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anagentinwriting · 3 years

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Lifeline - Part 17

Summary: (First Responders!AU) Moving to Los Angeles and living with your brother, Thor, was never part of your plan nor was being a 9-1-1 dispatcher, but plans change when you are faced with your own emergencies. In your case, it was leaving behind a relationship that wasn’t as perfect as it seemed. Will this be the fresh start you were hoping for or will your past find a way to catch up with you?

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Odinson!Sister Reader

Word Count: 3800+

Warnings: Angst, violence, suspense, kidnapping

Lifeline Masterlist / Main Masterlist

Nat kept a watchful eye on Thor when he came back to the waiting room. He was twirling his phone in his hand when his eyes connected with hers; He shot her a hard glare before shaking his head. She grimaced, letting out a scoff and stood up a little straighter. She turned her attention back to assist Clint with asking routine questions to Bucky, Carol, and Val. Bucky’s eyes connected with hers, and he reached out, taking her hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze before letting go. She nodded, putting a strand of hair behind her ear.

Nat tried to focus on doing her job, but she was too close to this. You were one of her best friends, and she was scared for you in this situation. She wanted to believe what Thor was saying about Jig and Billy being the same person, but she needed proof or some sort of evidence, pointing them in that direction. Steve’s phone was the key to this, but she couldn’t go through it in case they needed it to use against him in court. She didn’t have a problem with lying, but if the defense found out what she did, she would be screwed and possibly lose her job. Billy deserved to be locked up for everything he did to you, and that cell phone would be another reason on a long list of reasons to lock him up. She wanted to protect you like Thor did, but it needed to be done right.

“Natasha,” Thor shouted, forcing her head to snap in his direction. He was heading their way with Sam behind him. “Sam can confirm Billy and Jig are the same person. He met Jig once.”

She narrowed her eyes, crossing her arms across her chest. “Is this true, or are you making it up?”

“It’s true,” Sam nodded. “I met him one night at Happy’s. It was a quick meeting, but you don’t forget that white boy’s pretty face.”

Nat’s mouth dropped open, covering it with her hand in shock. Bucky was beside her, placing a reassuring hand on the small of her back. She looked over at him with tearful eyes as her mind drifted to the worst-case scenario. Bucky pulled her into a hug, and everything around her became white noise.

Billy got to you; he abducted you and almost killed Steve in the process. She squeezed her eyes shut, pulling Bucky closer. How did this happen? How did he even find you? How long has he been here? What was going to happen to you? All these unanswered questions flooded her mind until everything went silent. This was what she needed, evidence to find you and bring you home safe. Her eyes snapped open, pulling away from Bucky. She smirked at him, and his blue eyes narrowed at her.

“Keep me updated on Steve, will you?” She whispered, putting her hands on his cheeks.

He nodded. “As long as you do the same with YN.”

She kissed him, turning around and catching Thor’s eye. “Thor, let’s go.”

“Wait, what? Where?” Thor was looking between everyone as if asking if they had the answers.

“To find your sister, but we may have to ask for a little help.”

“But, I thought you weren’t technically on the case?”

“Small technicality. Nick will forgive me; I’m one of his favorites,” she winked, and Clint nodded in agreement. “Besides, I’m also a concerned friend of the victim, and I’m just following a possible lead. It could lead to something, or it might not.” Nat shrugged, looking over to Clint. “Cover for me?”

“It’s what I do best.”

“Let’s go get this bastard,” Thor stated, giving Nat a forgiving nod.

__________

The soft melody coming from the radio woke you up, but you didn’t move. A breeze hit your face, and the smell of the ocean hit your nose. A calm sensation came over you as you moved ever so slightly, feeling your hands bound, restricting your movement. Taking in another breath, a hint of familiar cologne came to your senses. You gulped, turning your head to what you hoped was a window. A sharp pain hit the side of your face, making you wince, causing your eyes to flicker open. The car sat parked near the ocean, and you could see the sun rising in the distance, cascading a soft glow over the landscape. You glanced at your hands, seeing a zip tie wrapped around them. You gulped, looking over to the driver’s seat to find your ex-husband wrapping his wrist. Your eyes widened as your mind flashed to him on the other side of the door, Steve laying motionless on the ground, the struggle in your condo, Cosmo attacking, and a punch to your face that knocked you out cold.

“Good morning, honey. Did you sleep well?”

“What… what did you do?” You stammered, feeling tears start to form in your eyes.

He smirked, taping the gauze on his wrist. “I think the better question is what did you do?” You narrowed your eyes, wincing as a sharp pain traveled alongside your face. Your hand shot to your face, touching the tender area between your eye and cheekbone. “I warned you what would happen if you left. People would get hurt, but you didn’t listen.”

“Is he dead?”

“Who? Steve? Would it make a difference if he was?” He quirked an eyebrow as your bottom lip trembled, staring out the window at the ocean. “I wouldn’t worry about him anymore.”

“Why did you do that?” Your voice cracked as a sob escaped from your mouth. “He was a good man.”

“Steve was a great guy. I didn’t want to hurt him. I liked Steve. He was one helluva pool player, and we were friends,” he paused, your head snapping in his direction. “But, when he put his hands on you. I wanted to kill him.” Billy clenched his fists, shaking his head. “Steve doesn’t deserve you. He was never good enough for you. Hell, he was just using you to get over his dead wife.” He let out a breath, his dark brown eyes connected with yours, sending a shiver down your spine. “If you stayed home and didn’t leave me, we wouldn’t be in this situation right now. Steve wouldn’t be dead because of you.”

Your stomach dropped, with tears threatening to fall down your cheeks. You squeezed your eyes shut as the sharp pain radiating from your cheek was welcoming compared to what you were feeling inside. You swallowed down a sob, but your shaky breath didn’t dissipate. Your head clouded up, blocking out any other sound besides your racing heart. You slowly opened your eyes, trying to blink the tears away, but a few escaped down your cheeks and landed on your jeans. You stared at the wet droplets, unable to move, only being able to concentrate on your breathing. You sniffled, clearing your throat. “How long have you been watching me?”

“Does it matter?” He arched a brow at you. “I will give you some credit though, leaving that note saying you and Loki took an impromptu trip together. At first, I didn’t think much of it. I mean, you two are attached at the hip, so I knew you would be back in a few days, but you never did come home. Even after I saw Loki’s posts about being back home, but still no you. ” He leaned back in his seat, rubbing a hand over his mouth.

“The most frustrating part of all was that you never returned my calls, which led me straight to Loki, and he told me you were staying with him for a few more days. I thought, ‘Alright. I get it. You want some time.’” He sighed, shaking his head. “After a few more days of no new texts and no returned phone calls. I decided to sneak into Loki’s and quickly realized you weren’t staying there. In fact, it looked like you were never there. Then I proceeded to go to your work, which I now realized I should’ve done to begin with because I discovered you quit.” He paused, hitting the steering with your palm, making you jump in your seat.

“It was embarrassing to find out your wife left you in front of her co-workers.” He clenched his jaw, staring daggers at you. “This led to me tracking your phone, but it never did tell me where you were.” He smirked. “I am almost positive it involved an anti-tracker app. Smart play.” He nodded. “Nice to know you learned a few things from me during our time together, but I’m surprised you didn’t think I wouldn’t be able to find you?”

“Who's to say I didn’t,” you countered, wiping the tears from your cheeks.

He cackled in the seat next to you, shaking his head, and in one quick motion grabbed your jaw and forced you to look at him. You tried to jerk away, but he tightened his hold. All the mischief in his eyes was gone, replaced with his harsh gaze. He clenched his jaw, making you gulp and stare into the depths of his emotionless eyes. “You think you’re so clever, don’t you? Running off to your big brother, thinking he would protect you. It’s cute really, but deep down, he didn't do his job the first time, let alone this time. He didn’t protect you. He didn’t keep you safe. It’s comical, just how easy it was to get you back.” He scoffed, licking his lips. “And Loki’s all the same. They’re both egoistic, self-absorbed, and out for themselves. It’s poetic, how you were always there for them, but they were never there for you like I was.” He reached over and dragged his fingers against your cheek. You clenched your jaw, pulling away from his touch.

“What do you want from me?” You mumbled, observing him from the corner of your eye.

He sighed, dropping his hand. “Isn’t it obvious? I want you to come home where it is safe. Come home to someone who actually cares about you. My god, YN, you have no idea how much I have missed you and….and I’m sorry,” he confessed as his voice cracked. Your head snapped in his direction to see him running a hand through his hair. “I was an asshole for how I treated you, and I can’t believe I became that person.” His gaze caught yours, noticing his lips trembling. “I told you I would change, but I didn’t, and I don’t know why.” He paused, clearing his throat. “I want to change, but I don’t think I can do it without you. I need you. You have always believed in me more than I believed in myself. I don’t want to lose what we have together. Please come home to me. I forgive you for running. I want to start over, start fresh, start that family you always wanted. Anything; I will do anything,” he begged with tears on the verge of falling.

You swallowed, staring wide-eyed at him, not knowing what to say. Billy has always been a confident talker, telling you what you wanted to hear and making all the right promises. He could coax you into coming back every time you left him with his caring apologetic words. You believed you could trust him time and time again. He could persuade you into getting what he wanted, not what you wanted.

You rubbed your lips together, knowing what you should say or at least what he wanted you to say. But, you didn’t need him anymore, like he needed you. You moved on, and in this moment, he couldn’t control you anymore. “I want to start a family, Billy.” His shoulders sank in relief as a smile crossed his features. “But, I don’t want it with you. I don’t want anything to do with you. Our relationship is a repeating pattern that causes both of us pain. I can’t do this with you anymore,” you breathed, your eyes flickering to his; they changed from sincere and honest to dark and destructive in a matter of seconds.

He brought his hand down his face, shaking his head. “You don’t get to say when this is over. I do.” He let out a deep breath and slapped you across the face. You yelped, sending a shooting pain down your same cheek, bringing tears to the corner of your eye. You leaned away from him, reaching for the door handle, and tried to push it open, but he grabbed a hold of you and held a knife to your throat.

“STOP MOVING,” he grunted through clenched teeth. You quit squirming and stared at the blade against your throat. “It didn’t have to come to this. ” He clenched his jaw, grabbing the passenger seat belt and strapped you in. He leaned forward, his breath fanning against your ear as he whispered, “I have a plan, but unlike yours, it will work.”

____________

Thor and Nat walked through the doors of your dispatch center. Thor’s eyes scanned the many individuals typing away at their screens and talking into their headpieces. It was a different scene than what he was used to. It felt calmer and less hectic, but on the other end of the calls, he could only imagine what people were going through.

Bruce made eye contact with them, holding up his pointer finger as he helped one of the dispatchers at their desk.

“Bruce, busy man,” Thor chuckled, and Nat hummed in agreement.

“Thor, Nat, hi. Any news? Have the police found anything?” Bruce asked, walking over to them.

“Don’t get me started on the police. At YN house, they were walking around finding clues and placing their little yellow numbers by them, and taking pictures. Like, what is that going to do? They should be out looking for her since I already told them who abducted her, but no one believed me.” Thor shook his head, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Calm down, big guy, it’s called procedure, and we were finding evidence.” Nat patted him on the shoulder before turning to Bruce. “Anyways, we came to ask for a favor, and we think you could help us with it.”

“Name it,” Bruce nodded, putting his hands in his pockets.

“We need to track this number, but the fastest way without a warrant is to go through dispatch, or so I heard,” Nat hinted, raising her eyebrows.

“What is it? Landline or cell phone?”

“Cell phone.”

“Cell phones are trickier since we don’t get an automatic address like we do with landlines. Our system has to digitally request the phone’s location from the cellular network. I will have to put in a manual request, which won’t be a problem, it will just take some time,” Bruce stated, going over to one of the computers. “What’s the number?” Thor read the number off his phone as Bruce typed it in and quickly filled in the necessary information.

___________

Billy pulled into a gas station and parked the car behind it. He reached behind your seat, hearing him shuffle around and come forward with a scissor, wet nap, and a baseball cap. He cupped your face in his hands, using the wet-nap to wipe your face. You squeezed your eyes shut, ignoring the pain on your cheek. “There’s my girl, all cleaned up.” He lifted your head with his finger and tilted it in all directions. He grabbed ahold of your bound hands, cutting the zip tie from your wrists. “Put this hat on, and just know, if you run, you don’t want to know what I will do.”

You nodded, biting the inside of your cheek. He squeezed your hands before getting out of the car and coming around the front to get you. He opened the door, instantly putting his arm around your shoulder, leaning into you. You tensed up, smelling the all-to-familiar cologne that sent your nerves firing in warning. It was a cologne you loved, having picked out for him when you first started dating, but now it filled your head with many unpleasant memories.

“Loosen up, hon, you can trust me,” he whispered in your ear, hitting the bill of your hat, making you readjust it.

You gave him a hard nod, forcing a tight smile. He let go of you as someone was walking out, holding the door for the two of you. You looked the man straight in the face, hoping he would take a look at you and help in some way, but Billy mumbled a quick thanks and took your hand. You glanced at the guy behind the register, but he stared down at his phone while Billy dragged you to the drink coolers.

“What do you want?”

“Can I run to the bathroom? Can’t pick anything on a full bladder,” you smirked, squeezing his hand.

“Of course, make it quick,” he nodded, letting go of your hand.

You walked back up the aisle and down another, glancing at the man behind the counter, who was still staring down at his phone. Keeping a watchful eye on Billy, you snatched a set of permanent markers from the shelf and hid them in the front of your pants and under your shirt. You took one last peek over your shoulder to see Billy’s eyes following you and opened the door to the ladies restroom.

You locked the door and leaned against it, taking in your surroundings, but there was nothing that could help you. It was a single stall bathroom with no windows. How come the only bathrooms that ever seemed to have windows were in the movies. You sighed, rubbing your forehead. There weren’t many options left: leave a note and hope someone sees it and gets help. It felt silly, but what did it hurt? You pulled the markers from the front of your pants and grabbed a brown paper towel, scribbling out a message and placing it by the sink along with the markers.

Gripping the edge of the bathroom counter, you let out a deep breath, staring down into the semi-dirty sink. You removed your hat, running your hand through your hair, and looked up at your reflection in the mirror. It was like you were right back to where you started, staring at the fragile woman you thought you left behind. The color around your right eye was changing to a dark black and blue, your cheek was puffy, and there was a small cut on your lip.

“You can get through this,” you reassured yourself, splashing cold water on your face. “Someone is looking for you.” Splash. “Someone will find you.” Splash. “Steve isn’t dead because of you.” Splash.

You stared at the water flowing out of the faucet as images of Steve started filling your mind. His signature smirk, his chest-grabbing laugh, his caring yet determined personality, and how he... Tears began forming in the corner of your eyes, blurring your vision. You squeezed them shut, sniffling, before opening your eyes to your reflection. “No crying; not yet at least; first, you need to make it out.” You cleared your throat, promising yourself with a nod. You slipped the hat back on and opened the door, jumping in surprise to find Billy waiting there.

“Grabbed your favorites,” he grinned, holding them up. You forced a smile, following him to the register. Billy placed the drinks, snacks, and a few wound cleaning supplies on the counter. You smirked, remembering Cosmo’s rescue efforts. The front door jingled, pulling your attention to a mother and her young daughter walking in.

“Okay, Monica, run to the bathroom, and I’ll grab us some snacks.” You let out a small sigh of relief, smirking at them going their separate ways.

“We should start a family once we settle into our new home,” he whispered into your ear with a smirk on his lips.

“New home?” You questioned, narrowing your eyes at him.

“It’s part of my plan.” He wiggled his eyebrows, paying the man with cash. “You always wanted a family; why not start now.” He shrugged, leaning into you. He smiled at the clerk, grabbing the bag and holding out his other hand to you. You took it, fighting the urge to roll your eyes.

Billy dragged you back out to the car and let go of your hand. He opened the back door while you headed for the passenger side door. “Wait, don’t get in; we’re switching cars. He should be here any minute.”

“Why?”

“I’m sure the police already have the make and model of this car through surveillance video or the license plate number from the note you left in the ladies room.”

“What note?”

“Don’t play stupid. I’m not an idiot, besides why else would you be smirking at a mother and daughter,” he sneered while a car pulled up beside them. “Speak of the devil, right on time.”

A Rolls Royce Wraith pulled up, forcing you to roll your eyes. This was his getaway car, more than a quarter of a million-dollar car, and he expected to get away with you. It was the same car he owned in New York, but this one had updated California license plates. A bald man got out of the driver's side, coming over to you and Billy. It was hard not to be creeped out by him, with a milky left eye and a scar underneath it.

Billy’s phone buzzed once more in his hand. He looked down at it, letting out a quiet snicker. He read off the abduction alert, including your name, what you looked like, and what you were wearing last. “Turns out you got someone looking for you after all. It’s a shame they aren’t going to find you.”

You gulped, noticing the bald man smirking. “As requested, your new phone--” he handed Billy a flip phone while Billy handed him his smartphone “--with a few contacts that you can trust and help you if it’s necessary. And everything you requested is in the back seat, but knowing you, Billy, you two have already disappeared.”

Your breathing quickened at his words, your eyes darting between the two men shaking hands. Billy had the perfect plan, and you were stepping right into it. You were going to disappear, become a ghost, and no one was going to be able to find you. Your defeated eyes caught Billy’s, not missing the amusement dancing in his. You bit your lip, staring into the distance, hoping the daughter saw your note and called the police. But it dawned on you that help wasn’t coming, which left you with two options: start over and try to be happy with him, or adapt and overcome.

“Thank you for your help, Agent Orange. I’ll owe you one.” Orange nodded at Billy, walking over to the previous car before getting in and driving away. “Well, get in, honey. It’s time to go on our road trip.”

___________

AN: Thanks for reading Part 17! This doesn't sound like it will be a fun road trip, and from the looks of it, Billy seems to be one step ahead of her with every move she makes. How is she gonna out think him? If you haven't noticed already, Billy is a real piece of work, and I'm hoping he came off as a psychopath in this part. If not I tried my best, it's hard to tap into a dark mindset like that! Haha! I will say though, Ben Barnes, who plays Billy Russo, is an attractive man, but I will admit his brown eyes can get scary dark sometimes. Like when he's mad, you can just see it in his eyes, so I tried to play off that. And it seems like he has a buddy helping him, Agent Orange, I wonder how they know each other? Also, we kind of have a better understanding where Nat's head was at at the end of the last part. She was worried about her friend and wanted everything to be done right, and put Billy away for good. And what do you think of her and Thor teaming up to find her? And can't forget that little assist from Bruce, but will they be able to find her before she disappears forever or will something worse happen along the way? Is Steve gonna pull through? And man, I sure hope Cosmo is doing okay! Until next week, thanks again!

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gorochanfanclub · 4 years

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Majima x Unnamed Female Character

Summary: Majima and his girlfriend are watching a movie on the floor in their living room. When he reaches out to hold her, she is overcome with a feeling she can’t name.

Contains: fluff, a bit of angst (maybe), hinted depression, Majima being the secret softie he is

A/N: My first time writing a fic for Majima. Hope you guys like it! Wrote this with a specific person in mind (one of my OCs lmao) but left it purposefully extremely vague who the woman was so anyone reading this can imagine whatever they want. Comment below if you figure out what movie they’re watching!! It is indeed a real movie and I made sure to hint at it pretty hard lol, it’s one of my own personal favorites I think Majima actually would like. Also think it’s worth noting I wrote this entire thing while listening to 1984 by Junko Yagami on loop lmao. Was inspired by an edit on Instagram using this song. (edit was by eyeglassez on there)

She nearly had drifted off to sleep when it happened. The comfortable weight of him on top of her, his heat warming her, the feeling of his hannya patterned ink under her sleep heavy hand, even the low, humming voices on the TV illuminating the dark room, all threatened to carry her away to a land of peaceful dreams.

As she lay on the bedroll in the living room, the soft cotton sheets cradling her like an infant, her left hand rest on Majima’s shoulder blade, the other next to her face. His right hand rest under her head, beneath the plush pillow she placed it on. His other rest dangerously close to her right, fingers mere millimeters apart.

This wasn’t an uncommon position for the two to be in. She enjoyed his warmth, the cold of this world being soothed by his soft body heat. He reveled in the feeling of a body pressed to his, often coming up with the excuse, ‘fat tits like yers are better ‘n any pillow out there.’

She couldn’t even remember what was happening in the film Majima had insisted they watch together. It was a Hong Kong made film, one of those kung fu type movies Majima couldn’t seem to get enough of. Her eyelids get heavy as she tries to stay lucid enough to listen, knowing Majima would want to talk about it later, probably referencing lines from the movie for weeks to come.

Straining them open, she sees a little girl on the screen, getting harassed by a group of boys just a few years older than her. They tug at the rainbow lollipop in her hand, attempting to rip it from her small hands. Suddenly, another boy, much too small to fight even one of the bullies, comes running in her defense, leaving the group to abandon the girl and fight the young hero instead.

The screen then flashes to the same couple, grown adults now, yet the same hero and the same girl who never go to thank her savior. From a small box, the girl produces the swirly confectionary, handing it to the now adult man who had rescued her all those years ago.

She wasn’t sure what was going to happen next after that. Her drowsiness clouded her mind too much to even think about the intimacy of such a scene on the television.

Perhaps Majima had felt touched by the story that unfolded before him, or perhaps he just wanted more to feel. Gently, his fingers stretch to hers, lacing their hands together next to her head. His usually gloved thumb, now lying naked in an embrace with another hand, gracefully rubbed the back of her palm.

It was so soft, so feather light, she might not have noticed it had she been anyone else. Yet, she was her, and in an instant, all sleep that threatened to take her over was gone, full lucidity coming back to her as she nearly gasped.

She stayed as still as a statue, hoping Majima wouldn’t notice the change in her breathing. Luckily he didn’t, his eye stayed glued to the screen, mindlessly holding onto her as he continued his action.

Heart beating in her chest, she didn’t know how to react. He was being so… gentle. What did she do to be deserving of any of this kindness?

Her eyes dilate, losing focus of the television and staring at nothing in particular. She feels her mind wander, the feeling of his warm skin on hers flooding her thoughts, the voices on the screen just in front of her being replaced with his.

***

The night air breezed past them as they walked. It whipped through his bowl cut, blowing delicate strands into his one good eye, shielding it from her view.

She could watch him forever. He was like a piece of fine art to her; all rigid and strong with the softest curves on his face. The neon lights seemed to illuminate his skin, making it shine with a heavenly glow from within. The snakeskin leather on his shoulder glittered in the night, each scale gleaming in turn.

When he noticed her eyes boring holes into him, he turned his head with a smirk, “Ya keep staring like that, I got somethin’ on my face?”

His eye twinkled as he joked, the brown of it turning to blue, then green, then purple as the street passed him by, its light forming a colorful kaleidoscope on his features.

She was completely starstruck, the ability to form words long gone from her, her entire brain focused on taking him in. Her lips parted, trying to muster a response to his question, only awed breaths falling from them.

As he smiled back, chuckling at her silence, she felt the heat rise to her cheeks, warming her face in the cold. The blush on her skin made his heart swell, though she would never know that. His smile falls for a second, his typically harsh features softening as they walk side by side, eyes never leaving one another.

Not looking where she was going, her foot catches on something sticking up from the ground. She wasn’t sure what it could have been; perhaps it was an uneven paving stone, a discarded paper coffee cup, or even just her own clumsiness. Though, whatever it was, it had her falling to the ground fast.

Long before she could recognize what was happening to her, a warm, leather gloved hand was gripping her forearm, halting her descent to the concrete beneath her feet.

If she had been starstruck before, her head was spinning now, every nerve in her body feeling fuzzy in the proximity of the man looking down at her. At this angle, he looked ethereal, the moon above glowing on the back of his head like a halo. For just a moment, she felt he might sprout wings and fly her up to heaven.

Swallowing, she feels him pull her up, standing her flush against him. The open hem of her jacket tickled his chest, sending a fluttering inside him. They were so close, almost close enough to feel his heart beat against hers.

He scoffed cockily, his breath creating a misty cloud around him. When the fog cleared, he spoke, “Better watch where yer goin’, missy. Can’t have ya getting hurt on me, now can I?”

The tenderness in his tone said more than his words had. What he meant to say was, ‘Please be careful, I want you safe,’ but the meaning got lost in translation from heartbeat to Japanese.

Yet, she felt herself nodding, understanding perfectly what his original intention had been.

***

His stirring on her chest brought her to the present. Hopefully he wasn’t getting up, she needed him there, weighing her down, keeping her grounded while her thoughts were anywhere but this Earth.

Fortunately, Majima only sighs, his torso rising then falling under her still hand. He shifts slightly, his long legs moving against hers as he finds a new position atop her to lay. His head even shifts, hair rubbing against her chest, and nose gracing her night shirt.

Staying still became harder and harder the more Majima moved. Every muscle in her body wanted to both tense and melt at the same time. Her heart beat so loudly against her chest, she could hear it in her ears.

Looking down to the hand inside his, she bites her lip, trying to keep the quivering of it to a minimum. His grip on it tightens ever so slightly, and she is sure he knows she was staring at him. However, when she looks back to the screen, she sees fists flying and tensions rising, a sign that his grasp was only due to the suspense on screen.

At this she relaxes, feeling safe from his teasing for even just a moment. The last thing she wanted was for him to notice her nerves and have this moment end.

Rotating her head gently, she looks up. The darkness of the ceiling seemed to reflect on her, reminding her that that was life before Majima; dark, bleak, flat, and devoid of all color and warmth.

***

On days like these, she wanted nothing more than to just crawl up into a ball and fade away, her own existence crushing her like the heaviest burden there could be. It felt even hard to breathe, her lungs squeezing with sorrow.

Yet, she trugged the streets, walking to the place she had promised to meet him. He wasn’t one for planning things but today was an exception he had said. Nishida told her he was feeling ‘uncharacteristically structured.’ So despite her aching being, she marched to meet him.

He sat in the cafe, idly scrolling through his phone when she arrived. Meekly, she walked up to his table, feeling like being around him might be enough to soothe her soul.

It wasn’t until she sat down that he looked up. All it took was that one glance from his right eye to bring light to her vision. Like stepping out of a tunnel, he showered her in sunlight.

His lips turned up into a smile when he noticed her presence in front of him. He winked, shoving his phone into his pocket absentmindedly, right now, his only focus was on her. “Hey, darlin’,” he flirted, “it took ya long enough. Thought I might have t’ go lookin’ fer ya.”

She mustered the strongest grin she could, forcing all her energy into imitating him, hiding whatever pain lingered just beneath the surface. Her own face felt so heavy though, and even just that simple action hurt, exhausting her to the bone.

Even the most subtle change on her face was noticed by Majima. A lot of the time, she felt he could read her mind, see her soul. He always seemed to know what she was feeling, even when she didn’t know it herself.

Her whole life, people only ever bothered to take her at face value, none dared to look beyond her mask; until him. He seemed to be the only person who could feel her, see her, and hear her the way she so desperately wanted to be felt, seen, and heard.

Catching the pained expression she held, his smile fell, being replaced with one of almost shocking concern. “Wait, what’s wrong with ya? Ya look like half dead, sweetheart.” His brows furrowed as he studied her, eyes pushing back the veil to take a closer look.

She only shakes her head, looking down in embarrassment. She never wanted to make him worry, to take away that smile she loved seeing. The guilt of his emotion pressed on her.

He sighs, smacking the table with both gloved hands. “Well I can’t have ya sittin’ around all mopey like this,” he teases, sing song in his voice being exaggerated more than usual, like hands trying to lift her up.

“Let’s get outta here,” he gestures with a thumb over his back. He takes a look around, scrunching up his face, “This place is a dump anyway.”

He stands, looking down to her with soft eyes and a half smile. The sympathy in his features nearly broke her. He was so tender in the way he looked at her, trying to tell her ‘You’ll be okay, I’m right here,’ without speaking.

A black hand extends to her, fingers spread wide open, awaiting her to place her own inside it. Shaking with anticipation and anxiety, she gives the hand what it wants. Gently, his glove closes around her skin, leading her to follow him into the street.

Alone on the sidewalk and away from prying eyes and eavesdropping ears, his voice lowers, losing all semblance of its usual insincerity, “How about I treat you to some takoyaki? You like yours with extra sauce, don’t you?”

***

The loud music of the film’s end credits snap her from her thoughts. Glancing back to the television, she watches the white letters roll up on a black screen. The names of the actors and production team stare back at her, reminding her she hadn’t been paying attention.

As the music fades, and the credits finish out, the screen goes black, casting the room in a peaceful darkness. Only peaceful because he was here with her, shielding her from its harsh cold and uncertainty.

She feels him chuckle on her chest, muttering more to himself than her, “Shit, that was pretty damn good. Can’t believe that punk was some natural born kung fu master, never saw that one coming.”

With a sigh, he goes to unwrap his hand from hers and grab the remote to turn the TV off. He removes his arm from under her pillow to push off her and get up. Feeling his grasp on her hand loosen, she instinctively tightens her own, her other hand pushing his shoulder back down onto her chest.

Majima huffs, falling back onto her. Craning his head to try and look at her, he grumbles, “Jeez, lady, what’re you doin’?”

Her grip on him only tightens more, fingers digging into him, scared he might leave her grasp and disappear into the night. Not able to contain herself anymore, her muscles tense under him.

Her skin felt like it was on fire, every sensation of him on her burning hot with a feeling she couldn’t describe. Feeling her heart swelling to almost burst, she breathes deep, a stinging in her eyes becoming more and more prevalent.

She wasn’t sure what was happening to her, why all of the sudden she felt like a dam had broken inside her, emotion gushing through the cracks and drowning her on dry land.

Yet, of course he could tell. He always did. Squeezing her hand in his, he mutters to her, voice barely above a whisper. “You okay?” he asks tenderly, “I know it kinda got sappy there fer a minute but that ain’t no reason t’ cry.” Repeating his action from earlier, his thumb ghosts across her knuckles.

It could have been his physical touch or the way his words touched her soul but either way, that was the last crack in the dam. A sob erupted from her throat- hot, almost steamy tears cascading down her cheeks and onto the pillow.

She only grips him tighter, near to drawing blood with her nails on his back. Her head finds itself leaning against his silky black hair, cheek pressing firmly onto his skull. Nose buried in his dark locks, she chokes, tears still flowing like a waterfall, “I love you, Goro…”

The words fell from her lips like a prayer. Like it was the only important thing she would ever say. It felt like a confession, though the time for all that had long gone by.

In her moment of frail weakness, Majima is finally able to push off her, just enough to look her in the eye. Her vision of him was not as clear as usual, the water blurring him and barring her from seeking refuge in his eye. Had she not been crying, she would have seen the change in his face. It faded slowly from concern to ardor, plush lips pressing together.

Lifting his hand, he reaches it to touch her cheek, hot and wet from her overflow. Wiping some of the tears off her, he whispers, “I love you too, babe. More than ya know…”

Leaning in and capturing her lips on his, he seals his promise.

#majima goro x reader #goro majima x reader #majima x reader #goro majima #majima goro

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nitewrighter · 4 years

Note

First Meeting of Genji and Tracer maybe?

I haven’t forgotten all the kiss prompts but I wanted to gear-shift to something a little more punchy!

-------

“I don’t know about this…” Genji mindlessly brushed his fingers along the handle of Ryū-Ichimonji as he walked down the hall, “I’ve never really thought of myself as a teacher...”

“You said you wanted to get off the bench,” Reyes walked alongside him, both hands in the mono-pocket of his hoodie. He had a way of carrying himself that made it easy for the eye to scan past him, despite being head of Blackwatch, but Genji drew the eye, bare skin and metal, and stark black, white and red prosthetics, and so in their walk virtually all Overwatch staff in the hallway gave them an unnaturally wide berth, first a natural reaction to Genji’s appearance, then a flinching recognition of Reyes. “This is the best Jack and I can do for you,” Reyes went on, “Besides, she was in the RAF before this, so it’s not like she’s coming into this with no combat knowledge.”

‘The best Jack and I can do for you,’ Genji glanced away from Reyes, his eyes narrowing in thought, So you show Jack one hand with me, while keeping the other behind your back with McCree. I’m the ‘accountability’ agent, but McCree and Moira... they’re still Blackwatch. They’re still working. His ‘real’ agents. Genji wondered where McCree was now. Was it an ‘errand’ this time or a ‘vacation?’ It wasn’t as if it was sanctioned by Jack either way, but it wasn’t like Jack would look too closely or question it so long as the cyborg ninja was accounted for.

“Hey,” Reyes spoke and Genji was forced to pull himself out of his bristling silence, “Being a part of Overwatch isn’t just cutting through shit with a sword. You have to show you can work with people, and not just Blackwatch.” Reyes gave a short snort, “Though, let’s be real, saying you worked with Blackwatch is a bit of a stretch.”

Genji kept his eyes fixed away sullenly. “So she’s not the only one learning, here,” he mused.

“Now you’re getting it,” said Reyes, smiling.

“You don’t know when Blackwatch’s suspension is ending, do you?” Genji’s voice was level but it wiped the smile from Reyes’s face in an instant.

“Can’t say that I do,” Reyes flicked his own eyes forward, down the hall, “But that doesn’t mean I’m sitting on my hands, Shimada. You can believe me when I say I’m working on ways to get you back out there, because Talon’s only going to get bolder while we’re wrapping ourselves in red tape. But you have to show me, Jack, and all these UN pearl-clutchers you can adapt. Do you understand?”

“Mm,” Genji gave a single nod as they exited two automatic doors out to the training area, where a cluster of training bots where doddering around in various directions.

“Had ‘em cue up your usual warm-up,” said Reyes, putting his hands on his hips, “Think benchwarming got you soft?”

Genji gave a short scoff before drawing Ryū-Ichimonji from his back, but Reyes could hear the smile in his breath beneath his faceplate.

----

“Wow... Blackwatch!” Tracer’s eyes were wide as Mercy and Winston stood next to her in the elevator, “I heard all about the--I mean, everyone heard about Venice but--blimey! Are we sure it’s all right?”

“We’re approaching this as a sort of... rehabilitation from suspension,” said Mercy, “And don’t worry, I’m very well-acquainted with your future teacher and I can assure you that Genji Shimada holds himself to a very high standard as an agent.”

“I know that but....I don’t know if I’m cut out for any of that ninja stuff,” Trace glanced down at the chronal accelerator glowing in her chest, “This thing doesn’t exactly make it ea--easy to sneak around.” A brief ripple of glowing blue chronal feedback bloomed around her on the word ‘easy’ and her shoulders bunched up self-consciously, “Sometimes I don’t know if I can pull off that... speed-up thing I did back with the prototypes...”

“The accelerator reacts to your nervous system,” Winston chimed in, “We can worry about safely discharging the chronal distortion later, but it’s perfectly safe and stable as it is right now! All you need to worry about is keeping a cool head!”

“Cool head,” Tracer said firmly, “Right.”

“But if anything feels wrong you should tell us immediately,” Mercy quickly added.

“Gotcha, gotcha,” said Tracer, nodding. The three of them stood in a nervous, excited silence for a few seconds.

“Is he nice?” Tracer asked, looking at Mercy, “I mean, don’t get me wrong, I can deal with the ‘tough love’ types, but I guess I’m just not really sure what to expect with all this Blackwatch stuff...”

“Oh he’s wonderful,” said Mercy beaming as the elevator dinged and the doors opened, “And I think, while both your situations are very unique, he’ll definitely understand what you’re going through. He’s basically had to re-learn how to coordinate his body, too!”

Tracer’s shoulders slumped with some reassurance as they stepped out into the open air of the training area, “Well that’s a relief,” she said, with a lopsided smile.

“Oh yes. He’ll be a great teacher. He’s patient, and attentive, and really quite funny once you get to know him, and he’s very---”

Mercy was cut off by a snarling, roaring, cybernetically warbling scream as a red, white, and black blur rushed past them on the training grounds. Tracer, Winston, and Mercy watched in some combination of awe and terror as Genji Shimada tore through a batch of training bots like a hurricane.

“Very--um...” Mercy’s words turned halting as Genji dove and slid under one bot and became a whirlwind of blades and kicks, slicing up the training bots closing in on him, before sending the poor training bot he had dived under into the air then springing into the air himself. His wires whipped around him as he twisted in the air, sending the training bot flying back with a kick that made it shatter against a wall.

“Very--” Mercy tried to regain her composure and speak quickly but winced as she was cut off again by the screech and clatter of metal, the loud scream of a broken vocal box on one of the training bots as Genji jammed both sword and wakizashi into it before ripping it outward and rendering the training bot an explosion of broken metal parts. Mercy looked sharply over to Tracer, whose mouth was hanging open in a petrified gawk.

“He’s very...” Mercy was trying to eke words out of herself as Genji sliced off the head of one training bot with his sword then stabbed it through with his wakizashi before pivoting and smashing another training bot’s head with the skewered head of its compatriot. “...enthusiastic?”

Genji’s breaths were ragged and his forearms were quaking with how hard his hands were gripping his sword and wakizashi, surrounded by the sparking broken bits of training bots, his shoulders rising and falling with his breaths. Tracer, Winston, and Mercy all flinched to attention at the sound of clapping next to them and looked to their right to see Gabriel Reyes stick his thumb and forefinger in his mouth and whistle shrilly before clapping some more.

“Attaboy, Genji! Still got it!” Reyes called out to Genji and Genji seemed to pull himself out of a blood-drunk haze (or at least the robot-destroying equivalent of a blood-drunk haze), looking over his shoulder and then flinching to awkward attention himself as he noticed Reyes was now accompanied by Mercy, the gorilla, and... the newbie.

His student.

Who looked about ready to either throw up or piss herself or both from what she had just seen him do.

Reyes was still clapping and smiling obnoxiously, Genji awkwardly lifted his wakizashi (smaller sword was less threatening, right?) and gave a small wave.

“Uh... yo,” he said.

“Er--excellent form, Genji!” Mercy raised her voice so he could hear her but it came out as a squawk, her desperation to try and diffuse the situation obvious in every intonation, “Very... efficient!” She had that ‘everything is going wrong but for the love of god be strong, Angela’ deliriously forced smile on her face, which he had seen both at 3 AM in the lab and at press conferences going down in flames.

“Thank you?” said Genji, sheathing both his sword and moving to walk toward them but then stumbling over a piece of broken training bot. He quickly recovered, straightened himself up to full height and walked briskly over to them before giving a stiff bow.

“So glad you could join us, Oxton,” said Reyes, turning to look at Tracer, his hands on his hips.

“Reyes?” Mercy’s voice was steel wire-tight, “May we speak?”

“Sure, Ange, what--” Reyes started but Mercy grabbed him by the loose sleeve of the hoodie and practically dragged him through the doors of the training area’s control room.

“Wait, shouldn’t we--” Tracer started feebly after them but the steel doors of the room slammed behind them. Tracer, Genji, and Winston all vaguely made out the muffled sounds of Mercy yelling at Reyes on the other side of the doors.

“What were you thinking?! What was that?!”

“What are you yelling at me for? I just thought he should get a little warmed up and the newbie should get some idea of--”

“Some idea of what?! We’ve only barely scratched the surface of the effects the chronal disassociation is having on her physical abilities and you’re throwing up these warzones like---”

“Hey, I just set up his usual training bot session, Doc, you got a problem with Genji’s style, you take that up with him--”

“I don’t have a problem with Genji’s ‘style’--! I--Don’t act like you don’t know what you’re doing---! Is this some other play?! Are you--”

Winston cleared his throat. “We should probably...”

“Right..” said Tracer a little sheepishly.

The three of them edged away from the steel doors. Genji glanced over at Tracer, who didn’t seem to know whether to even look at him as they walked themselves out of earshot of the argument.

“So you’re the new recruit from the flight program,” said Genji, folding his arms and trying to sound as casual as possible.

“Ah...y-yeah!” Tracer blurted out. She cleared her throat and stuck her hand out, “Lena Oxton! Callsign Tracer! Reporting for du--” blue light suddenly flared brightly around her from the glowing object on her chest and she seemed to catch herself, clearing her throat, “er... reporting for duty,” she said extending her hand again, which had somehow jerked back to her side with the blue glow.

Genji moved to extend his organic hand, found that that would be awkward with the hand Tracer had chosen to shake with, then hesitantly extended his prosthetic. She shook his hand so hard it jostled up his whole arm before she caught herself and withdrew her hands to her side, clearing her throat.

“Ah so that’s...” Genji started.

“Yeah it’s a thing,” said Tracer, glancing down.

“Well...” Genji gestured up and down himself, “This... is also a thing.”

“I can see that,” said Tracer with a bit of a nervous giggle. They both gave a glance to Winston.

“Oh!” Winston perked up and started unconsciously signing as he spoke, “I don’t think we’ve been properly introduced. Winston. I’ll be on the science team overseeing Tracer’s condition with the chronal accelerator. Along with Doctor Ziegler. So we’ll be watching while you’re training together!”

“I see,” said Genji, “And you’re...”

“From the moon,” said Winston.

“From the moon,” Genji repeated, both of them silently agreeing that they didn’t have to go into the ‘gorilla’ part of things. He glanced back at Tracer. “Look--” Genji started but then caught himself, “I--if I scared you back there...”

“You didn’t scare me!” Tracer blurted out.

Both Genji and Winston gave her steady looks and Tracer stiffened her shoulders slightly, “I mean... y’know it’s... nothing I can’t handle. Really!” she put her hands on her hips and huffed, “You’re pretty tame compared to some of the things I’ve seen,” she said. She was trying to inject an adventurous sense of swagger into her voice, but her youth undermined a lot of that.

Genji tilted his head slightly, studying her, and she made eye contact but didn’t sustain it for too long. He was used to that at this point. The red eyes were off-putting for a lot of people, but then his eyes flicked to Winston, then down at the chronal accelerator glowing in Tracer’s chest. There was something simultaneously familiar and alienating standing in their presence, and hearing the faint muffled sounds of Ziegler and Reyes arguing on the other side of the door, there was a spark of kinship between the three of them. Three people who wouldn’t have any place in the world without Overwatch.

“So how do we start?” said Tracer.

“Start?” said Genji, “Now?”

“Well, Doctor Z said you already went through all this stuff to re-learn coordination with all your...” Tracer gestured up and down at him, “Whatnot. And I figure, the sooner for me, the better, right? So lesson one, Teach! Let’s hear it!”

“Uh...” Genji rubbed the back of his head.

“Perhaps you could begin with assessment?” Winston suggested, “Establish what level of combat training Tracer should start with?”

The fastest way to do that is sparring, Genji thought and he got a horrifying mental image of Ziegler and Reyes emerging from their argument in the control room only to walk in on him punching Morrison’s beloved time-hopping newbie in the face.

“The first step to training is.... establishing the training space!” Genji blurted out. He vaguely remembered some lectures from his Shimada clan trainers indicating something similar, but the force that propelled those words from his mouth were more of the ‘70% panic’ variety.

“Establishing the training ground?” Tracer tilted her head.

“You can’t train in a cluttered space,” Genji pointed at the countless broken bits of training bots strewn across the training grounds, “You can start by cleaning those up.”

“...isn’t that your mess?” said Tracer.

“Who’s the teacher here?” said Genji, folding his arms.

“Right! Of course! Sorry!” said Tracer with a sharp salute before zipping off in a blue streak. Genji flinched hard at how inhumanly fast she moved and she seemed to catch herself as well, skidding to a halt on her heels. “Winston!” she called out excitedly, “Did you see that!? I did the thing! I did the speedy thing again!! I didn’t even think about it!! You’re such a good teacher, Genji!”

“I know,” said Genji, trying to look off stoically as Tracer zipped around the training grounds, picking up broken training bot bits and laughing between flashes of blue light.

“...you don’t know what ‘the speedy thing’ is, do you?” said Winston, very quietly.

“No,” Genji replied, also very quietly.

“You’re making this up as you go along,” Winston said flatly.

“It’s called ‘adapting,’” said Genji. He could still feel Winston’s eyes on him, skeptical. “I can adapt,” Genji said, mostly to himself as Tracer threw a bunch of training bot parts into a recycling bin with a loud clatter.

#overwatch #overwatch fic #genji shimada #tracer #angela ziegler

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kisskissbanggang · 4 years

Text

Prowl pt. 5

[1Hr. Read/17.4K Words – Human!Jisung x Female Reader, Werewolf!Bang Chan x Female Reader – Monsters!AU, Mostly Plot, NSFW/Smut – Vampires & Werewolves, Mysteries, Suspense, Love Triangles, Jealousy, Developing Feelings, Questionable Coping, Feeding, Blood, Violence, Driven by Instinct, Confessions, Death, Wall Sex, Car Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Public Sex]

Masterlist | Feedback

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : 🌕 ⭒ 🌗 ⭒ 🌑 : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

“My little fox,” Chan grinned, “I thought I smelled trouble.”

Your blood ran cold despite the meager clothing you were wearing on the landing, and apparently the others sensed yours and Jisung’s sudden alert at the ghost currently haunting the doorway. However, when you looked behind you, Jisung was nowhere to be seen. There was no time for waiting, though; you stalked down the stairs and tried to shove Chan and Felix back out the door.

“I do not know what the fuck you think you’re doing here,” you hissed, “but it would be in your best interest to get the hell out.”

“It would be in your best interest if we stayed,” Chan shook his head defiantly, “even if you did try to kill me.”

He had the audacity to scoff out a harsh laugh as you grabbed for Lia’s shotgun by the door, but this was quickly pulled right out of your hands. You wheeled around to see Lia holding the gun down by her side.

“Sweetheart,” Lia interjected, her words injected with saccharine propriety. She would’ve tried to shake hands with death before going anywhere, you were sure of it. Judy and Yuna were holding hands where they hid behind the shorter woman, standing tall even as her voice wavered. “Who is this?”

“Remember how I’ve been in some trouble lately?” You glowered. That was all that needed to be said, apparently. Lia was instantly on your side, shooting a glare in Chan’s direction as she raised the head of the gun a couple inches but kept her finger off the trigger.

“I agree, then,” she announced, “I think you’d do well to leave now.”

“Julia, I need to explain something,” Chan tried, hands up in innocence, “I promise I’m not here with any ill-intent against you.”

Lia backed up a step, her eyes darting back to meet yours as you both silently wondered where he learned her name. Before you could follow this line of questioning, though, Jisung made his presence known as he marched down the stairs. Felix’s startled gasp surprised you, and you turned to see what he was reacting to. Your stomach lurched again, threatening to repeat its betrayal from earlier. Jisung held his own gun aloft, the ornate pearl handle clutched in his hand with the barrel pointed squarely at Chan. “We made ourselves pretty fucking clear,” Jisung spat, “and you’ve done more than enough damage already. Get the hell out.”

“I’ve done more than enough damage?” Chan sneered as he snatched Jisung’s wrist, effortlessly twisting it until Jisung let go of the revolver with a hissed curse. Chan handed it to Felix to free up his hand. Thinking quickly, you lunged forward, shoving the younger man back and grabbing the gun yourself out of Felix’s presented palm before stepping back next to Lia.

Chan raised his hands again, but not without reaching into his jacket pocket first. You kept the gun aimed at the floor, finger off the trigger as you eyed him warily. He withdrew the other journal, apparently having found it in the boiler room after all the fuss when you left him to bleed. “I’m in deep shit with the department,” he explained to you, but he still cautiously eyed all the occupants in the room, “I’ve been extending this investigation so long that I’ve lost almost everyone. All my contacts are dropping off the map, all my resources are getting cut off, all of this to try and freeze me out and make me close the case. So this,” he gestured with the journal, “was a blessing. I was able to cross-reference every name and place in here with Shepherd’s record, your record, and even his.” Chan stared daggers at Jisung, who quickly stepped behind you now that he was defenseless again, before Chan looked to Lia now. “You’ve only gone by your real name again in the past ten years, haven’t you? You attended the university as your own granddaughter.”

Lia cautiously eyed Chan before she looked back to you. You were just as stuck. Lia sighed. “What are you asking for exactly?”

“I’ve been with the latest pack trying to get Shepherd’s help. They’ve done everything he’s asked, which means they’ve left quite a bit of damage behind them that hasn’t been accounted for. I want to get to them before they try to finish what they started. I’m here because if they’re as smart as I’m afraid they are, they shouldn’t be far behind me.”

“Is Lia even mentioned in the other journal at all?” You countered.

“The journals are mixed,” Jisung sighed behind you, “literally. When Shepherd completed both volumes, it looked like he unbound the two and mixed the sections into two new bindings.”

“Fine,” Lia decided. All of you stopped to look at her. “If it’ll help stop this once and for all, you can stay. We’ll put you in the guest room by the study… But stay away from my girls.”

“Had no intention of getting close,” Chan reassured her before he tugged at the hood of Felix’s jacket, “and thank you.” Felix gave Judy another grateful smile before Chan pulled him outside.

You wheeled on the poor girl as the front door clicked shut. She cowered by Lia’s arm. “Why did you let them in?!”

“I didn’t know—” she squeaked.

“You didn’t know?! They reek of wolves and—”

“Sweetheart,” Lia scolded you with a deep frown as she stepped in front of Judy. She gently set the shotgun back down by the door. “It’s raining outside. You can hardly smell anything out there. I’ve protected Judy and her sister as long as they’ve been here, so they’ve still never even had to meet a wolf before. They wouldn’t know what one smells like.”

“I’m sorry,” Judy meekly apologized from behind Lia’s shoulder. You heaved out a sigh.

“It’s alright,” you lamented, “you didn’t know. I’m sorry, too.”

“We’re all sorry,” Lia placated, “now let’s deal with this. Take that—” she said as she pointed to the gun still in your hand, “and put it the hell away. Jisung, I hope I never have to see it again.”

“Yes, Lia,” Jisung weakly agreed. He grabbed your sleeve and pulled you upstairs before ducking into his room to grab his things. You helped gather up his belongings, bundling up the clothes and books he’d left out before trotting back down the hall to your own room. Lia could be heard directing Chan and Felix to their room as you shut your door behind you. Jisung jumped as you finally turned on him.

“A fucking gun, Jisung?!” You instantly started.

“I know, I know,” Jisung moaned, “it was reckless and stupid. I didn’t know what else to do.”

“Where did you even get this?!”

“I think it was Shepherd’s,” Jisung said quietly, “I found it the night he was killed before the cops came. I have no clue why I took it. It made me feel safe to have it.”

“Do not let me ever see you with this thing again unless you suddenly learn how to use it,” you berated him. You took the gun sitting heavy in your hands and opened the drawer of the bedside table, before setting it inside and slamming it shut. Your hand paused on top of the hardwood surface as you got your thoughts back in order. “How are you feeling?”

“Freaking out a little,” Jisung admitted. “I know it’s stupid.”

“That’s not stupid,” you sighed. You turned to face Jisung, stepping into his space. “Is it him and me?”

Jisung nodded thoroughly.

“I was all yours last night and I’m all yours tonight,” you reminded Jisung before you kissed his cheek in hopes of moving on, before you heard Lia giving Chan a cursory tour of the house outside in the hall. Jisung visibly prickled at the sound.

“I loved you last night and I love you tonight,” Jisung finally returned with a sigh. “Just… promise me. Promise me you won’t talk to that bastard. We don’t talk to him, and we stay the hell away from him.”

“Had no intention of doing otherwise,” you nodded, brushing your thumb along Jisung’s cheek as you cupped his face. He pulled you close, and your gut finally calmed down enough to feel safe for a moment.

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : 🌗 ⭒ 🌑 ⭒ 🌓 : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

That first night and the next were utterly disconcerting, having apparently been plucked straight from your own personal purgatory. You could only imagine how Lia and the girls felt. They had been living this quiet and secluded life, only having to worry about the occasional boyfriend or blood donor, and now you’d paraded in an entire heap of trouble. Maybe Chan had a point, an idea you fiercely despised. The whole giant house suddenly felt cramped. Your stomach was in more knots than that first night, and each time you woke up you had to sneak away to the en suite to empty your guts. Nothing felt better.

Not to mention Jisung was a mess. As Chan seemed to finally get back up to speed, walking and working just fine, Jisung was a nervous wreck. He was finally starting to look more put together, his black eye finally faded and a mostly normal glow returning to his skin in the time since Chan worked him over a couple weeks prior. His busted knuckles had faded to simple callouses, and the stitches in his brow weren’t going to scar so badly once you got him to stop picking at them. But that wasn’t the problem. Jisung was hardly leaving your side. The moment you’d found him after waking up, guzzling more coffee than usual in Lia’s kitchen, he would follow you from room to room to room, or join you while you tried to read or get your mind off things. It was night three that you needed to do something about it.

“Jisung,” you finally started, having led him all the way from your room to the laundry room to grab your dry clothes, and back.

“What?”

“You can not keep following me.”

“I’m not following you,” Jisung forced out with a fake laugh.

“Jay, please,” you pleaded, dropping the laundry basket onto the bed and cupping Jisung’s face. “Work with me here. You have to tell me what’s wrong. No secrets.”

“It’s nothing!” Jisung tittered, trying to keep it light as he leaned his soft cheek into your palm. “It’s nothing, I’m just hanging out with you! What else would I be doing?”

“I don’t know,” you groaned, “what about the car? You said it needed work, something about the — what was it — the, er—”

“Timing belt?” He flatly answered.

“Yes!” You replied enthusiastically. “You could be working on the car, or hiking, or—”

“I understand that,” Jisung sighed tiredly, “it’s just, you know—”

“Just what, Jay?”

“Ugh,” Jisung groaned sharply, “it’s you fucking him! I can’t believe I’m admitting it. It was one thing when he was dead and all I could do was get over it but—”

Jisung paused as Chan could be heard berating Felix in the hallway as they walked past. “—I don’t really care, Felix. I’m not doing this to hurt you, I’m telling you because I care and—” Where were they walking come from? They were going towards their room, not coming from it. You looked back to Jisung. He was fuming.

“If I have to think of that idiot’s hands on you one more time I think I’ll try killing him again myself,” Jisung muttered before he turned away from you, hands roughly shoved in his pockets. You quickly stepped forward as the two men could still be heard quietly arguing down the hall. Trouble had apparently been cropping up everywhere once Chan was back to his old self again.

“Jisung? Jay? What did I tell you,” you attempted to reason with him as you grabbed his hand.

“I know, you’re all mine,” he sighed, “but having him be here is god awful and—”

“And nothing, Jisung,” you soothed him. “You’re not going to magically lose me if I’m not in your sight every waking minute. We’re getting past it together. It was the hunger, even though I know that barely matters. I’m all yours.”

Jisung finally softened for a moment, his hand gratefully squeezing yours — that is, until the two wolves could be heard coming back down the hallway. Felix was apparently coming in hot to get his word in. “—don’t understand, Chan. You’re not my dad, you’re not really my brother, and it sounds like the only wrong thing that fucking girl in that fucking room ever did was try to kill you, and I think I’m starting to understand why. Otherwise, all I know about her and her kind is apparently she’s the most perfect fuck you’ve ever had in your life—”

The commotion finally died down when the door to Chan and Felix’s room slammed shut down the hall. Jisung’s face was cryptic as you searched him. “Jisung, I—”

You were cut off into a muffled gasp as Jisung yanked on your hand in his, pulling you into him hard enough that he fell back against the dresser as he desperately kissed you.

“Jisung, talk to me—” you urged him.

“I will, I promise,” Jisung groaned into your mouth as he clutched onto your hips, “I just need you right now, okay?”

He backed up, just a breath away, and his gaze was clouded with whatever maelstrom was taking place inside of him. The mere thought of Jisung being so conflicted over this made your heart crumple in on itself, something you knew you were only coddling as you let him kiss you again. And, really, it was so easy once you realized how much you needed Jisung, too. A shadow lurked in you that you thought was just hunger, whispering to you with that same low voice as before when you had mauled Chan, but what was even louder was the longing that suddenly ripped through you. All you could do was give in to both, kissing Jisung hard in return as he pushed your leggings down and off and grappled you into his arms.

You couldn’t hear Chan and Felix arguing down the hall anymore, but you probably couldn’t anyway between your shared gasps and sighs while Jisung pinned you up against the wall by your bedroom door, fumbling with his zipper before he could sink into you. He keened at the squeeze of your walls around him with what almost sounded like a sigh of relief, his hands clutching your thigh wrapped around him as you gasped in pleasure against him and let the extending tips of your canines graze his throat. Jisung moaned deep while his hands roamed over you, even leaning his head over to let you gently nip into him while he fucked you into the wall. Just that simple action of you piercing him made him stiffen up, his whole body seemingly holding back from tearing into you once you moaned at the taste of him. As much as you craved the sensation, it was easy to forget how much this apparently felt heavenly to Jisung. Your head swam, a cacophony of wanting Jisung, and wanting to feed on Jisung, and wanting to talk to Jisung all yelling over each other until the first wash of blood ran down your throat. Everything in you turned to static. Jisung sighed out an airy whine of pure satisfaction the moment you came up for air, his hand gently cupping your face again.

“I wish I could tell you just how beautiful you are,” Jisung murmured, his voice soft even as he thrust hard into you, “especially like this. I swear your eyes get darker when you feed. It’s—”

The door down the hall swung back open as Chan apparently followed Felix into the hallway. This was actually torture. “—and that’s fine, Chan, whatever, I’m going to get some fucking fresh air, but if you’d like I could remind you of how I fucking held you while you were trying not to die and all you could do was joke that at least she finished you off before she finished you off—”

“Felix, I—” Chan didn’t finish his thought, apparently deciding that he needed to give Felix his space, but not without punching the bannister out of frustration first. However, his bedroom door didn’t close again, and you didn’t hear him go down the stairs. Jisung apparently couldn’t be bothered to wonder the same, or maybe it was in spite of that which led him to thrust more roughly into you, that unresolved jealousy clearly eating through him as you whined and whimpered once you resumed feeding on him again.

The way Jisung fit inside you — or even fit inside your life — seemed almost too well meshed when his breaths began to grow ragged the second you felt your peak coming. You finally felt fed, and Jisung looked so beautiful but so conflicted as you finally winced and sighed through your easy orgasm. Jisung held you steady, still pinning you to the wall and not letting up until he got his.

“Say it again,” he sweetly begged while he dragged his lips along your jaw and throat. You didn’t think twice about it.

“I’m all yours,” you gasped, and held tight onto him as he clutched tighter onto you in return. Jisung sloppily kissed you again before he spilled into you, his hushed groans almost sounding like laments. Chan could finally be heard stalking down the stairs.

Jisung was still a mess, obviously, but the impromptu sex seemed to take the edge off, at least physically. You finally got him to give you a little space. The next night you awoke and didn’t find him drinking his fourth cup of coffee in the kitchen. He wasn’t reading in the study or flipping through channels in the den. When you poked your head outside, you could see light coming from the garage. It was nice, sneaking outside and peeking around the corner, catching Jisung rummaging around under the hood of his car, the sleeves of his worn flannel rolled up to his elbows while he listened to the radio.

Even the next night, again, you found Jisung right back in the garage. It wasn’t like you hadn’t seen him at all the previous night, you’d had a fun time playing board games for the first time in years with Lia’s girls, but you wondered if perhaps you overcorrected and now Jisung wouldn’t feel the desire to come see you when you woke up anymore. You silently peered into the garage, catching sight of him as he wiped some sweat off his brow and was careful to avoid his healing stitches with the grease on his arm. Jisung looked almost like he was concentrating, and on more than just the car. You couldn’t blame him. With how relaxed Jisung had seemed just the previous week, back when things were starting to look a little brighter, you could imagine he’d finally felt like this whole nightmare was starting to slow down to a manageable pace.

You decided to let Jisung have his space for a little bit, at least if he was seeking it out himself now. Out of sheer curiosity, you decided to check out the edge of the lake while the moon was still high up, the bright crescent more than likely lighting up the water in a gorgeous way. You had a sinking feeling that quiet nights like this should be counted as a blessing. Twigs snapped underfoot, and you carefully walked along the path only somewhat lit by dim lanterns, but froze when you noticed someone out by the water’s edge, lounging in one of the worn lawn chairs by the fire pit.

Chan.

He was seemingly at ease, or at least attempting to be. Apparently Lia had some beer stowed away in the house that you hadn’t bothered to find yet, but Chan had, unless he had his own secret stash. However he’d conjured the bottle in his hand, he nursed the brew as he brooded. You were brought back to that first night, Chan laughing and hanging out with the pack at the bar. He looked so different in such a short amount of time.

Since he’d arrived, Chan had been able to clean up considerably, despite the showing roots in his ashy blonde hair. His style seemed to relax since he no longer needed to blend in with the pack or camp out for extended periods of time to keep out of trouble. Even with only a shave and a shower, he was just as handsome as that boy at the bar ages ago. Who could’ve guessed that he nearly died only recently? For that matter, who knew what he had needed to do to become good as new? You shivered at the thought.

It was sort of calming, watching Chan seemingly not sense that you were observing him as he sat by the lake. You didn’t need to imagine that this wasn’t terribly different from the rest of the day. When you’d asked Jisung in passing, he said the daylight was mostly spent ardently avoiding each other at all costs, minimizing shared space as much as possible and not exchanging any words if necessary, though Felix did seem approachable and friendly in contrast. This was almost humorous, considering Chan didn’t seem to care one bit about you two hanging out with each other now, or even that you existed. No matter how much Jisung was or wasn’t attached to your hip, he barely glanced in your direction. On the rare occasion you did run into Chan in the house, perhaps catching him around a corner, he almost looked mortified to see you. That one puzzled you.

At most, Jisung caught Chan keeping to himself and finally studying his investigation materials or even tinkering around with the van they’d nabbed. This was understandable, you supposed, even on Chan’s part. You could still hear him barking vitriol about Jisung — the worm, according to him — back in the boiler room. You could still hear how desperately he’d insisted you belonged to each other. He could feel it in his skin, he’d said. He’d sounded possessed, something you were scared to consider if you empathized with.

And you’d tried to kill him. Maybe he was just as scared and confused as you were. According to Jisung, Felix was even harder to keep track of, that first squabble apparently setting a standard between the two wolves. So, perhaps, now on top of everything else already sitting on his broad shoulders, now Chan was stuck in a house full of people who hated him.

You left Chan to quietly consider the lake by himself before you headed back up to the house, maybe see what the girls were up to or if Jisung was done working on the car for the night. The back door just off the kitchen softly clicked shut behind you when you suddenly heard the harsh whispers of the girls in the entryway. You hung back in the kitchen, listening to the disembodied voices talk.

“Chae—Judy, you can’t be this selfish over—” Joanne?

“Selfish?!”

“Think rationally, Jude.” Lucy? “Lia almost never has problems like this but this time she does. Think about what she said.”

“Oh my god, you both are being ridiculous, just like her. Neither of you understand.”

“Neither do you, Judy. Lia said this is dangerous—”

“What about your sister? Think of Yuna—”

“Do not talk about Yuna like that. We’ve looked out for each other ever since she could walk. I would never do anything to put her in danger.”

“We know, Judy, but what if this is putting her in danger and you just don’t know it yet?”

“Stop it, both of you! I love you both, but I don’t have patience for this, from either of you. I’ll be glad to hear whatever Lia has to say if she actually tells me why I should be so concerned.”

Judy and Lucy were apparently left alone as Judy stormed off upstairs, and you peeked around the corner to see if the coast was clear. You could’ve easily ducked in and looked like you hadn’t been eavesdropping, but you shied away as you saw Jisung hopping down the stairs, still toweling his hair off from a shower. You must’ve been watching Chan at the lake longer than you’d thought if he had time to finish his work and get cleaned up.

“Joanne? Lucy?” Jisung asked curiously as he reached the foyer. The girls turned to face him. You could see them attempt to relax from down the corridor. “Are you two alright? Judy looked… pissed.”

“It’s fine, she’s fine,” Lucy sighed with a nod, her arms folded as if to give herself a reassuring hug.

“We’re fine,” Joanne insisted. “I appreciate you checking on us though.”

“No, come on,” Jisung tutted, “don’t lie. Come talk to me.” He nudged Joanne’s shoulder with his own as he walked with the two girls down the hall towards you. You quickly tensed up and rushed to make it look as if you just happened to already be in the kitchen and weren’t actually listening in. The three appeared glad to see you, and you forced yourself to let your mind relax and enjoy this. You sat in the kitchen, sipping on coffee and catching Jisung up on old stories between you and Lia, even as she herself came down herself to join you with Yuna in tow. It was wonderful, getting to take a moment and enjoy the company of these people you cared for. You just wished it didn’t feel like a blessing.

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : 🌑 ⭒ 🌓 ⭒ 🌕 : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

Jisung was still a mess, only a little less on edge about it. Regularly now, he was dragging you into the nearest secluded area once or sometimes even twice a night to feverishly kiss you or — when it was really bad — fuck you until you both were gasping for air. Last night it was after Chan walked in on you both reading on the couch in the study when he was looking for a book, and now you had the shadow of a sizable love bite next to the scar of your real bite to show for it. Jisung said Chan had given you a look, but you didn’t recall ever seeing such a thing. Tonight, where he had pulled you into the den and told you yet again that he needed you, was because of something he hadn’t explained yet.

It was almost as if Jisung was burying something in you, almost staking his claim if you insisted you were his. Admittedly, it was relieving and good, or else you hopefully wouldn’t let Jisung keep getting away with doing this instead of talking to you. The way Jisung loved you was like nothing you ever got to experience before, and keeping it and maintaining it was sort of becoming precious to you, even though you still weren’t sure if you entirely felt the same. It wasn’t that you felt you didn’t love Jisung — it’s just that you were simply and utterly terrified of that possibility. You already pulled him in this far. Regardless, you occasionally tried to cajole Jisung into opening up more.

Even now, you slowed your hips as you rode him on one of Lia’s plush easy chairs. “Jay, we can’t keep not talking about this,” you lightly chided, partly from trying not to tire out too quickly, partly from wanting to remain gentle with him.

“What’s to talk about?” He breathlessly asked, now thrusting against his grip on your hips to make up for your dropped pace. “I’m still jealous, he’s still here, and that’s still making it difficult to work it out.”

“Jisung,” you said, more firmly now, and his glazed eyes sparkled a bit when he looked up into yours as you stilled on his lap. “Come on. You came in from outside and were so fired up that you’re still covered in grime.”

It was true. Jisung was in such a hurry that there were now smudges of oily fingerprints on your thighs from the car. You would have to come back and surreptitiously clean the leather upholstery of the easy chair.

“Oh my god, fine,” Jisung groaned. “I’m warning you: it’s stupid.”

“Jay.”

“Alright, alright, jeez,” he laughed tepidly under his breath in a vain attempt to keep things light. Even still, the facade dropped right away as Jisung’s eyes were quickly downcast in embarrassment. “The idiot snuck up on me in the garage.”

“He what?” Your blood boiled. Jisung’s eyes lit up in alarm.

“No! Not like that. He didn’t really sneak up on me—I mean, he did, but he didn’t do it on purpose, and—”

“Oh my god—” a deeper voice gasped into a laugh in the doorway. You both froze now with Jisung’s fingers digging into your waist. Mortified, you peeked over the back of the chair to see Felix let out a surprised guffaw and turn to someone beside him, out of view behind the doorway. It was interesting to hear him be so light, considering you’d barely spoken five words to each other since he arrived. “Okay, so that’s out of the question—” You couldn’t hear much else as Felix and whoever it was promptly scampered back down the hallway.

Jisung let out an amused sigh once you were alone again. “Well, that sucked.”

“Jisung,” you prodded, your patience starting to run thin as you got him back on track. He looked somewhat hurt that you didn’t forget in those 10 seconds.

“I’m getting there,” he whined. “The mutt asked me to help him check out the cylinders in the van.”

“And?”

Jisung chewed on his lip. He looked almost nervous. “And… it was nice. He was nice. I sort of understood the appeal for two seconds. We had a beer, looked at the van… and he suddenly asked how you’re doing, and I made an awful excuse to get away. I couldn’t handle it all of a sudden.”

“Jay,” you sighed, maybe a touch too condescendingly, “is that everything? That almost sounds like a good time.” The excruciating embarrassment in Jisung’s eyes made you soften up a bit. He was clearly struggling with this. Maybe, you mused, he couldn’t get a grip on his instincts. Maybe he was getting a sense of his own monster for once.

You smoothed your fingers back through his hair and kissed his temple as you resumed riding him again. It felt selfish to admit that it was gorgeous, the way Jisung was so attentive that even these desperate rendezvous never left you longing for your own climax, that he was so good to you that always got yours, and it was that sense of commitment that made you so beholden to him. Even now, as your core squeezed and climbed its peak, you were still just as lost in the moment as ever.

“I loved you last night and I love you tonight,” Jisung murmured into your shoulder, his breath hitching beautifully and his eyebrows knitting together as he tried to feel out the climax he needed so badly.

“I was all yours last night and I’m all yours tonight,” you soothed. Jisung groaned and tensed at your reassurance, a phrase he seemed to lean on and lean into with each utterance, and soon he held you down against him as you came to a languid yet satisfying finish, your orgasm almost lazy and deep but still flooding heavily through your senses until Jisung followed right behind.

As you caught your breath, Jisung actually looked more relaxed. This was not as satisfying as you would have liked. Jisung needed to keep trying to push past his neuroticisms, no matter how valid. He leaned softly into your hand as you stroked his hair and brushed your thumb against his cheek.

“Hey,” you murmured softly to him. “If you think he was being decent, let him be decent. That’s the least we can do, right? Be decent while we’re stuck together?”

“I know,” he sighed. “He even offered to show me how to handle the gun I found—”

“Jisung,” you jokingly scolded him, “don’t you dare consider that for even a second.”

“I know, I know, I know,” he placated, but his smile seemed to relax.

“Do you feel a bit better now?”

Jisung’s mind had seemed to wander for a moment, but he nonetheless looked up at you gratefully when he nodded.

When you awoke the next night, the first thing you did was check for Jisung in the garage. He wasn’t there. Thankfully, your stomach was feeling cooperative this evening, so you had been able to simply shrug on a jacket over your nightgown after you freshened up. Your fingers absently glided over the scar Rand had left you. It was a minor miracle to not have to deal with nightmares anymore, or else you suspected the pack leader would’ve been populating them. However, that still didn’t stop passing thoughts from invading. It was becoming routine — think about it, wish Jisung didn’t baby you about it with his well-intentioned caress of it each time he got you undressed, and funnel that into your need to destroy Rand if you ever saw him again. You didn’t need a gold star for dealing with it so well, you needed someone to help you sort out that monster. Right now, however, you needed to go find Jisung and see if he wanted to hang out.

But, as you realized, he wasn’t in the garage. The radio was off, the tools he’d been using were stored away. You considered checking the study before you recalled Jisung saying he found a nice clearing in the woods to read in during the day when the weather was dry. The lanterns mostly lit the way, but the path ran out before you could recount Jisung’s directions as he’d described them to you. A flashlight bobbing in the distance caught your eye, hopefully leading you in the right direction.

Only it wasn’t Jisung.

You were careful to mind the moderate ground cover underfoot, cautious of vines and twigs your boots stepped over, but even then you hissed out a curse as you tripped into some brambles and snagged your exposed calf. A fern appeared to have concealed the pointy brush underneath. You considered cutting your little outing short when you finally were able to make out the conversation taking place. You untangled yourself and crept closer.

“— I can’t believe you’re still going on about this. Tell me why it’s any of your goddamn business!”

“It’s my business because we’re here together, Felix,” Chan sighed. “If you get in trouble then I’ll get in trouble.”

“It’s always fucking trouble with you, isn’t it—”

“Don’t fucking start, Felix. I’m glad Judy is nice, I’m glad you’re in love with her, but this is not good for either of you.”

“Why isn’t it? You still won’t tell me! Whatever you read in that fucking journal was good enough to warn me about but not actually tell me anything.”

“I’m just trying to protect you—”

“There’s nothing to protect me from if you won’t tell me what it is! You don’t understand, Chan. I’ve never felt this way before in my life. I don’t just love her, I belong with her. I’m meant to be with her. I can feel it in my—”

“Skin, right?” Chan stared Felix down, who had stopped his frenzied pacing. “You can feel it in your skin, can’t you. It feels almost like you’ve been in the sun too long and sometimes all you can smell is her, even if she’s not around.”

“If you get it then tell me what I need to be so goddamned scared about.”

Chan was markedly silent. In the meager moonlight and his flashlight bouncing off the trees, you could see Chan shift his weight from foot to foot, his hands going from his hips to folded across his chest. You were so engrossed in their squabble you could almost ignore the trickle of blood falling down into your boot from where the damned brambles had gotten you.

“That’s what I thought,” Felix scoffed. You ducked back, mindful of the underbrush while turning to watch Felix storm past you and back up to the house. As you turned back to find Chan, though, there was no flashlight beam. There was only darkness.

You paused in the disquieting night and stared at the spot Chan was just occupying before your eyes quickly surveyed the rest of the clearing, trying hard to not panic and figure out what must have happened in the time between you watching and listening to the younger wolf leave and losing sight of Chan. He wasn’t gone; his scent was still here, his bouquet of mahogany and beach fire haunting you in real time. His scent in the cool night air distracted you from the prickling sting on your leg. Thinking cautiously, you turned to press your back against the tree you had been hiding behind and eliminate a blind spot.

Only to be faced with Chan. It was surreal, almost occurring as if time was slowing down just for him, just so he could stand himself before you and confront you. This was the closest you’d been to him since you tore him open in the boiler room. Standing together like this, your chest squeezed as you suddenly remembered that first night, both of you breathless and excited as Chan kissed you behind the bar.

“Your heart’s beating out of control,” Chan observed, his hushed voice joining the gentle breeze in the exposing night air. His tone was gentle, husky, but difficult to figure out. He wasn’t happy to see you, that much was sure. And he was right. You’d backed up, apparently trying so hard to pass through the tree behind you that you could feel the bark press into your shoulders through your jacket. Sure enough, you could feel your heart beating like mad and rattling your breath.

“Are you scared?”

You defiantly kept your mouth shut. The last thing you wanted to do was give away more than you already had. Instead, you tried to edge past Chan, until he effortlessly pushed the head of his flashlight into your sternum — hardly pinning you to the tree, but you were stuck nonetheless. Even in the dark, you could see his eyes. For the first time with Chan, you felt like prey. You thought of Jisung — his kind eyes, his golden skin soft as deer velvet. All you wanted in that moment was to cling to him and feel safe again. Then again, with Chan being here, by just existing in your space — you felt that incredible gravitation towards him that drove you into Jisung’s path in the first place. Somewhere in you, that small voice emanated an anxious hum.

“You have no reason to be scared right now,” Chan reassured you with stinging saccharine in his continued murmur, “considering how things went between us last time.” You were frozen by the sensation of his hand on yours and you wished so desperately that you could pull away when his fingers wrapped around your wrist, but you were frozen in place— by fear, by desire, by something. The cold head of the flashlight left your chest as Chan reached up and pulled open the first few buttons of his flannel shirt. Wisps of moonlight streaked across Chan’s pale chest as he gently tugged up on your hand and led you to touch him. His calloused fingertips were soft on your palm as he made you reach out and press your hand to his chest. Your breath had stilled in your tight lungs. Just under his cold skin in the night air he was radiating warmth. A coarse breath became lodged in your throat as your fingertips brushed the gnarled skin comprising the scar you’d left him.

“See? We match now.”

“Why are you doing this?” You were whispering to each other like that night under the table in the library and the only thing you wanted in the world was to will your feet to move and leave. Chan’s thumb almost affectionately brushed over your hand.

“I’m just reassuring you that you have no reason to be afraid right now,” he replied. “You’re apparently perfectly capable of killing me. I don’t think I would’ve made it if you weren’t so courteous to leave me for Felix to find.”

“Believe me, I wasn’t trying,” you retorted. “And I’m not afraid of you.”

“Good. I’m grateful nonetheless,” Chan shrugged as he let you wrench your hand away. “Besides, the only reason you would have to be afraid right now would be if you knew how amazing you smell. You really should be more mindful of your surroundings; you never know what’s hiding. I watched you from the trees for three days back at your aunt’s house without you knowing. It was just a scratch this time, sure, but who knows about next time. You don’t know how lucky you are.”

“I don’t know what you mean, Chan,” you said as you attempted to stand your ground. “Just let me go back to the house.”

“If you’re lurking in the woods looking for secrets, I’m letting you in on one now,” Chan murmured, letting himself fall closer into you so he could breathe you in. It felt so incredible but so unnerving to have him this close. “You don’t know how lucky you are. You were alone with the wolf just a few weeks ago and still came out on top.”

“You’re not implying that you would’ve—”

“Eaten you? Why not? The wolf sure as hell wanted to— which is sick, considering how much it likes you. Just staring at you bleeding under me almost like you are right now, with that moon haunting me outside the motel… every little nag of the wolf telling me how easy it would’ve been to tear into you while I still had to reconcile with Rand trying to claim you, praying none of his blood got in that bite to accidentally complete the claim.”

Chan’s wolf sounded too much like the little whisper in the back of your mind for your comfort. In fact, you were never aware that the wolf was apparently its own mind. You knew the actual wolf form was extremely painful to assume and was really only used in dire situations. It was reasonably handled with medication or meditation, but to think that the wolf still made its own decisions and the human was just a passenger along for the ride… you didn’t like it.

Then again, Chan was the only wolf you knew intimately. Who knew what else would be news to you. Your fingertips pressed hard into the rough wood of the tree trunk to try and keep from trembling. Chan looked breathtaking like this, his eyes darkening as the predator tried to take hold inside him. “Why not give in, then, if it’s so easy,” you challenged him.

“Because you gave in first,” he softly replied, the lilt in his dark tone hypnotic. “You gave into your hunger before I could give in to mine. You were lucky to make it out at the last full moon. I’d be more careful of the one coming up. You don’t deserve your luck running out.”

You felt sick. Despite the ravenous way his eyes bore into you, his warning sounded genuine, and as Chan clearly struggled with every demon on his back, including his wolf, you grappled with yours. You thought of Jisung, sleeping peacefully beside you as he couldn’t stay awake anymore at the end of his night. You thought of Chan, and the way he tried so hard to keep Rand away from you that night in the store, the way he’d truly seemed afraid of you when you gave into your own monster.

As you noticed Chan heavily considering his proximity to you, his weighted hesitance and his own bated breath exposing him apparently caught between pulling you close and running away, you finally saw it: Chan hated this. The way he nervously licked his lips, the worry knotted up in his brow, his jaw set stern — he loathed how good you smelled. Even as he leaned in to your timid trepidation, his lips tempting closer to yours, you could feel a desperate restraint in him. You held your breath as you felt his own on your skin. Nervous excitement played with your heartbeat and you let your eyes close.

Chan paused, one moment away. “Please stop me.”

Your eyes snapped open at his quiet plea. You could do that. For both of you.

Chan grunted and cursed when you pressed both your hands to his chest and shoved him off, but he let you run. You ran all the way back to the house, until you saw the light actually on in the garage.

Jisung barely had a moment to smile hello as you threw yourself into his arms, let alone have any time to figure out what was going on with you when you feverishly kissed him. He tried to caress and pet you down off of him. “Hey, hey, baby…” Jisung soothed. He wiped his grease-stained hands on his jeans before he worriedly cupped your face to get a look at you. “What’s wrong?”

“I really need you right now,” you breathlessly pleaded, and you kissed him again where you stood by the open passenger side door. Jisung nodded gravely in your embrace, knowing damn well what that felt like. His fingers caressed your hair, down to your shoulders as he turned and pressed you against the car, ultimately reaching down to tilt the front seat forward so he could gently herd you inside to lay across the backseat.

“How much—”

“Everything, Jay,” you desperately whined, “I need you so much right now.”

The torrid firefight of conflicting emotions taking place inside you was overwhelming to say the least, as Jisung nodded dutifully. He was ready for you in minutes and was already pulling at the hem of your nightgown under your jacket, his mindful fingertips lighting you up instantly. If you could be there for him at the drop of a hat, so could he, and you were grateful once he prodded up against you between your legs. When had you gotten so wet? You barely had time to wonder past your gasp as Jisung gently stretched you open around him. As your mind was awash, you grounded yourself, coming home to his scent of deer and buttercups. His impassioned groans in your ear brought you back to earth, back to this moment between only you and him. However, even then you couldn’t shake this feeling that you weren’t alone as Jisung fucked the worry out of you, and you couldn’t shake the feeling that it was Chan. Either mentally or literally outside the garage, Chan was there and invading your moment.

Apparently Jisung noticed you elsewhere underneath him. “Hey,” he softly called to you, wanting to bring you back, “I loved you last night and I love you tonight.”

“Jisung,” you gasped and whined, “I love you, too.”

Jisung slowed to a halt, hips stilled between your legs as you realized what you just said. His eyes bore deep into you, wondering if he heard you right. And when you thought about it, you knew he heard right. You loved Jisung.

Something about sharing that moment in the backseat of Jisung’s car seemed to make time slow and pull you two into sync with each other. The second he finally moved, he really was making love to you. Jisung kissed your face as he moved together with you, and that closeness felt thick, an invisible tether making you clutch tightly onto him.

“Say it again,” Jisung breathed against you, and you could hear the precipice approaching from the stilted confidence in his voice.

“I love you, Jisung—” you whimpered, his hushed intensity only adding to the peak he was pushing you towards, right up to when you toppled over the edge. Your legs squeezed around Jisung’s hips, your breathy cries reverberating in the quiet car in the silent garage as you came, and he wasn’t far behind. Jisung’s hips faltered against yours as he rolled into you once, twice more, and climaxed with an emphatic sigh, his voice husky and thick from working you over.

You reached for him immediately, finding his lips in the dark as he did with you that first time in the bookstore, and glided your fingers back through his hair as he looked into your eyes; the dark brown rimming his enlarged pupils seemed to have a sparkle within them, like a set of stars only you had the privilege of knowing. His chest pushed into yours as you both caught your breath. You could feel the buttons of his jacket through the thin material of your nightgown.

“I love you, too,” Jisung quietly panted, as if the walls outside would crumble if he proclaimed it too loudly. “I loved you last night, I love you tonight — and I’m going to love you tomorrow.”

The world felt cozier when you awoke the next night. After your tryst in Jisung’s car, you had spent the rest of the evening together, the most time you’d spent alone and relaxing so far. You dragged Jisung into a hot bath with you, where he found the already healed scratches from the bramble bush. He did ask what happened. You simply told him Chan had snuck up on you in the woods by accident and frightened you, and as much as you told him not to, Jisung was still hard-pressed to go talk to him. You could only relax once you calmed him down enough and pushed him into bed.

Everything was fine, really. With Chan set on his path and you set on yours, you would hopefully never have to see him again after Rand and the journals were dealt with. You would never have to tell Jisung that the way Chan looked at you made you breathless, that being so close to him made you want to run, but it also equally made you want to grab onto him and never let go.

After Jisung had finally drifted off to sleep that night, however, that familiar churn in your stomach returned, this time after suddenly being hit with the memory of Rand’s teeth in you. You couldn’t stay in the room and use your private bathroom, surely — you still hadn’t told Jisung about the puzzling occasional sickness. Instead, you slipped out from under his arm to throw on a robe and trot downstairs, just in time to use a bathroom down there until your stomach was satisfied. Admittedly, that soreness in your gut only exacerbated the hunger slowly forming over the past few days.

You jumped as you returned upstairs, the first hints of daybreak starting to show outside and revealing Felix quietly slipping out of Judy’s bedroom. He froze as he caught you watching him at the top of the stairs. The hall had been silent as you regarded each other.

“Hi,” Felix whispered awkwardly in greeting. He didn’t seem sure of how best to approach you.

“Hello.” You had to admit you felt the same if that were the case.

The younger wolf was bundled up in a cozy sweater, but when you neared to get closer to your room, you still noticed the telltale scars on Felix’s neck. Aside from freshly drawn blood and veal, he smelled sweetly of peaches, even daisies. His faint spray of freckles dotting his golden cheeks and dainty nose were incredibly becoming on him now that you could really take a second and see him up close. He had looked wary, ready to bolt. You remembered what Chan had said, about his family throwing him out after he turned, and your chest swelled. Whatever this was he was going through, it was clearly making him the happiest he’d been in a long time.

“Are you being safe?” This felt like a neutral enough question, you’d hoped. Felix seemed to think so, a muted sigh falling from his chest once he had flashed a relieved smile and nodded.

“Yeah. I was just hanging out because Judy says it helps her feel more safe.”

“Does she not usually?”

“Not lately,” Felix shrugged. “She said she’s been hearing noises in the garden and out in the trees, but I’ve tried looking, both during the day and night. Nothing out there, but if she feels better with me staying with her while she falls asleep, I can do that.”

“I’m sure she appreciates the gesture. That’s really thoughtful of you.” You weren’t even being facetious or playing nice; it was true. Whatever Felix seemed to feel for Judy, it was more than just lust. He’d given you a soft grin before he seemed to remember something. He rummaged through his pockets before he reached out, and offered you whatever it was he had found. Felix had placed a photo in your hand, and you tended back up. Beaming back at you was a remarkably cleaner Chan, in his uniform with his natural hair color and without the heavy circles presently rimming his dark eyes. That pang in your chest echoed deep.

“I found it while helping Chan with his records,” Felix had explained. “It was in the bottom of his rucksack, in what he affectionately calls his Dead Box. Looked like his whole past life was in there. No known parents, no known siblings, just a juvenile record, a half empty pack of cigarettes, and this academy picture. He said the box is the first thing to go if things get bad. Thought you’d be curious to see.”

Your eyes pored over this exponentially happier Chan. He still had that shadow hanging over his smile, like there was still a lot behind him, but he seemed almost unaware that this much trouble was out in the world. “Felix,” you carefully wondered, “what’s he like with you?”

Felix’s look had been puzzling, like he had to remember you may have differing opinions or him. He decided on a simple shrug. “He’s the truest guy I’ve met. No lies, no secrets… except for now and the whole business with Judy. That’s why it hurts so much. But he saved me, and I’m thankful for him. He’s like a brother to me. And, for what it’s worth, I’ve never seen him look at anyone the way he looks at you. But I have to know... that night that you and he… did you mean to?”

A weighted silence staked down between you both.

“What did he say?”

“He says you didn’t.”

“I’m glad,” you decided, “because I didn’t. Goodnight, Felix. Thank you.”

You had handed Felix back the photo. Holding onto it made your gut twist again for some reason.

Tonight, however, after you woke up to an empty bed, you knew the coziness wouldn’t last. You had to find Jisung and make sure he wasn’t caught up in another bout of wanting to do the right thing. You pulled on some jeans and a sweater before stepping into your boots and making your way downstairs, first hoping to catch Jisung in the kitchen. Instead, you were faced with an impromptu meeting of sorts. Felix sat on one end of the kitchen table, Judy sat at the other, and Joanne and Lucy were sitting between them. Yuna was mysteriously missing from this conversation. You had to wonder how her sister’s lovestruck rebellion was affecting the youngest. It seemed loneliness may have become a disease in the large house, jumping from person to person as these relationships were forming and changing. The girls instantly clammed up when you entered the room, but Felix gave you a reassuring smile. You quickly apologized and made your way out the back door.

The garage was dark again when you checked it. That wasn’t a great sign, but you weren’t going to let yourself become nervous yet. Instead, you headed out on the trail between the lanterns, being extra careful of the brambles and anything hiding at the fringes of the trail. Until you heard a gunshot.

You could only hear the breeze rushing past your ears and your own panicked breathing as you tore through the woods, even though you knew plain and simply that Lia’s property bordered private as well as public property. A hunter could simply be out too late, or a homeowner could be dealing with pesky vermin, but the only thing you knew in this moment was that Jisung was nowhere to be found yet and you had heard a gunshot. You only slowed once you reached the edge of the clearing Jisung must’ve meant in the first place, but it was more like you skidded to a halt.

Jisung was further down the tree line, aiming towards a target staked about 50 meters away… with Chan behind him. The two men paused for a moment to scan their surroundings as they heard the rustle of your feet in the brush, and you dropped down below a fern, breathing slow and steady through your pursed lips to calm your heart. What in the hell was Jisung doing out here? How could he go against your simple wish? There was no way Chan didn’t put him up to this, convince him that it would be better to be safe than sorry or some bullshit like that.

You bristled as the two of them seemed to be getting along just fine. Chan corrected Jisung’s form and posture a little, guiding him to make sure his arm was stable but not stiff when he aimed. He fired again, and you could see the paper target tear as it was hit. You seethed. You were set on your path. Chan was set on his. You had suggested decency, but this was way too much. The boys shared a high five and celebrated by cracking open a beer, and you couldn’t take anymore. You turned and marched right back to the house.

However, you were now too full of energy and had nowhere to take it. You considered waiting up for Jisung, but you knew that would only rile you up even more. It was as you were ascending the stairs that you noticed a light on in the study. You peered inside, and were grateful to find Lia, bundled up in her usual cozy layers, all cotton and wool. Perpetually freezing, as Lia appeared to be, you’d never seen her dressed down in less than a long-sleeved shirt. She seemed grateful to see you, too. You walked inside, and she gladly pulled up her feet where they’d been stretched across the couch.

“You alright, sweetheart?” Lia asked as she set her book down. She looked so tired.

“How do you always know when I’m not?” You laughed solemnly.

“I just know these things. Is it about Jisung? I like him with you, you know.”

“Right again. I guess I sometimes hate when things become certain.”

“Because that’s when things can become disappointing. You can't truly be upset unless you know where you stand.”

You smirked, your mind almost too foggy to really humor her. “How do you do that?”

“I just know how you are, sweetheart.”

“I mean, I know it’s…” You folded your arms, trying to consider what it really was that was bothering you, or even what all you could tell Lia in this moment. “It hurts when you know what’s best for someone, and they think they know more.”

“I know what you mean,” Lia laughed out loud. You could almost feel how worn down both of you were. “It reminds me of a story.”

“Oh?” You did always love Lia’s stories. When she got into it, you could just rest beside her and listen to her talk for hours.

“Sure does,” she nodded, and she was already ready for you to nestle in closer to her on the couch as you watched the fire roar in the study. “It’s an easy one, since that’s all I have the energy for. But once, ages ago, I was madly in love with a young man—”

“You?” You giggled. Lia pushed at your shoulder.

“Indeed, me,” she lightheartedly rolled her eyes. “This was back when I was with Shepherd. He told me I had to be careful, over and over again, but I was in love and I knew how to take care of myself. I thought he was just being selfish, maybe overprotective.”

You sat up. This was the first Lia had ever mentioned his name to you. The revelation wasn’t lost on her either, as her quick inhale and sigh seemed to be giving her the energy to continue.

“Everything was glorious, it was perfect… until I woke up with a fever one night.”

“Lia…” You were chilled. As far as you knew, your immune system was impenetrable once you turned. It was one of the bigger benefits of the lifestyle, truth be told.

“I kept my secret for a whole week. I couldn’t tell my beau, I thought he might have given me whatever it was. I had to admit that I didn’t know everything. I had to talk to Shepherd. At the end of it all, he was the only one telling me he knew what was best, and he could be right.”

“And? What did he say?”

“Shepherd sat me down in the back of the bookstore, and he held my hand and shook his head. He never treated me like that before. He told me, ‘You silly young thing. If you’d told me sooner, you would know by now that there’s two things you can’t do anymore: you can’t get sick by any human means, and you can’t bear a child—’”

“We can’t?”

Lia looked at you suddenly. You figured that must’ve been similar to Shepherd’s look, the look she was giving you now. “No, sweetheart,” she shook her head. “We can’t. Only purebreds can. Anything else will shrivel up and die in us, if it even has a chance to get that far.”

“Then what was making you sick?” You pushed before you could stop yourself. Lia grinned as you forced yourself to relax into the couch.

“First, Shepherd deduced that my beau was a Non-Viable Donor. This was before databases were a thing. Then — and this was the first time I hated him — he decided that I was only exacerbating it by knowing I was defying him.”

“What the hell—?”

“The weird thing was,” Lia continued, “that I couldn’t shake the feeling he was right, at least partly. Every time Shepherd told me to believe him, a small part of me wanted to. I was actively defying him, and you know your mind is more powerful than you like to admit.”

What Lia was referring to was still embarrassing to recall. When she had found you, you were running yourself ragged from dusk till dawn, stressing yourself sick over this new life you didn’t know how to navigate yet. So, sure, she may have had a point, but there was still something nagging at you.

“What if…” You carefully mulled over. “What if you didn’t feel like you were doing anything wrong by anyone?”

Lia took a second to meditate on this. “Then I would consider if I’m doing wrong by myself.”

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : 🌓 ⭒ 🌕 ⭒ 🌗 : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

You had sat up in bed that night after talking with Lia, half reading a book and half listening to Jisung when he casually told you that he was out working in the garage longer than he expected. First, you had been considering if you really were doing any wrong by yourself. Then, with Jisung’s casual lie, you wondered if maybe he was doing anything wrong. It felt like, perhaps, the right thing to do was hold back, to not jump the gun, to be more careful about all this than you had been. It did feel like you were looking at this with refreshed eyes.

Then again, maybe there was a new hair trigger presenting itself now that you knew Jisung and Chan were apparently hanging out and didn’t find it pertinent to tell you. You had found Jisung out in his makeshift firing range the next two nights, but even that didn’t steam you. Inside you, you knew there was nothing objectively wrong with the two men being on good terms, or even becoming friends. It was when Jisung walked out from the shower to find you reading in bed again, however, and he said something that made your hair stand on end. That changed things.

“You know,” he laughed as he toweled off his hair, “I’m starting to think I had Chan pegged wrong. Like I know I said I was beginning to see the appeal, but I actually get it now. He’s a nice guy and— hey, are you alright?”

You straightened up, having apparently silently outed yourself again before you nodded into your book.

“Oh, come on now,” Jisung grinned, “no secrets, remember?” There it was. Jisung was thoroughly perplexed as you snapped your book shut, got out of bed, and threw on a jacket over your long-sleeved shirt. “Baby? Where are you going?”

“I think I left something outside,” you grumbled. Jisung didn’t follow you out.

Instead, you marched out by yourself to his little improvised hideout. Chan was there, relaxing in the moonlight, the silver light growing fuller with each passing night, and he was pensively reclining in one of the lawn chairs he and Jisung had apparently dragged out there. He barely looked at you, but his cocked eyebrow hinted that he was aware of your presence.

“Yes?” He was fiddling with Shepherd’s gun before he set it down beside his chair.

“We need to talk.”

“We do?” Chan reclined his head back, preemptively washing his hands of this situation.

“We need to talk about why you two are keeping secrets from me.”

Chan did look at you now. “Who’s keeping secrets? You and I don’t talk.”

“Then Jisung, you asshole.”

He raised his hands defensively. “I told Jisung he shouldn’t be keeping things from you. He said it’ll be easier if you don’t know.”

“What’s not to know?! I told him to never touch that goddamn gun again, and you’re laughing and whooping it up like pals and you’re showing him how to use the fucking thing!”

“Look,” Chan shot back impatiently. He rose to his feet. Something about the lines of his face seemed more severe, but you thought perhaps it was the moonlight playing tricks on you. “Jisung came to me and asked if I snuck up on you in the woods. I told him it was an accident, just like you weren’t meaning to spy on me. Jisung apologized for coming in hot — because he did — and said he just wanted to protect you. He told me the least we could do if we’re stuck like this is be decent to each other, and I liked that, but he lamented the whole thing about not even being able to use the gun if it ever came to that, so I figured I could provide that for him, but only if he told you. He told me he told you. I’m sorry if he lied. He just wants to protect you, just like I do.”

You were so tense you felt like your knuckles would tear through your skin. Instead, you leaned forward, scooping Shepherd’s gun off the ground and checked the chamber. Chan backed up a few steps, hands up again before you aimed for the paper target, still stood up in the clearing and fired straight at it. You were out of practice, having only bought and trained with a gun for a short period after that wolf mugged you back in college. Nonetheless, the target rocked as you hit close enough to the center to make a point. Your grimace felt pronounced while you opened the chamber again and emptied the rounds into your hand. Chan was silent as you tossed the gun at his feet and stormed off.

With that settled, you were on a warpath the next night. You had no patience to get properly dressed again, this and your steadily growing hunger making you feel a bit on edge. You yanked on a jacket over your nightgown and huffed downstairs before you found Jisung working in the garage on — of all things — the van Chan and Felix had lifted. He was apparently taking a break, sitting on the workbench and peering through the manual when you stepped right up to him. Jisung seemed to have sensed your anger as he quickly set the manual down, and flinched as you tossed the bullets in his lap.

“Baby,” he flustered, “I can explain—”

“No excuses, Jay.”

Jisung sighed hard as he stared at the ammo in his lap. “No excuses,” he repeated. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”

“You’re quite the hypocrite,” you sneered, fighting through your hurt. “If you’re buddies now what’re you doing playing with silver bullets?”

“Hey,” Jisung defensively bit back. “I told him I wanted to be careful—”

“Careful?” You laughed meanly.

“Yes,” he groaned harshly, “I wanted to be careful. I showed it to him, and it was still half full, just the way I found it by Shepherd: full of wood-tipped rounds. Chan emptied it and used what he had on hand that would work.”

“This sucks, Jisung,” you sighed, and fought hard to not get too heightened over this. “This sucks, because I love you and I expect us to trust each other.”

“I love you, too! I trust you, too!” Jisung was up on his feet now as well, the ammo pinging onto the concrete floor where it cascaded off his lap. “I just want to be able to protect us and the girls and—”

“Will everyone stop trying to protect me?!” You didn’t mean to raise your voice, but here it was. Jisung folded his arms, momentarily stunned, waiting to see if you got that out of your system.

But you didn’t have a chance. A piercing scream rang out from the top floor of the house.

You and Jisung exchanged a terrified look before he followed after you, bounding out of the garage and into the house to sprint up the stairs. That sight wasn’t any better, the empty hall foreboding as you reached the landing. Your heart crawled into your throat. A door down the hall slammed open.

Judy’s room.

She spilled into the hallway, the girl only recognizable because it just happened to be her room. She was a wreck, streaked in blood, her clothes hanging off her in tatters, her hair a mess — and the monster leaping out of the room and landing on top of her. Felix.

If Judy barely resembled herself, Felix was long gone, the roars and growls coming from deep within him only belonging to the wolf as he tried to get her to sit still long enough to tear into her again. “Felix, please—!” She screeched, her words cut off into a gurgle as he pinned her roughly back down onto the floor. You could see him more clearly now as he sensed onlookers — a whimper behind you let you know the girls had made their way to the landing now — and he was gone. Felix’s eyes had done dark, almost completely black as he breathed hard through his hunger.

Jisung was the first to finally move, barreling forward and tumbling Felix off the poor girl, and you were quick to join, attempting to wrench his clawing hands out of the way so either of you could get a hold on him. Felix seethed and snarled, his lips curled back over his bared teeth that had presented themselves in his hunger, fighting hard to get either of you off of him. If any of the noises he made were words, you couldn’t tell. With the two of you attempting to hold him back, the girls finally rushed forward to Judy’s aid. It took a moment for you to figure out just where the blood all over you came from, before it became readily apparent that it was Judy’s. Felix yanked his arm from Jisung’s grip, about to swipe you both off until a gunshot rang through the hallway.

Lia lowered the gun in her hand, but you could still see a pearl handle matching the gun you’d thrown at Chan the previous night. Felix reeled from the new wound burning in his arm, a shocked cry seeming to rouse him from the wolf’s reign. The hallway seemed to freeze as Lia approached the whimpering boy with cold fury before she simply shoved her finger into the newly pierced hole and dragged him back down the corridor. The dark shadow had drained from Felix’s eyes, who suddenly seemed to be dealing with what the wolf had done in his absence. Lia looked at you, Jisung, and the girls as she pulled him along.

“Get Chaeryoung out of the goddamn hallway,” she huskily ordered. “And someone needs to control the whelp while we wait.”

“Lia, I didn’t—” Felix choked out, already overcome by the realization of what he did. “I didn’t— oh fucking christ, I didn’t mean — what do I—”

“We wait, dear. Just like I said. We’re going to see if there’s any chance to help Chaeryoung while we wait for you to calm down enough to tell us what the hell you did.” Lia silenced him harshly, with a twist of her finger still thrust in his arm. She pushed him into the study as the girls and Jisung helped usher Judy along inside right behind them. You attempted to process everything that just happened in the past few minutes. All you could hear was Lia commanding that someone needs to control the whelp. And all you could think of was Chan.

The rage carried your feet faster than you had originally thought possible, twigs and leaves snapping beneath your boots as you sprinted out to the clearing. You weren’t sure what you would do when you found Chan, but you knew he was the cause of all of this.

What you found, upon reaching the clearing, was the ghost of a flashlight beam leading you out to the field beyond, closer to the edge of the property line. You slowed down to a careful walk as you approached. Chan sat on the grass in the bright moonlight, arms folded on his knees as he considered a deer heaving for breath with its hooves caught in a hunter’s trap. He was dressed comfortably in a flannel and sweats, like he just rolled out of bed, and you hated that like this, if this moment resided in a vacuum, you could find him just as handsome as that first night. But out here, you could only hear the breeze whisper reserved judgements through the foliage as the both of you waited, as silent as the deer.

“Tell me something,” he finally said, still not looking up at you. “Say you’re me. What would you do?”

“I didn’t realize there were choices,” you replied curtly.

“Sure there are,” he nodded. “You could do what’s right for you, or right for the deer.”

“What about you,” you retorted. How silly of you, to assume that both options were one in the same. “What would you do?”

“Honestly?” Chan shivered as he rocked up onto his feet. He placed a calming hand on the deer before he stepped on both latches on either side of the trap and pried it open. The deer got up on shaky legs, but quickly sprinted off. “I sort of really wanted to eat it.”

You scoffed. “Of course you would—”

“Can you fucking blame me?!” Chan snapped at you. You backed up a step. “I’m starving, but can I afford to leave and hunt as I’d like? What’re you even doing out here?!”

It wasn’t lost on you, that Chan was eyeing the blood smeared on you. “Ever the goddamn martyr, aren’t you,” you glowered. “You need to get back to the house,” you said with an attempt to be calm, “Felix—”

“Do not get me started on Felix,” Chan laughed harshly. “Don’t even mention him to me. I don’t care what he does now. I have stuck my neck out for him so many times, I have wasted so much patience on him, I’ve accepted and loved him and helped him—”

“Chan!” You barked. “Will you shut the hell up?! I’m trying to tell you Felix and Judy—”

“Oh, it finally happened, huh?!” Chan reeled, feigning surprise. “What, he just thought he could ignore me and nothing would happen?! I can’t say I fucking blame him, if she smells half as good as she smells on you.”

Chan stepped closer. You stepped back, but only to dig your heels in as you swiped your hand through Judy’s blood on your chest to slap him across the face, if it smelled so goddamned good. However, Chan caught your hand, his grip menacing as you tried to pull free. You wriggled in his hold. “You are such a goddamn monster,” you hissed.

“I asked if you can fucking blame me,” Chan shot back, his voice cold and thick, and you recognized that dark shadow clouding his piercing gaze. He torqued your wrist in his hand with surprising ease, clearly giving in to his temptation to smell the mauled girl’s blood on you before you tried to kick him off. Chan easily tipped you back, yanking you close and falling on top of you in the clearing by the opened trap. “Let’s try that one more time,” he grimly chuckled through a sharp shiver. “Can you blame me?”

“For what, you fucking animal,” you spat. The crazed look in Chan’s eye only seemed to be goaded on.

“For being a fucking animal,” he sneered as he held you down. “I’m alone, I’m starving enough to want to eat a fucking trapped deer, and I’ve been listening to you fuck that dipshit for the past month. Do you know what actual torture that is? If I have to think about that prick’s hands on you one more time I think I’ll actually go mad. Every goddamn time I stumble across him fucking you I want to tear my hair out, that’s why I’m never in the fucking house when you’re awake. And you know what makes it worse? I like Jisung.”

“Don’t you dare say his name right now,” you struggled out as you tried to knee Chan off of you. He seemed blatantly unaffected. You could see the hair on his neck stand up in alert against the light of the full moon.

“Why? Aren’t you happy? You were right,” Chan miserably lamented. “I’m a monster and a stupid animal, enough to get jealous over a rotten bitch who tried to kill me just because she knows what it’s like to eat and not feel satisfied.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you gritted out, even though that was a stone faced lie. You knew exactly what it was like, eating and never feeling satiated until you gave into that nagging feeling so deep in your mind it felt like it sat in your throat.

“Sure you do, don’t lie,” Chan spat, “I bet every time you feed on Jisung you—”

“I said do not talk about Jisung as if you have any right.”

“Why? What’s wrong, princess,” Chan taunted. “Do you feel guilty? Whatever happened to never talking to me? Never interacting with me? You’re not even trying to avoid me now. Whatever Felix did in that house wasn’t more important than whatever bullshit you keep insisting on dredging up. Admit it—”

“Admit what, you fucking mongrel?!

“What I said really bothered you, or else you wouldn’t be hanging around while I’m telling off Felix. You hate that I said you belong to me, but you keep fucking wondering why it doesn’t feel wrong.”

You thrashed uselessly underneath Chan, but he didn’t look like he was enjoying this.

“You have this little voice in the back of your head that dictates your whole life now, and it’s not questioning why you’re mine, it’s just mad about it,” Chan insisted. The surety with which he said it rocked into your chest and made your heart slow. “I know, because I have it, too, and it’s not the goddamn wolf. I’m just as lost—”

“I hate you!” You cried out, your voice hoarse, and you finally got him to shut up. “I hate you, you son of a bitch, Chan. I fucking hate you. Pretend you’re me, alright? Let’s play your game, so pretend you’re me. And you meet someone who makes you excited to be alive for the first time since you died, which is entirely rare, but he drags you down an entire rabbit hole just because he asks you to trust him and doesn’t even have the decency to kill you when he’s done with you.”

Chan was frozen above you, shocked into silence from the enraged tears brimming at the corners of your eyes as you beat your fists against his chest.

“And pretend you convince yourself that this person is actually great, he’s noble and saved you, and you just want to find and know this person because you’re a goddamn idiot and a slave to that voice in your head that decided now was a good time to show up and affect everything you do. And even when you find someone else in that process, someone who you love and loves you back, you can’t even enjoy it, because you know you’re a rotten bitch who can’t stop thinking about that night you asked me to trust you.”

The tears streaming down your face and into the grass stung in the cold night air, but not nearly as much as catching the heartbreak and devastation in Chan’s eyes as he laid against you in the grass. He stubbornly shook his head. “You don’t get to throw yourself at the feet of this situation,” he scolded. “I searched for you, I tried to protect you, I saved you from Rand, and you still tried to kill me! I’m stupid enough to love you and pine over you and you still tried to kill me—”

“You do not love me,” you snapped. It was gross, noticing how good Chan’s pulse smelled in his wrist. His darkening eyes seemed to glow in the night.

“You don’t get to decide that!” He barked indignantly. “I don’t even want to! I wish I didn’t love you, I wish I didn’t want you, I wish I wasn’t fucking haunted by you when you’re right in front of me—”

“Then get rid of me, Chan!” You cried out, and Chan stared you down again in an attempt to not get distracted by your distress. “Get rid of me,” you repeated, trying to push him to do anything, and you finally willed yourself to move. You slapped him, hard, once across the face, and you could feel your nails scrape against his cheek. “Dig me up from the garden and throw me out to the damn tree line if I’m so much trouble.”

Chan was eerily still as he was shaken by your strike, the last of the color in his eyes was overtaken by darkness. The shine was still there, only outlined in black like tar as his weight felt more definitive against you. “I asked you to stop me last time,” he finally spoke through a full body shiver.

“Fuck you,” you spat as you attempted to wriggle out from under him. “Stop yourself.”

“Come on,” he pleaded, “the wolf actually knows you. Stop me, please.”

“Fuck you and the wolf,” you snapped, and you attempted to smack him again, if only to surprise him into giving you enough space to kick him off. Instead, Chan leaned harder into you, your slap seeming to lure him in instead of push him away. His hand on your cheek pushed back behind your ear to grab into your hair, and you fought off a whimper before you turned towards his arm and reflexively bit into him.

The blood rushing over your tongue was a mistake, first evidenced by your desperate moan from finally being fed, and Chan’s garbled curse that sounded more like a growl. His response was instant, his hand spread on your shoulder to slam you down onto the ground and dig his bared teeth into your shoulder. This was apparently the last push his wolf needed to stop being civil, but the worst part was how incredible it felt, only adding to the constellations swirling around your head with his blood on your tongue. Blood begat blood, and you were of two minds as you snaked your fingers into his hair to yank him off long enough for you to pull him back down and sink your teeth into his throat. Chan’s groan still sounded a bit like him, but his clawing hands were that of the wolf spurred on by the smell of your exposed blood making him starve, and his own exposed blood making him want to break you down until you were no longer a threat. You cried out as Chan pinned you to the ground, his snarling teeth finding unmarked skin on your neck to gnaw into as you tried to rip him off. His growls reverberated through your throat and your dizziness almost made you feel faint. Even as you were able to crane his head to the side and scrape your teeth into his shoulder, you were hyper aware enough in your hunger and adrenaline to recognize that Chan was noticeably hard against you between your legs, his hips even rutting against you under your thin nightgown as you both were giving in to your monsters in an attempt to survive each other.

The thick haze marring your judgement was killing you, making it difficult to tell the difference between what he wanted, what you wanted, and what both your little voices wanted. All you knew was Chan’s hands and teeth on you made you burn, with pleasure and disgust, and the more you fed on him the more you rutted your hips down against him like you were possessed, just like that night in the library or back in the boiler room. And, it seemed, the wolf was keen on such attention, no matter how much Chan tried to shake his head and pull away from your clawing hands. He was always right back on top of you, sinking his teeth into you wherever he could fit around you doing the same.

You couldn’t tell, in the midst of either of your frenzies, exactly how Chan’s bared member ended up thrust up against your heat that was thoroughly betraying you, but you knew neither of you did anything to stop it as he grinded past your scant layers of clothing. In fact, there was even a moment, a brief second of hesitation, and you could see him past the wolf as you could recognize in your haze that he was laying right in your entrance. Your nails dug into Chan’s biceps, the muscles there tensing under your clutches as you gasped and arched your back at the sensation of him falling into you.

If Chan had wanted to eat you, he would’ve done it by now, but it became apparent as he fucked you, with his teeth gripping into your shoulder, that it wasn’t that simple. The wolf wanted you in a similar way Chan wanted you, minus any of the superfluous human feelings attached. Even then, he was in there, despite the beast driving him. Each time his lips dragged across your skin, every time his bruising grip softened into a gentle caress, any time you thought you heard him curse under his breath, it was Chan, and if you could sift out any of those extraneous sensations, the sick waves of ecstasy that were overwhelming you could almost be misconstrued for affection.

Everything was simultaneously rushed and slowed between you, and you weren’t sure precisely when Chan’s opened shirt revealed that you had clawed him back open where you had originally mauled him, but it took for him dripping all over you for you to notice, the dark crimson pooling and sticking to the front of your nightgown hiked up around your hips. Incredibly, this transfusion of sorts was driving you mad, raking you through visceral bliss until you could see a peak on the horizon. By this point, a faint breeze could probably eviscerate you, let alone an orgasm from the wolf currently thrusting roughly against you. Still, you whimpered, you whined, worn down and exhausted from trying to stop wanting this like he was, and you grabbed at his chin, tilting him towards you as that precipice crept closer.

“Chan—” you weakly begged, and he was the one who looked back at you, and not the wolf. The darkness faded for a moment, the whites of his eyes becoming just a bit more opaque as he found you. “I fucking hate you, but at least tell me you want me.” It was a ridiculous request, you knew. You couldn’t tell if it was better or worse to hear it.

He ardently nodded as that darkness crept back over his vision. “I love you, you bitch, we belong to each other,” he grunted in a moment of clarity, “but fucking hell you make me wish I was dead.”

You loathed the fact that his affirmation fired you up in just the way you needed, and Chan groaned in surprise as you pulled him close for a brutal kiss, the wolf seemingly not used to such affections. He lingered until you pulled him back off and sank your teeth into him once more, that burst of blood on your tongue sending you just the stars you needed to be pushed over the edge once and for all. You cried out against him, your fingers tangled in his hair as you held him down against you and savored the way your core constricted and squeezed around him. The pleasure drained you, but it thankfully seemed that this was the goal that the wolf had been searching for all along. Chan’s slim fingers clawed into your hair to crane you back flat on the grass as he pinned you down and thrust hard against your sore hips, your numb thighs still cold in the night air before he hit his peak. His growled sigh seemed thick with satisfaction as you felt his warmth flood you, and his hips slowed their frenetic rock against you.

There was still a breeze on the night air as you slowly fell back into your senses.

But it was a rude awakening, that freezing riptide of realizing the gravity of what you’d just done.

You kicked Chan off of you now that he appeared to be coming back, too, and equally as hungover it seemed. He groaned in the grass before he reached for you. You looked down in horror in the blood streaked down you, and as Chan laid an assumedly comforting hand on your thigh — whether for his sake or yours you weren’t sure — you shoved him back onto the opened animal trap as you scrambled up onto your quivering legs. He barked out a curse as he landed on the teeth of the trap before he tried to get up and follow after you, but you’d already taken off in a frantic hurry back to the house, chased as you were by shame and embarrassment that you could let this happen in the middle of a crisis.

The blood and dirt caking the bottom of your boots made you slip on the cold tile of the house once you rushed inside, and bounded up the stairs, Chan hot on your trail as he suddenly remembered why he was supposedly needed back here.

You stopped short as you stumbled into the study when everyone turned to look at you, a vision in red with your jacket hanging slack off one shoulder. Jisung looked terrified, his wide eyes darting between you and Chan running in behind you, looking no better and equally as haggard. Nonetheless, he caught you as you fell into his arms, his safe scent enveloping you again as he tried to steady you enough to take a look at you.

“Felix—” Chan panted from where he stood in the doorway.

“Chan,” Felix brokenly called back.

Joanne and Lucy held Judy in their arms where she lay on the hearth on the fireplace. The lighter blood swathed across her lips matched the healing wounds on Felix and Jisung and painted quite the picture: everyone frantically working to get Judy the blood she needed — but it looked as though it may be too late still. Lia sat beside Felix on the floor in front of the couch, with Yuna sitting atop it behind them, knees drawn up to her chest and nervously watching in tortured wait.

Chan knelt beside the younger wolf, pressing his forehead sympathetically to Felix’s as Lia got up to her feet now.

“Jisung,” you feebly murmured into his shoulder, “is Judy—”

“We did everything we could so far,” he quietly replied, his gentle voice cracking a bit under the emotional weight. “An emergency room won’t have the resources for her. Lia tried to call a trusted doctor, but they wouldn’t be able to come before tomorrow night.”

“Felix,” Chan lamented, “what did you do?”

“I — fuck — it was so fast, I just…” Felix choked up hard.

“Tell him, dear,” Lia prodded as she walked over to the fireplace. “This shouldn’t be so hard. You already told us. Just tell it again.”

“I… she…” Felix fought for words, swallowing down his rising emotions again so he could say what happened. “We were in bed. She was reading to me. The pages were stuck, and when she finally got them apart, she nicked herself… just the smallest drop of blood, but Chan, I’ve been so hungry, you know — and I just, she must’ve seen how I looked and how I smelled it, and she offered to let me taste if it would help, and—”

“Felix,” Chan gasped, and it still came out like an admonishment.

“I know,” Felix sobbed, weighty tears falling down his face as Chan put an arm around him.

“Now we all know,” Lia interjected coolly from where she stood at the fireplace. She used the poker in her hand to stoke the flames, to keep the room warm for Judy whose breathing was ragged and shallow where she lay with the girls. Lia looked back over her shoulder at you. “And now that we all know, maybe we should all know what is especially concerning about this.”

Jisung and Chan steeled themselves as Lia turned. She stepped once, twice, closer to Felix, giving him time to look up at her before Chan butted in.

“Lia, we don’t have to do it like this—”

“Enough, mutt,” she ordered, before she drove the iron poker into Felix’s chest and shoved until the barbed end pushed through. Everyone jolted at Felix’s stunned yell, even Judy stirring for a moment in concern. Yuna screamed, but stayed put, almost frozen in place. “I asked you both to stay away from my girls for a reason,” Lia scolded. “I afforded too many people in this house the benefit of the doubt, and now the blood that has wrought is on all of our hands.”

Lia took a moment to breathe. You all did, only the crackling fire offering any observations for a minute. Finally, as you all settled in your tension, Lia stooped down to resume her seat next to Felix, almost maternally scooping him into her arms and laying him in her lap as she stroked his hair.

“Where was I?” Lia asked quietly, her eyes tiredly cast down at Felix. His muted sniffles and silent tears cut into your heart. You could swear Judy was sleepily watching him from the fireplace. “Tell them why this is bad, Lia,” Jisung softly prompted. His arms squeezed protectively around you, but his fingers still trembled.

“I suppose we’ll need context,” Lia sighed, settling into this and gathering the energy. “I met Adam Shepherd a lifetime ago. My parents were affluent, and we could afford to travel often. I was young, just started college, on holiday with my parents when I stumbled across his shop one evening. I was charmed by the old man. He always had an anecdote or a recommendation or something to show me. He said I shined so bright he didn’t need the sun, when I asked why he wasn’t open during the day. I adored him. I visited him every day, and when I convinced my parents to return that winter, I visited him every day then, too. It was shortly before I was supposed to leave that he told me. He told me about his life, what it meant, and I was dazzled. He asked if I would stay, and I did.

“He waited three months to turn me, and when he was done we held each other and cried, we were so happy. I loved him as if he were my own grandfather, a kind of relationship I’d never known before since I never met either of my own. But, about a year later, we grew weary bringing in donors. That’s when Shepherd suggested hiring some help. This was Minho, who was the most beautiful boy I’d ever met in my life, up to and including any I had met while under Shepherd’s tutelage. I was infatuated, but I was nervous, and I wasn’t sure why, but I found out a month later when I caught Minho hunting late last night. He was a wolf, and I’d never met one before. I asked him if Shepherd knew, and Minho told me that he had known right away, and hired him anyhow. Sometimes, he told me, he wondered if he hired him because of that.

“It was easy to love Minho after I knew. He told me that when he looked at me, it felt like he was laying in a field on a sunny day, basking in the warmth. He claimed me on a humid summer night. It burned, when his blood touched the wound he opened in me, but it was the happiest I’d ever been.”

Lia slipped open the buttons of her blouse and let it fall open. A light scar of a bite, faded to a blushing pink, sat on her breast over her heart. However, a massive scar also webbed across her stomach, one you’d never been allowed to see before.

“That same summer was also when trouble began,” Lia continued. “What Minho hadn’t told me yet was that he had run away from his pack when he found Shepherd. What Shepherd hadn’t told him was that he knew. Minho ran from the store and up to the house one night and told me that Shepherd was a madman, that he was trying to develop a cure for lycanthropy and it was dangerous at the very least, and that we should run. I couldn’t. I trusted Shepherd, I loved him. I wouldn’t abandon him, even if it was Minho telling me to.

“I regret that choice every day of my life. I should’ve left with him. It was two days later that the pack arrived. They got me right as I was waking up, and when I finally understood what was happening, I was surrounded by wolves in a motel room by the beach. Shepherd arrived, and I begged him to tell me what was happening, and he simply kissed my forehead and told me I had been the best. He was saying goodbye, and I was so terrified. The others brought Minho in, and that’s when Shepherd stabbed me, once, in the belly. I remembered that Minho hadn’t been hunting, he said he was scared of running into the pack, and once he smelled me…”

You watched, broken as Lia’s breath wavered for a moment until she composed herself.

“I don’t remember much, other than Minho cried as he tore me apart, even inside the wolf. I remember that and the moon outside the window. It was the first night of the full moon. I felt empty when they dragged Minho off of me, and they left me for dead. I woke up in a coroner’s office a week later, having had to rest through it without any blood to help me. Shepherd never came looking for me.”

“Why did they leave you?” Felix weakly asked.

“I’m getting there, dear,” Lia assured him, gently patting his arm as she nudged him off her lap and rose to her feet. Felix groaned as he leaned back on Chan for support. Lia turned to face him again before she grabbed onto the iron poker and swiftly yanked it out. The younger wolf let out a hoarse cry as the wound erupted, and Chan cursed before he tried to clap a hand over it. He froze as Lia pressed the tip against his hand. “No one touch him. We’re still waiting.”

“Waiting for what, Lia?” You pleaded, holding tight onto Jisung’s hand where he held you.

“I went to find the pack,” Lia continued regardless of your request. “They were in the woods on the edge of Shepherd’s property line where they were apparently hiding out, and they each took a turn interrogating Minho for more information while they tried to figure out how to prove if he was cured or not. When Shepherd finally came, he said there was only one way to know for sure. He drew out his pistol, and he shot the man I loved. He reeled, but he was fine, and I was hopeful for one cursed moment. I watched him unload the pistol, load it with silver, and shoot him again. The pack was disgusted. They called Shepherd a crazy old man and ran. What they didn’t know was that this was just another trial run for Shepherd. He figured it out eventually.”

Lia caught her breath to finish her story when the girls gasped by the fireplace. Lucy was first, erupting into bitter tears. She gently shook Judy’s shoulders, but all the color she had left had drained. Yuna finally moved, leaping over and grabbing her sister and shaking her harder.

“Chae!” Yuna screamed. “Chae, come on! Chae! This isn’t fair!”

Amidst this, a pained cough caught your attention. Felix doubled over, gasping and clutching his chest as if he were just feeling his wound for the first time. Chan sat up straighter, trying to get a better look at him. When you looked to Lia, your eyes growing wider in realization, her hard gaze silently implored you to watch. This was what you were waiting for. Felix wheezed through his pain, but you noticed a new warmth in his cheeks that hadn’t been there before.

“Alright dear,” Lia sighed at Felix as she went to set the poker down, “let's get you fixed up and then we’ll take care—”

“NO!” Yuna roared.

Everything moved at once.

Lia hardly had a chance to stop her once Yuna lunged forward, snatching the poker from her hand and driving it back into Felix’s chest.

[To be continued.]

#skzwriternet #stayracha #kwritersworldnet #stray kids smut #skz smut #bang chan #han jisung #bang chan breakdown #actual chipmunk loverboy han jisung 🤧#prowl #I can’t believe it’s here thank you all for helping this happen I love this series so much and love you too 💗#and a GIGANTIC thank you to my beta readers you are incredible and I am endlessly grateful and appreciative of your valuable feedback ❤️

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randomidiocyncrazies · 4 years

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2.43 ep 5 thoughts: Oda and Aoki edition

sooo as you all know i’m an Oda (and Oda/Aoki) stan, so I just wanna take some time to talk about Oda and Aoki’s dynamics in episode 5 and compare it to the book a little

as a note, I’ll be commenting using my translated copy of the novel, which I’m pretty sure is based on the tankobon edition of the first arc (‘S1′); there may be some revisions in the bunkobon edition that i don’t have access to

[2.43 BOOK SPOILERS AHEAD]

while i think the tension during the club activity suspension had been downgraded from “this is a huge blow to team morale :O” to “hm, i guess people are kind of annoyed?” and we didn’t get to witness Aoki and Oda flying off the handle, I do appreciate that the seniors are presented as a unit in handling the younger team members, especially that Oda was able to stop Aoki with a glance in the anime (as shown above).

this strong partnership also leads us to the scene where they are hanging out together on break at one of their houses and communicating with each other about the incident, even though they have different opinions about it: Oda believes in Yuni’s innocence, while Aoki is holding a grudge (based on his words and expression). (also, what a gorgeous house!)

there is no similar scene, or even a reference to something like this, in the book—this is because, as alluded earlier, the team suspension is presented as way more devastating to team morale than it was presented in the anime

in the book Aoki’s displeasure towards Yuni had a sharper edge; not only was Aoki the ‘lead interrogator’ during the team’s questioning of Yuni, but he also hauled Yuni up by his shirt collar when he thought Yuni’s refusal to explain what happened was him not taking this seriously.

Oda actually had to physically intervene in the book, and although Aoki reluctantly let Yuni go, he specifically says that Yuni had “betrayed [Oda’s] trust.” When Yuni insisted that he didn’t do anything that’d cause trouble to the team and “it’s you [seniors] who refuse to take my word for it”, Aoki basically threatens to kill him if he keeps looking down on them/refusing to take this seriously.

(Chika is also much more aggressive in the book; he tried to lunge at Yuni, but was held back by Kanno, who advised him to at least hear Yuni out, but also made it clear that they need an actual explanation out of Yuni instead of the wishy-washy stuff he’d been saying)

in the book, they make a note that Oda calming Aoki down is a rare sight that the underclassmen normally never see, which was kind of interesting in terms of how the 3rd year duo presents themselves to the team—Aoki is the cool cucumber while Oda is the excitable ‘heart’ of the team, so that line reinforces how unusual Aoki’s actions during the interrogation were. there’s also the implication that, since Aoki was so aggressive, Oda has to hold back and be the one who diffuses the situation this time.

as the argument over Yuni’s refusal to explain what exactly happened spirals out of control, Oda also reached his limit and snaps at all of them, including Aoki, to just resign if they’re just going to get in his way of playing at the Spring Tournament. this shocks everyone into silence, and Oda is so ashamed at his (”selfish”) conduct that he dismisses everyone, and it was heavily implied that he didn’t really speak to any of the team members during the month that club activities were suspended (horrified at his outburst during the last meeting).

in the epilogue (which timing-wise roughly corresponds to the after-credit scene in ep 5), it’s implied that Aoki was the one who reached out to Itoko’s friends in an attempt to figure out what went down during the incident, and Oda and Aoki have a rather touching reconciliation conversation.

essentially, Aoki walks in to the club’s supply office to see Oda taking care of the equipment. When Aoki pointed out that Oda doesn’t have to do all this as he’s the captain, Oda felt that it’s penance for “being the first one who gave up”:

“Nobody thought you’ve given up, you know.” Aoki sat down at the end of the bench, the worn wood creaking under his weight. Just as he was about to pick up one of the balls by his feet, he noticed—the “Seiin High School” written in marker on all of the balls are facing up in the same direction.

Oda isn’t the kind of person who’d deliberately make sure the equipment was laid out uniformly, so it was easy to imagine that he got in early to maintain the equipment, as well as the way he stared at the name written across each ball he cleaned with deep emotion before putting it down naturally, with the school name facing in the same direction.

“If you weren’t the captain, the team would probably be finished and unable to make a comeback. It’s because of you that everyone is willing to push through these circumstances. You should be proud of that.”

“That’s because you went around to help me make nice with the underclassmen in the background, right?”

“No, I didn’t do anything to soothe them at all. Besides, I was only doing it for your sake before.”

Honestly, Aoki wanted to smack the hell out of Kuroba [...] While the others were more or less sympathetic after the whole incident was cleared up by Kuroba Itoko, Aoki still couldn’t quite forgive him. If it wasn’t for that brat, things would never have gotten to such a state.

“On this topic... Aoki, are you sure? If you retire now, you’d have plenty of time to get ready for your entrance exams.”

“Shin, stop bringing such an ancient topic up.” Aoki rested his elbows on the back of the bench. “There’s no time for you to feel guilty. Isn’t this the practice you’ve been looking forward to for so long? You have to show them you want this more than anything. Come now, before the others show up, hold your head high.”

Dipping his head down to look at Oda, Aoki thought Ah, so we’ve become old geezers too. Every time he looked at Kuroba and Haijima, he couldn’t help but think that Oda’s skin had a healthier glow back then; is it because he had gotten skinnier... no, no, he had built up some proper muscles since then, so maybe it’s just his face that looks tired?

It had been two and a half years since then. The first time he saw this shorty was when he’d been poked in the back, Oda’s eyes glittering as he chattered away about the “super ace.” He had been unwavering in the pure, naïve belief that he’d grow and become a super ace back then.

“I’m... really blessed.” Oda said quietly with a sniffle. He wiped the corner of his eyes, and when he lifted his head he expression on his face was one of happiness, though it was mixed with faint embarrassment.

No, I think you’re pretty unfortunate. Aoki’s sure that, if he had been in Oda’s situation, he’d have given up on himself a long time ago. [...] Oda’s the type of person that, even when he’s forced to give up on his dream to become a super ace due to the unsurmountable challenge of his height, he’s still able to say he’s blessed with a straight face.

“Also, there’s one other thing I wanted to apologize for.” Oda hunched his back, clearing his throat sheepishly.

“What is it? Like I said, it’s fine.”

“I heard that you got a girlfriend, and went around on dates. I thought, ‘the team’s in a pinch and that guy had the time to play around with girls?!’ Honestly, I was really mad.”

“Pfft—” Aoki couldn’t help but laugh. When Oda looked at him in confusion, he covered his mouth with a hand and shifted his gaze away. “Don’t worry about it, there’s nothing going on.”

“You contacted the girls from the other school because you’re looking up leads for what happened with Kuroba, right? Still, even if you didn’t get a girlfriend, I think it’s only natural that you’d be popular; you’re really tall and smart after all.”

“Shin... can we just drop this?” Aoki interrupted, feeling his temples throb. He was a little angry, but... oh well, it’s fine if Oda doesn’t understand.

(2.43 S1 Epilogue part 3)

(Aoki is pining SO HARD he can be a frickin’ tree 🌲 he already has the height covered :V)

in a previous post examining the Oda/Aoki dynamic, I’ve talked about how they seem to be at cross purpose when it comes to understanding the other’s motivation—we’ve seen Oda being confused by why Aoki would devote himself to him back in Chapter 3 (it’s because he is in love with you thinks your pure drive is admirable); and now the “I’m really blessed”/‘no I think you’re unfortunate’ exchange from Aoki’s point of view shows Aoki’s blind spot. it’s not explicitly stated, but to me it’s pretty clear that Oda was talking about having the team, and more specifically about having Aoki’s support, which is what makes him blessed. Aoki, though he’s not wrong about Oda being an optimist, seems to have missed (or dismissed) what Oda was really trying to say here

all in all, both the anime and the book have shipping material for Oda/Aoki, but in slightly different ways; in the anime it’s more of a stable and straightforward dynamic (which makes it easier for the anime staff and the viewers to handle, since there’s no opportunity to devote precious run-time to an in depth exploration of their characters and dynamic), while in the book it’s a bit more complicated, where it feels like they’re on the verge of something but it’s never addressed explicitly

or, in the terms of fanfic tropes, in the anime they give off strong established couple vibes, while in the book they’re more about the pining and miscommunication

EDIT: lmao the staff sure knows their marketing huh. they really said "Dinner at the Aoki Household" huh. (I guess the implication is that Oda slept over that night? or at the very least had dinner at Aoki’s place)

honestly it's rly interesting to sketch out the dynamic i want to explore in Oda/Aoki fics, because i see them as an established couple in the anime (sir they DATIN’), while i maintain that they have not gotten together yet in the books (and won’t until after Aoki had gone off to college)

(also, just to be clear, i don't think Oda/Aoki would ever be 'canon' in the sense that it'll be officially/explicitly confirmed. i just like their dynamic and i’m having fun with it)

#2.43 #2.43 anime #2.43 seiin koukou danshi volley bu #2.43 seiin high school boys volleyball team #oda shinichiro #aoki misao #odaoki #aoda

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guqin-and-flute · 4 years

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Are You Here to Stop Me? (Pt. 2)

[First post/Setting of Peony to Lotus]

[Part 1]

(TW for JGY having...JGY thoughts--violence and general bloody nastiness)

Jin Guangyao let himself slowly wander the Hall of Swords, hands clasped behind his back, one thumb worrying at the other as he waited. Waited for what was arriving on gilded swords, probably in force. He was not anxious, so to speak, but filled with the restless energy of a plan in suspension, ready for the next step to land. Alone--and the implications of that solitude sat oddly in his chest.

When Lan Wangji had flown them back through the freezing, torrential skies, they had tracked through the back halls of Koi Tower, avoiding his father, Madam Jin, and their personal servants in search of the Jiang contingent. After they had finally found them in their rooms and sent someone to clean the conspicuous trails of muddy water they had dripped everywhere, he shared what had happened and the plan that had begun its quick flourish into a many branched thing throughout his trip back. Their response had been shocked dismay, quiet panic, and...determination. It had taken startlingly little convincing to get A-Li to agree. Jiang Wanyin had taken longer, waffling about image, about expectations, about politics but, between the two of them, A-Li and Jin Guangyao had broken through his doubt enough for him to grudgingly agree to it.

After that, they had followed his every suggestion, up to and including leaving Lotus Pier to his lone stewardship while A-Li, Jiang Wanyin, and a few top disciples flew to meet up with and protect Wei Wuxian on his mad dash from Lanling to Yunmeng.

“We must still behave naturally--and you would be expected to try to find him,” he had reasoned, more than anything trying to convince A-Li that this was not some sort of strange Jin coup on her home. “If we are too calm, they will suspect a plot. I have the story straight and can cover from there. And it would be odd if you brought me along, considering how new I am to your clan--”

A-Li had laid her hand on his cheek, eyes wide with fear and fierceness. “A-Yao, you don’t have to explain. We trust you to watch our home. Just tell us what we must do.”

That had been...new. It had made it easier to slide around the dissonance this sleight of hand was causing him. Such blatant opposition to his father. It wasn’t that he objected to manipulating him--how else would he have secured a place in the Jin Clan had he not maneuvered himself to be too powerful of an asset to ignore any longer? It was just that, not so long ago, he had been prepared to do anything for the man, anything for his approval, his acceptance. In fact, he had. He had allowed himself to be blatantly discarded and married off almost immediately. It had...tilted him. The sudden shift in priorities, the derailing of his lifelong goal was disorienting to say the least and he was still sorting through the bloody, seething mess of it within himself. Foundations cracked. Absorbing information. Formulating. Deciding.

The still-leaking carnage of him was partially being soothed by the salve of A-Li’s gentleness and the easy acceptance of his presence in Lotus Pier, bit by bit, but….

He had covered A-Li's hand with his own, smiled, and neatly pared off that dissonance like an unwanted branch, tucking it out of sight behind a swell of protective warmth. Anything for her. Anything at all. This was simple enough.

Being trusted with the whole of Lotus Pier was still a different experience. In Lanling, Madam Jin hadn’t even trusted him to carry her tea. Here, the whole of the cove was laid in his hands without so much as a follow up question--the servants and disciples had hardly blinked. The strange weight of such faith did not go unnoticed, hanging from his shoulders like an unfamiliar cloak.

Far away, there came faint voices from the courtyard. Loud voices. Enough rumination. It was time. He needed to focus.

He had slept badly, mind churning with contingencies and when he had awoken, his lungs had been heavy with the cold and wet from their envoy pushing through the night on their swords to reach Lotus Pier with time enough to finalize their plans. It would distract and slow him, if he let it. Not for the first time, he had cursed his lack of spiritual power and ignored it. There would be time for such weakness later. Now, as light, quick steps came down the hall, he needed to be maneuverable.

He left his back to the door so he could jump a little when the servant opened it and poked her head in. “Gongzi? Jin Zixun-gongzi is here to see--” she bit off the tail of an indignant sound when the man himself brushed by her, not waiting for the introduction to be finished.

He was windswept and radiating an ill-contained temper as he slowly circled the room, studying it with deliberate disdain before coming to a stop before him. “Cousin,” Jin Zixun dripped as much malice as was socially ignorable onto the word and Jin Guangyao feigned an involuntary half-step back. “Let’s talk.”

The servant was still hovering by the door, eyes darting between them, her face hard, and Jin Guangyao could see the flashes of listening forms in the hall. The servants liked him, he knew--he had heard them murmur protectively over their new young master, heard whispers of their surprise at how well A-Li and he worked together, how much calmer things had gotten. He gave her a purposefully nervous smile and nodded. “You may go.”

Reluctantly, slowly, she obliged, closing the doors behind her. His obvious discomfort would not let them go far; listening, at the door as servants did. Good.

“So. Where are they?” Jin Zixun took back up his slow circuit of the room, intentionally moving around his back like a circling predator.

Jin Guangyao turned with him as if it made him nervous to have him at his back, face in a stiff and uncertain smile. “They are out looking for Wei-gongzi. He disappeared after the scene he caused at the banquet--”

“The Wen-dogs,” he cut across him irritably. "The ones he stole. Where are they?"

His smile widened uncomfortably, let it show in his voice. “I haven’t any clue. Probably with Wei Wuxian, wherever he is? Like I said, Jiang-furen and Jiang-zong--”

"Shut up," Jin Zixun snapped, wheeling on him. "You think you can talk your way out of what Wei Wuxian did? He killed our overseers and freed our prisoners, acting against our alliance with this backwater clan. We would be well within our rights to...respond."

They both knew that the Jiang Clan was still one of the major 4 after their reconstruction efforts. Jiang Wanyin had done an impressive job for one so young and inexperienced--and such an aggressive move would be seen incredibly unfavourably by both Chifeng-zun and Lan Xichen. It was an empty threat. A stupid one. He widened his eyes anyway. “I’m sure there will be no need to be so hasty--our Clan Leaders can talk, and we can straighten out this misunderstanding.”

He could see Jin Zixun looking him over, curling his lip. Men like him always thought they were smarter than people they deemed ‘lesser than’ and it was incredibly clear that he put Jin Guangyao into that category. There hadn’t been much time for Jin Guangyao to prove himself as an intellectual asset to his father before being married off, hadn’t been able to implement many political workings, and so he was virtually unknown to his cousin beyond ‘upstart bastard interloper’. Jin Guangyao saw the thought process ticking behind his eyes, deciding which tack to take. Saw his eyes narrow and his smile curve sharply predatory. Bully, then.

Alright.

“So they left you in charge while they look for him.”

Jin Guangyao shrugged, a quick jerky thing, looking away. “There wasn’t much I could do on such a search. I haven’t the strength yet to fly my sword and so….” he sighed like he was embarrassed and frustrated. “It’s all such a terrible mess.” Jin Zixun was silent and so he let it rest, let the tension build, let him think he controlled the flow of the conversation.

“And so what’s their excuse for their servant behaving so outrageously?” Jin Zixun finally asked coolly, hands behind his back as he slowly sauntered over to a tall lotus candle holder.

“He wasn’t--” He purposefully winced as Jin Zixun caught the base of it with his foot and, with a little jerk, knocked it over, spilling fast cooling wax all over the rich carpet. “...Supposed to do that.”

“Oops.” The idiot raised an eyebrow at him, as if he had done something clever. Waiting for Jin Guangyao to come over and pick it up.

Slowly, he did, tamping down the irritation in his gut with habitual ease. Such humiliation wasn’t new--and it would enrage the servants, who took pride in a clean home. Straightening the delicate ornamentation around the candle at the top, he turned his apologetic smile back to his cousin. “He just got overzealous--everyone is aware of his temper and how he views things he thinks are unjust. Wen Qing had just asked Jiang-zongzhu to look into the treatment of her people, as a favor to her, now that they’re--” he clamped his mouth shut as if he had misspoke and turned back to the candle, arranging it busily as Jin Zixun slowly tilted his head.

“Now that they’re...what.” My, he did like to think of himself as threatening, didn’t he? Certainly saw himself as the type that could pull off a quiet menace.

Unfortunately for him, Jin Guangyao had seen real menace. All he saw in him was a puffed up gentry brat.

“Married,” he said as if he regretted even mentioning it, threading a grimace through his wince of a smile. “It wasn’t supposed to be announced yet.”

Jin Zixun stared at him, a small, cruel smile of fury curling his lips. “Married. We haven't heard of this union. When exactly are you claiming this happened?”

Helplessly, he shrugged. “It wasn’t final until very recently, apparently--the Jiang, they marry for love when they can, and with the political tensions being so fraught, they wanted to wait until after things died down to announce it. And they thought it to be in poor taste to air such a thing before it was finalized.” He couldn’t resist the subtle dig at his father, parading A-Li around for so many years as a bauble for the future, only to be discarded. “But surely...surely it’s understandable for Wen-furen to want her family safe. It’s been months since the end of the War. Wei-gongzi was trying to be filial but overreacted….”

Jin Zixun smiled wide under rage filled eyes, slowly approaching and nodding, until he came within arms reach; then he all at once hauled him close by his collar, hissing, “You seem to think I'm an idiot.”

Jin Guangyao let his face fall into one of startled fear, shrinking in his grip. He indeed did think he was an idiot--but not an entirely stupid one, more’s the pity. The beauty of this excuse was that the Jin didn't need to actually believe it--no one truly did. The Jiang just needed enough plausible deniability to make an outright retaliation disadvantageous and protect the Wen remnants from future attack. He angled his voice to pleading. “This is all I know, Zixun, they don’t...they don’t confide in me for things like this.”

Jin Zixun gave a snort, shoving him away and off balance. Jin Guangyao’s hand itched to tug his robe back into place, but he simply patted at it ineffectually, as if anxious, keeping his head down. Let him see what he wished to see.

“At least they have sense enough not to trust you. Looks like you’re not fooling anyone, you snake; except maybe yourself. Did you know that Jin-zongzhu speaks of being rid of you often?”

Ah. So they were here already. Despite the curdling, vicious darkness that stirred in him, Jin Guangyao could have snorted. What an unpolitic moron. Spilling his Clan Leader’s private conversations for the chance to get a cheap jab. Perhaps it was true--it very well could be. But his father was still riding on the low profile waves of alliance this marital eviction had gotten him. Had Jin Guangyao not already been aware of the reason for his being married out, had he been pettier (and he how he sometimes yearned to be--but no, it was unwise to squander a pressure point so readily) this could have seriously damaged the relationship between the two clans. Having it known that he had given his treasured allies the dregs.

“He was right to get rid of you when he did,” Jin Zixun was continuing, turning back to wander again through the room. “Clearing the trash from the Clan. I hope you're not getting ideas above your station, here. I know they put up with more, but you should always remember what you are.” He turned around, lips curled into a smug smile. “Bastard. Son of a whore. The reject.”

It was difficult to know whether this was Jin Zixun’s attempt to strategically goad him as an interrogation technique or if it was simply venting his frustration--probably both.

And it was working, to a point. There bloomed a bright star point of rage behind his breastbone as the words pounded through him like poison, squeezing the breath from him and he forced himself not to smile in defense; he was supposed to be cowed by this, this was supposed to hurt. He swallowed and let his mouth tighten as his chin tucked in shame and imagined digging his thumbs into Jin Zixun’s eyes like so much overripe fruit. Bursting.

When Jin Guangyao remained silent, his cousin’s face twisted at his lack of reaction, before hiking back up into a sneer of a smile. “But that’s alright, because you two seem to make a perfect pair--the leftovers together.”

Something incredibly dark shifted within him and turned its attention to this conversation.

“Don’t.”

It left his mouth on a breath, a spark from the flint striking in his chest without design. He managed to dart his gaze to the ground before Zixun could see the flame of it within him.

“What did you say?” Jin Zixun rounded on him, close again, smile small and cruel, eyes gleaming with the prospect of a weak link. So it was calculated provocation, then. Searching for an excuse for violence and offense. Even more dangerous. He sank the nails into his palm.

It was possibly one of the hardest things he had done to speak evenly when the small dagger he had hidden at the small of his back seared into his skin, pulsing like an eager creature’s heart, calling to his hand. “Don’t talk about Jiang-furen in that manner….Please.”

Any other circumstance, and he could have protested--would even be justified as a husband to come to blows over such a thing. But there was a plan. And it was hard to seem weak and unthreatening in the midst of murder.

All Jin Guangyao needed him to do was leave. Take this filtered information back to his father. Tell him of the web of complications woven against them, Jin Guangyao’s manufactured outsider status in the Jiang’s--an open avenue for false information, exploitation.

All he wanted him to do was leave.

“Aww.” Blunt fingers suddenly sank into his jaw, forcing his chin up, trying to meet his gaze. He allowed the wince, squeezed his eyes shut because he knew his own limits--he knew where this is heading. He knew what he could and could not keep from his eyes. “Is the little whoreson actually in love with his pity-wife? The little wannabe-noble getting ideas above his station? You know the only reason you were paired with her, little filth, is because no one else wanted her, right?”

There was an approaching ringing in his ears, the tide of blood pounding louder and louder. Fire and water, drowning and devouring. His breath seared. Focus on the outcome. Focus on the fact that the servants are hearing this. The repercussions. The plan. Wei Wuxian. A-Li. It’s for her. Focus.

Focus.

“She’s a boring, talentless cow with the weakest golden core I’ve ever seen--”

Distantly, he was almost grateful for the throb coursing through him, that shook him in Jin Zixun’s grasp like a fish on a line, for it muffled his words to almost unintelligible garble, had him sinking his fingers into the bracer at the wrist of Jin Zixun’s imprisoning arm, as if he wanted to escape, as if he was afraid.

He did not want to escape. He was not afraid.

His palms prickled with emptiness, begging to be filled with a throat, a hilt, a heart. Soon, his own blood-heavy organ whispered from the crush of his chest, soon. “Stop,” he whispered, voice pressed thin by the weight of his rage.

“Or what?” Jin Zixun taunted, voice muffled, coming to him as if through water.

Or I will ruin the carpet of the Hall of Swords. Or I will lose my grip on this careful mask. Or I will have a blade through your gut faster than you can die and I will watch you writhe and shit yourself to death in far too short a time. And then I will have to find a way to make this work without you. Which would be tedious, difficult. Dangerous.

Almost worth it.

It’s for her.

Soon.

“I don’t know anything more, Zixun. You need...to leave.”

“Are you going to make me?”

It would be so easy to dart his head to the side and sink his teeth deep into his knuckles, to go for his throat. Slide the dagger neatly through his eye and into his brain. Like a keyhole unlocking such possibilities as blessed fucking silence.

Clearly disgusted with his lack of response, Jin Zixun shoved him away from him with a snarl. Jin Guangyao caught himself on a pillar and stayed pressed there, head down, hair fall masking his expression, feathering over the pulsing bands left on his jaw.

“I should have known it was useless to talk to you.”

Jin Guangyao stayed motionless as the doors slammed behind him, as Jin Zixun’s footsteps retreated. As the side doors flew open and the servants and the disciples they had clearly summoned rushed to his side, the exclamations of their indignant anger washing over him in shallow waves. Hands patted his robe, gripped his shoulder, raised his chin carefully and he managed to analyze his own expression, reassuring himself of its blankness. It would have to do. They might take it as stunned.

“--bastard! That--that--! I can’t believe he said that about Jiang-furen! I’ll skin him alive!”

“--alright? You’re so pale--”

“I always knew the Jin were pompous and selfish, but this is too much! To come here and say this in the heart of Lotus Pier--to Jiang-furen’s own husband, of all people!”

“The gall! That piece of shit!”

“Jin-gongzi, talk to us, are you alright?”

It took him a few breaths to be able to look up, to regain his voice, and when he did, he made no effort to steady it. “I am. I’m fine. We need--we need to prepare for Wei-gongzi’s arrival.”

There came more sympathetic hisses, more fretful tugs of his clothes--he knew from experience that it was nearly impossible to tell the difference between a voice shaking from fear and a voice shaking from barely suppressed savagery, if one's face was arranged correctly. His was. He made sure of it.

The tightness of his rage-lit chest did not abate when he went to the front courtyard to bow off the small glittering retinue of JIn, where he was, of course, ignored. Watching their receding backs as the clouds swallowed them up, he let his face drop entirely for a moment with only the ornately carved door ahead of him. Let his eyes burn.

When he turned around, he offered the crowd behind him a harried smile. “We should probably send a few of Yunmeng’s delicacies after them. As an apology for the imposition of their journey.”

This sparked muttered suggestions of what bodily fluids might be able to be included and what species’ feces could be hidden most easily behind heavy spices. “I could kill him for what he said about Jiang-furen,” one of the shimei’s said, eyes blazing.

Oh, Jin Guangyao did not say, shuttering his eyes as if regretful. You needn’t bother.

Soon.

Back in their room, in front of A-Li’s round, polished mirror, he impassively considered the bruises on his jaw, the heat in his gut at a low, murderous simmer. He would have preferred a black eye, but perhaps less was more, in this case--more subtlety meant more double takes, more chances for curious ‘what ifs’. The story was bound to evolve anyhow, to become more fantastical as the enraged servants gossiped with their friends, their waiters, their fruit vendors.

The noble Jiang, marrying for a love forbidden, taking beleaguered, harmless Cultivators under their wing and being threatened for it. Those villainous Jin, demanding back their spoils of war, treating Jiang-furen’s new husband as if he were still a common Jin servant. The indignity of it, the insult. Just like those star crossed tragedies. The Young Masters and Mistress of Lotus Pier were already folk heroes in the eyes of the common people--rising from the ashes of their slaughtered family to build anew, kind and just. This all would appeal greatly.

Ever loyal, the people would probably find a way to alert them if any Jin lurkers were to show up. Ingratiation of the Wen, alienation of the Jin, deification of the Jiang. Truly, this couldn’t have gone better.

There would be a more formal--not to mention informed--meeting later, involving Jiang Wanyin, Jin Guanshan, and possibly Wei Wuxian himself. This was probably supposed to have been a precursor to that, a scouting mission meant to gather information, meant to be secretive and unnoticed. What a pity.

His smile stretched thin and sharp at his own metallic reflection. His chest was still tight and full, and his fingertips still ached for the rust of someone’s pain, but he simply straightened his robes, slowly and deliberately. Time to prepare for their guests.

And figure out how slowly he wanted Jin Zixun to die.

#[Sings Zixun's Gotta Die to the tune of Earl's Gotta Die]#Peony to Lotus #my fic #my stuff #text

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digdag88 · 3 years

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When you’ve spent a lifetime among dysfunctional people, operating out of self-protection, competition, and a compulsion to please without expecting reciprocation, everyone seems untrustworthy and disappointing. This is an illusion created by years of you treating your value as conditional (you must be charming and successful to have value) and keeping everyone at arm’s length out of fear. It’s as if you’ve spent the first three decades of your life building a castle out of bulletproof glass. You’re protected but you’re looking at everything through a warped window. Your vision is warped. Your reflection is warped. The way other people see you is warped. Reality is impossible to understand or let in. In fact, reality feels like a looming threat that you’ll never see clearly, like a monster in a suspenseful horror movie. Your own emotions are a kind of creeping monster, too. They threaten to ruin all of your already fragile relationships, and they compromise whatever limited attention you’re getting from the distracted friends and lovers you seek. When you finally mention your history of abuse to someone, it serves as a desperate means of regaining some shred of moral high ground after you already sense the other person is halfway out the door, but it makes you feel even more like the monster in the horror movie. You’re fearful and fragile, yet your sudden confession makes you seem unsteady and out of control, an echo of some dark reality that no one wants to acknowledge or consider, least of all those who aren’t that invested in the first place. So this is where I would start: Ground yourself in reality. Walk around your castle of bulletproof glass and examine how warped it is. Watch how you move away from people who actually care, or lump together bad friends and good friends in an effort to keep yourself safe. Witness how you ingest your own shame, every day, telling yourself a story that you’re not good enough because someone took something from you. But this isn’t solely an intellectual exercise — that’s just where it starts. Notice how hard you try to keep people around. It might look desperate to you now, but that kind of concern for connection lives inside of you and it’s beautiful. Notice how hard you had to scramble, to make yourself seem whole when you didn’t feel whole. Those efforts might look weak to you now, but you picked up a lot of skills and a little magic in those efforts. Notice how fast you had to run away from anyone who might recognize that you were broken. Then consider what it means to be broken. What if you could proclaim yourself sick and hurt and sad and broken and malfunctioning, every single day, and still believe that you deserved love? What if you could sit in the rubble of your shattered castle, and still feel compassion for yourself? Because compassion for the self is the same thing as passion: That’s where inspiration and beauty are waiting for you. It’s also where your passion for your life begins, where a real, sustainable passion for other people can begin. It’s a leap of faith into a new world where you can look at reality with clear eyes and not feel afraid. The monster from the horror movie is wheeled out onto the set in the light of day, and it’s just a mess of blinking red eyes and shiny scales and rubber claws. There’s nothing to fear. Once you ground yourself in reality, and dare to give some love to your true, broken self (that part is very difficult at first!), then you can finally approach the world as you are. You don’t need to be entertaining or sexy or clever or useful to be lovable. You don’t have to prove your value in order to be valuable. You can simply be what you are. Being what you are looks like this: You enter every room as a calm, neutral observer. You are average. You don’t have an agenda. Your only job is to listen and observe and offer your support. Your only job is to watch and learn and allow room for yourself, even when you don’t say a word, even when you don’t look that good, even when you seem useless. There you are, giving yourself the right to be without running or hiding or dancing. That is grace. It matters. Being still and silent and broken is its own kind of religion. Doing this — existing around other people without proving yourself — works well because it feels good. It feels good when you’re not trying hard to win people over. It feels good to stand without adornment and know that you are enough. But it also works because good people respond to it. Trustworthy people will accept and embrace your listening and support and your silence. Untrustworthy people will think you’re a fucking weirdo, or believe that you’re not worthy enough because you’re not dancing or running or staying half-hidden and building suspense. In contrast, it is exceptionally difficult to feel connected or close to other people when you’re sure that your value is conditional. You can spend decades in this state, and the more energy you put into keeping other people happy, the more convinced you become that no one is dependable and no one loves you for you. That doesn’t mean that you haven’t withstood abuse or tolerated selfish friends. But refusing to give yourself the right to simply exist is a way of preventing other people from simply existing. Everything is bartered or traded. No relationship is what it is: lopsided and weird and flawed and sweet. Every effort must be reciprocated with equal and opposite force (even if your emotional accounting is never shared with anyone) or you’re being ripped off or taken for granted. No one is allowed to be broken. You have to be better than you really are, and so does everyone else. Once you develop an independent faith in your own value (this takes constant, repeated reminders to be compassionate and patient with yourself for the first time ever), then you can start to treat other people as valuable even when their value isn’t immediately apparent. You can enter the room as a broken person, sit with your brokenness without hiding it, and let it exist out in the open. You don’t have to share your own secrets straight out of the gate. You can ask people about the things that broke them, because you understand that being broken is interesting and includes a good story, or maybe 100 good stories. You listen to their stories not because you expect that then they’ll listen to yours, but because you’re making it your goal to take in reality, to connect, to get closer to the real world and the real people who live in it. This is the hardest thing for someone like you or me to do: to crave the real world. We had to create imaginary worlds to survive, and it’s hard for us to resist the temptation to live there now. We are fundamentally self-involved because that was the only way to survive neglect. I wouldn’t characterize my childhood as abusive, but self-involvement is also a way to survive abuse. It’s not an inherently negative thing to be self-involved, as long as you have enough compassion for yourself that you can channel your secret worlds into some activity or point of focus that feels rich and sustainable and renews your faith in yourself and others. I started working from home around your age, for some of the same reasons you are. I had a few friendships fall apart, my co-workers drove me nuts, and I was disappointed and distrustful. I knew a lot of narcissists, and I was a narcissist myself probably. I gave too much but I didn’t really show up a lot of the time. I didn’t believe that I deserved love unless I was useful or entertaining or special, and I didn’t really know how to give myself what I needed. It’s easy to become isolated under those conditions, so you should work hard to schedule breaks and force yourself to get out of your place often. Exercising somewhere else, joining a running club or other group that meets regularly, setting up weekly plans with certain friends can all help to keep you from feeling alienated and bugging out alone. But working from home did really help me to slow down and figure out a lot about myself. I also got a therapist who helped me to understand that connecting with strangers was possible. I felt better, but I still had a lot to learn. It took years after that to welcome reality, to believe in my worth without feeling ashamed of that belief, as if it were hopelessly self-indulgent. It took years to learn how to listen; I said I cared about listening long before I felt the sensation of real, honest connection with a good friend and knew that it wasn’t just a weird twist of fate that we landed there. It took years to show up and make some room for the real world, in all of its glorious disappointments. The more compassion you have for yourself, the easier the next year will be. You’re doing something that’s incredibly difficult. Every single day, every single minute, you need to push away the feeling that you’re uniquely screwed and you’re running out of time. Because you’re surrounded by people who feel many of the things you feel, and you’re still very young, and you have plenty of time. We all have plenty of time, though. A day can feel like a divine eternity when you spend it letting the world in with an open heart. You let the world in, and it hurts, and you sit with your hurt. You let reality in, and you feel shame, and you sit with that shame. You invite in the things that make you hate yourself, and you let them exist without judgment: This was how I learned to run very fast. This was how I learned to dance and sing. This was how I built a castle all by myself. This was the warped view from my castle. Everyone looked so small from my castle tower. The days flew by, and even when I wasn’t alone, I felt so alone. I thought I would die if I ever came down from my tower, but once I did, everyone looked big and scared and sad, just like me. And time stood still. This world has been waiting for you to catch up. This world has been waiting to show you its treasures. Your monster finally gets to stand in one place, feeling the sunshine, knowing that it’s okay to be broken. This divine moment is yours.

https://www.thecut.com/2018/08/how-do-i-start-over-now-that-i-know-how-damaged-i-am.html

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criminalmindsmad · 4 years

Text

Are you finished?

This one is SO long (3400 words long lol), and I must’ve been real moody when I wrote this but please don’t be mad at me! I’ve merged 2 requests together because they may have been very similar had I not! Let me know what you think! Leave any comments in replies or in the tags if you reblog ❤️- Ash x

Requests:

-Something angsty for hotch, i know this is very broad but idm what you choose to do with it since all of your stories are amazing!!

-Can I request a Hotch x reader where they’re close/kinda flirty and work well together but then Hotch is suddenly really cold to her because he realised he has feelings for her and he’s forced to talk about it when they have to share a hotel room?

“Oh hey! Aaron!” you shouted across the precinct realising there were about 7 cops looking at you. You cleared your throat “Agent Hotchner. May I see you in the conference room for a second.”

He looked at you and cocked his eyebrow, he could tell by the look in your eyes you were up to something and as much as he loved it now was not the time. “Is it important Y/N?” you couldn’t stop your cheeky smile forming on your face, it couldn’t be less important if you were honest, but you nodded anyway. Hotch gave in and walked over to you and into the conference room. “What is it Y/N?” he tried to be serious but he couldn’t help but smile a little. You paused briefly wiping the smile off your face, looking out of the window for dramatic affect.

“Your butt looks good today” you looked back over to him and he just shook his head, let out a little giggle and left. You quickly followed him.

Over the course of the case you two were your usual selves, talking about everything and nothing in between bouts of case work, gently touching one another whenever you got the chance, catching the other staring and making fun of them. You and Hotch were best friends, anyone in the world could see how close you were. Which was…great…probably…you had resigned yourself to being best friends aware that being anything more was just completely off the table.

A major storm had hit the night you’d caught your unsub, grounding the jet and leaving the BAU stuck in Dallas with nothing to do. Most of the team had taken the opportunity to get some sleep retiring up to their hotel rooms one by one. You’d decided to stay at the bar for a little while and treat yourself to a glass or two of wine, things had been a little dicey on this case and you felt like you needed it.

As you sipped at your wine and watched the rain splash against the window a warm hand pressed itself against the small of your back. You flinched at the touch and turned to face them, grabbing their wrist as you did so and yanking it away from your body.

“Hey that’s not very polite!” Some smarmy guy in a business suit smirked in your direction as he put his hand up in defence.

“Neither is touching someone without their consent.” You released his hand and shoved it away.

“Look you don’t need to be a bitch, I was just trying to be nice!” He got up in your face, trying to intimidate you “Jeez you’re not even that pretty anyway!”

“Hey back off!” Aaron had emerged from behind him and began bounding over towards the pair of you. You smirked at him as you grabbed the guy harassing you and pushed his face into the surface of the bar, not spilling a drop of your wine.

“If you think I was being a bitch then…you must think I’m a colossal bitch now! Ha!” You picked him up and shoved him away from you, Aaron caught him as he flew towards the door.

“I think you owe my friend an apology.” The guy looked at you once again and shook his head.

“Let him go Aaron, he’s not worth it.” You nodded to him as he let go of the man and walked over to you.

“You ok?” He put his hand on your arm and looked down at you. You smiled back and bought him in for a hug.

“Yeah, much better thank you"

That night you two spent hours talking, moving up to your hotel room at around 3am.

“Look I just think if the toys in Toy story come to life because kids love them then of COURSE food is alive because we’ve all seen kids eat chicken nuggets!” You both laughed as you sat back down from your rant, sitting on the edge of the bed next to him.

“Your brain is both amazing and stupid!” He laughed and leaned towards you, stopping both of your laughter in its tracks. Suddenly it felt like there was a rope wrapped around you both, pulling you together. Like the world moved in slow motion as your bodies moved closer, your eyes locked on his as you pressed your mouth against his. He returned your kiss moving his hand to your hair and holding your face against his. And then as suddenly as your lips met, your lips parted and Aaron moved away from you “Y/N! This is highly unprofessional” you looked at him with stunned eyes, your mouth hanging open in shock.

“What?” You could feel the tears prickling at your eyelids as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Aaron?"

"This should not have happened. This was clearly a moment of weakness on both of our parts.” You stood up and walked towards him, holding you hand out.

“Aaron can we talk ab…”

“No” he pushed your hand away “I won’t have to take any professional actions against you however we are not to talk about this with each other or our colleagues again, is that clear.” You nodded. Silently willing yourself not to cry. “Goodnight Agent Y/L/N.” and with that he left, leaving you in the dark of your hotel room.

You didn’t sleep at all that night. Instead sat tormenting yourself over what had happened, figuring out what signs you misread and at some point you questioned if it ever happened at all.

Morning arrived and you slumped down in the lobby waiting for your team. As you glanced around to check if anyone had arrived before you, you noticed the guy from the bar last night staring at you from reception. You pulled your sunglasses down and tried to ignore his existence.

“Hey, where’s your boyfriend?” The man wandered over a cocky expression plastered on his face “wouldn’t put out for him either?”

"Wow… I would almost have forgiven you for being a drunk asshole but I guess you’re just a regular asshole huh.”

“Listen bitch I know the sheriff. I can do whatever I want right now and you’re heading straight to county!” He tried to get up in your face. Standing up you met his eye level and tried desperately to wipe the smile off of your face.

“I’m FBI jackass, I could break your arm right now and I wouldn’t get so much as a disciplinary.” It was an obvious lie but this douche didn’t need to know that.

“Agent Y/L/N!” Aaron’s voice boomed from behind you, as you turned your head and spotted him and the team in your peripheral you suddenly felt a wave of embarrassment wash over you “what are you doing? Do we have to have a talk about your professionalism on cases?"

"Sorry Aaron this is just the guy from the bar last night.” You motioned towards the now even more cocky man next to you.

“Once again Agent Y/L/N it is not professional to sleep with someone every time we are away on a case.” Your mouth dropped open as he spoke, eyes fixated directly on his.

“What did you just say to me?” Anger radiated from your voice. “I did not sleep with this man."

"No she didn’t but she did threaten to break my arm.” You looked at the man stood next to you and without missing a beat he recoiled away from you in fake fear.

“My apologies sir. Y/N you’re suspended. Find your own way back to Virginia and be in my office at 8am Friday.” He spoke as if it was the most natural thing in the world, as if you were just some background character that no-one ever knew the name of and not someone he considered a close friend mere hours earlier. He walked by you, stern face completely unmoved by the shock plastered all over yours. The rest of the team shuffled by offering comforting eyes and the occasional touch on the shoulder, they seemed as shocked and confused as you were.

And then they were all gone, you were stuck in Dallas, alone and heartbroken…at least you were in a bar…silver linings.

***

“Aaron… do you want to talk about what happened back in the hotel?” Rossi cornered Aaron in the plane kitchen. Concern spread across his face.

“What is there to talk about? An agent acted unprofessionally, as they had done many, many times before, and I finally realised I needed to do something about it. I will discuss this further with agent Y/L/N when we meet next week. As for now, I have some paperwork to get started on.” He walked away, leaving Rossi stood at the other end of the plane. Emily and JJ looked over to the older man with questioning looks on their faces which was met, to their dismay, with an equally confused face from David Rossi.

***

“You’re late Y/N” a very stern Hotch mentioned as you knocked at his office door, not bothering to even glance in your direction.

“I’m 15 minutes early Aaron.” You noted the clock on the wall.

“Exactly.” You fought the urge to scoff at his comment “take a seat” you did as he said, sitting yourself in front of him. Usually the time you spent in his office was either splayed out on the couch or perched on his desk, this chair was uncomfortable, no wonder you never sat here. “I’ve taken the difficult decision to place the incident and your behaviour on the case last week as a strike on your record"

"What?” Your eyes and mouth open wide, you couldn’t quite believe what you were hearing. “But Aaron! That goes on my permanent record, it could affect my role in this team and the FBI as a whole. I find it very hard to believe that what happened last week is grounds for that kind of action."

"You threatened a civilian Y/N."

"After I was threatened and sexually harassed! You saw what he was like! I can’t believe what I’m hearing!” You stood up off of your chair and turned your back on Hotch, placing your hands on your head in frustration.

“Please calm down Agent Y/L/N! Don’t make me extend your suspension further.” He stood up and slammed his hand on his desk making you turn around to face him. You stood eyes connected in complete silence breathing in unison. “The mark goes on your record. You may start back with us on Monday. Take the weekend to cool off and maybe think about what a professional wears to the office."

You looked down at your v-neck and skinny jeans, an ensemble you had worn some variation of during your entire stint with the BAU. You let out a small scoff, composed yourself and spoke "fine. See you on Monday Agent Hotchner. Have a nice weekend."

Leaving his office you shut the door and met the gaze of your teammates. JJ was the first to walk over, offering to walk you out. As you stood in the lift with her you decided to let your frustrations out.

"I just don’t get it! It’s like some weird twilight zone where my best friend has been replaced by a nastier moodier version of himself and nobody but me knows!” She laughed at your comments and placed a reassuring hand on your shoulder.

***

“Agent Y/L/N!” Hotch’s voice boomed across the North Dakotan precinct catching the attention of anyone within 15 miles of him. “interrogation room now!” You had become used to being dragged into rooms whenever Hotch saw fit, his eyes burning into you whenever you did anything trying to find a mistake or reason to call you up. And the once gentle touches had become rough pushes go get you to move in or out of somewhere. The last month had been Hell, on top of your one strike Hotch had managed to find a way to give you another, during a week of back to back late nights and stressful days you’d accidentally fallen asleep at a desk and no one had decided to wake you before they rolled out to apprehend an unsub, Reid had gotten injured and sure enough Hotch blamed you entirely ‘had you been there and not sleeping on the job we may have caught our suspect without an agent ending up in the hospital’ for some reason the rest of the team felt the same and your relationship with most of them had been a bit strained recently.

“Hotch, have I done something wrong?” You asked, shutting the door to the interrogation room behind you.

“What is this?” He threw a case file onto the desk, notes and pictures sliding out as it slammed against the table.

“It’s Ryan Knowles, a potential suspect, I saw his name pop up a couple times and had Garcia run him through our system, juvenile crimes, peeping tom and a non existent mother figure. He fit our profile, I asked JJ to put him on the board so that we could…”

“And why would you do that?” His question took you aback, what was that supposed to mean?

“It’s my job? To follow a hunch and see if it pans out.” You furrowed your brow unsure why you were in trouble.

“Maybe not for much longer. I’ve noticed you’re slacking, sleeping on cases, following ridiculous hunches and causing the team setback after setback!” He threw the case file against the wall sending paper everywhere “follow your hunch, and you better hope it pans out or you’re off this team"

"You can’t do that!” You shouted trying to hold onto your composer for just a moment longer. He began to walk out of the room, putting his face close to yours,

“Watch me.” He pulled his face away and walked out of the room leaving you shocked and confused. You began to pick up the papers of your case file trying to put them back into some order as your tears began to blur your vision.

You stood up and wiped away your tears, looking at a picture of your unsub you decided you were going to prove you were right and prove why you deserved that spot on the team, not that you really wanted to be there much more anyway.

***

“Put the gun down Ryan!” Your unsub pointed his gun directly at you, you’d managed to catch him attempting to bury his victim, You had radioed for backup as soon as you saw him and could hear the sirens in the distance “you don’t want to do this, hear those sirens in 30 seconds they’re all around here and if they see you standing there out in the open with a gun it’s not going to take too long for you to be the one in the ground.” You swallowed hard, keeping a level head as you gradually lowered your gun “but if you have me they’re not gonna shoot you, how about you let Amber go and take me instead, look I’m unarmed” you kicked you gun slightly away as you heard the screeching of tyres.

“Come here.” You walked slowly to Ryan he grabbed you and quickly held the barrel of the gun to your head. You watched Amber run off and be caught by JJ, you sighed with relief that they had made it to you in time.

As Aaron saw you his heart leaped to his throat and his stomach hit the floor. He’d thought he’d managed to bury his feelings for you after everything that had happened, but there you were completely vulnerable with a gun to your head and he couldn’t help but feel overwhelmingly worried. As Rossi tried to talk Ryan down Hotch kept his eyes focused solely on you, catching your stare right back. You nodded slightly and forced yourself downward allowing Morgan to land two shots directly into Ryan’s chest.

As you pulled yourself free from his arms you ran forward to your team and for some reason Aaron was the first to pull you in for a hug. Your body tensed up and you blinked with confusion but at least you were safe and he wasn’t firing you.

***

“I’m sorry Miss Y/N but there was an incident with your room. A pipe burst and unfortunately we cannot let you stay in that room this evening. We managed to collect all of you belongings before they were damaged but it seems you will have to share with one of your colleagues.” The older woman at the desk was ruining your life, not actually but in many ways she was. Your team had already gone up to their rooms while you spoke with reception. “I can give you a spare key to one of their rooms so you can just go and let yourself in ok?” You nodded and took the key, you didn’t mind sharing a room with most of your team, as long as it wasn’t Aaron.

You knocked on the door and began to let yourself in “Hey it’s Y/N! My room got flooded so the front desk gave me your key! I guess we’re roomies for tonight huh!” You finished opening the door and was met with the face of Aaron Hotchner. You sighed “ah. I will go get a different key.”

“NO!” He cleared his throat “no it’s ok, we can share I don’t mind.” You silent nodded and closed the door behind you, putting you go bag down on the desk you began walking over to the couch to get comfortable “Agent Y/N.” Hotch stated sternly. You stopped abruptly and sighed, you knew friendly Hotch was too good to be true. Turning on your heels you didn’t give him a chance to speak first.

“Look I know I was reckless, but you didn’t really give me much of a choice. If this means I get fired then fine because I saved a life today and that’s enough."

"I’m not going to fire you. In fact I wanted to say something.” He looked sincere, and sad like whatever he was about to say was painful or something “that night in Dallas, when we talked for hours and then we kissed, well for some reason it broke me, I knew I liked you and knew I found you attractive, I just never put it all together until that moment. I realised I loved you and I wanted to be with you, and I freaked out. Everything I’ve done over the last month was because I was so scared that I was going to get hurt or that you were going to get hurt and it would break me, but then seeing you today and realising that you could die it all went out the window, I don’t have time to be scared, I want to be with you and I realise that now. I’m so sorry” He stopped his ramble, looking into your eyes with his big brown puppy dog eyes, pleading forgiveness and willing you to return the sentiment.

“Are you finished?” He looked shocked by your question nodding to respond. “And that’s it is it? You made my life hell because you love me?” He nodded again, quickly glancing to the floor. “What do you want me to say now? That I love you too? That I forgive you? Well I’m sorry but no. I used to, but then you ruined it. You cost my friendships with the team, you cost me my perfect record and my job and you almost cost me my life, because you are an immature, petty self centred prick! I’ve been so stressed and tired I’ve lost 10 pounds for god’s sake! I’m sorry Hotch but your half assed confession isn’t going to fix this.” You sat down on the sofa and put your head in your hands leaving Hotch stood in the middle of the room, eyes drilling a hole into the floor, looking the way you looked after he left you alone in your hotel room that night. Neither of you moved, both unsure as to what should happen next. “I’m…I’m not saying that we can never happen. I just need time to process, and forgive you and learn to love you again.” His eyes had moved up to you again and you noticed the tears that had formed starting to leak out as yours quickly did too. “What… what erm… what side of the bed do you want?” He laughed slightly at you comment and smiled weakly at you a smile which you returned. Maybe in a little while, this wouldn’t be so hard again.

#Criminal Minds #criminal minds fanfic #Criminal Minds Fanfiction #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds x reader #aaron hotchner #Aaron Hotch Hotchner #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner fanfic

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nymphigeon · 4 years

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From me, to you || 05

♤ Pairing: Taehyung x Reader

♤ Genre: fluff, angst, romance, hybrid au, hybrid!Taehyung, detective!reader

♤ Words: 2.3k

♤ Rating: PG-13

♤ Warnings (for this chapter): swearing, mentions of blood, mentions of hybrid abuse, mention of decomposition, mentions of murder (stabbing), mentions of gambling, mention of a sex club.

♤ A/N: Not super proud of this chapter, but I didn’t know any way to make it better. Hope you enjoy anyways!

Synopsis: A story in which he has never known love, so you’ll give it to him.

Series masterlist

04 05 06

It takes a solid 15 minutes before Taehyung has completely calmed down. All this time I’ve been holding him close, waiting for his sobs to die down. Despite Taehyung visibly relaxing more as time went by, his ears still lay somewhat flat atop his head.

“Feeling better?” There is no response for a while, but I know he heard me. Eventually he nods, just a tiny tilt of his head, but a nod nonetheless. He makes no move to sit up though, still leaning against my frame. If it wasn’t for him sniffing now and then, I would’ve thought he fell asleep.

So long he doesn’t want me to go I won’t. Thus I keep holding him, expecting him to push me away on his own when he doesn’t need my embrace anymore. I don’t mind holding him like this, I just want the bad memories to be forgotten about. Best case scenario would be his past disappearing from existing. Though, sadly, this is no fairy tale.

Not everything will be okay in the end. The damage his heart and mind sustained will never be fully repaired. All I can do is glue the remaining pieces back together, searching for the lost bits as I go. Some may be lost forever, stomped into the ground, buried by layers of dead leaves and decomposing insects. Then I’ll make sure he creates his own, new pieces to replace the ones missing. He doesn’t need whatever other trampled over.

“Lee Ji-hyun.” It’s a soft whisper. If the room hadn’t been dead silent as it was, I would’ve missed it. I don’t respond, letting him talk as he wants. Giving him space to open up and expose himself.

“My owner, Lee Ji-hyun.” His voice contains a bit more confidence this time. I can’t say I’m not surprised at his words, I didn’t think I was going to get a name today after all. The movement of my hand rubbing his back stills for a second, resuming just as fast. It was only for a second, yet he must’ve still noticed it, as he gives me a sad chuckle.

“I was never the pet he wanted. I wasn’t like the brutal animals he heard about on tv. I’m not like the first tiger hybrid who killed his owner trying to escape.” He takes in a deep breath, almost like he’s trying to keep his hatred for the man that hurt him in check. Or maybe he’s on the verge of breaking down again.

“I don’t want to fight underground for illegally obtained money. I don’t want to walk two blocks to threaten your drug dealer for free cocaine. I don’t want to sleep with others just so you can throw money at the strippers you care so little about.” If he was truly trying to keep his hatred at bay, it failed. Years of bottled up anger spilling out, breaking the dam he built high himself.

“And if I refused I’d get hit, stomped on, tased, or if I was lucky I wouldn’t get food instead. I should’ve wanted to harm him. Why was he never scared he would be the receiver of my anger?” Taehyung’s hands tighten around my arms, trying to find a way to hold on to the strong front he has been putting up all this time. His voice has drastically raised in volume since he first started talking, close to shouting out all the words he kept to himself.

“He wanted to see me struggle against my chains, trying to rip him to shreds, growling with my eyes blown out. He would’ve laughed in my face as I try to kill him with my own bare hands, purposefully getting the whip out, making me so scared I’d lose all of my humanity.”

All of a sudden he sits up in my hold, not slipping away from my arms, but also not snuggling into me as much anymore. Once again I should’ve been scared of him, ripping myself away from him and running out the door to safety. I don’t. His irises show the well-known gold colour of the predator’s eyes, his canines having grown longer in size. On the edge of shifting, but all I can see is the broken boy inside. The one that just wants to get away.

“I couldn’t do it at the time. I laid still on the ground as the leather came down again and again. It hurt so much and I still didn’t try to attack him.” His eyes are full of unshed tears. Did he mean to tell me this? Did he finally have enough? Perhaps this was all a mistake, led by emotions he was never able to reveal. Whatever it is, he doesn’t stop. Sometimes silence is suffocating, uncertainty hanging in the air as the other does not respond. However, now my silence is encouraging him, filling the quietness with his rants.

“Despite having always been taught to be a pleasing puppet, I started disobeying him more and more.” This particular memory was still fresh, it hurt more than the others. His eyes cast downwards for a second, swallowing a lump in his throat, before finding mine again. I think he was debating on whether to continue. Do I look shocked? Indifferent? Sad?

I’ve heard confessions of crimes for years, probably seen ten times more emotional outbursts than most humans. I’ve learned not to get affected by them, only looking at the facts presented in the story being told. I have played the role of a supportive law enforcement worker more times than I can count, slowly manipulating the answer out of those who belong behind bars. Though I would never use that tactic on traumatized witnesses.

This time should be no different, but it is. I wonder if it’s because I’ve had more time to connect to him. Getting to know the person underneath all the insecurities. Possibly it could be the way hybrids have been tortured for years and now they can finally break free. Humans sympathize, I’m no different.

“He didn’t have the money for basic human necessities anymore as I was his only source of income at that point. He was the self-proclaimed kind of gambling, yet he lost the mountain of money he had to that exact same game.” Stopping myself from sinking further into my pity for him, I start connecting the strings while he talks. A gambling addict bought an expensive hybrid who didn’t do as he liked, so he sold him. Or at least tried to, but killed the client for whatever reason.

“One day he called up this hybrid auction place. After hearing he had a tiger hybrid the owner himself offered a ton of money.” Taehyung’s hands start to shake. A picture starts to form itself in my head, pieces falling together. I know what’s coming, but I don’t want to hear it. As soon as I do so my suspension will be confirmed, no room for doubt. As long as he doesn’t tell me, I can still pretend it never happened.

“He wanted to meet up with us. Somewhere where there would be no traces of hybrid dealing left behind, as it is obviously illegal. You should know.” I slowly nod at his words, I do know. “We met up at The Pink Collar, the club you…” He trails off, the confidence in his voice gone when he mentions the sex club.

After the incident, the police shut the business down. Not only was the club completely illegal, having no licences whatsoever, it just so happened that a lot of illegal dealings went on inside it as well. It was a popular meeting place for those who wanted some dirty money. If mister Lee really is a gambling addict, he most likely went there more than once.

“David, I think my owner called him, ended up bringing a lot less money than he initially offered. My owner got mad and…. Well, stabbed him.” The last part gets said a lot quieter than the rest of the sentence. A tear rolls down Taehyung’s cheek as he recalls the moment. Something in me stirs. I haven’t talked the entire time. Now that everything is falling into place though, I need to know the full story.

“What about the girl?” My voice is soft, I don’t want to upset him more. Taehyung hesitates for a moment, before answering. “She heard everything. She was so so scared, thrashing around in her restraints and screaming as best as she could with the gag. He couldn’t leave witnesses so he.. he did the same to her.”

I want to ask more, though I’m not sure if I should. I’m not like my supervisor who forces answers out. I’m diving into dangerous territory here.

As if he can read my mind, Taehyung nods, giving me a small smile. “It’s okay, ask me.” He wipes his eyes dry and nods once again, encouraging me to continue.

“What about you? Why did you do?” I didn’t mean to sound accusing. Luckily, Taehyung doesn’t really catch on to the underlying question, answering before I can explain myself.

“Barely anything. When I did as much as try to get out my restraints he threatened to kill me too.” So he was tied up at the time too? I think back to the day I found him. He looks better now than he did before, although he still has a long way to go. I can imagine there was not much he could do, weak and terrified.

“And right after that you two left right?” Taehyung sits up completely now, letting my arms go and propping himself up against the wall. A few deep breaths and his eyes return to their normal brown colour, going back to looking exhausted rather than angry. “Yeah.”

If that’s all then why was Taehyung drenched in blood that day? Why was he alone at that playground? Thinking for a moment, I try to find the answer to it myself first, but nothing clicks. Taehyung tilts his head, silently questioning what caused the confusion displayed on my face.

“What happened after that?”

His head drops, hands clenching and unclenching against the fabric of his pants. “He took the money from David and left with me. Somewhere along our way back I had enough, I-” Scared that he’ll break through his own skin if he keeps his fists tightly closed, I am quick to put my hands on top of his. They don’t open up, but at least they relax a little. Hybrids are known to shift when in emotional distress. If his claws were to come out in this position then he-

“I jumped him from behind. Sunk my nails into his back and broke my leash in the process.” -he might scratch himself. It wasn’t him who got hurt at the time, but he who hurt. I’ve never believed in revenge being the answer, but Lee had that one coming. He was the one who wanted to create a rage filled tiger in the first place, well there he goes, wish fulfilled.

“Then you ran off?” Taehyung nods, pulling his hands away from under mine so he can wrap his arms around himself. His tail joins in the party, snugly held against his waist. This time it’s his ears that remain in their neutral position, listening to anything else I have to say.

“Will I get punished now?” The way he says it, is like he’s trying to sound unaffected, but in reality the idea scares him. For years that’s all he’s known, punishment after punishment. I want to be able to reassure him, to say that it’s all fine, but there is always the possibility of things not being fine. What will I do when that happens? Feel guilty, helpless?

So I tell him the truth. “If we can confirm that he really did abuse you with either a confession from your owner, verbal evidence of other witnesses, or stuff inside his home, you’ll most likely be fine. It depends on if the judge agrees with hybrid laws a lot of the time, though I’ll take care of that.” Just with a softer edge. I gave him the harsh reality wrapped in a pink fluffy blanket.

“You won’t be fired now right?”

I completely forgot about that. When my supervisor lashed out at me I had accepted her words, not thinking about the consequences a whole lot. “Well yeah, I guess not.”

I wonder if he was scared that I would get fired, if that’s the reason why he opened up. Selfishly, I want to believe that he told me because he trusts me more. Greedy, I am aware. No one has to know though, I won’t tell.

“C’mon, let’s get you back.” I stand, stretching out when I’m fully up. I regret not paying any attention to the position we were in, as my back is heavily complaining now that I’m back on my feet. Letting out a groan of satisfaction, I open my eyes, of which I didn’t know that I had them closed, and move to give Taehyung a hand. When I look at the ground however, he is no longer there. Instead, he already passed me on his way to the door, looking back to see if I was following. I smile sheepishly and take a quick few steps towards the door.

Remembering nothing can be left behind, I look around the room. Two chairs and a table, that’s it. Grey brick walls nobody wanted to paint line the sides, with a huge one way mirror at one side. All you can see is yourself and whoever came with you. Trapped, stuck with a grimacing police officer who doesn’t want to be there either. Thinking about it, this place is almost scarier than prison itself.

Looking closer at the table, I notice a blinking light. A small rectangular device being the only thing on the table, filling the palm of my hand nicely. Something my supervisor must have forgotten in her haste to get out of here, an audio recorder, still left recording.

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@suhappysuho @intellectualxprincess @sana-b @littlewolfieposts @nellaphine @daisychwe @deathkat657

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clumsyclifford · 4 years

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a future of stories, kiss you good mornings

here’s a cute little malum fic in honor of michael’s 25th birthday !! i am sadly not the editing or giffing type and my only real creative outlet is writing so i am forced to show my love for mr clifford by pretending he’s in love with his best friend because you know. that’s how we roll

big shoutout to @blackbutterfliescal and @devilatmydoor for rallying the troops so to speak lol and getting us all to celebrate michael’s birthday you guys are truly both wonderful and everyone in this lil community is so wonderful wow i love you all !!!!! yes i’ve been listening to a very cute love song on a loop for a little bit so maybe i’m being exceedingly sappy but that’s life. anyway enough from me

this is fluffy, fluffy fluff. it MIGHT be the fluffiest fluff i’ve ever written. no tws (i think) just fluff !!! something about malum just brings out all the fluff. if i say fluff one more time i might lose my mind so why don’t we all just dive into the fic okay cool

title from protocol by the vamps (don’t use the song as a guide for the tone of the fic adflkgjfhklmj)

read it here on ao3

Waking up alone threatens to make this birthday pretty bad.

Hopefully it means Calum is making breakfast. Michael would kill for waffles. He blindly sweeps an arm over Calum’s side of the bed, but it’s cold. Michael snuggles deeper into his pillows, keeping his eyes shut for another minute in case he falls back asleep. He’d actually bet anything Calum is making him breakfast right now, because that’s Calum’s go-to birthday move, so Calum will come get him when it’s ready.

Time melts into nothing, and Michael’s not sure if he does drift off again or just float on the edges of consciousness, but after some undetermined stretch a quiet voice whispers, “Mikey.”

“Hm,” Michael grunts.

Calum crawls into bed and presses a kiss to Michael’s cheek (the one not currently flattened against the pillow). “Happy birthday, babe.”

“Would be happier if I was asleep.”

Calum chuckles lightly and wraps Michael up in his arms. His embrace is warm and familiar, and much cozier than the pillows, so Michael burrows deeper into Calum’s chest. “Would it be happier if you had waffles and ice cream for breakfast?”

Michael perks up. “Ice cream?”

“It’s your birthday,” Calum says, a grin in his voice. “Of course we’re having ice cream for breakfast.”

“You’re a terrible influence,” Michael says, tempted by the notion of ice cream for breakfast. “It’s hot.”

Calum laughs outright. “Get up or the waffles will get cold.”

“How’d you know I wanted waffles?” Michael asks, brushing a kiss over Calum’s collarbone before pulling away to look at him. He’s smiling like he knows something Michael doesn’t, and he’s as charmingly adorable as he’s been every day since they met, but Michael feels a little extra in love today. Maybe it has to do with getting older. He’s officially closer to thirty than twenty now. His age can be rounded up. That’s a little bit insane.

“We’ve been together seven years, Michael,” Calum says, rolling his eyes. “You think I don’t know your favorite breakfast food?”

Michael smiles, melty and warm inside. “Love you,” he says.

Calum kisses him. “Love you too. Now get up. Waffles.”

—

Calum is suspiciously happy. Michael points this out through a mouthful of ice cream-soaked waffle, and Calum just cocks his head. The smile doesn’t waver. “What are you talking about?”

“You’re, like, dancing,” Michael says. He swallows his food. “There’s no music and you’re dancing.”

“So you’ve never danced without music?” Calum raises his eyebrows.

“I’m just saying, it’s suspicious,” Michael says, shrugging. He leans forward on his elbow, resting his face on his palm. “Not that I’m complaining.”

“So what do you want to do today?” Calum prompts, still swaying back and forth a bit. Michael wonders if he even realizes he’s doing it; it’s like there’s a song playing that only Calum can hear. Something’s making him light on his feet.

Michael wishes he knew what it was, so he could make it happen every day. Seeing Calum in such high spirits is doing wonders for Michael’s disposition. It’s fun to be in love, Michael muses, knowing that someone else’s mood can be just as instrumental in setting the tone of the day as Michael’s own. If Calum’s energy is anything to go by, today is shaping up to be incredible.

“Nothing,” Michael says honestly. He’s been gazing at Calum for a minute and answers a little late, but Calum has just been letting him. “Just want to relax.”

“I knew you’d say that,” Calum says, smiling airily. Michael makes a noise of protest, but he can’t fight the silly grin.

“If you knew, then why’d you even ask?”

“I had to make sure!”

“Yes, Calum, you know me better than anyone else on the planet,” Michael says wryly. “Are you satisfied?”

Calum’s smile grows. “I got you a birthday present.”

“I should hope you did.”

“It’s a bit non-traditional, though,” Calum continues. “As birthday presents go.”

Like there are traditional birthday presents? Michael wrinkles his nose in confusion. “Okay? Are you going to give it to me?”

Calum hesitates. “Do you want it now, or later?”

“Is this a weird euphemism? Are you just asking if I want to sleep with you?”

“No!” Calum snickers. “No, it’s not. It’s a real thing. I…I think you’ll like it.”

“I’m sure I’ll love it,” Michael promises. “I mean, you knew what I wanted for breakfast and what I wanted to do for my birthday, so I can’t imagine you got me a birthday present I’d hate.”

“Yeah, this one’s a bit of a commitment, though,” Calum says. “Like, the thing is the present, but it’s also not.”

“What about instead of being really cryptic, you just give it to me?” Michael suggests. He has total confidence in Calum. If the present is something Michael doesn’t like, Michael will eat his shirt.

“So you want it now?” Calum says. “Don’t want to finish your waffles first?”

“Well, you’re kind of building the suspense here, love,” Michael says, grinning and shaking his head. “Just give it to me when you want to give it to me.”

“No, I mean. Okay. I have to go and get it.” Calum shifts, then says, “Finish your breakfast and I’ll go get your present and then I’ll give it to you, okay?”

“Okay,” Michael says, amused. Calum sidles past him, dropping a kiss to his temple as he goes, and leaves. Michael chuckles to himself and takes the last few bites of his waffles — which are delicious, of course, fluffy and warm and not too limp or too crunchy. Calum’s only mastered a few culinary arts, but one of them is breakfast. They work well like that; Calum knows how to make Michael’s favorite category of food.

While Calum is retrieving the enigmatic birthday gift, Michael turns his phone over on the tabletop and finally starts reading through the myriad messages previewed on the lock screen. Luke and Ashton had both texted at midnight exactly, so there’s nothing new from them this morning, but basically everyone else Michael has ever met is wishing him a happy birthday on every single social media platform he has. Just then he hears Calum’s footsteps behind him, and he flips his phone facedown on the table again.

He can get to the birthday messages later. He will. But they’re not going anywhere, and Michael wants to spend this time with his boyfriend, his best friend, his favorite person.

Also, he’s dying of curiosity about the birthday present.

“You done?” Calum asks, gliding back into the room with grace. Michael eyes him; he’s hiding something behind his back but it must be small, because Michael can’t see it. Obligingly, he lays his fork and knife across the plate and pushes it away from him.

“I’m done,” he confirms. “Present time?”

Calum rocks back and forth on his feet. “Okay. But you need to be standing for it or else the effect is ruined.”

“The effect of the birthday present?” Michael says drily, but he doesn’t argue, just gets to his feet, mirroring Calum’s stance by linking his hands together behind his back and giving Calum a cheeky smile. “How’s this?”

Calum shuffles backwards a bit until there’s just about one arm’s length between them. “Perfect. You’re perfect.”

He inhales deeply, exhales, and then falls to one knee, holding out in front of him what he’s been concealing behind his back: an engagement ring.

Michael’s hands fly to his mouth.

“Oh,” he breathes into his palms. “Calum.”

“Let me talk first,” Calum says, smiling up at Michael, and then he laughs a bit. “I don’t know if you can tell that I’m really fucking nervous. I’ve tried to be really cool about it, because I can’t see why you’d say no, but still — I’m scared as fuck. But I’m going to let you save your answer until I’m done talking so that even if you say no you still get an ego boost.” Michael laughs shakily. Tears glaze over his eyes, and as he blinks them away one slides down his face.

Calum pulls the ring towards him, still gazing up at Michael. “So…where do I start, Michael Clifford? My best friend of at least ten years, my boyfriend for the last seven, my favorite person to fall asleep next to, the only person I’d ever learn to cook for. I mean, I never really learned, but I would. I will.”

“You don’t have to,” Michael manages, somehow laughing even though he’s definitely also crying.

Calum giggles, and it’s obvious he’s also trying not to cry. “Let me finish, I’m trying to propose!”

“Sorry, sorry!”

“Anyway, I just…I just love you so much, Michael.” When Michael blinks again, a vain attempt to clear his blurring vision, their eyes meet, and Calum’s words have never been more obvious from the expression on his face. “I…before us, I thought that I got it. Like, I thought I knew what it meant to be in love. But —” He shakes his head. “I so, so didn’t. I thought that sometimes love hurt, but with you it never does. Seven years, Michael, and it’s never hurt to be in love with you. You are one of the — no, fuck it. You are the smartest, sweetest, sexiest,” — Michael breaks out with another laugh — “most driven and charismatic person I’ve ever met, and you shine even when you think you don’t, but especially when you do. I swear there’s nothing I love more than to see you onstage. It’s like watching a fireworks display. Fuck, that’s really cliché. Shit, I thought I’d get through this before I started crying.” He wipes his face with the back of his hand, cutting off a stray tear as it slips down his cheek. “That’s probably a good sign I should wrap it up, then. So, uh, Michael Gordon Clifford with the worst middle name in the history of ever, will you marry me?”

“Yes, of course I will,” Michael says breathlessly, holding out a hand to help Calum up. “Of course I’ll marry you, I fucking love you.”

Calum’s smile is so broad it almost makes his eyes disappear completely. “Thank God.” He takes Michael’s hand and staggers to his feet, and Michael throws his arms around Calum, too overwhelmed for words, though he knows he doesn’t need them; Calum’s said it all, and anything he hasn’t said he definitely already knows.

Calum kisses Michael’s neck. “Technically I haven’t even given you the present yet.”

“Calum,” Michael says, leaning away so he can see Calum’s face in its entirety, all the dips and curves and creases and the laugh lines and the deep brown of his eyes and every inch. “You’ve given me the present every day for the last seven years.”

Calum huffs, lips pulled upward, and he draws Michael into a kiss, one that’s doomed from the start for the way neither of them can stop smiling long enough to turn it into anything real.

“That was cheesy, but I just proposed, so I’ll let you have it,” Calum murmurs against Michael’s mouth. He laughs. “Oh, fuck, I love you. Can I give you the ring?”

“Yes, please do.”

Calum fumbles with the ring box until he extracts the ring, then takes Michael’s left hand and slides it on. “Beautiful.”

“It is,” Michael says reverently, gazing at the crystal and then holding it up so he can see Calum at the same time.

“So?” Calum says hopefully, tilting his head. “How would you rate this birthday present?”

Michael does a double-take. He’d completely forgotten his birthday in the excitement. “Ten thousand out of ten,” he says, and kisses Calum sweetly on the lips. “You’re going to have a lot of trouble topping this for my 26th, though.”

Calum just laughs, like he knows what Michael knows: that the promise of spending every birthday for the rest of his life with Calum is a gift Michael will keep receiving every year, and nothing could ever beat that.

21 notes · View notes

shigarakis-fifth-hand · 4 years

Text

Mha Scenarios

@drbumpkin said:

May I have separate headcanons for being the sibling of Bakugo, Todoroki and Midoriya? 🙏 They can be younger or older

Bakugo

You’re his older sister, so of course you two fight a lot

It’s not because you two have stuff to argue about, but because you two are so different

You’re this beautiful, calm, confident young lady who managed to become a hero by 20 and have your own hero agency by 30

All your parents can talk about is how amazing you are

It’s fair to say that you’re a lot more like your father than mother

Bakugo hates talking about you to his friends, since you’re all his parents talk about

It’s honestly where a lot of his confidence issues come from

You are kind though, so it’s hard for him to be mad at you for that

When you come home from college, he stays far away

He hates how happier your parents are with you than him

He’s not jealous though, he knows you deserve it more

He doesn’t talk to you for awhile when he’s in middle school, until you get hurt from a villain attack

You’re in a 3 week coma, and he comes everyday

EVERY

SINGLE

DAY

Since you can’t respond, he tells you about everything going on in his life

“I went out running today and I saw Deku training on that dumpy beach.”

“Mom is getting on my nerves about my grades, it’s not my fault I can’t get all A’s like you.”

“UA is having their test, but I don’t know if I’ll be able to get out of bed for it.”

“I’m just so nervous, I literally feel like I’ll kill myself if I don’t make it in, I almost don’t want to go and just avoid the rejection.”

“I think Deku cleaned up an entire beach but I might be crazy.”

“Why can’t I be calm like you? I yelled at a girl for tripping in front of me and almost making me trip. She started crying and then I yelled at her for crying.”

“I got suspended for punching a kid. How come I’m not good like you?”

“I got into UA, so why do I still feel like a nobody?”

“I want to jump off the roof of UA, but you might come back. I miss you so much.”

“I met this kid named Kirishima. He’s different from anybody else. He makes me feel like maybe life is worth living.”

“Y/n, I think I’m gay.”

“Kiri and I went on a date, he wants to meet you. You could maybe meet him when you wake up.”

“Please wake up, I can’t do this much longer.”

“Life is just awful, I’m such a jerk to everyone.”

“Please come back, I miss my study buddy. My grades are dropping fast.”

“You went to UA right? Aizawa talked about you a lot in class today, I started crying. Fuck, damn Deku tried to comfort me.”

When you finally wake up, you make eye contact with him and he immediately knows you remember everything

But you just hug him, and he hugs back even tighter while silently crying

“I love you Bakugo.”

He mumbled back, but that’s more than you ever thought he would do

Todoroki

You’re his baby sister, and you two were close

The relationship of you two is not a common one, but Todoroki was never the talker

Whenever either one of you would be upset, Shoto would sit you in his lap and turn on his music in his room, simply hugging and rocking you back and forth

He’s six years older than you, and you’re the baby of the family

He was forced to watch your father abuse you when you were just a toddler, and he was a powerless teenager

Even though you were a girl, he did not go easier on you like he did to Fuyumi

You had a powerful quirk like Shoto, and he knew that you were the last child he would have a change to make the best

Endeavor had the habit of digging his nails into you whenever you stood next to him and he would get angry, as well as pushing you around whenever he got angry with someone else

Todoroki snapped at his father once when Endeavor threw a glass vase at you when he had gotten off an aggravating phone call with his hero agency and had put you in the hospital due to the extreme cuts over your body

The two guys had only stopped arguing when you fell to the floor unconscious, and forced them both to rush you to the hospital to avoid death

Todoroki lost all respect for his mother who did nothing, and took responsibility for you with his sister and brother

When Fuyumi and Natsuo left the household, and Shoto was about to leave for UA himself, the three of them were terrified for your safety

They knew that you simply weren’t safe, and your mother would not be any help for you

Fuyumi simply couldn’t take you due to her constant traveling around the world, and Natsuo knew that he was moving soon and you would be forced to switch schools

They needed a way to keep you at your school so reporters wouldn’t question it, and yet keep you away from your father

Finally, Todoroki managed up the courage to go to Aizawa, All Might, Midnight, and Present Mic

They insisted on meeting you, and immediately agreed, Midnight even wanting to take you under her wing

She was the mom you had never had, and never knew that you needed

You lived with Shoto in the dormitory, and the year he left UA was the year that you got into UA, due to the training you had done with Midnight

Your father and mother had insisted that Shoto bring you back, but that just caused Fuyumi, Natsuo, and Shoto to threaten to go to the police which shut them up

Deku

You are Deku’s twin sister, being the older one of course by two whole minutes

You guys are the best of friends and have been inseparable since birth

Yet you guys couldn't be more different. You got your amazing quirk when you were three. You claimed the ability to melt, reshape, and move items with your mind, a mix of your father and mother’s quirk that left you very strong

Even Bakugo was impressed, calling you his partner in crime whenever the kids at school would awe over both of the powerful quirks

Izuku, Katsuki and you are a big group of friends who do everything together, from exploring in the forest after every school day, and going into the city with your moms on the weekends

When Deku was announced to be quirkless for his entire life, you were heartbroken

You noticed how Bakugo slowly began to tease/bully Izuku more, and want to hang out with only you

“Who needs him?! Aren’t siblings supposed to have different friend groups after all? Plus, you and I will be the Dream Team when we’re older!”

It wasn’t until Izuku came home with a black eye and a cut on his lip when he confessed that Bakugo and a few of his followers had been chasing, punching, kicking, and bullying Izuku at school

The next morning in class, you stormed over to Bakugo’s desk in front of the entire class and hit him with your chemistry textbook

“You jerk! You say you’re my best friend and then you beat up my brother?! It’s not his fault he’s quirkless! It’s not anybody’s fault!”

Bakugo is standing up, embarrassed as everyone is watching and judging him from being yelled at by a girl, especially someone who everyone knew Bakugo liked

“So you’re telling me that you don’t see it?! He’s an emotional wreck of a person who is a waste of space and you know it! Just admit that we’re better than him and I’ll-”

You slap him across the face, shutting him up as he stands there, totally unknowing of what to do as you both have tears in your eyes

“I hope you hurt!! You can yourself a hero?! No, you’re a villain! I can’t believe I ever was your friend!! Forget the Dream Team Katsuki, I’m never talking to you again!”

You rip off the necklace Katsuki got you the weekend before when you guys went to a concert, and slam it into his desk before storming out, leaving him totally shocked and unaware of what to do

“Heyyy Bakugo, don’t let a girl get to you. That whore doesn’t-” One of Bakugo’s followers can’t finish his sentence as Bakugo slams his fist into his fist with all of his force, knocking out many teeth and earning Bakugo a week long suspension

Word spreads around the school quickly, and you are labeled as the boss bitch of the school, while Bakugo is somehow known as the jackass who doesn’t respect girls, Izuku going uninvolved in the gossip going around

When you meet up with Deku to walk home, you sees he’s been crying

You ask him who hurt him, ready to bitch-slap anyone, but it met by him hugging you tightly

“T-Thank you so much Y/n. I love you so much.”

You two hug for awhile, before you walk home to be met by your loving mother

Inko never finds out about Izuku’s bullying, and you like it that way, so Izuku can forget about it when he’s home

Thanks to you, Izuku stops getting bullied and is left to be alone, everyone knowing that you’ll kill anyone who even looks at him weirdly

When your last year of high school is ending, it is announced that Bakugo, you and Izuku are the only ones who are trying to get into UA

People shoot Izuku sarcastic glances, but nobody is allowed to say anything

Izuku ends up getting his quirk from All Might, which he quickly tells you all about, and you are left to train with All Might and your brother throughout the Summer to become great for the UA entrance exam

“I promised that we’d be together forever. Even at UA, when it was thought to be impossible.”

102 notes · View notes

sodone-withlife · 4 years

Text

gnossienne

Criminal Minds Fic Part One

| PART 1 | PART 2 |

Word Count: 3.8k

Warnings: implied (canonical & noncanonical) character death, canon-typical violence

Notes: I really don’t know where these ideas come from. I love agent as unsub stories, but I decided to twist it and this fic is the result. This starts a few weeks after “100” and involves an AU origin story for Hotch.

gnossienne: n. a moment of awareness that someone you’ve known for years still has a private and mysterious inner life, and somewhere in the hallways of their personality is a door locked from the inside, a stairway leading to a wing of the house that you’ve never fully explored—an unfinished attic that will remain maddeningly unknowable to you because ultimately neither of you has a map, or a master key, or any way of knowing exactly where you stand. (The Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows)

“Our agents have already done a great job of isolating this branch. With this recent development, however, your involvement may be incredibly helpful in completely dismantling them.” A short pause, “Should you accept, you would be doing this for at most nine months, but none of us in the task force think you’ll be doing this for more than six.”

“Foyet took care of that time issue—permanently. You know that.”

“Oh?”

“Don’t play dumb. What will my team know?”

“You know the protocol. David Rossi will be briefed on the basic information, but only because of your shared history. The rest of your team will be told that you’ve been temporarily reassigned to a task force involved in a classified operation and that you are to have little to no contact with people not in-the-know.”

Silence.

“You do know that the chances of them being brought in because of a related crime or something I’ll have to do are very high.”

“The paperwork required for them to be brought in is prepared and ready in a locked drawer.”

“And the brass allowed that?”

“Sam wasn’t the only one fighting for it. Erin’s relentless bureaucratic nature was particularly effective.”

“Strauss, she-?”

“Yep. She does like you, you know? Remember your two-week suspension a few years ago? She was hoping you would figure things out with your,” a brief pause, “wife and son.”

Heavy silence.

“You can rest assured that all bases have been thought of and covered, and I’m sure you know that your team will be in good hands.” There was a sigh.

“The brass has gotten desperate, given that it’s been over two decades of escalation, despite the best efforts of the agents both inside and outside working on isolating and dismantling the group. When this came up, the brass wanted to take complete advantage of it.”

“You—the brass knows of the tactics they employ, their M.O. for the more violent crimes, their ‘initiation’ process?”

“Yes.”

“And they know that I’d probably be at the very least complicit, if not an active participant, in such crimes?”

“As I said, they’re desperate. Slightly uncomfortable, yes, but still desperate. Though, you and I both know that your role would not require such depravity against innocents on your part, especially with your skillset and training.” Another pause. “It goes without saying that this will be difficult and high risk, and everyone involved will understand if you decide against doing it.”

There was a scoff, then a pause. “You are aware that while my motives for doing so are not insidious, they do not come from a place of altruism.”

“I don’t expect them to be.”

A longer silence.

“I’ll do it.”

~~~

“You’re looking bright right now. You have a date tonight, Morgan?” Prentiss teased tiredly as she, Reid, and Morgan made their way into the almost empty bullpen carrying cups of actually good coffee.

Morgan snorted. “Yes. With my bed.” Prentiss rolled her eyes, grateful for the levity after having spent a week chasing a child murderer out in Oregon. She shook that thought out of her head, starting her routine scan of the bullpen and surrounding offices as she set her coffee down on her desk. There’s Reid, there’s Morgan next to me, there’s JJ walking in with Garcia from their offices, Rossi and Hotch—

“Didn’t Hotch and Rossi get here before us?” she asked, noting the emptiness of their respective offices. The others simultaneously looked up at the senior profilers’ offices and then at the conference room, confirming that yes, they weren’t here.

“They could have already left…?” Reid suggested half-heartedly, clutching to his coffee like a lifeline.

JJ eyed him skeptically, “Dave? Yes. Hotch? Not likely.”

Whatever discussion that would have ensued was cut off when the glass doors suddenly swung open. The team looked over and watched in silent confusion as their leader strode determinedly towards his office, slamming the door behind him. Rossi, who was behind Hotch, walked in at a slower pace, a grave expression on his visage.

He paused by the team standing around Reid’s desk, “I’ll explain in a bit.”

Offering no further explanation, he walked up the stairs and into Hotch’s office. The team watched from outside as Rossi closed the door and blinds, deliberately preventing them from profiling through the window. The group shared a glance before reluctantly drifting away to begin writing up their reports.

“He got a phone call on the plane earlier, do you think it had something to do with that?” Prentiss leaned back in her chair, tapping a pen on her desk absentmindedly. Her speculative question pulled everyone out of their distracted focus on their work, opening the floodgates for continued discussion.

They were interrupted when, after twenty-one minutes and seventeen seconds (according to Reid), Rossi opened the door and walked out of Hotch’s office alone, catching the team’s attention.

“Someone get Garcia and JJ, they need to be here for this.”

Within minutes, the team sans Hotch was assembled in the conference room, facing Rossi.

“I would like to start off by letting you all know that this is all very sudden and unexpected,” the tension in the room skyrocketed as the profilers recalled the unpleasantness of the last few ‘sudden and unexpected’ events, “but there will be some changes in the BAU for at most” Rossi made sure to emphasize, “the next nine months.”

“Is this something to do with Hotch?” Rossi nodded in affirmation, much to the team’s increasing alarm.

“His position in the BAU is not being threatened,” he was quick to reassure them, noting their wariness and remembering the stories he heard about Strauss’s interference a few years ago. “But, as of tomorrow, Morgan will be the acting Unit Chief.”

Morgan reared back in shock as the others all focused on him. “What?” he asked incredulously. “What’s going on with Hotch?”

“Hotch has been temporarily assigned to a task force running a rather sensitive investigation, and he will be out of contact for the next nine months,” Rossi said, taking in the shock and dismay radiating out from the team with a heavy heart while hiding his own worry.

He turned to Garcia. “And Penelope—well, all of you,” he amended, flicking a serious glance over the rest of the team, “ I have been ordered to tell you that you are not to look into it in any way, shape, or form, at the risk of compromising their security.”

Prentiss held up a hand. “Hold on, he’s gone for the next nine months, just like that?” she asked as the others remained shell-shocked, trying and failing to imagine the BAU without their boss.

Rossi didn’t answer, turning away as something in the bullpen caught his attention. The team followed his gaze towards Hotch, who was standing at the top of the steps, his bag over his shoulder and a file box under his arm. They watched through the window as their boss inhaled deeply and swept down the stairs and out of the bullpen without looking back, body taut with tension and expression darker than they’ve ever seen.

The group continued to stare even after Hotch left their line of sight. “Believe me, this wasn’t a decision he made lightly,” Rossi let out a deep breath and turned back to the team.

“Why him?” Reid asked quietly. Rossi’s heart ached for the young man, who he knew viewed Hotch as a surrogate father. He met the youngest agent’s gaze with his own grim gaze. “There’s a lot that I don’t know about this situation, and that includes the reasoning behind this. What you know right now is all that I’m allowed to share, and my knowledge doesn’t extend that far beyond all of this.”

It was clear to everyone that they weren’t being told everything, but they recognized the resolute look in the senior profiler’s eyes; they weren’t getting anything out of him. Rossi made sure to make eye contact with each of the team.

“Hotch is not pulling a Gideon. He will be coming back,” he said strongly, “but in the meantime, we still have jobs to do. I won’t ask you to be completely adjusted and not think about him at all, I just ask that you continue to work hard and do your jobs in Hotch’s absence.”

~~~

“Hey Morgan, can you look over this case?” JJ asked, file in hand and standing in front of Morgan’s desk.

“Sure,” he replied, quickly finishing a sentence in his notes before looking up and taking the file that was held out for him. Concern slipped over his face as he noted JJ’s uncharacteristically spooked expression. “Something wrong?”

JJ shook her head, watching as he opened the case file. “Um, I’m not sure. I got the call an hour ago and the file was just faxed over. It might just be me, but…” she trailed off as he paused at the pictures of the victims and their information. He looked up, meeting her gaze.

“You see it too?” she asked, to which Morgan responded with a short nod.

He stood up, gathering the files and walked out of his office, JJ just a step behind him. The two walked into the BAU conference room, gathering Garcia and the other profilers on the way. The liaison waited until the others sat down before presenting the case. A picture of a conventionally attractive young man popped up on the screen.

“Joshua Brentwood: he’s the manager at a Manhattan startup and was found in his apartment just a few hours ago like this,” another picture appeared, causing Garcia to turn away while the others looked on in detached fascination. “But the coroner determined the time of death to be around thirty-six hours ago.”

Rossi quickly did the math. “Early Sunday morning, maybe close to midnight,” he stated, bemused. “And they just found his body?”

“Apparently a coworker went over to check on him because he hadn’t shown up to work at his usual time and called it in,” Reid replied, looking through the file intently.

“There were rose petals scattered all around the bed, and ‘to my dearest’ written on the wall in the victim’s blood,” JJ reported. “No DNA or other trace evidence was found at the scene, the unsub did a pretty good job of cleaning up after themselves.”

Four more photos popped up on the screen. “He was one of five men—a project manager, a marketing manager, and two software engineers—who have been found like this in the past six weeks. Three weeks between the first and second kill, and it’s gotten shorter. The fourth body was found only two days before the most recent victim was killed.”

“Five dead so far with this MO and staging?” Prentiss repeated, “Why weren’t we called in sooner?” JJ shrugged, unsure.

“Multiple knife wounds to the upper body, cause of death is exsanguination,” Reid mused aloud, looking through the victims’ info. “Relatively large age range but similar physical characteristics, height, body shape, hair color—” He suddenly stopped, separate pieces somehow coming together and forming a strange theory in his mind.

“Um, this…” he began hesitantly, looking at the liaison. “It looks like… ?” JJ nodded, flicking her eyes towards Morgan, who was watching Reid with a carefully blank expression. Prentiss briefly looked up, noting with concern the state of her fellow profilers. It wasn’t long before the dots connected in her head; she felt her mouth open slightly in shock as Garcia inhaled a quick breath.

Rossi cleared his throat, the sound ripping through the silent room, “Physical characteristics of our victims aside, any other similarities?” No one responded, eyes till on the pictures.

“I’ll look into their online lives,” Garcia quickly bowed out of the room for the comfort of her screens. The room was silent as the profilers took in the crime scene photos.

“We’re going to New York,” Morgan’s voice cut through the tension. He looked around at his coworkers. “Meet at the jet in thirty.”

~~~

“Talk to me, Garcia,” Morgan paused in his setting up of the evidence board and turned his attention to their analyst as he answered the call. He was the only one present, JJ being outside talking to the lead agent and the victims’ loved ones. Reid was exploring the two most recent crime scenes with the local agent, and Rossi and Prentiss were meeting with the ME.

“Okay, so local agents have already established that the first four were all at local BDSM clubs the night of their murder. I looked into the most recent victim’s whereabouts, and lo and behold, he was also at a club Saturday night.” She cut him off before he could say anything, holding off his questions. “And yes, the list of clubs is being sent your way right now.”

“You’re a gem, Garcia. Anything else?” Morgan asked, walking over to get the sheet that was coming out of the fax machine.

“Oh, yes. Okay, so I also looked through the security footage that was sent over, and I could only get footage of him coming and leaving, and when he leaves he always disappears somewhere within the block.” Faint sounds of her shifting around in her seat came through the speaker, “I checked the surrounding cameras, and there’s nothing. And the clubs’ security cams are absolute crap, all I can tell you from that is that he is most definitely male and between 5’10 and 6’0.”

Morgan let out a sigh. “It’s alright, Garcia. Send over the footage after you’ve put it through your programs and continue digging; I’ll call when we get something new.”

“Garcia out.” He allowed himself a brief huff of amusement before he turned to the evidence board, sobering up as he took in all that they had so far. Failing to keep his mind from straying towards thinking about the strangeness of the MO, he shook his head as he moved to lean against the table, pulling out his phone.

“Rossi. Have you seen Hotch’s scars from Foyet?” His head dropped in resignation as he listened to the other’s answer. “Alright, thanks. Get here as soon as you can.” He dialed another number.

“Reid, you got anything?” His eyebrows flew up as he listened to the chatter from the youngest agent. “Well, hopefully, there’ll be a match in the system. I want you back as soon as you finish up the fourth crime scene,” he moved to hang up, only to pause when Reid asked a question.

Sighing, he answered, “Rossi confirmed it. The first was slightly messy and the last two were quite sloppy, but the general locations match.” He looked up as JJ walked into the room balancing two cups of coffee and a couple of folders in her arms.

“Alright, I’ll see you two in a bit,” he hung up and turned his attention to JJ. “What’s up?”

“Only one of the victims had any family members nearby,” JJ said, walking over to the table and setting a coffee down next to him. Morgan nodded in thanks as she set her own cup down next to his, “and agents already talked to the coworkers. It seems like they were quite well-liked in the workplace and didn’t have any enemies, though they were highly private and could be classified as workaholics. Neighbors didn’t hear anything,” she finished, biting her lip.

“Go on,” Morgan said, noticing JJ’s hesitation.

She took a deep breath. “If this is going the way it seems to be going, I don’t see a point in talking to them again.” She walked over to the board, tapping a finger on one of the photos. “Exactly nine knife wounds on every victim? And with Rossi’s confirmation about the location of each stab wound…” she swallowed, trying to wrap her head around the mind-boggling situation. “This isn’t a coincidence. There’s not going to be any connection between the victims beyond the obvious; this unsub is probably just looking for surrogates.”

Morgan made a sound of agreement, dropping heavily into a chair behind her, arms crossed. The two silently stared at the board, ignoring the agents outside giving them strange looks.

“I forgot to ask earlier,” Morgan interrupted the tense silence, “has the press gotten a hold of this yet?”

JJ sighed and nodded, “Agents here managed to keep it quiet for the first two murders, but the story leaked two weeks ago, just after the third.” She eyed Morgan. “Should I hold a press conference?”

“Let’s hold off on that and wait for the others to come back and see what we have,” he decided, standing up. “Given the timeline, the unsub is probably going to kill again very soon, so let’s review the footage and see what comes out of it.”

~~~

“Alright, let’s start with what we know,” Morgan began, looking around the room. “We have five men who went home with our unsub and ended up tied to the bed, gagged, and bleeding to death from nine stab wounds. Garcia ran the security cam footage through her programs, our unsub’s height is likely just under six feet.” He opened his hands in invitation, “What else have we got?”

“The staging, it screams of the unsub demanding someone’s attention,” Reid said absentmindedly.

“Writing ‘to my dearest’ on the wall in the victim’s blood, gluing the eyelids open and thus forcing the victims to look at him,” Prentiss listed off, continuing his thought process.

“All the victims were stabbed in the same places, and the ME said they were done using the same knife,” Rossi informed the group. “There were no hesitation marks; the unsub is fairly organized. He knew what he was doing, and he’s taken care to leave no trace of himself on the victim or at the scene.”

Prentiss nodded along, “He probably has a criminal history, then. ”

“The last two victims were found in worse shape, however; the stabbings were much messier and the bruises from whatever he was doing were much more severe,” Reid threw in. “That, plus the fingerprint that the crime scene techs found at the end of the message in blood and the significantly shorter cooldown period… ” he looked at the others, “he’s clearly devolving; he’s going to have to kill again, and soon.”

There was a loaded silence, the profilers not wanting to bring up the element they’ve tried to ignore (despite knowing better but of course, they couldn’t help but want to ignore—).

“The rose petals scattered at the scene, the staging, the victimology… ” Morgan trailed off. He shook his head, pushing his feelings aside and biting the bullet, “With nine stab wounds that are eerily reminiscent of what Foyet did to Hotch, it seems like the unsub’s focus is on Hotch, and something happened recently that set the unsub off.”

“But Hotch isn’t here,” JJ stated the obvious as if she was trying to remind them (or herself), “He's been away on assignment for the past six months.”

“The half-mask and slash down the side of the face also don’t make any sense,” Reid remarked, frowning at the pictures. “Is it just a coincidence that every other aspect happens to be a reflection of Hotch, or maybe it’s like a reflection of the unsub themselves so that in the unsub’s mind, they and Hotch are forever connected?” The others were silent as they contemplated the inconsistencies.

A breath wooshed out of Morgan as he reached for his phone. “Hotch and the unsub have to have crossed paths before. I’m going to have Garcia dig into him,” he said, expecting the noises of protest that erupted around him. He held up a hand, stalling their protest before it went any further.

“I’m open to suggestions if anyone has a better idea,” he said, an eyebrow raised as he dialed her number and put his phone on speaker. No one responded.

“Quantico office of omniscience and excellence, what can I do you for today?” The analyst’s quip with her bright tone coming from the phone’s speakers alleviated some of the tension in the room.

“Hey mama, I hate to ask this of you but I need you to dig into Hotch, particularly his activities since Foyet first attacked him.” The team listened with faint feelings of amusement as the analyst did a double-take, choking on her coffee. There was a moment of silence when she finally calmed down.

“So it’s not a coincidence like I had tried to convince myself?” her voice was quieter, more subdued.

“I’m afraid not, baby girl,” Morgan said, hoping the nickname would lift her mood somewhat and glad to hear her voice brighten a bit when she responded.

“I’ll get right to it then. Also!” She quickly added, “the fingerprint analysis just came through, and there was a match in the system.” That caught all of their attention as they stood up, preparing to move if they had to.

“Do we have a name?” Prentiss asked.

“Unfortunately no, but I can tell you that it’s popped up in a bunch of crimes in the past decades—”

“What kinds, Garcia?” Rossi cut in.

Garcia hummed, eyes presumably roving across her screens. “Mainly what local PD determined to be drug-related incidents, some murders that went cold… but—and this is interesting—according to the reports, the victims apparently have ties to organized crime.”

Rossi did a double-take. “Where is the crime centered? Has there been bureau involvement in any of them?” he demanded, leaning forward over the table towards. The others watched, unsure as to what direction he’s going with his questions.

“Um, Brooklyn and Lower Manhattan… and yes the FBI was involved.” The agents watched in confusion as Rossi immediately pulled out his phone.

“I need to make a call,” he sent them a look, quelling their questions. “If I’m right about this, there won’t be any need to give a profile,” he said shortly, rushing out of the room.

The others remained standing, surprised at his abrupt exit. “So, does anyone know what that’s about?” Garcia asked.

JJ shook her head, still staring in the direction Rossi went. “Nope,” she responded, popping the ‘p’.

“Alright then, Garcia, I want you to send over everything you have on the previous crimes,” Morgan hesitated, clearly uncomfortable, “and on Hotch.” She acknowledged the order, hanging up.

Putting his phone away, Morgan turned to the others. “I’ll let Rossi do whatever he’s doing. Reid, JJ, I want you two scouting the area around the victims’ homes; see if you can figure out how he disappeared. Prentiss, you and I are going to take a nice tour of some of the BDSM clubs of the city,” Morgan ordered.

“We’ll check in in two hours.”

#criminal minds #aaron hotchner #bau #fanfic #david rossi #derek morgan #penelope garcia #spencer reid #emily prentiss #sodone gnossienne

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