you noticed he was sitting on the opposite couch, elbows resting on his knees with his hands folded.

“Finished?”

You nodded as you slid the file across the coffee table, his pen placed on top. He accepted both and smiled at you.

“Alright, if that’s all you want to discuss, you’re free to go. As I mentioned before, I’ll be in touch with you after I’ve looked over everything and have some sort of plan on how to proceed. And of course, all of this information is strictly classified. You read that in the contract, but I always reiterate it anyway, due to some problems I’ve had in the past.”

“Of course.” You agreed with no hesitation. Honestly, you couldn’t fathom just how much he’s had to endure in his line of work, how many times he’s probably had to change locations and phone numbers.

Hell, Kim Taehyung may not even be his real name, and you’d never know.

“Any questions for me?”

You mumbled some form of ‘no’ as you shook your head. Taehyung walked over to the door to open it for you, and you certainly weren’t expecting the same woman from before to be out in the hallway, but there she was.

“Ms. Choi will show you out since this place is a bit of a maze,” his tone was light, a sheer contrast to the mood that had settled over the two of you from when you stepped into his office. “Don’t forget: I’ll contact you.”

“Yes, sir.” You couldn’t help the authoritative term as it slipped past your lips, and you walked through the door before you could see the look on his face. You thought you might have heard some sort of laugh from Ms. Choi as she escorted you back to the front, but your imagination liked to play tricks on you sometimes.

Besides, Taehyung said he wasn’t one for formalities, so it didn’t really matter that much, did it? He had to be older than you anyway…right?

You spent the entire walk through the building trying to justify in your head what had just happened, and Ms. Choi gave you a soft smile as she held the door open for you to leave.

When you settled back in your car, you gripped the steering wheel and took a deep breath, leaning your head back as you shut your eyes.

You still couldn’t quite believe that the last 30 minutes or so had happened. Taehyung had proven to be quite different than what you anticipated, but he was truthfully better than you could have hoped.

He seemed driven and motivated about his line of work, and the way he reassured you when you had your doubts-

-it made you feel…safe. Like this was a step in the right direction after all.

As you called Hobi to fill him in on everything during your drive home, you started to believe that maybe, just maybe, things would turn out alright.

⊱──────── ✬ ✬ ✬ ────────⊰

➥Part 2

➥Series Masterlist

➥All Works Masterlist

[dweetwise]

i was chatting with @devil-of-roseville about our felix ships and suddenly a polyship was born <3

Ace X Felix X Ghostface headcanons

When Felix and Danny start dating, the rest of the survivors can't help but worry. They can't understand how the normally rational architect would decide to not only fraternize with the enemy, but also specifically choose one who seems particularly sadistic and manipulative.

Suspecting foul play, the survivors send Ace to investigate. Seeing as the gambler is on friendly terms with almost everyone and an approachable person to talk to, they figure he might be able to get some information out of Felix and find out if the survivors need to step in and rescue him from the killer. Ace agrees readily, eager for some drama in their boring existence.

Unbeknownst to the others, Ace has been battling his own feelings for Felix and is a little jealous of his and Danny's relationship. Sure, he's happy to check in on his awkward friend, but if this whole thing also allows him to sort out his own feelings and get closure? Even better.

To Ace's surprise, Felix is much quicker to open up about his new relationship than Ace anticipated. It seems some of the others haven't had any issues in making their disapproval known, which has made Felix feel somewhat isolated from the group. Getting to talk about his relationship without facing judgement turns out to be just what he needs.

And as much as Ace wants to dislike Ghostface and his obnoxious behavior in trials, the more Felix talks about the man under the mask, the more Ace starts to kind of like the dude. It's no secret that Ace's moral compass is wonky at best, and contrary to the others he doesn't particularly see anything wrong with courting a killer—lord knows he's tried to seduce them for hatch on several occasions. Hearing how (surprisingly) well Danny treats Felix when it's just the two of them, he can't find it in himself to be against their relationship.

However, when Danny notices Felix starting to spend more time with Ace, it's hard not to feel threatened. The killer has never paid Ace much mind before but now he fixates on the gambler to an unhealthy degree, stalking him both in trials and at the campfire to try to understand his motives.

But no matter how much he watches, Danny can't find any proof that Ace is looking to take Felix from him. On the contrary, the gambler seems to be on his side, quick to lighten the mood and redirect the conversation whenever Felix's relationship with the "disgusting killer" comes up at the survivors' campfire. Danny would never admit it out loud, but he may start to "accidentally" leave Ace slugged next to the hatch or choose someone else as his mori victim.

But even if nothing seems to happen between Felix and Ace, Danny isn't stupid. He notices both the obvious flirting and lingering glances that Ace throws Felix's way, and Felix's improved mood ever since he started spending more time with Ace.

Eventually, Danny gives Felix the option to pursue Ace if he wants to. When Felix is understandably confused and asks why, Danny doesn't know how to answer. Because he knows it will happen eventually regardless of what he says? Because sharing Felix is better than losing Felix? Or simply because he wants Felix to be happy?

For a good while, everything continues as normal between Danny and Felix. Then one day, Felix shows up with Ace in tow, the gambler promptly announcing that he wouldn't mind being with both of them. To say that Danny is caught off guard would be an understatement.

It turns out that contrary to Danny, Ace isn’t possessive in the slightest. Instead of taking Felix away from Danny, he merely wants to join in on what they have. Ace just grins and says he's seen Danny watching him and noticed his little favors in trials, and that "if you ask me, two handsome guys for the price of one seems like a pretty good deal."

And so it’s decided. Felix and Danny continue to see each other just as much as before, only now Ace sometimes joins them. After the initial jealousy of seeing Felix with someone else, Danny comes to appreciate how Ace makes Felix smile and is there to look after him when Danny isn’t.

Ace also makes good on his promise to date both of them, his ceaseless flirting often a big distraction in his trials against Danny. Even if Felix is the glue holding them together, Danny is surprised just how easily it is to fall into a relationship with Ace. The gambler easily keeps up with his sharp wit and his carefree attitude is a breath of fresh air to Danny’s and Felix’s serious personalities. Sometimes Felix isn’t even there, and Danny and Ace just chill with each other outside of trials and occasionally even fool around.

When it’s the three of them however, the atmosphere is quite different. Though Felix often complains about his two lovers constantly getting into trouble, it’s clear that both Danny and Ace have a soft spot for the architect. Ace’s teasing nature becomes much more devoted, whereas Danny’s rough edges soften whenever he is around Felix. It’s not uncommon for both Ace and Danny to offer sweet words and murmured praise to their favorite blond, only to casually tease or insult each other in the next breath. When Felix grumbles at them to make up, Danny may kiss Ace’s smiling mouth with more force than necessary just to get him to shut up.

Needless to say, the rest of the survivors aren’t happy when they find out about the arrangement. They are definitely berating Ace with comments of "you were supposed to break them up, not join them!" while Ace merely grins and says he’s "too busy thinking about his two gorgeous boyfriends" to care.

[robininthelabyrinth]

A Sick Thought - Part 3 - on ao3 or on tumblr pt 1, pt 2

Lan Wangji had long ago suspected that he had done some terribly wrong in a prior life, if only because something had to explain everything he’d suffered from the death of his mother to the destruction and rebuilding of his sect to the loss of Wei Wuxian and the terrible wrenching pain that accompanied it.

If before he suspected, now he was certain.

There was no other way to explain why else he would be tormented by the return of his beloved – as a feline.

He had difficulty even thinking about that, really, even though he’d gotten relatively used to dealing with the fact of it in real life. The thought just sounded so absurd in every possible way:

Wei Wuxian is back, but he’s a cat.

The Yiling Patriarch returned at last, meowing.

Purr, says Wei Ying.

(That last one tended to lead him to disturbing thoughts, and so he refrained.)

They were traveling together now, working together, Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian together. It was everything he’d ever dreamt of, except for the part that his wildest fantasies on the subject somehow failed to cover the possibility that Wei Wuxian would be small, four-legged, and insist on riding on Lan Wangji’s shoulder except for when he felt the distinct need to zoom around wildly and would pelt up and down the road at top speed, chattering cheerfully as he did.

Similarly, when Lan Wangji had imagined sharing a meal with him, he had perhaps anticipated Wei Wuixan’s eyes going big and round and pleading, the way he inhaled the smell of spices, the way he would reach out to grab – but he hadn’t anticipated that he would need to bat away Wei Wuxian’s little paw before he consumed anything with onion, garlic, or other alliums, which were bad for cats, and would instead be feeding him little bits of raw chicken with no salt. Sometimes, even often, he would succumb to Wei Wuxian’s pleading and rub on a tiny little bit of chili powder – spice was also bad for cats, no matter how they lusted for it, and so it was bad for Wei Wuxian no matter his pleading. 

He had imagined sharing a pillow with him, hearing his breathing, and they did, he did - and yet, they were literally sharing the pillow, Wei Wuxian’s entire body curled up into a perfect orb of cat right next to his cheek and sometimes waking him up with foul cat-breath, and instead of needing to watch for nightmares he was more concerned about dreams involving chasing (Wei Wuxian had pounced on his forehead ribbon more times than he could count). He could sooth him with his hand, as he’d hoped, but there was a lot less sighing and a lot more purring - a rumble like distant thunder, more vibration than sound - than he’d thought.

Also, he’d imagined their duets to include somewhat more flute-playing and less…yowling.

Yes, it was all…very, very different.

No matter. It wasn’t important that it didn’t match his dreams; what was important was that Wei Wuxian, his Wei Ying, was back.

That was what mattered.

“I really wish we could’ve gotten more information from Mo Xuanyu,” Wei Wuxian said, padding along at Lan Wangji’s side. He’d permitted Lan Wangji to replace the cheap red ribbon Mo Xuanyu had found for him with something a little more elegant, and Lan Wangji hadn’t been able to resist using one of his spare forehead ribbons (dyed red, of course, to match Wei Wuxian’s tastes); the obvious end result of this pleasurable subterfuge was that Lan Wangji was now having some difficulty looking straight at Wei Wuxian without blushing. 

It seemed an appropriate example of suffering the consequences of his own actions. 

“I know he doesn’t know anything about the ghost hand – or the legs, I guess, now that we’ve gotten them, and wasn’t that weird with the Nie sect? Poor Nie Huaisang looked even more torn up about it all than I would’ve expected, all dark circles under his eyes and pale skin, you’d think he’d be better at running a sect if it’s been a decade already – anyway, I’m distracting myself from the main point. The main point is, I can’t help but feel like this whole thing is connected to Mo Xuanyu somehow.”

“Agreed,” Lan Wangji said.

Poor Mo Xuanyu.

Lan Wangji had not in nearly a decade and a half regretted his decision never to willingly set foot in Jinlin Tower, but now that he had seen what work they had made of Mo Xuanyu, he regretted nothing more. He who took such pride in being where the chaos was had missed the chaos and wretchedness right under his very nose – for Mo Xuanyu was very wretched indeed.

Lan Wangji had resented Mo Xuanyu at first, always laying his hands on Wei Wuxian without the slightest bit of shame – not that there needed to be shame, given that Wei Wuxian was, well, a cat, and of the subgenre of felines that Jiang Cheng for some unspecified reason continued to crudely refer to as “cuddle-sluts” – and for how Wei Wuxian worried about him and cared for him. 

It did not help that Mo Xuanyu was so well known for being a cutsleeve. 

And then, one day, Mo Xuanyu had gotten Lan Wangji alone and told him with great emphasis that he was deeply devoted to his successful courtship of Wei Wuxian, offering his help in any possible respect, and also wistfully added that he wouldn’t mind it very much if Lan Wangji were willing to offer some suggestions on how to court Jiang Cheng, who was utterly oblivious to any hints.

After that, Lan Wangji remembered himself what shame was, and guilt, and felt it thoroughly – it was no excuse to say that being around Wei Wuxian roused his worst protective and possessive instincts, for it was his duty to overcome them. Be strict with yourself, the rules said, and as always he had failed to remember the rules when he needed them most.

The extent of his pettiness was only magnified when he thought about it all more closely. Mo Xuanyu was not merely someone to be pitied, was more than simply a victim who had suffered under the outrages of the Jin sect – the harassment, the abuse, the deliberate poisoning and destruction of his mind in order to reduce his credibility...That was all bad enough, and it pained Lan Wangji to no end to hear it. 

But more than abuse, more than madness, more than exile to a misbegotten place that somehow managed to beat out Jinlin Tower for sheer viciousness –

It was due to Mo Xuanyu that Wei Wuxian had returned.

He had been willing to give his very life, his body and soul, to bring him back.

And for that, Lan Wangji owed him everything.

Even when it meant –

“We should return to the Cloud Recesses to fetch him,” Lan Wangji said, and Wei Wuxian craned his head around – his tiny, tiny head that could easily fit into Lan Wangji’s palm, covered in a short layer of fur more comfortable than the softest silk – to look at him in curiosity. “I understand that it is a detour.”

“It is,” Wei Wuxian said. “You wouldn’t propose it for no reason, either. What are you afraid of? He’s in the Cloud Recesses, and with Jiang Cheng – surely he’s as safe as safe can be.”

“It is nearly the end of the month,” Lan Wangji said. “My brother will be returning home soon.”

“So?” Wei Wuxian asked, puzzled. And why should he not be puzzled? To even think…and yet. And yet, and yet, and yet. “Jiang Cheng will explain everything to him, won’t he?”

“My brother will be returning home,” Lan Wangji said again. “After a month and more abroad.”

Wei Wuxian looked at him silently, awaiting an explanation. His tail lashed gently against Lan Wangji’s leg.

“He was visiting his sworn brother,” Lan Wangji said. “Lianfeng-jun.”

“Jin Guangyao,” Wei Wuxian said, his tone heavy – he had understood. “Does your brother visit Jinlin Tower often?”

Lan Wangji nodded tightly.

“And has for many years, I expect? Since the end of the Sunshot Campaign.”

He nodded again.

“Surely you don’t believe that he knew what was happening to Mo Xuanyu?”

Lan Wangji hesitated. “I do not know how he could not have known,” he confessed. “I think to myself if I had only been there – if I had overcome my disdain for the Jin sect –”

“Don’t think like that,” Wei Wuxian said at once, a balm to Lan Wangji’s soul. “You couldn’t have known. The Jin sect is the most talented at deception and misdirection – they wouldn’t have let you see. Nor your brother, either - you would have seen only what they wished for you to see, and poisoned the well of your thoughts to discount anything you did see.”

“Perhaps,” Lan Wangji said, and felt more at peace. It was true that even his brother, with his token, could not so easily travel through the depths of Jinlin Tower freely, without an escort. “I do not think Brother knew.”

“I agree. Impossible.”

“And yet - his sworn brother...it is not unheard of for Lianfeng-zun to unexpectedly accompany my brother back to the Cloud Recesses, and I cannot bring myself to believe that he did not know. As a precaution, therefore…”

Wei Wuxian’s ears flicking back and forth. “I see your point. But still, I don’t think it makes sense for us to go to them – why not write to Jiang Cheng and have him bring Mo Xuanyu to meet us here, while we investigate the Chang clan?”

Lan Wangji nodded.

“I’d prefer that, anyway – I really can’t use regular cultivation without Mo Xuanyu around, just demonic cultivation. As we continue to hunt for the ghost pieces, it’ll be good to have both.”

Lan Wangji wondered a little at that. In their first life, hadn’t Wei Wuxian completely abandoned normal cultivation in favor of demonic cultivation?

If so, why the shift back now?

“Besides, I have an idea I want to try that involves him,” Wei Wuxian added casually, so casually that Lan Wangji merely nodded and did not question and did not know until it had already happened.

“Success!” Wei Wuxia hissed in delight, then frowned, poking at his teeth. “Well, mostly.”

“You turned yourself into a catboy,” Jiang Cheng said, his hand over his eyes. “Because of course you did. I hate you. Have I mentioned that I hate you? Becuase I hate you.”

“What’s a catboy?” Jin Ling asked. Apparently he had insisted on joining them, as had Lan Sizhui and Lan Jingyi – Lan Wangji would have instructed them to remain, but Jiang Cheng had yielded more or less immediately to their requests.

Typical.

“You don’t need to know,” Jiang Cheng said at once.

“How do you know?” Wei Wuxian asked. “Jiang Cheng! What are you doing going about knowing things about catboys? We’ve talked about this –”

“What? No we haven’t! We haven’t talked about anything! You spent the entire conversation that we had over catnip crying your eyes out about how tasty pheasants are!”

Lan Wangji had always surmised that there was more to the conversation than that, being as both of them had emerged significantly less likely to murder the other, but he didn’t have any presence of mind to devote to that line of thought.

Or to any thought.

Not when Wei Wuxian was…well, mostly human.

He had his old face, but a build that more closely resembled Mo Xuanyu’s slenderness and height; his hair was the correct shade, but poking out from the strands were two now-familiar ears that flickered back and forth with excitement. And he was also possessed on inhumanly sharp canines, sharp claws, and what appeared to be a very active tail.

All the features attributed to…well.

Catboys.

(Lan Wangji had also seen the specific genre of pornography being referenced and every single one of those images – including his particular favorite, which involved a collar – was refreshing itself in his mind with a new figure in each starring role.

He was going to spontaneously combust.)

He stammered some excuse and fled the scene at once.

By the time he returned, they had more or less packed up to continue following the guidance of the ghost hand – it almost reminded him a proper night-hunt, actually. The adults, such as they were, led the way, with the juniors following behind, chatting amongst themselves; Mo Xuanyu was hanging off of Jiang Cheng’s arm and chattering at Wei Wuxian like old friends, his eyes curved up in crescents, with much of the terrible pain that he had always carried sloughed off like an old skin, while Jiang Cheng nodded along, oblivious to any hint as always.

Lan Wangji was abruptly struck by a feeling of – satisfaction, he thought.

This was good.

(Don’t look at Wei Wuxian or you’ll start slowing down the trip.)

But how could he resist?

He headed over and took his place at Wei Wuxian’s side, receiving a wide smile – he would die a thousand times over for that smile – for his troubles.

“What do you think, Lan Zhan?” Wei Wuxian asked him, and then barreled right on with the conversation without bothering to wait for a response.

Yes.

This was good.

This was how it should be.

Even Jiang Cheng, who Lan Wangji had despised for years…he made Wei Wuxian happy. And since that was the case, Lan Wangji would be willing to put up with him – on a temporary basis, anyway.

“What is this place, anyway?” Lan Sizhui asked from behind them.

“It’s called Yi City, with the Yi as in ‘coffin’,” Wei Wuxian said casually. “Didn’t you see the marker outside?”

“A better question,” Jiang Cheng said. “If it’s supposed to be a city, why isn’t there anyone here?”

“There is, though,” Lan Jingyi said, pointing. “Look, over there – huh, no. I must have seen the wrong thing.”

“No,” Mo Xuanyu said, and him actually disagreeing with someone when it wasn’t in the middle of one of his fits   was so unusual – even after he’d had so much healing – that they all turn to look at him.

He was smiling.

“You’re right,” he said, clapping his hands together happily, his eyes fixed on the distant spot. “There is someone there! I can see them!”

He raised a hand and waved.

“Xue-gege!” he shouted. “Xue-gege, it’s A-Yu! Come out and meet my friends!”

[nohoney]

fix it yourself

notes: Jealous by Eyedress low key inspired this work, I surprisingly got this done pretty quick considering that I first typed this up back in September and sorta just held onto it for a while

warnings: 18+, pretty angsty, slight codependency, implied/referenced abuse, implied/referenced assault, murder, PTSD attack

summary:

Blood on your cheek, bruises around your neck, hands dirty with dried blood, you’re unnervingly calm.

“I did something…” you tell Dabi, the paramour that you easily just accepted into your life since that first dirty fuck in that alley.

“Let me in doll.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ ✧

Dabi’s not necessarily the most affectionate of lovers or the nicest but he looks out for your wellbeing. He plucked you from your shit circumstances of abuse, something that he could very much relate to, and taken you to a place that he deems suitable enough for you. You’re not exactly looking for luxury, just finally a place to escape the screaming, the hitting, and the boozing. In a way, you owe Dabi your life since he had found you at just the right moment when you were ready to give up on the world.

He had first seen you outside of a club, shit faced right outside the entrance, the bass of the music still achingly loud as you threw up into the street. You were no different than any other broken face he had come across, his own including when he looked into the mirror, but you made looking sad and broken into a fucking art. To him you were like a fallen angel, wings dragging in the mud of the earth as you searched for something else to take the pain away. More booze, maybe a fling for the night, maybe a narcotic if you sought out the right people.

Dabi could see that you were corrupted long ago and he imagined in his own mind how innocent you may have been before the world threw you to the ground and pressed your face to the dirt. Were you sheltered at first, not knowing anything about the cruel reality before being thrust into it? Or maybe you were raised in toxicity, doing your best to remain pure and gold hearted before you eventually began to die inside. It’s not always like in those cheesy movies where the main hero can keep their cheery constitution in the face of adversity; in reality someone has to break. He had to know who you were, what shitty home did you drag your feet to, and he just had to have you to himself.

Never mind the story of how he was finally tired of observing you, just plucked you off the street as you were walking in the dead of night, how you eyed him up and down and liked what you saw before pushing your dress up over your hips and pulled your panties to the side for him. Dabi just fucked you in the most nearby alley, just barely able to make you keep your voice down as he thrust into you roughly from behind while pinching your clit. Never mind how he was addicted in just a matter of seconds when your pussy clenched around him and how your first words to him were, “Don’t tell me your name, just fuck me the hardest you can.”

Oh he liked you right away; not only were you broken but you were a slut too?

Dabi could have been like any other scumbag who would just finish and leave you to stumble your way back home. No, Dabi decided that you were his and that it was his duty to make sure that you made it back safe to wherever it was you called home. He wanted to be sure he would have more chances to fuck you. You didn’t look back the first time he had dropped you off in front of a decently sized house, opening the gate to let yourself in and closing it behind you.

Yelling, the shatter of a bottle, a groan of frustration with a door being slammed, he could hear it from where he stood outside the gate to your home.

An abusive father maybe? Perhaps a shit boyfriend that you’re playing girlfriend/mother to?

You don’t tell Dabi anything what goes on behind the doors of your home. The only thing you tell him is how you want to be fucked when he decides to present himself to you on his own time.

He finds out eventually on his own and he has half a mind to take matters into his own hands. No one hurts you unless it’s by his own hand, and only when you ask in that cute pitched voice he likes when you’re about to come undone. Your sanity is just barely hanging off the edge of a cliff when Dabi had arrived to your home in the middle of the night just to check up on you. You stand on the other side of the gate just as he steps to the front. Blood on your cheek, bruises around your neck, hands dirty with dried blood, you’re unnervingly calm.

“I did something…” you tell Dabi, the paramour that you easily just accepted into your life since that first dirty fuck in that alley.

“Let me in doll.”

The place you once called home catches fire and you’re reported as missing.

Dabi takes you to the League’s headquarters and they quietly accept you.

The League doesn’t pay much attention to you unless Dabi allows you to sit with them, and that’s only if he’s with you. Most of the time you’re secluded away from them and the main interactions you get are primarily with Dabi. You’re a mysterious entity to them that had one day just arrived in tow with Dabi, blood streaked on your face, dirty hands, and bruise marks around your neck. They didn’t suspect it to be his doing, not with the tender way he touched your cheek, rather careful like he’d break you, and sent you up to his room. There was clearly a story to your appearance but whatever happened, it remained between you and Dabi.

Some are curious while the others believe it’s best that they not know; either way, your mouth is kept shut about the day you arrived in the League’s headquarters.

It seems that they don’t mind but you can only guess that Dabi may have something to do with them allowing your presence.

The only friendly ones are Twice and Toga, probably the most rambunctious of the entire group. Twice’s conflicting personalities provide an entertainment you’d never seen before and Toga cozies up to you, calling you big sister and sometimes braiding your hair. She asks what your blood is like but you refrain from answering her question. When you’re allowed to interact with the League, Twice and Toga make you feel quite comfortable until Dabi stows you away again.

The rest of them are polite, save for the strange leader who seems wary of your presence.

You watch the news report of the fire of your old home and your missing person’s report from the television provided in Dabi’s room. Bad memories of that night haunt you sometimes and you touch your neck, your body remembering for you how rough hands tried to choke you that night but you want to forget. That life is gone, it’s behind you now and you don’t ever have to worry about it again except your stupid mind won’t stop replaying that night for you. Dabi’s not nearby, he’s not available to give you comfort, sent out by the leader to do who knows what for their organization.

There’s a bottle of dark liquor that Dabi didn’t bother to take back down to the bar from the day before.

You reach for it and hope the amber liquid will numb you.

When Dabi returns, he finds you kneeling in front of the toilet with a glass of water nearby your feet. You’re groaning as you reach for the glass of water to help gargle some of the rancid taste off your tongue, your body purging the foul alcohol you consumed with no food in your stomach to cushion the effects of whatever you drank. Whiskey or cognac or bourbon, you don’t know what it was but it hit you good and hard until it was harsh on your tongue and then your body was punishing you for consuming too much.

You lift your head up and see Dabi standing at the entrance of the restroom. That same broken expression from when he first laid eyes on you, from the many times he’d watch you from a distance, and when you’d just stare forward when you’re lost in your own thoughts. You wear it so well, you really are like a melancholy piece of art to him. You’re his pretty, broken little doll and he’ll do as he pleases with you, the best part being how willing and compliant you are.

To be honest, Dabi would like if you at least had a little fight in you sometimes. He’d get such a thrill in fucking you into submission and breaking your will, but you are who you are and he won’t be ungrateful as to what he’s getting from you now. Maybe one day a fire will light within you and you’ll dare yourself to defy him, but in the meantime Dabi is more than happy to have you so obedient to him.

“Stand up doll, back to the room.”

You take the glass of water with you and go back to the room you share with him, the door closing quietly to give you privacy.

“I want to see it Dabi, show me.” you tell him rather curtly as you sit on the edge of the bed, an edge to your voice. You’re still a little drunk so you’re not really being mindful of how you’re speaking to him, alcohol still coursing through your veins and body still trying to metabolize however amount of liquor that your body absorbed into your bloodstream.

“Use your nice words doll.” Dabi admonishes you but there’s not much bite to his words.

You sigh before asking in the way that he wants you to, “Please can I see it Dabi?”

He reaches his left hand forward and creates a small blue flame in the center of his palm. The sight of it calms you down and the anxiety of that night fades in just a few seconds. It’s not an arm around your shoulder or curling into a warm body that eases your nerves; it’s the hot blue flames that burned your old life to the ground. The hands that tried to choke the life out of you are gone, the knife you used to free yourself from your tormentor burnt to ashes, and the blood on your face and hands washed down the drain, it’s all gone but you’re haunted still.

Dabi understands, it can be difficult to find catharsis and he can’t say what method will be best for you to find relief.

He has his planned out long before he met you, he’s just waiting for the right pieces to fall into place. Whether or not you’ll be around for that time, he’s not sure himself.

The flames dissipate and you’re calm now, your head still swimming a little but you’re sober enough now. You delicately hold his left hand in your own smaller ones, the tips of your fingers carefully moving from the harsh contrast of his untouched flesh to the gnarled skin being held together by the surgical staples. It’s so ugly, so ghastly and all over his body, yet you’re not put off by it at all.

You’re not afraid to look Dabi in the eye as he pulls your clothes off your body and roughly pushes you onto the surface of the bed. Your head aches slightly but not enough to complain about it. Your breath hitches in your throat as his mouth closes over your pussy, licking you sloppily and he pulls back to spit onto your clit. He smears his spit all over and chuckles as the tips of his fingers tease over your opening, your body tensing and reacting so beautifully to his touch. When he curls his fingers inside you after pushing them inside, you struggle to hold in your sounds, you don’t want the others to hear.

It’s not like he cares that you’re trying to stifle yourself, you always end up making noise anyway.

“F-Fuck… y-you’re gonna make me cum!” you whine up to the ceiling.

“Where you wanna cum then?” Dabi asks you, his fingers still working intensely but his eyes looking bored at you. The bulge in his pants gives away that he does indeed the position you’re in now, he just likes being the only one composed as you lose yourself. “Tell me.”

His cock, you want to cum on his cock.

Last time he had you sit on his face, licking and eating you out until you were too sensitive and sobbing for him to just let you rest.

So he lies back and has you on top, he’s tired from being out today and is going to make you do the work. Your head lolls back as you sit on his dick, appreciating the fullness for a few seconds before you brace your hands nearby his head, widen your legs for your comfort and begin to fuck him. Dabi’s hands touch the back of your thighs, huffing quietly as he watches you from below, you’re surprisingly enthusiastic when not too long ago you were puking your guts out.

And now here you were, trying to get your guts rearranged by him.

“Come on, this cock is yours… fuck me like you want it. You want it don’t you?”

“Yes! Yes I want it!” you sob out, pushing back onto Dabi’s cock and just desperately trying to chase the ghosts away of your trauma by losing yourself in this carnal moment.

I want to forget, make me forget.

Harder and harder you chase after your high, the only solace you get since your old life burned to the ground, no trace of evidence of bottles of alcohol and walls with punched in holes or even the creaky floorboards you hyper focused on when certain footsteps walked the hallway. All gone, it was gone, and yet it lives on still in your mind and you don’t know what it will take to move on.

You choke up both from the memories and when Dabi begins to thrust up into you.

He’s your savior, he wasn’t necessarily an angel by any means nor the nicest to you, but he saved you and you were entirely grateful to him. So you have to do a good job and please him, you owe it to Dabi to make sure he gets off. You don’t mind that he uses you like this, it’s what he approached you for in the first place when you walked alone in that dark night after leaving a bar. He looked like trouble when you first saw him but you didn’t care, your life was an almost constant stream of chaos and stress, what more could this one man bring to you?

When you’re on round the clock torture, how much more can you step it up?

Dabi brought pain to you, slapping you in sensitive areas as his cock rearranged your guts, but at least it was a wanted pain that had you clenching and gushing around him.

You gasp as Dabi’s cock slips out of you, whining at the emptiness.

“Put it back inside, fix it yourself.”

Fix it yourself.

Fatal words that you spoke that pushed everything over the edge.

‘F-Fix it yourself…! I won’t do it!’

‘What the fuck did you just say to me?’

A hand at your throat, the knife on the chopping board clattering to the floor as you tried to back up, a haphazard slash when you were able to just barely grasp it, blood dripped onto your face before you desperately pushed off the heavy body on top of you. Anxiety, relief, regret, fear, it all coursed through your body in that moment and when you heard a groan, you plunged that same knife in the body to assure that they wouldn’t get back up.

If you had let them live, you were sure that they would make sure you didn’t.

And you sat in your kitchen, knees hugged to your chest, enough time had passed for the blood on your hands to dry and you thought, ‘I need to turn myself over.’

To your surprise Dabi was at your gate when you walked out and instead you numbly asked him for help.

Fix it yourself.

It’s like a shock of cold water and you hop off of him, curling into a ball on the other side of the bed and you’re wracked with sobs.

It’s just not that easy to forget.

Dabi’s surprised how quick you got off him but he understands quickly that he must have triggered something within you. He’s not good at comforting, is unsure what to say as you press your face into a pillow to muffle your crying. He just fixes his cock back into his pants and stares at you, unmoving. He eventually lays down beside you and just rests his hand on your head, still quiet but he figures it’s a good sign that you take his hand and hold it.

Broken, you look so pretty like this, you wore it so naturally unlike others that made them look ugly.

It’s what attracted him to you in the first place.

His pretty broken doll.

The occupants on either side of Dabi’s room can hear it, idly wondering what had happened. First they could hear your wanton little moans and then the next you’re sobbing, not the pleasurable kind but the heartbroken kind. Things must be okay because it quiets down eventually, though not a word spoken between the two of you as far as they could hear. Whatever happened, it’s between the two of you.

Despite the society you lived in, the reverence of heroes and their system of ranking, no one had ever rescued you from your circumstances. It wasn’t a shining hero, it was Dabi that came into your life, you won’t talk about it, he doesn’t want to know.

But he fixed it for you.

[all-about-remadora]

200 followers!

So here’s a list of One shots for celebrate✨

Everyone Deserves A Someone by LoquaciousLupin

With nothing better to do during the holidays at Grimmauld Place, Hermione and Ginny wonder whether their former Professor has a special someone - with no other ideas, they do the only thing they can and ask him. With a little help from Tonks, Remus answers their questions as honestly... as he can. Remus and Tonks fluff.

A Beautiful Tune by SweetDeamon

I'm...not coming." he said, reaching to shove his hands deep into his pockets. "On the mission. With you." Tonks stared at him in confusion. "Why not?" she asked, grip upon the cloak in her hand going limp. Remus struggled to come up with a convincing lie. "Because I...I..." Because I'm dying. Because you've struck me dead in the heart.

The Unspeakable Girl by SweetDeamon

"She makes me feel so on top of this world that I wish I'd never been born into it in the first place! So I can't stand to talk about her, Dad! I simply can't!" In which Remus Lupin visits his father and confesses something quite extraordinary. Based on information from POTTERMORE. Consider yourselves warned. RLNT.

The Future's Not Ours To See by Gilpin

Remus Lupin has a lot on his mind; his current undertaking for the Order of the Phoenix, and how to obtain questionable potions from an unhelpful Apothecary owner. Can he bring both to a satisfactory conclusion?

Rhapsody in Blue by copperbadg

Remus has decided it's time to cure Tonks of her awkwardness, the only way he knows how.

Kissing It Better by Lady Bracknell

On her first date with Remus, Tonks discovers that spilt beer on wooden floors is the enemy of the less than surefooted everywhere. Will she die of embarrassment, or will Remus find a way to make it all better?

Kiss and tell by Lady Bracknell

For all his supposed genius, Sirius Black had always had rather a blind spot for the patently obvious.

What To Make Of Him by Lady Bracknell

Neither Ted nor Andromeda know quite what to make of their daughter's boyfriend. Can he win them round over Sunday lunch?

On First Impressions by  cafei-au-lei

"'You know,' Sirius said, 'it's kind of funny. For someone who thinks Remus is so annoying, you sure can't seem to stop talking about him.'" A series of moments in Remus and Tonks' developing relationship as they get to know each other and learn that maybe first impressions aren't necessarily everything. OOTP. Fluffy oneshot.

The Order's Most Eligible Bachelors by cafei-au-lei

The Order's Most Eligible Bachelors, or: the ladies indulge in some firewhiskey and gossip. Sirius and Remus stumble upon a game they're not sure they want to be privy to (okay, maybe Sirius does.) The results lead to some necessary conversation and introspection for a few of the parties involved. Oneshot.

The Talk, Or: The (Lighthearted) Trauma of Teddy R Lupin by cafei-au-lei

Teddy knew when Dad brought out the firewhiskey that something was suspicious. Then again, maybe he wasn't giving Dad enough credit for being the cool parent. AU. Remus and Tonks survive to raise their son and give him The Dreaded Talk. Oneshot.

Movement by MrsTater

Things appear to have changed. One shot, RLNT

Retrograde by MrsTater

Sequel to Movement: Tonks strongly suspected, though she hadn't much experience, that it wasn't normal for adults who fancied other adults to do what she was doing now.

Kernels by MrsTater

A Transfigured Hearts outtake: a cosy night in with Remus takes an unexpected turn when popcorn finds its way into odd places and leads Tonks to make an important discovery.

Party till the wolf comes by MrsTater

Fatherhood doesn't send Remus on a pub crawl, but announcing the birth of his son to his closest friends turns out to be the next best thing.

Overheard by MrsTater

Sirius tries to play matchmaker for an ambivalent Remus and Tonks, but when everyone keeps overhearing everyone else's conversations, things get a little complicated as shapeshifters prove to be anything but predictable... Updated Sept 3, 2007

The Honeymooners by MrsTater

Two years after their wedding, Remus and Tonks finally make it on their honeymoon. But now they've got something they didn't when they first married, will they be able to stop thinking about it long enough to enjoy themselves? AU

A Conversation That’s Not About Veela by starfishstar

Harry and Professor Lupin talk about women, and other things. During Christmas of HBP. (A gen story, but with very strong hints of Remus/Tonks and Harry/Ginny.)

Sleeping by starfishstar

Tonks sleeps; Remus muses

Precisely What I Mean by starfishstar

Remus with Teddy was easily the sweetest thing Tonks had ever seen. It seemed Remus couldn't ever hold Teddy without gazing down at his son with a huge, helpless, delighted grin. "Don't your cheeks ever get tired?" Tonks couldn't help teasing him once, and he'd glanced up, bewildered by the question – he didn't even realise he was doing it.

A Slow and Stopping Curve by aegle

Concerning Remus Lupin and Nymphadora Tonks. Set during Order of the Phoenix and Half-Blood Prince.

St. Margaret's by aegle

Remus, Tonks, a Muggle automobile, and a slightly disappointing beach adventure

On Bethlehem Down by aegle

Remus Lupin finds himself at Nymphadora Tonks' flat on Christmas Eve, 1996

The poem which i do not write by aegle

So, it has come to London with them, whatever it is.

The Watch by Sirussly

He'd grown so used to her endless chatter and relentless questions, a burning ball of energy with a laugh like her mother's. Some nights Tonks would listen to him instead, to stories of war and the price one pays for being a soldier in the middle of it. Occasionally neither of them would speak, but once her hand found his and stayed there until the sunrise coloured the sky.

Flame by Eat a Taco

It's strange what the soft light of a candle can do to someone.RLNT, sometime during HBP

Cover Me by Maggiemaye

Remus and Tonks embark on a mission that tests their well-established partnership to its limits. Even while surrounded by Death Eaters hidden in plain sight, they find that their greatest threats may come from within.

Expecto Patronum by Shimotsuki

Remus and Tonks have dinner at the Potters' after seeing Teddy off on the Hogwarts Express. James and Al are full of questions, including one that not even Harry knows the answer to.

Meet the Reindeer by SweetDeamon 

Nothing untoward had happened since Teddy had arrived home from Hogwarts for the holidays this year. So far there had been no manically jingling elves, no traumatised Santa Claus, no mass snowball fights, no exploding cans of fake snow and as of yet nothing had come hurtling down the chimney or splattered anything or anybody with ammunition of the culinary kind. So far. RLNT AU.

Meet the Teacher by SweetDeamon 

In which Remus and Dora receive word from Hogwarts that their son's homework has been completed in a far from satisfactory manner. The subject? Defence Against the Dark Arts. The topic? Werewolves. They've been expecting trouble since the beginning of term...but who feels less prepared? Teddy's parents or Teddy's teacher? Neville has a hunch... AU. RLNT. Rated for mild language.

A Study In Pink by SweetDeamon 

"He isn't entirely sure how it is that a certain pink haired witch came to be lying snugly in the bed beside him yet again, or indeed why such a thing had ever occurred the first time around..." RLNT.

A Piece of Cake by SweetDeamon 

"How long does it take to make a bloody sponge cake!" "You can't rush art, Sirius." Tonks attempts to bake Remus a birthday cake. "Attempts to" being the key phrase here... RLNT. Happy Birthday Gelly Bean!

The Christmas Waltz by Lady Bracknell 

As Christmas approaches, Remus and Tonks dance around the idea of togetherness, wondering if either of them is leading, or know where they're going at all.

Mistletoe and Wine by Lady Bracknell 

Remus falls foul of the mistletoe. Twice. RL/LP, RL/NT, LP/JP, rated for language.

Afraid of the Dark by Lady Bracknell 

Remus had always been ill at ease in the forest, but when a mission for Dumbledore sends him into the heart of the place with Tonks by his side, he finds his apprehension harder than usual to shake off.

The Luck of the Draw by Lady Bracknell 

She sits on the carpet, shuffles the cards, then deals them out. She came here with the hope of forcing the issue, because she just knows they shouldn't be about can't and won't.

Chione by: cafei-au-lei

Remus has confirmation that Tonks may return his feelings - now all that's left is to decide what to do with this rather exciting and terrifying information. And although it's been a strange year, this year's Christmas could shape up to be one of the best Remus has ever had. Takes place after "The Order's Most Eligible Bachelors." RLNT OotP holiday fluff.

The First Night by: cafei-au-lei 

Most major events in Remus' life have done nothing but reinforce the crushing inevitability of his condition and the life that it has condemned him to. But maybe there is hope to be had, after all.

amare by: cafei-au-lei 

At first, the idea that Tonks and Professor Lupin could be together was equal parts baffling and absurd. But then, maybe it did make a tiny bit of sense, Ginny thought, as she watched the way Professor Lupin looked at Tonks over the breakfast table. But she still couldn't help but think that this love and relationships thing was far too complicated. RLNT.

War Baby by MrsTater 

It's time for Teddy's first outing, and for Tonks to make peace with a noble great idiot. Set during Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows.

Perchance To Dream by: MrsTater

A dream leads to an argument and an unexpected quest to seek out the meaning. Will Remus and Tonks kiss and make up? More importantly, who will come out on top? RLNT, Deathly Hallows, Mature.

Like a Cat in the Sun by starfishstar 

Remus is in a house full of women.

[purplesurveys]

1498

What's a restaurant that you won’t ever have dinner/eat at again? I’ve been stuck on this question in the last ten minutes but I guess I’ve never had a particularly horrific experience with a restaurant to the point of me not wanting to ever go back. 

But in general, I do avoid dining in at fast food restaurants because I’m never sure of how clean (or not) those places are. I know it’s no different when I get fast food for delivery lol but I feel more comforable when I’m eating in my own home.

Did you have your morning coffee this morning? Or do you not like coffee? I did. I always have to for work, or else I’d be cranky, all over the place, or both.

Is there someone you know that is absolutely repulsive? One of my former religion teachers. He got away with a lot of crap in the past, like throwing students out of the class for not having textbooks, yelling at his students, etc, because for the longest time no one spoke up (times were different and disciplining kids through those methods was seen as normal). He really only started getting cancelled in recent years now that the younger generation has felt more empowered to call out shitty behavior.

Are you tired from last night? Did you stay up late last night at all? Not last night since it’s already currently 11:30 in the evening, but I am tired from today’s workday, yes, as I usually am. And yes, my body clock has slightly adjusted recently too – I normally sleep at around 2 or 3 AM now.

Have you ever seen like THE hottest guy ever and just almost collapsed? I would probably react like this if I saw Taehyung in concert but otherwise no.

Do you eat randomly, just whenever the hell you want? Not really. I like to feel super hungry first before I dig in.

Did you have trouble getting up this morning? Eh, I wouldn’t say so. I will say though that I used to regularly wake up at 8 AM to get pre-work done (my shift starts at 9) but it’s been months since I did that. I roll out of bed at like 8:55 now - just enough time for me to make coffee and splash some water on my face. Burnout does that to you.

What's a movie you cannot BARE to ever watch again? I mean it’s bear, but ANYWAY. I don’t think I will ever watch I’m Thinking of Ending Things again. I’m a big Charlie Kaufman fan so the fact upsets me, but it was the last movie I saw before the breakup that I had to go through, so. Lots of personal layers in there that I would prefer never to revisit and unpack again.

What’s a few things that automatically make you go, “Awww”? Parent-child reunions always hit me right in the feels. Stories about human connection also make my chest heavy -- like that viral TikTok series of the piano dude who found a bond with his elderly neighbor who also played the piano.

Do you have soft hands? Do you like holding hands? I have quite soft hands. Idk how it is in other cultures but in the Philippines the older generations will usually judge kids and whether they’re lazy or otherwise by feeling their hands, because the idea there is someone who’s gone through hardships in life and have done some hard labor will inevitably have rougher ones. And I’ve definitely been suspected that I “don’t do a lot of chores” because of my hands, lol.

Have you ever burnt a food, and make the whole house smell gross? Not me but it happens all the time with my mom - she always forgets she’s making rice. Fortunately burnt rice doesn’t emit a foul smell per se, but it will give off a scent that will send alarm bells ringing and will make you run to the kitchen immediately.

Wouldn’t it be awesome if you had your own personal jet pack? Nah. Jet packs only sounded cool in Grand Theft Auto LOL but at the end of the day I think there are other convenient modes of transport.

What’s your opinion on perfumes that are REALLY expensive? Do you like them? I’m fine with those as long as they don’t smell too strong. There are perfumes that straight up smell like the inside of an old old OLD closet and I hate those.

Have you ever really hated a teacher and practically made it clear you did? No because I went to Catholic school, aka a place where they constantly instill fear and trauma onto students. I hated some of my teachers but had to express those feelings very privately and only with close friends because the second I made it obvious, I know they wouldn’t have hesitated to make my life hell.

Who got you hooked on the addiction you’re addicted to (If you have one)? Nobody got me into this Bangtan shit other than myself, lol. Angela helped a lot with orienting me with them though. Are you a little bit cautious around horses? Do they scare you a bit? I’m not scared of being around horses, but I also don’t like getting on them because I’ve never taken any lessons. I’m also constantly paranoid that they might get spooked and throw me off and onto the ground.

Have you ever burnt your tongue like REALLY bad? If so, what on? Once. I don’t remember what it was that I ate anymore, but I was stuck in a situation where I couldn’t just spit the piping hot food out so I had it in my mouth until my tongue essentially felt numb. It had some tiny red spots for a few days after the incident.

If you could live next door to ANYONE, who would you want to live beside? Someone who knows how to play the piano and likes to play full pieces.

Do you think your friends are pretty? Do your friends think you’re pretty? They are. Idk what they think of me though.

Do you like having random power naps now and then? Only during the weekends.

Are you currently worried about your parents finding out about something? No.

Do you like concerts? If so, do you like being in the mosh pit? I love concerts, but I’ve never been in a mosh pit. Even though I’ve gotten literal front row tickets to a Paramore show, this was during the era where they shifted their sound to more new wave/synth pop (to the point of them actually doing their Riot!/Brand New Eyes songs with the corresponding synth-y vibes) so no one was moshing that night lol.

Have you ever “liked” two guy best friends at the same time? I’ve never even liked one guy.

Do you think having a sleepover with a guy is theoretically acceptable? Not in the Philippines it ain’t, unless you’re sneaking out or you have the chillest parents in the country.

Do you like to have cake on your birthday? Which kind of cake in mind? Never was a fan of cake. I’ve always preferred savory food to celebrate lol, like sushi and wings.

[meta-squash]

Brick Club 2.3.8 “Inconveniences Of Entertaining A Poor Man Who May Be Rich”

This chapter is so long. Here goes.

Is it normal for Cosette to have to knock to get into the house she lives in? Or is Hugo just using that as a vehicle to make Mme Thenardier meet Valjean first?

It’s times like this that I desperately wish I knew more about biblical stories and fables and things. This, a rich man in disguise as a poor man being treated poorly by innkeepers and taking something from them, sounds like a bible story or a similar type of fable. But the only two bible stories I know with similar themes are the nativity story and Sodom and Gomorrah and neither of those seem quite right. Still, this entire episode reads like a fable or fairytale.

We’ve already seen how Evil the Thenardiers are re: their treatment of Cosette. Now we are seeing their Evil in the form of treatment of the poor.

You know, that’s an interesting thing that I’m not going to get into in this longass chapter. Javert’s evil and Thenardier’s evil are different because I feel like Javert’s evil is a lot more muddied or obscured by morality and duty and things like that. Where are the Thenardiers are bad but the badness of their actions is much more black and white. I think it’s also because, technically, they never have social power over anyone unless they are manipulative, whereas Javert always has the social power. I’m not sure where to go with either of these ideas but I will look back on it for a shorter chapter.

Cosette is ugly because she’s sad. It’s like the exact opposite of Roald Dahl’s description of ugliness. I called it on the orphanage thing and kids looking years younger than they are; she looks 6 when she’s 8. That doesn’t seem like a huge difference when you look at it written down but the difference between the size and maturity of a 6 year old vs an 8 year old is surprising.

In the way that the description of the doll was a distant echo of young Fantine, the description of Cosette here is a faded echo of dying Fantine.

“Fear was spread all over here; she was, so to speak, covered with it; fear squeezed her elbows against her sides, drew her heels up under her skirt, made her shrink into the least possible space...” I’m sure this description comes from Hugo observing children in his lifetime, but I also wonder if any of this comes from his brother who had schizophrenia and was institutionalized?

“The expression on the face of this child of eight was habitually so sad and occasionally so tragic that it seemed, at certain moments, as if she were on the way to becoming an idiot or a demon.” What an interesting pair of choices. Fear and sadness either stun and numb you completely or they turn you aggressive and evil. Hugo said the same thing before when talking about Valjean’s prison time. Again, like I said before, Cosette here is Valjean when we first met him: exhausted, scared, sad, numb, hatefully terrified of the people around her; the difference is that she still has hope. She had that moment of hoping someone would rescue her, she had the moment of pausing and wondering what the doll’s paradise was like; when we met Valjean he was past that kind of hope.

(Funny that Mme Thenardier doesn’t suspect the trick Valjean just pulled, despite Valjean “finding” a 20 sous piece instead of 15 sous piece.)

I love the description of Eponine and Azelma because it’s so innocent. They as little human beings aren’t morally bankrupt at the level of their parents yet. They’re still pretty and glowing. Partly because they are well-cared for unlike Cosette, and partly because they are still innocent.

“Eponine and Azelma did not notice Cosette. To them she was like the dog. The three little girls did not have twenty-four years among them, and they already represented the whole of human society: on one side envy, on the other disdain.”

Ah, human microcosms. Hugo loves those. The Thenardier children and Cosette are the pared down, simplified version of society. It’s also an excellent example of how Privilege works in layers. The girls’ doll is worn and old and broken, but the fact of them having a real doll and Cosette having nothing is already a layer of privilege Someone else, another little girl with wealthy parents and a new intact doll would have privilege over the Thenardier girls. There are layers.

I really love this passage too because it shows the start of the zero-sum game between Eponine and Cosette. At no point are Eponine and Cosette able to be equals. But the important thing is that neither of them are aware of this. Later, when Cosette and Eponine encounter each other again in the Gorbeau house, Eponine doesn’t have the awareness to be angry about the reversal of their fortunes. She seems sad, mostly, a jealousy born from a feeling of worthlessness rather than feeling slighted. And Cosette doesn’t even recognize Eponine, so there’s no room at all for disdain on her part, unless she’s disdainful of Eponine et al due to their poverty, though that never seems to be the case. But Eponine cannot be happy while Cosette is and Cosette cannot be happy while Eponine is, because their goals occupy the same fulcrum (Marius) and they can’t both be on the same level at the same time.

Fanfiction has explored this a lot in modern AU but I wonder the kind of havoc that could have been wreaked had Cosette and Eponine met and become proper acquaintances. Their teenage personalities are two sides of the same coin. I’ve always been of the opinion that had they switched places as children Cosette would have ended up like Eponine and Eponine like Cosette. Because Eponine has the capacity for kindness within her, except that she doesn’t know how to use it selflessly; and Cosette has the same stubborn ruthlessness as Eponine, except that she is held back by convention and reduced to talking a lot in order to try and somehow glean information from Valjean or Marius.

“Now your work belongs to me. Play, my child.” This is the second (or third?) Myriel moment for Valjean. Cosette is a child, an innocent child, but her soul doesn’t need to be bought for god. As far as I can tell, for Hugo, children are always holy. Instead, he’s buying her work. But that makes sense. For Valjean, his soul needed to be bought for god because he had already lost it to sin and to evil and to doubt. Cosette still has hope; what she needs bought from her is suffering.

And here is where the parallel continues. Cosette up until now has been Valjean as we first met him: sullen, suffering, scared, dulled, close to becoming “an idiot or a demon” and now, like Valjean’s soul, her work has been bought so she can be free.

I think it is within the walls of the convent that their parallels will catch up to each other and they will become more equal.

I feel as though the cat in a dress vs the sword in a dress must be some sort of parallel to Eponine and Cosette’s personalities but I’m not quite sure how to pull the meaning out.

“A little girl without a doll is almost as unfortunate and just as impossible as a woman without children.” Ugh. Gross, Hugo. This whole chapter was so lovely and then this misogynist bullshit.

I can explain the “water on her brain” line! Mostly because it’s a medical condition I actually have! So, “water on the brain” is another term for hydrocephalus, which is a buildup of cerebrospinal fluid in the ventricles of the brain. It can be caused by being born prematurely (like mine was) or by infections/head trauma. Nowadays they can put a shunt in your head that pumps the fluid into the abdominal cavity (which is what I have), but obviously they didn’t have the technology back then. So what happens to the head if the fluid doesn’t drain, is the head will start to increase in size, and the fluid buildup will squish the brain against the sides of the skull, causing seizures and brain damage/intellectual disabilities and vision problems and other such things. I function perfectly fine except for mild dyscalculia and ADHD (which might have been genetic anyway) but back in the 19th century hydrocephalus probably would have resulted in either mild-to-severe disabilities or death.

Cosette doesn’t have hydrocephalus, but what she does have is severe malnutrition, which can make a person’s head look much too large for their body. So Mme Thenardier is likely using Cosette’s appearance due to neglect to fake that she has a neurological problem and explain why they have to “take care of” her.

Jesus fucking christ this next bit is so much. There’s so much going on. Mme Thenardier is talking to Valjean about Cosette’s mother, the drinkers are singing vulgar songs about the Virgin Mary and baby Jesus, and Cosette is under the table singing “My mother is dead.” to herself. Woof. It is, yet again, an instance of the memory of “Fantine” (in the symbolic, saintly form of the Virgin) being sullied both by the foul songs of the drinkers and the callous, flippant commentary of Mme Thenardier. And Cosette is there under the table, staring at the fire, suddenly playing the role of her own mother, rocking the sword-baby (herself) to try and comfort herself from the shock of this new knowledge that her mother is dead.

(Anyone else read As I Laying Dying, by the way? All I could think of when I read that line was “My mother is a fish.”)

We start to see Cosette’s bold personality come out in fits and starts. She’s brave enough to sneak out and grab the doll Eponine and Azelma have abandoned. But it’s also an example of how desperate she is for something pleasurable and good, considering she’s doing that at the risk of a beating.

For the second time, we see Cosette so absorbed in her moment of “I Want” that she doesn’t see or hear anything else. Again, this seems unusual considering her constant hypervigilance. But her success in getting the doll and her increased confidence due to Valjean’s presence probably have something to do with her lack of awareness.

Cosette is caught with the doll. Is this the parallel of Valjean being caught with Myriel’s silver? Mme Thenardier says “That beggar has dared to touch the children’s doll.” The gendarmes don’t say as much when they return Valjean to Myriel, but it’s pretty obvious they’re thinking something similar.

“We are forced to add that at that moment she stuck out her tongue.” COSETTE IS SO CUTE I LOVE HER SO MUCH SHE DESERVES THE WORLD. Also I just love the way Hugo writes children, it’s so real.

Why did Hugo choose Catherine for the name of the doll? Is it to do with St Catherine? She (the saint) became Christian at 14 and converted hundreds of people before being martyred at 18 after rebuking the Roman emperor for his cruelty and winning a debate with his best philosophers.

“This solitary man, so poorly dressed, who took five-franc pieces from his pocket so easily and lavished gigantic dolls on little brats in wooden clogs, was certainly a magnificent and formidable individual.” Valjean is now Myriel. Outsiders are fascinated by him because he dresses so shabbily and yet is so benevolent and charitable with his money. Again, the difference is that Myriel’s name is always known, and Valjean’s is never known.

I know I say this so often but the distance with which Hugo treats Valjean is absolutely fascinating to me. Valjean has this incredible power to just go inside himself and not move, but we never get that kind if internality unless it’s really really important (like with the Champmathieu affair). Otherwise, Hugo keeps a respectful distance, and even when we get Valjean’s emotions described to us, I feel like Hugo is always holding back a little, like he’s not letting himself see all the way into Valjean, or Valjean isn’t letting him in.

Valjean asks for a stable; I think this is the first time we see his whole thing about sacrifice of physical comfort. Things like this asking for the stable and sleeping in the shed behind the house at Rue Plumet and not having chairs and only eating black bread etc. This is the first example we see of him feeling unworthy of physical comforts to such a degree.

(It’s interesting to me that we don’t see this characteristic when he was mayor, or at least not to this extreme. Is it because it would be unbecoming of a mayor and therefore would blow his cover? Or did going back to prison hammer in that feeling of worthlessness and lesser-than and warp his perception of what he is compared to others?)

“What a sublime, sweet thing is hope in a child who has never known anything but its opposite!” We’ve said this already, but Cosette is full of hope and life and light and that is Important because it is exactly what Valjean did not have when he was in her position. But it means that she doesn’t have to work as hard in her ascent towards happiness and goodness.

And, lastly, I love that the placement of the gold Louis in Cosette’s shoe isn’t just a sweet Christmas gesture or a gesture towards Cosette: it’s also an echo of M Madeleine breaking into houses to place gold pieces on the table.

Wow. Long af post for a long af chapter. Congratulations if you read through all of my rambling thoughts.

[laequiem]

She kills my self control - Chapter 7

I take Jude’s gloved hand and I am reminded of the other time I held her hand, cold and shaking while she stood almost naked in front of the whole class. Then, she was euphoric and giddy. Now, it is the real Jude who stands in front of me: mutinous and dangerous, though something else seems to cross her features… relief? This is the fierce Jude I see in my nightmares, my fantasies; not the submissive mess from that day.

cw: unhealthy coping mechanisms (alcohol, sex); physical abuse; nsfw

read on ao3  • previous chapter • next chapter  • all chapters

Chapter 7. Looks like magic's solely yours tonight

The day of Dain’s coronation has come. I am expected to stand on the dais with my family and there is no way I will be sober for this. So I drank as I got dressed. I drank as a servant did my hair and I did my makeup. To my intoxicated eyes, it looks good.

When I get to the palace, I quickly scan the throne room for my friends. Locke and Nicasia are swirling around the dance floor together. Valerian is nowhere to be seen. Most importantly, I spot my most loyal friend tucked in the corner of the room: booze. I strut over to the drinks table and fill a glass to the brim with gold-flecked wine. I suspect I will have a glass of each kind of wine by the end of the day.

As I start sipping, no, guzzling my glass, I notice Taryn standing by herself a few meters away, shyly looking at the Folk dancing. She is clutching a small glass of dark red wine. I slide to her side and offer her my empty hand.

“If you want to dance, I will stop you before you dance yourself to death.”

The sound of my voice makes her jump. “Oh, apologies,” she stammers and bobs a curtsy, “Hello, Prince Cardan.”

She must have been lost deeply in her thoughts. I follow her gaze and see she is looking at Locke and Nicasia. I cannot help myself.

“Why do you let him play you?”

Taryn turns and squints at me suspiciously.

“We have an agreement.”

I raise a brow in interest, “Do you, now.”

She sighs.

“He says your kind does not love the way we do. But,” she gives me a tentative smile, “I think things will change today.”

It takes all my will not to roll my eyes. I do not think Locke plans on ending his game so abruptly.

I take Taryn's hand and kiss it. “Well, enjoy yourself.”

I drag a nearby Fae into a dance. I alternate between refilling my glass and spinning new partners across the dance floor until I spot  her  and my breath catches.

Jude Duarte is dancing with Locke. She is wearing the dress I commissioned the tailor to make, her skirt a dark forest I would gladly get lost in. I have to remember to pay the tailor double, it is even more beautiful than what I had in mind. How can others look at anyone but her? 

I feel the cruel prince mask I keep on myself slipping. My gaze is focused on Jude, everyone and everything else a blur. The next thing I know, I am swaying across the dancefloor until I reach the dancing couple.

“Time to change partners,” I announce coldly, staring at Locke, “Oh, did I steal your line?”

I take Jude’s gloved hand and I am reminded of the other time I held her hand, cold and shaking while she stood almost naked in front of the whole class. Then, she was euphoric and giddy. Now, it is the real Jude who stands in front of me: mutinous and dangerous, though something else seems to cross her features… relief? This is the fierce Jude I see in my nightmares, my fantasies; not the submissive mess from that day.

“What do you want?” she snaps, “Go ahead. Insult me.”

I wish I could. Humiliating her used to be easy, when she was nothing more than an useless mortal I saw at school. Someone else to annoy for attention. 

“I don’t take commands from mortals,” I taunt. 

At least provocation still comes naturally. She does not look as angry as I expected her to.

“So you’re going to say something nice? I don’t think so. Faeries can’t lie.��

In another life, perhaps I would have written an ode to her beauty, to charm her and take her to bed. In this life, I am the unwanted Prince of Faerie, somehow both above and below her.  Will I ever get an opportunity to be close to her again? The thought makes me slide my hands from her waist to her hips, savoring every moment of it.

“You really hate me, don’t you?”

Do I want her to hate me? She must. Everyone does. Maybe if I hear her say it, I can get her out of my head… or maybe it will make me want her more. Sex and hate go so well together. 

“Almost as much as you hate me.”

I wish what I felt for her was only hate. Hate is the language I was raised with, it is all I know. What I feel for Jude is foreign to me. Lust? Definitely. Fear? Somewhat. Sprinkle on some kind of degenerate fascination. 

“Until we spar again.”

I bow, then disappear into the crowd to get another drink. I fill my glass with a pale greenish wine and down it in one gulp. I need more.

“Cardan,” a stern voice calls from behind me.

I freeze for a second, then pour myself another glass without looking. “Brother.”

Balekin puts a rough hand on my shoulder and spins me around to face him. I sway a little, dizzy, trying to keep to my feet.

“Pathetic,” he spits. For a moment, I am convinced he is going to slap me. He doesn’t. “Can’t you behave for once in your miserable life? You’re a disgrace.”

He takes my glass from my hand and sends it shattering on the floor. Some guests look at us, but quickly find something else to pay attention to. 

“Sober up and join us on the dais.”

I snort and make my way towards the dais. I trudge through the crowd, denser the closest I get to the front, until my boot catches on a root emerging from the mossy floor. In my drunken desperation, I grab at the nearest person’s clothes for balance and accidentally drag them down with me. 

I look up and see who I dragged down with me. The pitch black eyes of the girl I tumbled at Locke’s party are staring right at me from under a silver mask. I grin at her wickedly. She apologizes profusely, but once she sees my expression, she grins back at me. 

When we get up, I do not go towards the dais. We run, giggling foolishly, towards my father’s old cellars. Since most of the guards are posted around the main room, nobody stops me as I unlock the door leading to the wine cellar and help the girl down.

“Any preference?”, I purr as I browse the shelves. 

She shakes her head. I take out a bottle of a thick green liquid. It is a foul drink made with spruce needles and sap, but it packs quite a punch. I uncork the bottle and hand it to her with a wink.

She grimaces as she takes her first sip, some of it spilling down her chin as she tries to swallow it down. I laugh, then drag my tongue up her throat to catch the liquor. I reach her lips and she opens up for me, kissing me back passionately. I am so drunk that she looks exactly like Jude. My mind blurs her skin to look tan and smooth. I do not feel guilty for missing the coronation, this is wonderful. My family sees me as the prince of debauchery, and so I shall be. In one swift motion, I tear the top of her dress. She laughs as I pour liquor down her chest and drink it from between her breasts. 

When I lean down to take the bottle again, I tumble forward and pass out. 

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

I am dragged from unconsciousness by what feels like a sudden change in air pressure. The air is slightly more dense and harder to breathe. Even having never heard of this happening, I understand somewhat: my father has relinquished the Blood Crown. Elfhame is waiting for its new ruler to be crowned and I, its disappointment of a prince, is missing the coronation.

[ibijau]

What do you think about if nhs discover after the Sunshot Campaign the reason he is bad at cultivation: he is a half demon.

edit: It’s now a series I guess

My thought on this is: FJDSKFHSKFHDJSKHSDKFHSK OH YEAH FUCK YEAH

Nie Mingjue exited the room, carefully locking the door behind him. Without surprise, Lan Xichen and Jin Guangyao were waiting for him in the corridor, one more welcome than the other.

“How is he?” Lan Xichen asked.

“In shock.”

“Aren't we all?” Jin Guangyao said, and at least he had the good taste of not smiling for once. “Something like this... I would never have expected it.”

“Me neither,” Nie Mingjue grunted. “We always thought there was something strange about our father's encounter with his mother, sure, but nobody expected this. We thought she was just of noble birth and unwilling to keep with her the result of a few nights of... lack of restraint.”

Jin Guangyao looked at him expectantly, as if he had earned more details than that. Lan Xichen, who had heard the story before, did not react. He had never asked for the truth but Nie Mingjue had told him anyway, because it was such an odd story that it always puzzled him.

Even his father himself had always said he suspected foul play when he had become isolated from his retinue during a Night Hunt and ended up in a lavish manor. He had spent a few days there, in the company of the manor's mistress. Her intimate company, although afterwards, he had never been able to describe her in any details. Sect Leader Nie had then returned to the world, leaving behind a small token to the woman, at her insistence. Nine month later, a newborn had been left before the gates of the Unclean Realm with that token on him.

Nie Huaisang had not been expected, but they'd all loved him anyway, even with his odd personality and lack of cultivation skill.

“And you never suspected anything?” Jin Guangyao inquired when it became clear that Nie Mingjue did not intend to share his brother's story with him. “Surely there must have been signs?”

“We just thought his cultivation was bad. How were we to guess he just wasn't meant to cultivate like a human?”

Jin Guangyao flinched, as did Lan Xichen, the incident still too fresh in their memory. Even Nie Mingjue felt uneasy thinking about what they had seen the day before, when they had been ambushed by some Wen cultivators that had, somehow, escaped capture.

They had been careless. Nie Mingjue had been surprised and taken a spear to the shoulder, collapsing from his horse under his little brother's horrified eyes, and then...

By the time Lan Xichen had freed Nie Mingjue from that spiritually imbued spear and stopped the bleeding, most of the Wens around him had been dead or had started running away. 

When Nie Mingjue had managed to stand up, even the running Wens were dead. Distance had not been enough to protect them from Nie Huaisang’s wrath. 

Nie Mingjue had always wished for his brother to show more taste for martial arts, a little more fierceness as suited a disciple of Qinghe Nie. 

But on that road, surrounded by the mangled corpses of their enemies, his face barely human anymore and a bright crimson mark on his forehead, Nie Huaisang’s earlier indolence felt like a blessing. For a moment, a few second that seemed an eternity, Nie Mingjue wondered if he would be forced to fight and kill this monster who looked like his brother. 

He hadn't needed to, thankfully. As soon as Nie Huaisang had seen him standing and well, he had calmed down, his features smoothing into something more usual. He had looked just as shocked as Nie Mingjue felt. 

"I don't know how I did that," he'd mumbled before collapsing. 

Nie Mingjue had run to his brother and picked him up, pretending not to notice the horror and disgust of the other cultivators. Jin Guangyao had stared at them as if they were both monsters. Even Lan Xichen hadn't been able to refrain from stepping away when Nie Mingjue had returned to his horse, his unconscious brother still in his arms. 

When they had reached the Unclean Realm, Nie Mingjue had taken Nie Huaisang to his room and locked him there. So others would not feel threatened by him, he had said. 

So nobody could try to harm his brother, he'd thought. 

Whatever else he was, Nie Huaisang was still his brother, and Nie Mingjue would continue protecting him as he always had. 

He had just promised him as much, now that Nie Huaisang was awake again. It did not matter if the rest of the world turned against them, Nie Mingjue would never abandon his brother. 

"What will we do now?" Lan Xichen asked, echoing Nie Huaisang’s earlier question. 

"We? There's no we. I won't drag you in this mess. This is a family matter" 

"That's not how this works, da-ge," Lan Xichen objected, and it was odd to hear him call Nie Mingjue this way, but the message was clear. If it was a family matter, sworn brothers counted just as much as blood ones. 

Well, some sworn brothers at least. Nie Mingjue's eyes fell on Jin Guangyao, deep in thoughts. When he noticed the attention on him, the small man smiled weakly. 

"It's a delicate situation, certainly. I… My father will hear about it, and he will try to use it against da-ge. This situation… It is everything he fears most. First there was the Jiangs with Wei Wuxian, now the Nies too might have such a powerful weapon… " he laughed without humour, and looked at Lan Xichen. "Er-ge, is there anything we need to know about Lan Wangji at this point?" 

"My brother is not a weapon!" Nie Mingjue snapped. "You both know that!" 

"We know it," Jin Guangyao readily conceded. "Da-ge, you know what the world will think. Someone with demon blood will always be regarded with suspicion, and for him to live in a sect as martially oriented as Qinghe Nie…" 

Nie Mingjue felt the blood drain from his face. Since the attack he had been careful to avoid even thinking of the word 'demon', and nobody had dared pronounce it before him. But Jin Guangyao, for all of his defects, could be honest and direct when it mattered. 

There was simply no ignoring it, not when the mark on Nie Huaisang’s forehead hadn't disappeared no matter how hard Nie Mingjue had scrubbed it. 

Nie Huaisang was a demon. 

Half of one, at least, but the result was the same. He would be despised and treated as a blood thirsty monster, hunted by some, reviled by all. 

His brother. His Huaisang who took in wounded birds and cried when he couldn't save them. People would see that silly, lazy boy and see him as a menace, they would try to harm him, and they would treat Nie Mingjue as a pariah for defending him. 

"No one will touch him," Nie Mingjue growled. "Anyone who tries to get to my brother will have to get through me first, same as always."

"Through us," Lan Xichen calmly corrected, putting one hand on Nie Mingjue's shoulder. 

"We are family now," Jin Guangyao agreed, though with a good deal less assurance. "Your problems are ours as well, da-ge."

An easy promise to make when the world had not yet started screaming its hatred and disgust, but Nie Mingjue would take even that for a chance to keep his brother safe. 

[justahopelessssromantic]

Yesterday: One

A/N: Hey guys so I got this idea in my head for an Angel X OC story and it kind of just took off. I hope you all enjoy as I’m really excited for this. Hopefully maybe this will help me out of the slump I found myself in. I am still working on all my other stories and hope to have at least a request and the next part of Perfect done this week. Work has also picked up for me and looks like I have a long week ahead of me so I also may not get everything I want done. Thank you all so much for everything and all the support. I love you all and hope you enjoy ❤️😘

I want to thank @starrynite7114​ and @carlaangel86​ for listening and encouraging and helping me not only on this story but all of them! Your support means the world to me 🥰. And thank you so much Twinnie for sharing the song Yesterday by Leona Lewis for the inspiration for the title of this story. The song fits so beautifully 💖

*gif not mine*

word count: 5045

Angel sat at the picnic table outside of the clubhouse enjoying a quiet smoke alone. It was a fairly easy day at work with no club shit to occupy his mind. He also had not heard from Adelita all day so it seemed as if it was going to be a quiet night. He could use the break but at the same time he welcomed the noise. Part of the reason he took on so much was to keep his mind busy. It was in those quiet moments when his mind wondered too much, bringing with it the pain that always came when he thought about Juliet, when he thought about his wife. 

It had been two years, five months, and three weeks since he had last seen her. It was a Friday morning. He had woken up with her in his arms like he always had, they had breakfast together, he gave her a kiss goodbye and told her how he couldn’t wait to see her that night. It was their three year anniversary. They were going to spend the evening together having a nice meal before heading to Vegas in the morning for a little get away. 

It was all so normal, so perfect. 

But then he ended up stuck on the other side of the border longer than he anticipated. He felt awful but she understood the club life and the responsibilities that came with it. He was sure she wouldn’t be upset. He left her a voicemail apologizing and promising to make it up to her and then rushed home as fast as he could. 

When he got home everything seemed fine. The lights were off and the house just as he had left it. He assumed she had just gone to bed so he carefully and quietly made his way through the house to the bedroom and undressed before slipping under the covers expecting to find her there. He was going to pull her close and she was going to flip around and snuggle into his chest.

It’s what they always did. 

But the bed was empty and she wasn’t there. He got up and searched the whole house but she was gone. Her purse was still hanging by the door, her car was in the driveway, all personal belongings were still there with no suitcases missing, and there was no damn note or signs of foul play. 

It was as if she just vanished. 

Some people said something horrible must have happened and other’s said she finally realized she deserved better than Angel and left him. Angel didn’t believe any of that. He held onto hope that she would come back, that all the searching would lead them to her, that they would find her. But they never did and eventually everyone else stopped looking, stopped hoping. 

Maybe it was time for Angel to too.

“Hey, you ready to go to Pop’s?” EZ asked, stepping in front of Angel’s gaze. 

Angel nodded getting up from his seat at the table. The brother’s tried to make it a point to go have lunch with Felipe at least once a week after EZ began prospecting for the club and the two had become busier. 

Angel was thankful that EZ was out and had decided to stick around town. Despite all the resentment towards his younger brother he still loved him more than anything. It made him feel really good when EZ told him he wanted to prospect for the club, that he wanted to be a part of something that Angel was. 

After everything that the Reyes family had been through it was just nice to have everyone together again. 

The two pulled up in front of Carniceria Reyes backing their bikes up to the curb before turning the engines off and taking their helmets off. Angel stepped off his bike when he overheard the two women’s conversation across the street as they tried to act like they weren’t looking their way. He knew they were. Someone was always looking at him and his family like they were dirty, no good criminals. 

“It’s honestly such a blessing Marisol isn’t around to see this and poor Felipe.” One of the women, probably in her fifties with a horrible Karen haircut said to her friend who looked almost like an exact copy of her as they sipped on their lattes outside the coffee shop. She was trying to keep her voice hushed as if that would matter. It didn’t, Angel already knew what so many people in this small town thought. “First his youngest kills that cop then Angel kills his wife, poor girl.” 

There were the people who thought Juliet was dead and there were the people who thought she left him but worst of all were the people who thought Angel had killed her, like he would ever do that. He never once laid a hand on her and never would. She was his soulmate, the only woman he ever loved besides his mother. The fact that anyone thought he could do such a thing to her is what hurt the most, it’s what made him feel sick. 

“Oh come on, you don’t know that.” Her friend said, trying to defend the boys. She had watched them grow up, they were good kids. Yes they were a part of the biker club now but that didn’t make them murderers. “Anything could have happened to her.”

Karen, or at least that’s what Angel was calling her sipped her coffee before meeting Angel’s eyes across the street. She looked away quickly ducking her head to respond to her friend. “Linda, everyone knows it’s always the spouse. There were no signs of foul play, no evidence. People don’t just up and vanish like that. He had to have done something to her and then buried her somewhere where no one would find her. People in those biker gangs do that shit all the time” 

Angel clenched his jaw about ready to stomp over there when EZ grabbed his arm, keeping him back. “Don’t Angel. It’s not worth it.” He understood where his brother was coming from. He hated the looks he’d get around town and the ones his brother got too. People looked down on them and it fucking sucked but they couldn’t change their opinions on them. They knew what was true and that was all that mattered. 

“We can't just let them get away with that, dragging our name through the mud and spreading their gossip. Someone has to set them straight EZ.” Angel kept his gaze on the woman across from them. He was sick of this, sick of the rumors. There was only so much he could take before he snapped again. Last time the fucker who wouldn’t shut up ended up in the hospital. “I can’t do this anymore. I didn’t fucking kill her.” 

“I know, I know.” EZ tried to calm his brother down, to be the rational voice he needed. He wasn’t here for Angel when everything went down but he was going to have his brother’s back now. Angel met Juliet while EZ was in Stockton. EZ didn’t know her well but from the visits she would make and hearing about her he knew she was a great person. He also knew how much his brother loved her and how broken he was after her disappearance. “It doesn’t matter what they think. Everyone is always going to have an opinion on what happened. Just ignore them Angel.”

“It’s not that easy Ezekiel.” Angel snapped. He didn’t mean to take it out on his brother. “You don’t know what it’s like to have everyone look at you like you’re some fucking monster, to have to hear as people whisper all the horrible things you supposedly did to the one person who you loved more than anything. Yeah so you killed a fucking cop, a dirty cop at that. That’s not the same.” Maybe it was a low blow but EZ had no idea what Angel was going through. He couldn’t know what it was like to live with the constant reminder of that night, what it was like to have his whole relationship under a microscope like it was everybody’s business. 

Angel sat in the small room staring past his reflection at whoever may be on the other side of the glass watching him. He had been in here for at least forty minutes. He was starting to get antsy as he tapped his rings against the table. Each moment wasted in here was a moment lost when he could be out looking for Juliet. 

The door finally opened as an older gentleman with grey hair in a dark suit walked into the room. Angel sat back in his chair looking the man straight on. “Mr. Reyes, I’m detective Lawrence. I’ll be working the case on your wife Juliet Reyes.” 

Lawrence took a seat across from Angel folding his hands on top of the table. “Now why don’t you tell me everything, starting from the beginning.”

“Look I’m willing to give you whatever the fuck you need to find my wife safe and alive but I don’t see why I’m here when I could be out there looking for her.” Angel said pointing to the door. 

“Just have to follow up on all leads. The best way to find your wife is to start with you Mr. Reyes.” 

“Angel.” 

“Angel.” Lawrence corrected himself. “You knew her better than anyone right? So our best shot at finding her is you.” Lawrence gave him a forced smile. Angel Reyes had a record, was a known criminal and a member of the Mayans MC. Right now he was their number one suspect if foul play happened to be involved. “So start from the beginning Angel. Friday morning was your wife acting suspicious at all? Anything out of the ordinary?” 

“No, everything was completely normal. We woke up, had breakfast like we always do and then I had to go to work early so I told her I loved her and would see her that night. She had about an hour left before work so she was going to finish grading some of her students' drawings before going in.” Juliet was a kindergarten teacher here in Santo Padre. She loved her job almost as much as she loved Angel. 

“And that was the last time you saw her that day?”

“Yeah.” 

“That night was your anniversary right? You said you had a trip planned for the weekend to celebrate?” 

“Yes. We were going to have dinner at home and leave first thing in the morning.” Angel recalled. He was so excited to have a mini vacation with Juliet. They had been trying to get pregnant for a while and were hoping a relaxing vacation would be just what they needed with all the stress in their lives. 

“But you didn’t make it home in time.” Lawrence sat back folding his hands in his lap. “Why was that?” 

“I was working, ended up being later than I anticipated. I called her to let her know. Her cell went to voicemail.” Angel had called her when he got a moment alone to tell her he’d be running late. He didn’t want her to worry about him and felt terrible about being late. They had one rule. If he was going to be doing club shit then she needed to know where he was. She was a natural worrier. He never wanted to add to her worry so he promised he would inform her of everything so she never felt blindsided. “I left a message.” 

“So it was your anniversary. How many years?” 

“Three.” Angel was starting to get testy. He didn’t see what any of this had to do with anything. 

“Three years,” Lawrence emphasized, “That’s a long time. Three years is a big deal and you bailed on her. You don’t think she’s just maybe upset? Maybe she left for your vacation herself or is with a friend.” 

“She didn’t leave. She wouldn't just leave like that.” There was no way Juliet just left him. That wasn’t like her. Plus all her belongings were there. “Why would she leave without anything? Her fucking purse and everything was still at home. No,” Angel shook his head, “She wouldn’t just leave me like that. Trust me if she was upset with me she would have let me know.” 

“Like on Thursday. We have a witness who says you and Juliet got into a little bit of a heated argument outside the school on her lunch break. What was that about?” 

Angel chuckled bitterly. He couldn’t believe this was happening right now. He was already worn out enough with worry. Now this asshole was starting down a path he hoped he sure as hell wouldn’t. “If whoever your witness is thinks what we had was a heated argument” he knew who it was. It was Brenda he was sure. She never did like him and made it well known. “I don’t want to know what they think a fight is. We got into a minor disagreement. Nothing out of the ordinary for a married couple.” Yes things got a little heated that afternoon but they had made up that night. It was none of the assholes goddamn business.

Lawrence decided to let that slide, for now. “Okay so if she didn’t leave then what happened?” 

“What else would have happened?!” Angel shouted, slamming his hands onto the table. He was over this now. “Someone must have grabbed her or something.” 

“And who would do that?” Lawrence pressed him. Angel was starting to crack. If he was going to get a confession it would be soon. “Who and how? There were no signs of a struggle. You know what that tells me?” 

“What?” Angel asked through clenched teeth squeezing his hands into fists. 

“It tells me if something did happen to her, it was someone she knew, someone close to her. Someone who she shared everything with.” Lawrence leaned back onto the table towards Angel. “Someone she trusted, who she loved enough to marry.” 

“What the fuck are you saying?” Angel’s chest started heaving as he did everything in his power to not deck this mother fucker right here and now. “You think I did something to her?” 

“Statistically speaking it's usually the spouse. Maybe you came home, she was naturally upset, things got physical. You love her. I can see that.” He was just trying to get a reaction from Angel, anything that would make him slip up. “You didn’t mean to hurt her, it just happened.” 

Angel wanted to lunge at him but instead he just stared him down never breaking the hold he had on his eyes. “I’ve never laid a fucking hand on my wife. Maybe you should look at her psychotic ex. You know the one she had to get a fucking restraining order against?” 

“Mr. Reyes, we are following up on all leads. How about you let me do my damn job?” Lawrence barked back at him. 

“Maybe I would if you were fucking doing it well. You’re wasting precious fucking time breathing down my neck when you could be out there, I could be out there!” Angel shouted, “Looking for my wife!” 

“If you weren’t home then where exactly were you? Do you have an alibi Mr.Reyes?” Lawrence asked. Angel said he was working late but he knew the scrapyard wasn’t open that late. What else could he have possibly been doing so late? Sounded like a good excuse to Lawrence. “Where were you Angel?”

Angel couldn’t exactly say where he was or what he was doing without possibly incriminating himself and the club. They were on the other side of the border doing a drug run. That did not really provide a good alibi for Angel. Angel knew he was in a real fucking tight spot. “I want my lawyer.” He wasn’t going to give them any more, especially if they weren’t going to be helping him. 

Angel sat at the table outside the Carniceria with Felipe and EZ enjoying their lunch. The sun was out only adding to the heat Santo Padre usually experienced. Angel finished his burrito wiping his mouth on his napkin and sitting back as he looked at the various shops across the street. Thankfully the two women decided to leave rather than watch the Reyes boys and their poor father. 

Sometimes Angel really fucking hated living in a small town where everyone knew everyone. 

“So EZ tells me you have a date tonight,” Felipe spoke, gaining Angel's attention. 

“Yep,” Angel said. He didn’t really have much to say about it. Quite frankly he had debated bailing more than once but he wouldn’t do that to Sierra. Gwen, Juliet’s best friend and partner in crime had been trying to set him up for months now insisting that he should move on, that that’s what Juliet would want but he just never could. Now EZ had joined in with trying to play matchmaker. Eventually Angel gave in agreeing to one date but nothing more. 

Sure he had been with other women, mostly just sex with the girls from Vicky’s but that was different. The sex was meaningless, a way to fill the empty void inside him, but an actual date that meant something more. Going on a date symbolized the start of something new, a future for him without Juliet. It felt like if he took this next step he’d be giving up on her and any hope that she was coming back.

But it has been two years now. Was it really so wrong for him to try to move on?

“How come you never dated after mom?” Angel asked Felipe. It was a question that had been on his mind, especially after he experienced a similar loss to his father.

“Your mother was the love of my life and still is,” Felipe told his boys. He didn’t often talk about Marisol to his sons. Even eight years later it was still hard but Angel needed to hear this. “It just never felt right but you’re still young Angel. You have the chance to start over, to have a family of your own. Juliet would want that for you.”

Everyone was constantly telling him what Juliet would want like they would know. The thing is they didn’t know. No one knew her like Angel did. They shared everything, told each other things they’d never tell another soul.

They were soulmates. 

But maybe this time they were right. Maybe this was what she wanted. 

Angel checked himself out in the full length mirror on the closet in his bedroom. He was wearing a green plaid button up and his best pair of black jeans. He felt weird standing here in his bedroom getting ready for a date with someone that wasn’t his wife. He didn’t know exactly how to feel but he knew this was the right time to start. He’d never feel completely ready. It was just something he had to do, to rip the band-aid off and get back out there. 

“I always loved that shirt,” He could hear Juliet saying, could see her standing behind him in the mirror. “It’s okay baby. I’m gone and I’m not coming back. You deserve to be happy. I want you to be happy.” She smiled, the one that shined so brightly reaching all the way to her eyes, the one that always made him feel lighter. 

This is what she would want.

He took a shaky breath, smiling as he fixed his hair up quickly. He would do it for her. He would do anything for her. With a spritz of his cologne he gave himself one last once over before heading out to the living room where his audience was waiting. “Well, how do I look?” He asked, holding his arms out. 

“Like an ass in a green shirt,” EZ grinned from his spot on the couch. Angel flipped off his brother while Serena, Gwen’s five year old daughter whacked EZ on the arm. 

“Hey you be nice to uncle Angel!” She shouted defending her favorite Uncle. Angel and Juliet were her godparents and spent a lot of time helping out as much as they could with Serena after her father bailed on her and Gwen. It wasn’t difficult, they both fell in love with the little girl instantly. The time they spent watching her grow up is what pushed them to start thinking about a family of their own. Angel only wished Juliet was here to see the sweet little girl Serena had grown into. 

“Thanks princesa” Angel chuckled, leaning over and pulling her into a hug as she jumped off the couch and into his arms. 

“I think you look beautiful.” She mumbled into him as she squeezed her little arms around his neck. 

Once Serena pulled away from the embrace Angel stood up meeting Gwen’s smile. She stood up off the couch coming over to Angel and straightened out his shirt that her daughter had now wrinkled up. “The most beautiful man,” she teased, smoothing out the last of the wrinkles. “You look great Angel. This is going to be good for you.” She knew Angel had doubts about dating but he couldn’t go on like he was. She loved her best friend more than anything but Juliet wasn’t coming back. If she was alive out there somewhere she would have at least contacted Gwen somehow. That told her that chances were she wasn’t alive. 

Angel became like family to her. She came to love him just as much as Juliet. They were family. After Juliet disappeared they became each other’s rock through the hard time. They both lost the most important person in their lives. It was good to have someone who could really relate to what they were going through.

“It’s time.” Gwen smiled up at him giving him a kiss on the cheek.

“You look good Angel.” EZ joined the three giving Angel a hug. They were all here for Angel. This was a big step he was taking. “Now you better get going before you are late. That wouldn’t look very good for your first date.”

“Right.” Angel nodded. He didn’t need to be late on his first date and he had one stop he had to make before he went. He gave them all a smile ruffling Serena’s hair before he headed for the door. 

“Wait!” Serena called out chasing after him. Angel turned around taking the small tin she extended out to him. “They’re mints so your breath doesn’t smell icky with smoke.” 

Angel shook his head chuckling. Serena was honest for sure and always made her displeasure with his smoking known. “Thank you.” He leaned over kissing her forehead before heading out.

On his way to his date at the bowling alley he stopped at the playground just a few blocks away from Santo Padre Elementary. Angel made his way over to the swing set on the far north side of the park. The park was one of three around town this one being the biggest one. 

Angel took Juliet here for their first official date and after that night under the stars it became their spot. It was here where she first started letting her walls down around him. She came to Santo Padre to stay with Gwen after escaping her then husband, James. 

That night she told him a little about James. From that day on Angel wanted to kill that asshole and swore to her and himself he would never treat her as such. With him she would always be safe. He only wished he was able to keep her safe as he had promised. 

Angel sat on the swing he used to push her in twisting his wedding band around his finger. He smiled to himself remembering the carefree feeling being here together always brought. It was the little things between them. They didn’t have much but as long as they had each other they would be set for life. 

“Fuck I miss you Jules.” Angel sighed, swinging lightly back and forth. “I miss you so fucking much. I’m lost without you. You were my everything. I’m not ready to let you go, not fully, but I have to do something. You’d want me to move on, right?” He looked up at the pink sky as the sun set. Sunset’s were always her favorite thing. Juliet loved sitting outside watching the colors of the sky change before the darkness took over and the stars began shining. 

“I love you, mi amor,” he murmured as he slipped the band off his finger. “This isn’t goodbye, just see you later. You’ll always hold my heart but it’s time. It’s been long enough.” Angel ran his hand through his hair trying to calm the growing ache in his chest. “You aren’t going to come back, I know that. I just hope wherever you are you’re resting easy. We’ll meet again.” Angel brought the wedding ring to his lips giving it a kiss before he slipped it into the pocket of his kutte above his heart. “I can’t wait to see you again.” 

****

The guy’s were all hanging around outside the clubhouse the next day towards the evening. They just got back from a short run and were enjoying a nice smoke and beer before heading home just enjoying each other’s company. 

“So?” Gilly nudged Angel’s shoulder with his beer wiggling his eyebrows.

“So what?” Angel asked, giving him a look. 

“How’d the date go?” They were all wondering how it went but were waiting for Angel to bring it up himself which so far he had yet to do. 

“Alright,” Angel shrugged, taking a swig of his beer. 

“Just alright?” Creeper asked from over at the picnic table. “That’s all we’re going to get?”

“What, you guys want to hear all the details like we’re a bunch of teenage girls at a slumber party?” Angel mocked them. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to share there just was not much to share. They hung out for a couple hours, talked a little and then said their goodbyes. There was no spark or anything making Angel want another one. At least not with her. 

“Did you at least get good head or something?” Coco asked, leaning his back against the table. “I heard Sierra gives great fucking head.” He chuckled along with the others.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Angel laughed with them. “Why don’t you find out for yourself?” 

“Really? Does that mean there’s not going to be a second date?” 

“No second date.” Angel admitted. “We just didn’t click.” She just wasn’t Juliet. “She’s free game.” 

“Well I’m proud of you hermano, for putting yourself back out there.” Coco said, raising his beer up in a toast to his brother. They all took a drink for Angel. It was a big step, one they thought he may never take. They were glad to see Angel at least trying.

“Fuck. Now that Angel’s back in the game we’re all going to have to step up our game.” Gilly commented.

“Like you had any game to begin with,” Angel teased, laughing with the guys. 

Bishop came out of the clubhouse looking for Angel. He just got off the phone with one of their brothers from another charter with information that would change everything. He smiled watching the guys joke around and laugh. Working with the cartel added extra stress to the men. They didn’t have as many light moments as these.

“Angel,” Bishop called out from the top of the steps. “Can I have a moment?” 

“Sure thing Prez,” Angel called back, releasing Gilly from the headlock he had him in now. He gave Gilly a pat on the back before following Bishop into the clubhouse and to Templo. 

Bishop stood by Angel’s chair. “You might want to take a seat for this brother.” Bishop’s face was dead serious making Angel’s smile drop instantly. Angel did as was suggested as his mind began racing. His first thought was somehow Bishop found out about his deal with the rebels but then he figured he wouldn't be here if that was the case.

“What’s going on Bish?” Angel asked cautiously. Whatever it was he had a feeling it was not going to be good. 

“I just got a call from one of our brothers in Arizona,” He started sitting down as well. “It’s about Juliet.” They had eyes out for her even after all these years. Until they had some solid evidence of what happened to her Bishop wasn’t going to give up. Juliet wasn’t just Angel’s wife but a part of the family. They all hurt when she went missing and they all felt for Angel and all the pain he endured the last two years. “Two hunters found her in Prescott National forest.” 

Angel’s heart stopped. He knew this day would come eventually but he wasn’t ready for it so soon. He didn’t want to hear this. He didn’t want to believe it. Thinking she was dead and knowing were two very different things. With just thinking there was at least a sliver of hope that she could be alive and well out there. Angel stood up from his chair. He couldn’t hear this. “I can’t Bish.” 

He went to leave when Bishop caught him by the arm. “She’s alive, Angel.”

Angel must have misheard. He turned back around, his face scrunched up. “What?”

“She’s alive. She’s in the hospital up there. I guess she took a bit of a tumble.” Bishop said recalling all the information he was given. “They are going to have a couple of the guys posted there until you get there.” 

“She’s alive?” Angel still couldn’t believe it.

“She’s alive,” Bishop grinned, pulling Angel into a tight hug. Bishop pulled back holding the back of Angel’s head doing the best to keep his own tears at bay as the younger man’s tears fell off his lashes. “You go get your wife and you bring her home.”  

Everything Tag list: @jad3djay​ @fairygardenss​ @carlaangel86​ @briannab1234​ @starrynite7114​ @agirllovespasta​ @howaboutash​ @gemini0410​ @naytraydr​ @knowles-morgan​ @woahitslucyylu​ @everyhowlmarksthedead​ @ktiz90​ @brothersofmayhem​ @ifoundmyhappythought​ @vsfavs​ @scuzmunkie​ @chibsytelford​ @whyisgmora​ @sadeyesgf​ @blessedboo​ @nakusaych9​ @briana-mishell24​ @curvynerdfan​ @multiyfandomgirl40​

[asking-gereng]

Why’ve Arthur’s speech bubbles suddenly lost colour like the ghosts speech bubbles?

“Didn’t Kiku say he does this often?” Matthew asked, hopping out of the car to follow the woman that had driven them there. “I know you’re his girlfriend and all…”

“I’m not his girlfriend.” Natalya replied with little care in her voice as she headed straight for the front door. She was very adamant about that point, despite everything.

“I want to make sure he’s ok, that’s all. It’s been a while.”

---

It had been a while since Arthur had been… social. A whole month in fact where he would only briefly speak to the spirits in his house, and spend the rest in the garden or out somewhere. Alfred was getting worried it was something to do with them, maybe he was avoiding them or gearing up to move somewhere else. They had all grown so attached to him and the living company he brought. He had told Alfred so many things about how his brother was doing now, things he thought he’d never get to hear.

So he had convinced the others that they would put something together for him. Not physically for obvious reasons – as much as Therese had so dearly wanted to make him cakes. They had settled for a gathering in which they would each tell a nice story they thought he would like. He was such a good listener after all, and the Captain had promised something quite special, judging by how he had blushed when asked about it.

Alfred headed out to the garden, knowing behind a set of hedges was Arthur’s favourite place. His own hidden garden that he had been working on, even the ghosts of the house were barred from it until he was done. That rule was quite new, Alfred wondered if it was going to be something special.

For now, he put a hand over his eyes and looked around the hedge, “Hey, Arthur! We got something for ya!” When he got no response, he walked a little further, eyes still covered, “You out here buddy?”

He puffed out his cheeks, blindly walking around the garden, “Uh… Marco?” he tried one last time, but when no reply came, he gave up. If Arthur wasn’t here, he wouldn’t know that Alfred had had a little peek at his garden, he was looking for him. He stood there in the middle, hands on his hips. Weird, he wasn’t in the house either, but his car was still in the drive.

Alfred turned to leave, taking a little moment to appreciate the roses that were growing nicely around the gazebo. His joy cut off sharply, leaving him frozen to the spot.

“A…Arthur?”

---

Natalya had a key – or at least she knew where the spare was. It was a little obvious actually, she’d have to remind Arthur to change it when she saw him. They couldn’t have just anyone walking in when this was to be a historical site.

As soon as she walked in, something was off. She knew the spirits often congregated in one place on the second floor, and she couldn’t feel any of them in the direct area. She stepped on a stack of letters that had been pushed through the door and left there, a frown on her face. She kept walking.

“Are you sure he’s okay with you just barging in?” Matthew sounded from behind her, politely picking up the post and placing it on the side table atop more unread letters. He closed the door too, nervously. In his defence, they were coming in unannounced.

“Well I’ve come in a few times when he’s not home, I’m sure it’s fine.”

“That… doesn’t actually make me feel better.” Matthew hurried after her as she moved down the hall towards the kitchen, “Look, I’m glad you guys got in touch about my brother and stuff, but this place gives me the creeps.” “You don’t know the half of it.” Natalya rolled her eyes, but stopped, an arm out to hault him behind her, eyes wide.

“What is it…?” He asked, fear in his voice.

“Call the police.”

“What-“

But she was gone, hurrying after what she had heard.

She wasn’t a very expressive person, preferred to keep her emotions to herself, but the panic on her face couldn’t be hidden behind years of practice this time. The voice she’d heard; it’s lack of body. She followed it as it ran from her.

---

No foul play. That’s what the police had told Natalya as they wrapped a blanket over her, as Matthew spoke to them on why they were there. She stared into the mug of tea she was given. This was Arthur’s mug. When she came over he’d always make his tea in this mug, and hers in the one with flowers on it.

She had watched them move his body from the garden, still in the clothes she’d last seen him in; that over-worn red top and ripped jeans. She thought what better for him to die in than something he wore almost every day?

They suspected an aneurism in his brain. Quick, painless, and completely random. Though she didn’t know if that was supposed to be a comfort or not. She had still lost someone else in her life, just like everyone else, she would always be surrounded by ghosts. A tear that she didn’t know had formed fell into her tea.

A radio on the other side of the room buzzed, making her jump. The show must go on by Queen faded into life as she stared at it, realising soon that a hand was placed next to it.

Arthur stood in the doorway beside it, a sad smile on his face. Behind him, she saw them. Finally, her brother, aurora standing next to him, all the others who’s voices she’d heard in this house, and she smiled right back. This house could be her home, she thought, then she might never be alone again.

The show must go on.