#but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t get cold sweats or literally coughs up blood from time to time when it’s particularly bad | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

invisibleanonymousmonsters · 3 years ago

Note

Could you please write Jason and Y/N (Father of Mine Universe) with prompts 48, 31, and maybe 30? could go either way.

Even if you choose not to write this, thanks for creating Father of Mine, it's one of my favorite fics!

Father of Mine

48. Using your body to shield them from attack.

31. Hurriedly checking for their pulse.

30. Performing CPR when they stop breathing.

Jason and Y/N were walking along the water after getting dinner.

Most of the harbors in Gotham were run by one crime lord or another. Which meant that there were very few areas on the water for civilians to enjoy – or feel safe.

But Jason knew of a strip that was under the radar.

There were a few other couples with the same idea. And random groups of kids and teenagers hanging out and messing around.

Jason was relaxed.

That was his first mistake.

Jason had immediately clocked a random middle-aged man who was covered in sweat and was visibly trembling.

Being far too familiar with the sight, Jason assumed the guy was another unfortunate addict.

But then he noticed the man was carrying a backpack.

Jason had all of 5 seconds to realize what was about to happen.

He shielded Y/N with his body while screaming as loud as he could, “Get down!”

Jason knew he couldn’t save everyone, and Y/N would always be his number one priority.

The next second, the bomb exploded.

The impact knocked Jason unconscious.

For how long, he had no idea.

He was disoriented from the explosion, his ears ringing from tinnitus and his vision struggling to focus from the vertigo. Yet, somehow he could still hear the beating of his heart in his eardrums.

People were screaming in pain around him and others were crying as they looked down at their loved ones. Half the harbor was on fire from the explosion. Cement and debris was everywhere. Jason’s hair was grey from it.

He blinked and then panicked.

“Y/N!” Jason screamed when he realized she wasn’t anywhere near him.

He jumped to his feet and whipped around in every direction looking for her.

“Y/N!” He screamed even louder, his throat burning from the effort.

Then he realized when the explosion when off they had been standing next to the railing that blocked off the water. The railing that had now been blasted away and into the harbor.

Jason sprinted to the edge and looked down at the black water below.

Without hesitation, he dove into the depths.

It was almost impossible to see anything.

But just seconds later, he found Y/N unconscious and completely submerged.

Jason had never swam faster in his life.

But when they breached, Y/N didn’t gasp for air.

She was completely unconscious.

Jason’s eyes darted around, trying to find their escape.

By some miracle, there was a rusty ladder that led back up to the pier from the water.

Jason put Y/N’s body over his shoulder as he climbed the ladder, silently praying that the metal didn’t break under their combined weight.

When they reached the top, he gently laid her down and his fingers shot to the pulse point at her neck.

Nothing.

“No, no, no,” Jason mumbled. “Y/N. Come on, baby. You’re not doing this to me.”

He found his Red Hood comm in the pocket of his jacket, and put it to his hear.

“Contact Bruce,” he commanded the AI as he started performing CPR on Y/N.

“What is it?” Bruce answered with slight panic.

Jason had never called him like this before. And therefore Bruce knew immediately something terrible happened.

“Get the fucking jet here right now,” Jason growled.

“What’s happened?” Bruce asked, but it was obvious he was moving around already to leave.

“There was an explosion. She doesn’t have a pulse and she’s not breathing,” it was all Jason was capable of giving him. “Just get the fucking jet here now!”

He didn’t have time to explain more and hung up. And he didn’t have to say Y/N’s name for Bruce know who he was talking about. There was only one woman in Jason’s life that would have him sounding so panicked and desperate.

Jason continued his CPR, fully focused now that he knew Bruce was on the way.

Still nothing.

He did another round of compressions.

Jason’s eyes started watery as his mind began to believe that Y/N wasn’t going to make it.

He wouldn’t survive.

Y/N had changed his life. She made him better, made him good, made him want to worker harder – do literally anything to become the man she deserved and to continue to be deserving of her love.

“Please,” Jason whimpered. “Please don’t leave me.”

But then Y/N’s eyes shot open and she immediately turned over and started coughing up water.

“Holy fuck,” Jason gasped in relief at the sight.

Y/N continued coughing until her throat was scratched and dry.

Jason rubbed her back, trying to comfort her without preventing her body from getting all the water out of her lungs.

After she finished, she was shaking from being freezing cold and from the shock.

Despite him also being wet, Jason put his coat over her shoulders.

“Don’t ever fucking do that to me again,” Jason begged Y/N as he pulled her into his arms.

He kissed the crown of her head and hoped his body heat would be enough to warm her up.

“What happened?” Her voice had never been raspier and it was now quivering.

“A bomb went off. I thought I shielded you from it, but the impact must’ve thrown you into the harbor.”

“I’m OK,” she tried to tell him. But her shaking voice was unconvincing.

Jason wasn’t letting go of her anytime soon.

It was only 5 minutes later that the batplane touched down on what remained of the pier.

Jason looked up to see Dick, Tim, and Damian jump out and immediately start helping the injured.

But Bruce, dressed in his Batman uniform, was walking straight to Jason and Y/N.

“She needs to go to a hospital,” Jason called out when Bruce was a few yards away. “Her heart stopped beating and her lungs took in too much water.”

Jason knew Bruce wouldn’t argue with taking Y/N there immediately.

Bruce was clearly relieved at seeing his daughter alive and conscious. But that didn’t mean she was in the clear. Nearly drowning still had its risks. If her heart stopped beating, she was in danger of brain damage or pneumonia.

“I’ll take her. You help the others,” Bruce ordered as he stepped forward to take Y/N from Jason’s arms.

“Like fucking hell I am,” Jason growled as he stood up with Y/N in his arms.

Bruce was about to fight him on it, but then he met Y/N’s eyes. Her skin was pale and almost had a blue tint to it. She looked so small and vulnerable in Jason’s arms. Not like the strong and grown woman that had first strutted into Wayne Manor.

“I’m not leaving her,” Jason added for good measure.

Bruce finally sighed and nodded. “Take the jet. You know where to go. I’ll meet you there.”

Before Jason could carry her away, Y/N whispered, “What about the others?”

Her eyes tried to look around her boyfriend’s broad shoulders to see the other victims.

“B is going to help them,” Jason gently told her. He even angled his body to block her line of sight. She didn’t need to see any of it.

“We already have ambulance and firemen on the way,” Bruce added, hoping it would convince her further not to worry herself.

There was nothing she could do for them anyway.

Then Bruce locked eyes with Jason. “Go. Get out of here. Take care of her.”

“Always,” Jason muttered quickly before hurrying Y/N to the jet.

————————

Y/N woke up to two low voices clearly having a serious discussion, but trying to keep their voices down.

When she opened her eyes, Y/N realized she was in a hospital room. But it wasn’t just any room. It seemed like a five-star hotel with how fancy it was. It didn’t have that sterile smell or those harsh fluorescent lights that caused headaches.

“It was a turf war,” Bruce told Jason quietly. “Carmine has jurisdiction over the harbor the two of you were at tonight. But Farrelli wanted it for himself. He forced his latest victim to bring the bomb.”

Jason crossed his arms. “So, the guy was dead either way, Farrelli just thought he’d put him to some use before he murdered him.”

Bruce nodded. “And kill five more people with him.”

“Five people died?” Y/N burst out without realizing it.

Both men’s heads whipped in her direction.

“You’re awake,” Jason sighed and immediately rushed to her side.

“What hospital am I at?” She mumbled, looking around again.

“Gotham General,” he told her as he sat on the edge of the bed to face her.

Jason gently grabbed her hand and kissed the back of it. But he had no intention of letting it go, keeping a tight hold and rubbing his thumb back and forth across her skin.

Bruce was slower to join them as he walked with his hands in his pant pockets.

“This isn’t Gotham General,” she commented with a suspicious gaze.

Jason scoffed and rolled his eyes. “Yeah. Well, as soon as Bruce arrived, they realized that you’re Gotham royalty by blood, and brought you to a special suite.”

Then Y/N’s eyes slowly moved to her father. “Five people died from the explosion?”

She needed to know. But she also knew that both men would try to protect her from possible survivor’s guilt.

So Bruce just nodded.

“How are you feeling?” Jason asked, trying to distract her by changing the subject.

“Tired. And my throat is sore,” she admitted with a light shrug.

Then she looked up at Jason and really took him in.

There were dark shadows under his eyes – the eyes that were still a bit bloodshot.

Had he been crying? She hadn’t registered that.

His hair was a mess, probably from drying haphazardly after jumping into the water to save her.

“Are you OK?” She asked.

It would be right on brand for Jason to risk his life saving her, but ignore any and all injures that he’d received from the same life-threatening travesty.

“I’m fine. Always am,” Jason reassured her too quickly.

Bruce chimed in,“We were all just worried about you, Y/N.”

Both men knew her next question was going to be about the well-being of Damian, Dick, and Tim.

“Can we go home?” She asked softly.

Y/N had always hated hospitals. And once her mother got cancer, Y/N absolutely despised them. Now all she had attached to them was bad memories that constantly threatened to trigger her.

“They just need to get a scan back, make sure everything’s good,” Jason tried to comfort her. “Once that’s good, I’ll take you home.”

He knew her distaste for hospitals and was prepared for her to want to escape at the earliest opportunity.

“Scan?” Y/N questioned.

“You didn’t have a pulse,” Bruce explained. “You have a concussion. We need to make sure there was no brain damage or any lasting side effects.”

“Right,” she mumbled, trying not to sound worried.

“You’re gonna be fine,” Jason reassured her as he cupped her cheek.

“Perhaps you should stay at the manor for a few days,” Bruce offered. “You can relax and not be bothered.”

“She can not be bothered in our apartment,” Jason interrupted, giving him side eye.

“Jason…” Y/N warned gently.

She knew the signs of Jason getting worked up. The fire in his eyes was always something Y/N could read – more than anyone else.

Bruce wasn’t offended by Jason’s little snipe. He was used to his temper. But his gaze did turn rather serious.

“Could I talk to you outside for a moment?”

Jason was about to refuse, not wanting to leave Y/N’s side. But he knew that would just most likely lead to an argument. And Y/N didn’t need to hear or see that. She was already exhausted and recovering. The last thing she needed was to witness was her father and boyfriend going at it – especially over her.

So Jason just nodded and stormed out of the room.

The quicker they got this over with, the better.

As soon as the door closed, Jason was sizing Bruce up.

“What exactly is your next move?” Bruce questioned.

“I’m going after Farrelli,” Jason rumbled, as if it was obvious.

No one put Y/N in danger and got away with it. Jason had already come up with a plan on how to seek his revenge.

It was going to be gruesome and dirty, but nothing less than what the bastards deserved.

Bruce clearly had expected this answer. “So do you plan on doing that while you take care of Y/N?” And he tilted his head as he challenged Jason.

“Are you really trying to stop me?”

Bruce took a step forward. “No, Jason. I’m trying to protect you from yourself. You get blinded by vengeance. And I let you get away with it. But now your actions don’t just effect you…they effect her, too.”

Jason blinked.

“Y/N needs you right now. Even though she will act like she doesn’t.” Bruce inhaled. “If you’re going to put revenge over her wellbeing, she should stay at the manor.”

This was a somewhat of a warning – an opportunity for Jason to do the right thing before he could make his mistake.

Jason’s head hung low now. “I can’t let him get away with it. She almost died, Bruce.”

“And he won’t. But we’ll take care of it,” Bruce promised.

Jason thought it about a moment, before he finally nodded slowly. “I think the manor would be good. But I won’t leave her.”

“I never said you had to,” Bruce corrected.

Jason nodded again and made his way to the door of Y/N’s room again.

“Jason?” Bruce called.

He turned around with an eyebrow quirked.

“Thank you for saving her life.”

Jason tried not to roll his eyes, but took a few steps back to Bruce.

“You have your opinions about me and her, I’m sure. But I want to make this is clear: I’m always going to protect her. Always. What happened tonight is never going to happen again. I’d die protecting her.”

Jason didn’t wait for Bruce’s response before turning back around.

But just as he opened Y/N’s door her heard, “I know, Jason. I’ve always known.”

—————

Jason was able to convince Y/N to stay at the manor.

And she surprisingly agreed – as long as he came with her.

Alfred spoiled her rotten with all of her favorite meals. He was constantly bring her tea or coffee.

Damian ordered all of his pets to keep her company and cuddle with her. To the point where Jason was annoyed because there was literally no space for him.

Tim downloaded a hundred movies for her to watch.

Dick sent flowers and chocolates.

Even Clark stopped by when he heard what happened.

Unbeknownst to Y/N, all the boys and Bruce were working on taking down Farrelli.

If Jason was the man from just a few years ago, Farrelli’s corpse would already be rotting somewhere in Gotham. But he had changed. Now they had to do things the right way.

Jason stuck to Y/N’s side like glue. He hovered, watched her like a hawk, wouldn’t let her do anything on her own.

After of a few days of this, Y/N finally had enough.

“You gonna talk to me anytime soon?” She asked him in bed on their third night.

Jason broke their eye contact.

“Jason. Please?” She whispered.

Silence filled the room.

“I can’t do it.”

Her brow furrowed. “Can’t do what?”

For a split moment, she thought he was about to try and break up with her.

“I can’t watch you get hurt again. I just…I can’t.”

She cupped his cheeks. “But I’m right here. And I’m fine, Jason.”

“When I…” He hesitated. “When I died. I knew it was coming. I saw the bomb counting down and I knew there was no escape. I accepted my fate. I knew I was going to die. And I was scared.”

Jason shook his head and took in a deep breath, “But Y/N…that was nothing compared to what I felt when I was convinced I’d lost you. I’m never been so fucking terrified in my life.”

Y/N smothered him with her embrace. “I’m so sorry for scaring you. But I’m OK. Please just focus on that. Please.”

“I can’t lose you, Y/N.” Jason whispered into her hair. “This place was hell before I met you. And I have no fuckin’ interest in fighting it without you.”

Y/N wished she could promise Jason that she would never leave him. But she was the child of a mother who passed far too soon. She knew life and death could be so cruel, ripping the loved ones away with or without warning.

No, she didn’t die this time. But who was to say something like this wouldn’t happen again? And maybe next time, she wouldn’t be so lucky. They lived in Gotham after all.

“Fate may have other ideas…But I never plan on leaving your side, Jason. I love you too much to do anything else.”

Jason actually laughed. “I can fight fate.”

He’d done it once before.

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

I have a few more of these prompts for bonus material. But let me know what you think 🤗

#father of mine #father of mine bonus content #bruce wayne x daughter #bruce wayne x daughter!reader #jason todd x reader #jason todd reader insert #red hood x reader #red hood reader insert #batfam #batboys #batsis #bruce wayne x batsis #batboys x batsis #batfam x batsis

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alpacaparkaseok · 4 years ago

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Pairing: doctor!Jungkook x reader (ok, technically clinical technician!Jungkook lol)

Wordcount: 1.6k

Genre/Rating: Fluff! strangers to friends to a lil’ more 👀👀

Tags/Warnings: mentions blood just for a moment (when talking about JK’s work). shouldn’t be anything too crazy, Jungkook is just your annoying new neighbor that sings abnoxiously loud in the shower. oh, and did I mention that the two of you share a wall?

a/n: You wonderful, beautiful people! This post is a commission for the ARMY for AAPI Justice and Advocacy Event. Please click here to find more resources and consider donating to the cause! And THANK YOU @ezralia-writes for commissioning this! *insert round of applause and flowers* I hope you enjoy!

April 23rd

You should’ve known it was too good to be true.

You’d been living in utter bliss for the past six months, having moved across the city to a relatively quiet part of town. You had a neighbor; you were sure of it. Had seen their car in the parking lot too many times to not have one.

It’s just, you never heard them. Let alone saw them.

Which was completely fine. The loud, obnoxious lifestyle people usually adopted in a city as bustling as Seoul had never suited you anyway. For six months, you basked in the glorious silence from your next door neighbor. The only signal that you ever got that they were even there was the occasional time you’d both be showering at the same time. Your bathrooms shared a wall, which you tried to ignore. Thankfully, your neighbor seemed to ignore it as well.

So why is there a man suddenly belting out I Will Always Love You as though performing a one-man tribute to Whitney Houston?

The sound of his booming voice nearly knocked you off your feet as you made quick work of shaving your legs. Surely he must have heard your shower running! Can’t a woman get some peace and quiet on a Friday morning?! There’s nothing to celebrate yet!

You even make a point of clearing your throat loud enough to be heard on the other side of the wall, but he doesn’t falter in his loud, albeit dazzling, rendition of the song. He pauses for a second, giving you just enough time to let out a sigh of relief and begin on your other leg.

Leg soapy and ready to be shaved, you make it halfway through one swipe before the singing starts up again.

He only paused to switch songs. Whitney Houston tribute over, he begins a passionate ode to Adele’s greatest hits.

“What did I do to deserve this?” You sigh, resolving to finish up before the song is over and you’re subjected to another.

May 1st

It begins innocently enough. After a week of subjecting you to his siren-like voice, there’s a knock on your door. Of course, you assume it’s the food you’d ordered, so you just finish throwing your sweatshirt on before wrenching the door open.

“Hey,” you look up to tell the deliverer that you just need to grab your wallet, but your mouth runs dry at the sight before you.

Grinning with a friendly smile that might be a bit of overkill, a boy – nah, a whole man if we’re being honest here – gives you a sheepish wave. His long brown hair is falling into his eyes, which he meticulously brushes off to the side.

“Hey! You must be my neighbor!” When you keep staring at him with what you hope is a look of neutrality, he flushes a deep red. “I- er, I mean, obviously. That was kind of dumb of me…”

“You’re not the food guy?” It’s the only you can think to say, willing your eyes to focus in on his face and not the way his sweatshirt and sweats look on him. “Uh…I mean, yeah. Neighbors.”

The man before you lets out an adorable chuckle at your silly comment. “Oh, good. I’m not the only awkward one here.”

“Woah! I’m not awkward! I’m just hungry!” You cry out, making him only laugh harder.

“I’m Jungkook, by the way,” he says, nose crinkling as you look at him with wide eyes. So this is what was on the other side of the wall, belting out Mariah Carey this morning. “I just moved in last week, and realized that I haven’t even come over to say hello. You know, like a friendly neighbor should.”

“Hey, Jungkook.” You look around, wondering if there’s anyone else outside witnessing this incredibly awkward first meeting. “I, uh, well…I’m me.”

He snorts. “Yeah, I know. I’m assuming your name is the one on the mailbox? Next to mine?”

We have mailboxes??

“Oh, ha! Yeah, that’d be it.” You shuffle back and forth on your feet, unsure of what to say next. “Well, I thought you were the delivery service-“

“I just delivered food, too!” Jungkook says with a grin. He runs his hands up and down his arms even though it’s not cold outside. “I was thinking that…you know, we could eat together? I actually ended up ordering extra, but it looks like that wasn’t necessary.”

You grin, settling against your doorframe. “Ah, so you’re here to woo me with takeout? You should’ve just said so.”

It looks like Jungkook’s considering moving again. He swallows thickly, eyes flitting over to you before staring down at your floor. “Actually…I heard you watching TV…were you watching Wanda Vision?” When you nod, he sucks in a breath. “It’s just, I haven’t bought a TV yet, and-“

“Oh, tough luck. Good luck with that.” You burst out into a fit of giggles at the tentative look in his eyes. Silently forgiving him for all those mornings that doubled as musicals over the past week, you wing the door open a little wider and gesture for him to come inside. “Come in, I need someone to bounce theories off anyways.”

That’s all it takes before Jungkook is bounding inside, settling down on your couch with an air of comfortability that seems so at odds with his shy nature. Then again, everything about him seems to contradict his shy smile.

You like it.

June 2nd

What originally started as a simple friendship; Jungkook brought food and you let him have the remote; quickly turned into constant interaction. You learned that he had a roommate that was hardly ever home named Taehyung. He has a brother that he visits every other month. He works as clinical technician, but he’s known more for his beautiful voice more than his title as doctor.

Apparently he was known in the lab for singing little lullabies to the glass flasks containing different samples of blood and other fluids, even occasionally chatting with them as though they were avidly listening.

The more you learned, the more you really wished your old neighbor never moved out in the first place. Especially as you slipped on some shoes to take out the trash one night only to run face first into a familiar chest.

“Jungkook,” you groan, rubbing your nose and peeking up at the boy-like grin he wears. “What was that for?“

You step around him, closing the door to your apartment and heading down the stairs to where the dumpsters were located. “My bad. I was just about to knock.”

He matches your stride, hair whipping about in the wind. You realize that he’s wearing his lab coat, making you furrow your brows. “Aren’t you supposed to leave that at the lab?” You ask, pointing to the white coat.

Jungkook pouts, looking down at his coat as though just remembering that he was still wearing it. “Oh, well I have to wash it, you know. I brought it home with me today.”

“Ok…but why are you still wearing it?” You give him a half-smile as he reaches to open the lid to the dumpster, allow you to throw your trash inside.

Jungkook blinks, as though this latest question completely threw him for a loop. “Uh…I thought it might help.”

“With what?”

He sighs, running a hand through his hair. “You think doctors are sexy, don’t you?”

“What?!” You choke out quite literally, beginning to cough. “Who- I never said that!”

Jungkook grins maliciously. “Yeah, but I heard you watching Grey’s Anatomy the other day. And it was on your recently watched.”

You begin to walk away, waving him off. “That doesn’t mean anything, Jungkook. So what? It’s just a show.”

Running ahead of you, Jungkook bounds up the first few steps before turning around to face you again, effectively cutting off your escape route. “Be honest. You don’t find them the least bit sexy? This coat does nothing for you?” He runs his hands down the lapels for emphasis.

You attempt to push past him. “What is even happening today?” Jungkook stops you in your tracks, hands on your upper arms and trapping you against the railing.

“I thought I might as well give myself a chance,” he mumbles, head tilted to one side as he takes in the way you’re staring up at him with utter confusion. “Don’t you wanna go out with a doctor?”

You blink slowly. “You…you’re setting me up with a doc-“

“Yah!” Jungkook groans, pinching the bridge of his nose. “How many way do I have to say it? I want you to be the Wanda to my Vision!” “Jungkook, we’ve talked about this…” you sigh, hiding your laugh at his impatience. “They have a toxic relationship, why would I want that?”

“Don’t make me do this!” Jungkook whines, cheeks turning pink. “Just tell me yes or no!”

“To what?” You ask, feigning ignorance. “I don’t even know what you’re asking.”

“Nooo, you do,” Jungkook presses in closer as though that’ll help you understand. “I want you and I to…to…you know, I think we’d be good together.”

You frown. “Aren’t we together right now?”

“I swear-“ Jungkook takes a step back, sighing up at the sky. You snap your fingers, having a sudden epiphany.

“Oh, you mean together like we start singing duets in the morning through the wall?”

He blinks before bursting out into a fit of laughter. “I…yeah! Exactly!”

“No. But I will let you take me out on a date.” You give him a long look. “I’ve never been kissed by a doctor before, you know.”

Jungkook turns an impressive shade of red. “O-oh. You haven’t?”

“Nope,” you pop the ‘p’. Turning to head up the stairs, you leave him in his shock. “Wonder what it’s like.”

Taking off in a run, you only get about a two second head start before Jungkook overtakes you, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you in close, wide eyes eating up every inch of your skin.

Tilting your chin up, he breathes out, “Well, why don’t we change that?”

masterlist

commission a request!

#jungkook x reader #doctor!jungkook #jungkook fluff #jungkook x y/n #bts x reader #bts oneshot #jungkook oneshot #Jeon Jungkook x reader #doctor!bts #bts neighbor au #bts as your neighbors #jungkook neighbor au #armyadvocatesaapi

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wingsofkpop · 3 years ago

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Hiraeth - I.X: Was it Worth it in the End? Part Two

pairing(s): Hybrid!Im Jaebeom x Reader, Witch!Mark Tuan x Reader, Werewolf!Jackson Wang x Reader, Vampire!Park Jinyoung x Reader, Supernatural!Got7 x Reader

genre: Supernatual!AU, Dark Magic!AU, very heavy Angst, eventual Smut

warnings: Mature language, violence, explicit descriptions of fighting and injury, weapons, blood and gore, brief mention of a mutilated animal corpse, minor character death, description of trauma and mental illness, brief mention of suicide, mentions of murder, satanic themes and ritual, etc.

Trigger Warning: This chapter does contain graphic and explicit themes regarding violence, trauma, and death. Please do not read if this will harm you. This is your final warning.

word count: 10,6k

synopsis: How far are you willing to go to find out the truth about Moon Dye Bay?…

chapter directory

The nighttime is hushed, almost anxious as Minho maneuvers his way past gravestones and overgrown shrubbery. It’s almost like nature itself is too afraid of accidentally provoking the witch, sensing the torpedo of dark magic and violent sorrow stirring through his veins. He peers up at the crimson moon, grateful for the illumination it provides, and continues down his path—ignorant of the cold air bleeding into his flesh.

Minho knows this is probably not the best time for a visit, aware that his ex-covenmates are likely plotting some sort of mission to overthrow him, but he doesn’t care—he can’t care anymore. A part of him, the shameful, guilty part of his mind. actually hopes they will succeed, at least then, he would no longer have to endure the pain that comes with bearing this black magic. He can feel its poison rushing through his veins, seering his body from the inside out, killing his soul over and over and over again…

But isn’t this what he wanted? Revenge? Retribution? Minho performed that spell to hurt the very friends that hurt him—to hurt Mark, and he got his wish… so why does it feel like the world is caving in around him, swallowing him whole?

Once he reaches his destination, Minho collapses to his knees, unable to bear the weight of his burdens. His eyes burn with tears, but he doesn’t allow himself to cry. A silent gust of wind strokes his cheeks, painting his skin red with bitterness and anger. He welcomes the cold air, accepting the punishment, before lifting his hand to splay his fingers against the even colder surface of the headstone.

“I’m sorry…” Minho whimpers, “It didn’t have to be like this…”

The silence heightens his anguish—deepens the wounds in his heart.

If he could take it all back, he would… but he can’t.

“I wish you were here, noona…”

His murmur is lost to the wind, but it doesn’t matter. He climbs back to his feet before sparing one final glance at the burial place of his lost friend. After a deep inhale and a wordless goodbye, Minho turns and hastily begins back toward the mausoleum.

He was allowed this one moment of weakness—now he must get back to the horrible reality he manifested for himself.

☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾

“Can you be any more obvious…?”

Mark quickly awakens from his mindless trance, discovering, to his dismay, Dahyun looking down at him with a single raised, all-knowing eyebrow. He fakes a cough into his elbow before shrugging his shoulders, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You’re kidding me, right?... You literally haven’t taken your eyes off of her since we met up in the forest.”

Heat immediately rises to Mark’s cheeks. As if on instinct, his eyes trail back to his subject of interest, watching as you wipe the sweat from Jaebeom’s girlfriend’s forehead and neck before shifting to do the same to Felix. It’s such a simple action, but you somehow look so ethereal—almost like an angel sent from heaven.

He curses himself for his own cheesiness, then releases a defeated sigh.

“We got into a pretty big fight earlier.”

“Then don’t you think you should—I don’t know—talk to her instead of staring her down like a creep?”

“I think the last thing she wants to do is talk to me.” Mark drags a hand through his hair. “I… said some really stupid shit in the heat of the moment. She probably hates me.”

Dahyun scoffs, “God, you are such a fucking idiot.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“It means you need to get your ass over there and apologize to that girl.”

Her harsh tone doesn’t falter beneath his glare, nor does her tenacious expression as the two proceed with their silent staring contest. After a minute or two, Dahyun breaks off the competition with a long, heavy sigh. Her eyes are soft when she looks back at him, and suddenly Mark finds the dried mud on his shoes a lot more interesting.

“Mark, anyone can see how much you care about her—how much she cares about you.” Even when a gentle hand caresses his shoulder, the witch keeps his attention to the floor. “(Y/N) could never hate you—no matter how much stupid shit you pull.” She snickers, “And you pull a lot of stupid shit, so that has to account for something.”

He can’t help the amused chuckle that falls from his own lips.

“Thanks, Dubu.” Mark says, tilting his head to finally meet the warmth of her gaze.

“She’s a good one—a really good one, Mark.” The wolf hums, “Don’t let it be your fear that pushes her away.” She doesn’t give him a chance to reply further, pacing to a nearby corner to join a conversing Bang Chan and Yugyeom.

Sparing the wolf trio one final glance, Mark musters up the remaining courage he has left and pushes from his perch against the kitchen countertop. He forces himself to walk in your direction—each step releasing more butterflies into the confines of his stomach. Once he reaches you, close enough to touch your turned back, he almost chickens out, content with spending the rest of the night watching you like hawk, but the sound of Felix’s breathy voice locks him in place:

“—Channie-hyung and I have always wanted to go to Chicago… Is-Is it as windy as they say?”

“Even windier.” You say with a laugh. “I can’t tell you how many scarves I lost, and don’t get me started on how freaking cold the winters are.”

Felix laughs too, although it resonates as more of a wheeze than anything.

You shrug, “It’s a gorgeous city though—probably my most favorite place I’ve ever lived.”

“Then why did you leave? If you loved it so much?”

Mark’s interest piques when he notices how your figure grows tense at the young boy’s croak. He’s heard his fair share of stories of your heartfelt time in the Windy City, but he never quite figured out why you ultimately decided to move to Moon Dye Bay. You’ve always been reluctant to reveal certain details from your past, especially regarding your time in the foster system, but even then Mark has been able to pry the worst memories from your brain.

This subject, however, has been a brick wall.

“Because I couldn’t stay.” You finally answer, “It’s complicated, but something happened and basically I—”

“(Y/N)?”

He silently cusses as Felix interrupts your explanation, but his annoyance dissipates at the panicked expression etched along the teenager’s sweaty face.

“What is it, Felix?” You shift your position on his bedside to better face the boy, leaning forward to place a gentle hand on his forehead. Mark can only imagine how hot the skin is to the touch.

Felix’s words crack as they leave his lips, slicing at the witch’s heart like a dagger:

“Am… Am I gonna die?”

“Of course not.” You immediately say, but Mark can sense the uneasiness in your tone. “Everyone is doing everything they can to help you, okay?... You’re gonna get through this, and one day you and your brother are gonna go see Chicago yourselves and try not to get blown away into the next century.”

Felix sleepily chuckles, “Thanks, (Y/N).”

“You should get some sleep.” The moment the command leaves your lips, Felix is already closing his eyes and diving headfirst into dreamland. Not wanting to startle you, Mark waits a couple seconds—partly to give you time to regain your composure, and partly to give himself time to think of what to say. However, he doesn’t have much of a choice when you suddenly turn, growing aware of his presence. A frown overtakes your face, and he instantly regrets ever leaving his countertop.

“Did you need something?”

“No—yes, I mean—shit.” Mark buries a hand in his tresses to tug at his roots, attempting to juggle between putting together the right spoken words and reminding his body to breathe. “(Y/N), I—”

“If you came to apologize, I don’t want to hear it.” He helplessly watches as you rise from the bed before tossing your used rag on a nearby table. “I think you made yourself pretty clear back at my apartment.”

“I shouldn’t have said what I said—” Before you can storm away, Mark latches his fingers around your wrist. “—please. Just give me a chance to explain.”

Your shoulders rise and fall in a heavy sigh, but you make no move to tear away from his grip and he takes it as a chance to continue:

“After my mom died, I was so fucking angry…” Mark notices your surprised gaze when you lift your head, but he doesn’t meet your eyes. “I was angry at the world, at her, at myself… and when my magic began to show up, things got a whole lot worse.” He shakes his head, “I thought about just ending it—jump into the bay or maybe drink myself to death—but then I met…”

“Then you met Jackson.”

“He taught me how to deal with the anger—to use it as a tool, not a weapon.” His eyes begin to burn at the countless memories that reel through his mind. “It was because of him I learned how to control my powers, and I was able to bring the coven together—hell, he was the one who told them to nominate me as Regent, which right now, seemed like the worst fucking decision on the planet.”

Mark takes a moment to blink away his tears before taking a seat on an empty cot. He still can’t find it in himself to glance at your face, keeping his eyes trained to the wooden flooring.

“But when Jackson had an idea, there was no stopping him.” He chuckles sarcastically, “The bastard was as stubborn as a goddamn mule.”

“What happened to Jackson, Mark?” Your voice is both a sweet lullaby and a screeching siren against his ears. “How did he die? Really?”

“The initial plan was to infuse enough magic into Jackson’s werewolf form so his venom would be lethal to the Primes, or at the very least, to Jinyoung. It all went smoothly in the beginning, I was able to channel enough power to complete the transformation… but something went wrong—

“—Jackson was different when he shifted. He was ruthless… He didn’t want to just kill the Primes—he wanted to slaughter every vampire along with those who protect the secrets of their existence… no matter if they were witch, werewolf, human—they all deserved to die…

“The combination of his determination and the bloodlust drove him fucking mad… If Jaebeom hadn’t ripped out his heart, there’s telling what he would have done—who he would have killed…”

Mark leans forward to rest his elbows on his knees, attempting to hide his shame beneath the curl of his bangs. “—Jaebeom may have dealt the final blow, but Jackson died because the dark magic I used turned him into a monster—he’s dead because of me…”

Silence encompasses the room like a vice grip to the throat. For a moment, Mark believes you left him, too disgusted and ashamed to even breathe the same air as him, but the entrance of your worn boots into his vision proves otherwise. The image is replaced by your face when you kneel in front of his broken figure, laying your hands over each bicep. He notices your touch is gentle, but not hesitant, and warm—always so warm.

“You can’t blame yourself for his death, Mark.” Mark doesn’t realize he’s crying until you wipe a tear from his cheek. “How could you have known what that spell would do? You couldn’t have—”

“Magic always comes with price—especially dark magic.” He whispers, unable to hold back more liquid sadness as it trails down his skin. “(Y/N), if I ever lost you the same way I lost Jackson, my mom, I—”

Mark’s voice cuts out into a sob, and once your arms wind around his form, he completely breaks, releasing every ounce of repressed sadness and despair and pain into the crook of your neck. He knows he’s selfish for melting into your embrace—for consuming your comfort like a demon expelled from the heavens—but he doesn’t care.

When you guide his eyes to meet your own, Mark can spot the glassiness of your own orbs in the artificial light—along with enough compassion and ardor to send another flood of tears down his face.

“I’m not going anywhere, okay?” You affirm, your tone unwavering and stern. “I’m here—and no matter how many times you fall, I’m gonna be here to pick you up…

“I’m here, Mark… Do you understand me?”

He nods with a sniffle, tightly squeezing your hands between his own.

“I’m sorry.”

You smile at his apology.

“I’m sorry too… for everything.”

“Just… No more secrets. For real, this time.”

“For real, this time.” Mark’s heart rate picks up when he suddenly notices how close his face is to yours. From this angle, he can count the constellations glistening within your eyes and map the delicate curves of your facial features. If he were to lean just an inch closer, just one tiny inch, his lips would be on your own—

“Sorry to interrupt, but we have an issue.” At Yugyeom’s statement, you and Mark immediately wrench away from one another, almost as if having been caught engaging in forbidden territory. Mark pretends he doesn’t miss the weight of your hands inside his own as he rises from the cot, making sure to put an appropriate amount of distance between his and your shoulders.

He clears his throat before humming, “What’s going on?”

“Chan wants to go and find Chaeyoung’s body.” Although Yugyeom’s face remains neutral, Mark can see the sadness lingering within his eyes at the mention of his fallen packmate. “He doesn’t remember exactly where she was, so him, Dahyun, and I are going to search the forest.”

You immediately shake your head. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. Sunrise isn’t for at least another hour, and we have no way of knowing Youngjae broke the curse yet.”

“I’m with (Y/N) on this one, Gyeom.” Mark agrees, “We’re safest here in the bunker.”

“We can’t just leave her out there. I mean, she—” Yugyeom cuts himself off with a heavy sigh, before continuing in a softer tone, “You know how it feels to lose someone, hyung… Chaeyoung is—was… our family.”

Mark takes a moment of silence to ponder, conflicted between his common sense and Yugyeom’s pleading gaze. As you said, sunrise is an hour away—but Youngjae, the coven and the Primes should have overthrown Minho by now, right? Plus, he literally blew Changbin’s head off with that shotgun. There’s no way his body could regenerate that quickly…

“We’re all staying together.” He finally says, moving toward the kitchenette to grab his weapon from its perch on the counter. “And if anything seems shady, it’s an immediate retreat.”

Yugyeom delivers a nod before heading off to gather the other wolves. Mark moves toward the bunker exit, but is stopped by your form. A heavy sigh cascades from his lips—just from your expression, he knows this conversation isn’t going to go his way.

“(Y/N)—”

“If you’re gonna tell me I can’t go with you, don’t even bother.”

He shakes his head, “It’s too dangerous…”

“If someone tells me that one more goddamn time—” He can’t help the tiny smile that spreads across his face at the sassy way you roll your eyes. And he doesn’t protest when you move to follow Dahyun up the ladder.

☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾

Youngjae inhales a deep breath, taking the moment to feel his lungs expand, before releasing the air in an even deeper exhale. Even with the relaxation attempt, his body remains tense and his thoughts disorderly. He can’t help but feel as if Minho is waiting somewhere in the darkness of the crypt, ready to pounce on him like a predator to its prey.

Would he toy with his catch first? Or would he skip the pleasantries and go right in for the kill?

A hand appears on his shoulder, wrenching Youngjae from his morbid daydream. He angles his head to meet Lia’s concerned gaze and immediately tries to mask his fear beneath an expression of indifference. Unsurprisingly, the female witch sees right through his facade:

“I’ve known you practically my whole life, Youngjae. Whatever it is, you can’t hide it from me.”

His shoulders sag in defeat as a sigh blows past his lips.

“I’m just… worried about Mark-hyung. He’s powerless out there.”

“Mark is smart—he’ll know what to do if he finds himself in trouble.”

“And if he doesn’t?... I-I mean, what if Minho or Changbin found him before he could warn the pack? He could be dead for all we know—”

Lia silences his desperate quip with a shake of her head, “You shouldn’t think like that right now—”

“What else am I supposed to do?” Youngjae runs a frustrated hand through his hair before gesturing toward the main exit of their underground penitentiary. “Even with yours and Jisung’s energy, I don’t have enough power to take down the barrier spell.”

“Help is on the way—”

“How do you know that for sure?”

Lia remains silent, simply continuing to stare at Youngjae. He feels almost uncomfortable beneath her gaze, resisting the urge to shrink back and become one with the shadows.

“I don’t know… but I have faith.” She murmurs after a brief moment. “We’ve lost a lot, but I still believe that we’ll all somehow manage to come out of this alive. You should try doing the same.”

With that, Lia leaves to speak with a dangerously quiet Jisung. Youngjae spares the pair a single glance before heading toward the crypt entryway. A single beam of moonlight illuminates the exit stairway, almost as if mocking him about his inability to escape the dingy prison.

Youngjae knows Lia is right—of course she’s right. Worrying about the possible pitfalls of this plan won’t help him, or Mark, or anyone. He can only pray that his mentor safely found his way out of the cemetery and is sending backup right this very moment.

He needs to have hope, if nothing else.

“What if we somehow lure Minho down here?” Youngjae’s thoughts quiet at Lia’s suggestion, angling his head to meet her gaze. “Technically Youngjae just needs to touch him to siphon his magic… so why don’t we bring him to us?”

“Minho-hyung won’t step past the barrier.” Jisung dissents, dragging his fingers through his already tousled hair. “He probably knows we’re planning something against him, so there’s no way he’ll believe whatever ruse we try to pull.”

“Then we have no choice. Youngjae, are you sure you can’t take down the spell?”

Youngjae sullenly shakes his head.

“Is there something else you can siphon? Maybe the crypt itself?”

“The crypt was built by humans.” He answers, “I can only draw power from the supernatural—”

“Then it’s a good thing my dear brother and I weren’t turned into superwolf bait.”

Youngjae, along with the other witches, nearly leaps a foot in the air at the sudden voice. He whirls around to face the stairwell, which to his surprise, is now occupied by the last person he ever expected to see:

Im Jaebeom.

Jisung chokes, scurrying backward into the shadows as the hybrid approaches the trio. After taking purchase against the doorway, he offers his signature sly smirk.

“Evening, Harry Potter and friends… Funny meeting you down here.”

“Now is not the time for games, hyung.” Youngjae breathes a sigh of relief as Jinyoung’s voice echoes throughout the stone walls. Seconds later, he comes hustling down the staircase before shoving Jaebeom out of the way. The vampire then peers into the crypt, his gaze burning with the determination of a man at war. “Is anyone hurt?”

“No. We’re okay.” Lia steps forward. “If you’re here, I’m guessing Mark reached the wolf pack?”

“Your guess is correct.” Jinyoung nods, placing a hand against the invisible doorway. “My brother and I will do everything we can to help disarm the rogue, but I think it’d be best to free you all first.”

Youngjae joins the conversation. “I can take down the barrier spell, but I’ll need to draw energy from one of you to do so.”

“Let’s do this quickly then.” Jinyoung goes to roll up the sleeve of his white shirt, but is halted by his immortal companion. Surprise filters through Youngjae’s veins as Jaebeom shrugs the leather jacket from his shoulders with a huff:

“With my luck, he’ll drain you dry and I’ll have to deal with this voodoo fucker myself. I think it’s best we use my energy—sorry not sorry.”

“Alright, then.” Youngjae hums, “I’ll need you to push through the barrier just enough that I can touch you… It’s gonna hurt. A lot.”

“Good thing I’m a sadomasochist.” Jaebeom snickers at his brother’s unamused expression, “Too much?”

“Move your hand through that goddamn barrier before I throw you to the superwolf myself.”

The hybrid rolls his eyes, but follows Jinyoung’s instructions and proceeds to force his limb past the invisible blockade. He remains silent, but Youngjae can spy the uncomfortable twitch of his eyebrow and the tension along his stone-cold features. Blood begins to bud along his knuckles like a patch of blooming roses before flowing down his pale skin the more he presses against the barrier.

The siphoner raises his hand in preparation. “Just a bit more.”

A mere couple seconds later, Youngjae feels Jaebeom’s bloody flesh brush against his own. The skin-to-skin contact is slight, but enough, allowing the hybrid’s energy to spread through his veins like wildfire. Youngjae almost cries in relief as the magic conquers his entire body—a new kind of hope sparking somewhere within his chest.

“Phasmatos Siprum… Emnis Abortum…” Youngjae murmurs, positioning both hands against the invisible wall. He feels it crumbling beneath his fingertips, unable to withstand the power flowing through his figure. “Fasila Quisa Exilum San… Fasila Quisa Exilum San…”

A proud grin stretches along his features as the barrier buckles, then completely shatters. With Lia and Jisung in tow, Youngjae beelines out of the crypt and into the stairwell where Jaebeom, who’s cleaning the crimson from his knuckles, and Jinyoung reside. The latter nods, which Youngjae is quick to return.

“‘Kay, they’re free… Now what?”

“Now we find Minho and end this once and for all.” Lia answers, not sparing the hybrid a glance as she dashes up the stairs. Youngjae and the rest of the group try to keep up with the female witch as best as they can, not faltering until they reach the surface. The cemetery is quiet when they emerge from the crypt, Youngjae notices—almost too quiet.

He takes a short moment to breathe in the fresh night air before turning to a tense Jinyoung, “I need to get close enough to siphon Minho’s magic to perform the counterspell. You think you and your brother can find me a way in?”

Jinyoung nods. “You can count on us.”

“Stay close…” Lia warns with a sigh, “I wouldn’t be surprised if the bastard already knows we’re free—”

Lightning suddenly strikes a mere few feet from where Lia is standing, earning a chorus of screams and surprised gasps from the witch trio. Youngjae watches as Jinyoung speeds forward, grabbing Lia just in time to avoid being burnt to a crisp by a second bolt. With Jisung at his side, Youngjae quickly takes shelter underneath the overhang of a nearby tomb as even more lightning bombards the earth. He surveys the area, searching for the perpetrator responsible for the weather abnormalities.

“Minho!...” Lia screeches from behind a large tree, her tone far less than friendly. “Quit being a fucking coward! Come out here and face us goddamnit!...”

Youngjae huddles closer to Jisung as the wind suddenly picks up, ripping at his hair and clothing like a vengeful spirit. He moves to speak to his younger companion, but his words die on his tongue as the subject of the hour waltzes into view. The heavy gusts don’t seem to affect him, though that’s no surprise since the wretched weather is his doing.

Minho smirks, “They say lightning never strikes one place twice… You must be really special then, Lia.”

“Oh fuck off! We’re tired of playing your stupid games!”

“This only ends one way, Minho—” Jinyoung says, cautiously moving from Lia’s side to approach the powerful witch. His steps, however, are halted by another vicious bolt of electricity. Youngjae attempts to make out Jaebeom’s form through the blurriness of his wind-induced tears, but the hybrid is nowhere to be found. “—so we can do it the easy way, or the hard way! The choice is yours!”

“Last I checked, this isn’t your fight, Prime.”

“It became my fight the moment you threatened my family and my friends!”

Minho snickers, “Trust me, I had every intention of ridding this town of you and your brother’s filth.”

“Was it also your intention to kill an innocent werewolf girl!?” Youngjae’s heart drops at the vampire’s following statement. “Son Chaeyoung is dead because of Changbin—because of you!”

“Every war has its casualties.”

“And what of Felix!? Will his death just be another trivial loss in your obsession for revenge!?”

This time, Youngjae notices the cockiness melt from Minho’s features into something akin to trepidation. The wailing of the wind picks up to a screech, nearly drowning out the dark-haired witch’s weak inquiry, “What are you talking about?”

“Felix was bitten… and is dying as we speak!” Jinyoung shakes his head frantically. “Do you believe he deserves this, Minho!? Do you believe Chaeyoung deserved to die!?... You can fix this—make this right!”

Minho remains silent, and for a moment, Youngjae wonders if the witch will actually come to his senses and call off this whole ordeal. But just as soon as it appeared, the pained look along his features transitions into something more sinister.

“We’re all gonna die someday, so what does it even fucking matter!?”

“Are you hearing yourself!?” Lia screams from behind a nearby tree, “Look what you’ve become, Minho! How would Nayeon see you right now!”

“Don’t bring her into this!” Minho’s hiss blends with the moans of the wind. Massive raindrops begin to pelt down against the earth, immediately soaking Youngjae to the bone. For the first time, he notices the dark witch’s position in relation to his own. Realistically, Youngjae can be at Minho’s side in mere milliseconds, before he has a chance to blink. If only he can get him to move a bit closer…

As if reading his thoughts, Jinyoung attempts to coax the witch another step forward.

“Please, Minho… I don’t wish to hurt you.”

The latter shakes his head with a chuckle. “It’s too fucking bad that you think you can.”

Minho raises his hand, harshly forcing the vampire down against the muddy earth. Youngjae watches in horror as Jinyoung’s limbs begin to contort and rearrange against his own will—the sound of cracking bones and the vampire’s pained groans filling his ears like a haunting melody. He forces his gaze away from the gruesome sight and prepares to advance on the dark witch, but Jisung stops him with a hand to his shoulder:

“Not yet, hyung.”

“But Jinyoung—”

“Trust me.” His eyes are wide with determination—Youngjae can’t remember a time he’s ever seen Jisung so fierce. “I have a plan. Wait here until my signal.”

Though filled with confusion, Youngjae does as the young witch requests and stays in place while Jisung himself carefully maneuvers his way through gravestones and buildings, attempting to remain out of sight. A sudden burst of lightning cracks through the atmosphere, and at first, Youngjae fears Jisung has been caught, but quickly realizes Minho has his sights set on another party:

“I was wondering when you’d join the fun—I looked forward to tearing your bitch-ass apart.”

“I would say I’m flattered, but I rather like my ass.” Jaebeom saunters across a nearby rooftop. In the midst of the storm, he almost reminds Youngjae of a superhero—or more likely in his case, the psychotic supervillain. “Look, you’ve had your fun, kid. Now I suggest you release my brother and cut out all this petty-teenage bullshit before I break your body in places you never thought possible.”

“That’s it?... And here I thought you’d want the antidote?”

Jaebeom’s face darkens.

“...So there is a cure?”

“Of course. Every spell has its loophole.” Minho finally lowers his hand, ceasing the painful reconstruction of Jinyoung’s skeleton. Youngjae watches in confusion as the former retracts something from his pocket—some sort of vial, it seems—and offers it toward the hybrid. “The blood which Changbin drank to turn—it’ll heal anyone fallen victim to his bite.”

“You better hand that over before I rip your teeth from your skull.” Jaebeom growls darkly, hopping down from his overhead perch.

The witch shakes his head, “Not so fast, Mr. Wolf… See, there was only so much left—enough to heal one lucky soul.”

“You’re a sick fucking bastard,” Jaebeom spits. “You wanted this to happen—”

“Your little bloodsucking girlfriend is dying, isn’t she?” Minho tosses the vial toward the hybrid, who effortlessly catches it between two trembling fingers. “If you want to save her life, then I suggest you go before the venom does its job.”

“Jaebeom-hyung, don’t—!” Jinyoung gasps, slithering across the muddy earth like an earthworm lost to the world.

“You know she doesn’t have much time—”

“We can’t do this without you—we need you!... I need you, hyung!”

Jaebeom, staring at the tiny container in his grasp, doesn’t reply to his incapacitated companion. Youngjae curses the smirk that spreads across Minho’s face—a sign of victory—and attempts to spot Jisung and Lia somewhere between the ferocious raindrops. He has no such luck, and instead decides to pray for a miracle instead.

“If you hadn’t fucked around with the few people I care about, I might have actually liked you.” Jaebeom murmurs with a sigh before tucking the vial into his pocket and sending the dark witch a malicious sneer. “Well isn’t that too fucking bad.”

Youngjae leaps almost ten feet in the air as lightning strikes for what seems like the millionth time, although this time, it’s inches from where Minho is standing. After searching the area, Youngjae discovers Lia and Jisung across the way, hands clasped, eyes bright with passion, uttering some sort of offensive charm. Minho attempts to sprint in the opposite direction, but Jaebeom easily tackles the witch before he can get far.

“Now Youngjae-hyung! Do it now!”

At Jisung’s cue, Youngjae takes off into the rain. The bitter feel of Mother Nature’s tears against his skin quickens his movements, wanting nothing more then to end this hurricane, both literally and figuratively, once and for all. He reaches Minho in what seems like hours and hurries to grab his wrist—but just like the tides during a storm, the tables quickly turn.

At the wave of Minho’s hand, Jaebeom goes flying across the cemetery, crashing into a stone statue and collapsing into the resulting rumble. White-hot pain spreads through Youngjae’s veins like a poison, freezing his muscles and immobilizing his limbs from any further movement. He collapses to the ground, where mud immediately clings to his clothing.

Minho rises to his feet before stepping on Youngjae’s hand with a cackle, “Don’t you fuckers get it!? I’m untouchable! You can’t fucking win!”

“That’s where you’re wrong, Minho…” Youngjae chuckles, curling his fingers around the tread of the dark witch’s boot. Minho realizes his mistake as soon as the former’s hand begins to glow, foolishly attempting to squirm from his touch.

Thunder roars in the distance as Youngjae grins in triumph:

“Because unlike you… we’re not alone.”

The last thing Youngjae sees before he loses consciousness is a flash of white and the bewildered face of the dark witch as he collapses beside him.

☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾

“I take it Mark apologized?...” You nearly leap out of your own skin at the sudden inquiry. With a less than agitated frown, you turn to acknowledge the culprit for your almost heart attack. If you didn’t know any better, you’d swear some of these supernaturals have powers of teleportation or something…

“Goddamnit, Dahyun. Not all of us have superwolf hearing.”

“Sorry, dearie. Force of habit.” The she-wolf offers an apologetic smile, moving forward to hook her arm with your own. She allows Yugyeom, Chan and Mark to gain a bit of distance ahead before repeating again, “So Mark…?”

“We both talked it out and apologized… so everything’s okay now.” You hum—the tiny fib leaving a bitter taste in your mouth.

Truthfully, your encounter with Mark left you conflicted. Of course, you’re more than glad he finally opened up about his past, and even more glad that he trusts you enough to reveal his lingering feelings of trauma, but there’s still a pretty big fucking elephant in the room—one involving his dead best friend and the fact you can talk to him beyond the grave.

You should have told him then and there—right after you promised to abolish all secrets—but something inside you couldn’t do it… and you don’t know why.

“Why are you so interested in Mark and I’s relationship anyway?” You utilize your curiosity as a distraction from the guilt breathing down your neck, angling your neck to peer at Dahyun’s side profile. “Is there… history between you two?”

“No, no—nothing like that. Mark and I have just known each other since we were kids. Our moms were close friends, so Mark, Yugyeom and I pretty much grew up together.”

“He never told me that.”

“Don’t take it personal, sweetheart. Mark doesn’t like to talk about his past—” Dahyun sighs, “—too many bad memories between his dad and the bullshit that happened with his mom. He’ll come around eventually… he just needs more time.”

“I know his mom passed when he was a teenager, but Mark never actually mentioned how she died…” You bite your lip, sending a curious glance to your wolf companion. “It’s really not fair to ask you, but—”

“Mark found her in their own kitchen with her entire throat ripped open.” Dahyun’s blunt answer leaves your throat dry, unable to speak another word if you wanted to. “The sheriff ruled it as an animal attack, but I’m sure you’re smart enough to figure out what really happened.”

Your heart sinks, and you choose not to say anything further.

“Dahyun! (Y/N)! Don’t get too far behind!” Chan’s voice echoes from somewhere up ahead. With the black of night beginning to fade, you can just make out his, Yugyeom, and Mark’s silhouettes a couple dozen feet away. Dahyun gives your forearm a gentle squeeze before releasing your conjoined limbs to catch up with her packmates. You do the same, meeting an armed Mark about halfway.

His eyes glitter with concern underneath the fading starlight.

“Everything okay…?”

“Yeah, Dahyun and I were just catching up.” You inhale a deep breath before releasing it in an even heavier exhale. “But there is something I need to talk to you about—about Jackson and the whole resurrection thing.”

Mark shakes his head, “You have every right to make your own decisions, (Y/N), but I wish you and Youngjae would have come to me.”

“I know that, but it was more complicated than that—” You try to gather your thoughts while also attempting to make sense of your words. “I couldn’t tell you because, well—because Jackson told—”

“Mark-hyung! We’ve got an issue!” Yugyeom’s warning immediately cuts off your explanation. Mark shoots you an apologetic glance before hurrying the two of you forward to join the wolf trio. It only takes seconds for you to distinguish the cause of the beta’s distress.

A deer carcass lays precariously on the forest floor, and albeit it’s practically torn to shreds, you can just make out a single word carved into its bloody flesh:

Die.

“Shit—we need to go. Now.”

“We’ve already come this far. Chae should be around here somewhere.” Chan ignores Mark’s directive, stepping over the animal corpse to traverse further through the forest. He barely takes a step before the witch is grabbing his wrist. “Let me go, hyung.”

“Don’t be an idiot.”

“Don’t tell me what to—”

“Shut the fuck up. Both of you.” Dahyun quietly hisses, “Listen.”

You try to do as the she-wolf says, but all that meets your ears is the combination of your own labored breathing and uneven pulse. Judging by the confused expression along Mark’s face, he’s probably dealing with the same situation.

“What is it?”

“We’re being watched.” Yugyeom answers Mark’s inquiry in a whisper. “Mark, you and (Y/N) need to find somewhere to hide right now—Chan, Dubu, get ready to fight—”

As soon as the command leaves Yugyeom’s lips, Mark takes you by the arm and drags you behind a broad tree trunk. You fish Jinyoung’s pocket knife from your pocket while Mark cocks his shotgun in preparation. Who knew the day would come that you’d actually be grateful for the presence of two dangerous weapons…

“If anything goes wrong—you run like hell, got it?”

You shake your head at Mark’s demand. “I’m not just going to leave you—”

“Yugyeom! Above you!” At Chan’s warning, you’re suddenly shoved to the ground by the witch, watching in horror as a deranged Changbin descends from the treetops onto the beta himself. His skin is a sickly ashen shade, and his black veins so prominent it would make a nurse weep. There’s no human emotion left inside his dark eyes as he strikes Yugyeom over and over again with his lengthy sharp talons, tearing open his skin like a birthday present—he’s a complete animal.

“Bin, stop!” Chan throws his arms around Changbin’s shoulders in an attempt to pull him from Yugyeom, winding a tight arm around his throat before thrusting a knee against his spine. “Think about what you’re doing!”

With Dahyun’s assistance, the two wolves manage to separate the dark wolf from that of Yugyeom’s wounded self. Even so, Changbin clearly does not appreciate being stolen away from his prey. He easily escapes from Chan’s hold, landing a couple heavy hits against the latter’s nose before shoving him to the ground. Dahyun takes the moment to strike, bringing the dark wolf to kneel with a harsh kick to his knee, but the action does minimal damage. Changbin punts the she-wolf a dozen feet away as if she weighs nothing. You wince as Dahyun connects with a nearby tree trunk with a vocal thud before dropping to the ground with no movements of rejoining the fight.

“Shit…” You curse to yourself, “They won’t be able to take him down by themselves—he’s too fucking strong.”

“Watch your ears.” You notice Mark aiming his gun toward the dark wolf, waiting for an opportunity with his finger on the trigger. At his discretion, you cover your ears just in time for him to fire a first and second shot. A ferocious growl echoes through the trees, spreading goosebumps across your flesh like wildfire.

You watch both Chan and Yugyeom take advantage of Changbin’s distraction. The alpha delivers a swift, yet heavy hit against his wounded shoulder while the beta goes for his legs. Similar to Dahyun, they manage to pin Changbin to the forest floor. For a moment, you almost believe the fight has concluded in your team’s favor—but the tides shift. In the blink of an eye, Chan is impaled with a large jagged branch and sent tumbling into some foliage whereas Yugyeom is dealt punch after strike after kick, unable to escape the barrage of Changbin’s wrath. He eventually, like the former two, collapses to the earth and makes no move to rise.

Changbin cracks his neck before stalking toward where you and your companion stand.

“Mark—”

“I got it!” Mark quickly feeds another couple shells into the shotgun barrel, cocks the weapon, then aims down sight. He manages to sink a bullet into your target’s abdomen, followed by another in his bicep, but Changbin merely releases an annoyed snarl and continues charging forward.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck—(Y/N), move!” You leap out of the way just in time to avoid a powerful strike. Changbin’s hand splinters the trunk of the tree, sending pieces of bark in every direction. A particular shard catches the bridge of your nose, causing blood to warmly cascade down your skin. You quickly wipe the liquid from your right eye, ignoring the nausea fluttering inside your gut, before focusing back on the situation at hand.

You look up in time to watch Mark swing his shotgun harshly against Changbin’s skull. Taking advantage of his disorientation, you rush forward to stab your pocket knife into the wolf’s back. Changbin practically roars in fury, angling backward to land a hit to your face before you have time to react. The force of his strike throws you to the ground, a sharp pain lingering in your left cheek.

“Don’t fucking touch her!” Mark throws himself against Changbin, delivering hit after hit to anything and anywhere. Still, Mark’s human strength does little to outbeat the dark wolf, and you watch in horror as Changbin effortlessly pins the witch against his chest with a bloody hand around his throat. You desperately search for something, anything, in hopes of saving Mark from whatever deadly fate awaits Changbin’s bloodlust, but fate doesn’t seem to be on your side.

“Changbin—please don’t do this!” You cry, praying to some type of deity that the wolf is sane enough to understand your words. Even so, your confidence is low, seeing as talking clearly had no effect during your last encounter, but you’re fresh out of options at this point. “You know this isn’t who you are!”

To your surprise, Changbin actually answers, “You don’t know anything about me.”

“Maybe not, but I know you don’t actually want to hurt anyone…” You cautiously rise to your feet with a shake of your head, wary of the tight hold Changbin currently has on Mark’s jugular. “Your thoughts are all sorts of fucked up right now because of the dark magic, so why don’t you just let Mark go and we can—”

“Don’t you fucking get it! This fucker—” He yanks at Mark with more force than necessary, “—took everything from me! He took my pack, my alpha—the only people I ever felt safe with!”

“I understand you—”

“No, you don’t!” Changbin wails, “You can’t even imagine how I feel! How fucking hard it is to wake up in a world you know you’ll never belong! How much it fucking hurts just to go on and pretend like everything’s normal when it’s fucking not!”

“Tell him it’s okay to feel angry—” You whirl your head around to find a seemingly exhausted, yet wild-eyed Jackson Wang at your side. “—but none of this was Mark’s fault.”

You’re mortified at first, having never encountered the ghost anywhere outside your bedroom—but whether it’s the desperation etched along his features, or the flush of purple that overtakes Mark’s complexion—you quickly transfer back to reality:

“Changbin, it’s perfectly normal to feel angry and cheated, but this wasn’t Mark’s fault—deep down, I think you know that.”

“What does it fucking matter anymore? I’m all alone anyways.” The pure agony etched along his face has your heart splitting in two.

You’ve never seen a creature so strong and so powerful look so… vulnerable.

“You said the exact same thing to me when we first met…” Jackson murmurs softly.

“You told Jackson you were alone at one point too…”

An obvious wave of tense silence washes through the forest, making the beat of your heart that much more prominent in your ears.

Changbin’s whisper is dark—dangerous. “How the fuck do you know that?”

“Because… Because he’s here, Changbin.” You say, your eyes meeting Mark’s as the words leave your tongue. “You’re not alone because Jackson is still here.”

You don’t know what kind of reaction you expected from your revelation, but it certainly is not the heinous laughter that spills from the dark wolf’s lips.

“You must have lost your goddamn mind… Jackson-hyung is dead!”

“Maybe physically, but his spirit still remains.”

“You mean—” You turn to discover a bewildered Yugyeom unsteadily leaning against a tree, “—his… ghost? You—You can see his ghost?”

You nod.

Changbin sneers with a low growl. “I don’t fucking believe you.”

“There’s a cliffside back along the bay about twenty miles from the lodge,” Jackson begins, his tone a blend of nostalgic and sorrowful. “Changbin and I used to go there to watch the full moon rise before we turned into our wolf forms… I-I’ve missed that so much…”

“You and Jackson would always watch the full moon rise on a cliff overlooking the bay before you transitioned,” You repeat. “He says he misses those moments with you…”

“Stop it!” Changbin frantically shakes his head, “You’re lying!”

“He’s here, Changbin… He’s really here.” You move forward again, more confidently this time, and raise your hands in a sympathetic gesture. “And the last thing he wants is for you to make the same mistakes he did, so please—let Mark go and let us help you…”

It’s as if time freezes for a moment. Changbin seems to fight a battle with himself—countless emotions rushing through his teary eyes. You watch the dark wolf glance toward an unconscious Dahyun and Chan, then to a silent Yugyeom, before finally setting his focus back to you. You can only pray your face reflects the hope swirling throughout your veins—pray that Changbin will do the right thing.

To your delight, the blackness of his veins gradually begin to fade and the sharp claws protruding from his fingertips recede. You don’t realize you’ve been holding your breath until Changbin finally retracts his hold from Mark’s neck. You’re quick to take the unsteady witch in your own arms before sending the now normal wolf a thankful smile.

“Thank you, Changbin…”

He nods shyly before wiping a couple tears from his cheeks. You watch as Yugyeom cautiously makes his way toward the younger boy, murmurs something, then tugs the latter into a tight embrace that pulls even more liquid sadness from his eyes. The sight has your heart melting into a puddle of warmth—the emotion doesn’t last though, not when Mark’s dark croak enters your ears:

“You… can see Jackson…”

You shrug sheepishly, “I wanted to tell you, but he said not to… He didn’t want to hurt you anymore than he already had.”

Mark remains silent. You try to search for his features for some kind of anger or disappointment, but are only awarded with his surface level blank stare. Worry flooding through your veins, you look to Jackson for any possible guidance, but the ghost merely shakes his head.

After a couple tense seconds or so, Mark finally murmurs, “Jack… I—I’m so sorry. For everything.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for.” Jackson says immediately, “If only I had listened to you, then maybe things would have played out different.”

“He says it wasn’t your fault—he should have listened to you.”

“We both made some pretty shitty mistakes.” Mark hums, “I miss you, man. So fucking much.”

You don’t wait for Jackson to reply, already knowing his answer.

“He misses you too, Mark. Just as much.”

“How is this even possible…?” You and Mark turn to find the shocked gaze of Yugyeom, who is closely followed by the despair of that belonging to Changbin. “Supernaturals can’t even see spirits, much less mortals…”

“We never exactly figured that out. Jackson said he felt drawn to me from the Other Side—he kind of just showed up in my bedroom the night after Mina and Momo died.”

“Any contact with the dead usually requires some sort of spell or medium.” Mark bites his lip in confusion. “I’ve never seen anything like this before, not even in any of my mother’s grimoires—”

“Jackson!” Your body grows rigid as Jackson suddenly collapses to the ground with a pained groan. You hurry forward, kneeling next to the man, and reach for his shoulder. The realization of his phantom existence hits you like a bag of bricks when your fingers phase through his form. You settle for calling his name again instead, “Jackson—what’s wrong?”

“What the hell is going on?” You hear Changbin stress from somewhere behind you, but your focus is completely on the ghost in question.

Jackson lifts his head with a gasp, revealing a line of blood dripping from his nose. “I-It’s the witches!... They know about our plans—they’re trying to force me back to the Other Side—”

“(Y/N)?”

You shake your head feverishly, “It’s, uh, it’s the witches on the Other Side—they don’t like Jackson crossing over, so they’re trying to bring him back…”

Mark nods. “Witches, dead or alive, will do anything to maintain the balance of nature.”

“(Y/N)—shit—I don’t have a lot of time—” Your chest tightens at the urgency behind Jackson’s words. “I know so much just went down, but—”

“Don’t worry, Jack. I won’t let you disappear again.” You affirm before climbing to your feet to face your new subject of interest. “Mark—I need you to perform the resurrection spell.”

“Woah, wait—” Mark shakes his head, “(Y/N), I can’ t—”

“If we don’t resurrect him now, then Jackson is gone forever!” Your warning spreads a new tension across the atmosphere, manifesting in the form of sullen and panicked expressions. “Please, Mark—we have a chance to bring him back!”

“I can’t do the spell because I don’t have any magic…” Your heart sinks at Mark’s revelation. “Minho absorbed all my magical energy back at the graveyard… I’m so sorry, Jackson…”

“Hold on, you told me that there’s different types of magic…” You push, “Can’t you draw energy from something? Like the forest, or the moon, or, or—”

“Or me.” You turn, discovering the speaker of the response to be none other than a determined Changbin. “Minho-hyung’s spell may be gone, but I can still feel the magical energy lingering through my body.”

Mark hesitates, “I-I don’t know if it will work… and if something goes wrong—”

“Do you want Jackson-hyung back or not?...”

A moment of silence passes after Changbin’s question. You keep an eye on a repeatedly wincing Jackson, and the other on the witch’s face, attempting to decipher his thoughts inside the glow of his gaze. For a moment, you wonder if Mark will even provide an answer, until the words finally leave his lips:

“Fuck the balance of nature. I’ll bring you back, Jackson—I promise.”

☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾

Jinyoung stares at the sun as it gradually rises past the horizon, bathing his skin in a warm, celebratory light. His gaze wavers across the cemetery to the notorious mausoleum, where he watches Lia and Jisung carefully assist a barely conscious Youngjae past the doorway. After this crazy night, the siphoner definitely deserves a good, long rest. Then again, so does everyone else.

He releases a heavy sigh before shifting away from the witch trio. After sparing one final glance to the sunrise, Jinyoung allows his feet to carry him through the early morning glow, past countless tombstones and other structures, and settles beside a second figure in front of a particular burial site. He silently reads the engravings along the headstone before addressing his companion without so much as a glimpse:

“I assumed you would be halfway back to the bunker by now.”

Jaebeom doesn’t respond, not that Jinyoung really expects him to. He peers at the hybrid through the corner of his eye, attempting to seek meaning beyond his blank features. Centuries later, Jinyoung still can’t predict the workings of Jaebeom’s inner thoughts. Especially when it comes to the situation at hand.

“Mark called. Changbin is no longer affected by Minho’s spell.” He explains, “They’re also preparing a ritual to resurrect Jackson Wang—”

“Tzuyu…?”

Jinyoung’s chest tightens as the name falls from Jaebeom’s lips.

“Their youngest, Ryujin, is looking after both her and Felix.”

“So she’s still alive…?”

“It seems so.”

A brief moment of silence passes between the pair. The earth grows brighter and brighter as the seconds roll by, reminding Jinyoung that time is a friend to no one.

“Hyung, did you… truly switch off your humanity?”

“I did, at first.” Jaebeom’s answer is quiet, and Jinyoung can detect the subtle hint of vulnerability hidden beneath his gruff tone. “But I guess I can never completely turn it off.”

“It’s alright to feel, hyung—be it anger… or passion… or fear…”

Jinyoung notices Jaebeom shift uncomfortably before glancing down at the glass vial in the palm of his hand. For once, he can actually distinguish the emotions present within the hybrid’s dark eyes. The knowledge only jabs at his heart.

“Everything is taken care of, right?”

“The night has ended, and Minho is safely sealed away in the crypt.” Jinyoung nods, “We live to see another day.”

He watches his companion tuck the precious vial into the pocket of his jeans before turning away from the headstone. Jinyoung is not sure where the urge comes from, but he abandons his perch, grabbing Jaebeom’s shoulder before he can leave the cemetery. He ignores the hybrid’s confused expression and pulls him into a tight embrace.

“Thank you for staying, hyung…” Jinyoung’s murmur is slightly muffled against the fabric of his jacket, but he knows his companion heard them loud and clear.

Jaebeom hesitates for a moment, clearly taken aback by the sudden act, but eventually winds his arms loosely around Jinyoung’s back with a gentle murmur of his own:

“You will always be my family, Jinyoung… Always and forever…”

☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾

“I’ve never used magic like this before, so I can’t promise this will work.” Mark glances to where he assumes Jackson’s spirit is located inside the white circle makeshifted out of a bag of flour Dahyun managed to find in a bunker cabinet, before glancing to the companion at his side. “You sure you’re up for this? It’ll feel like I’m literally sucking the life force out of your body…”

Changbin nods, “If it means bringing Jackson-hyung back.”

“Okay, then.” Mark turns to the surrounding crowd next, “In order to do this, I’ll need to lower the veil to the Other Side. This will create a temporary door that Jackson can pass through to physically enter our realm. Once he crosses over, he should become mortal again.”

“Seems easy enough.” Dahyun snickers, although the sound is dry and forced. “Anything else we need to know?”

“Whatever happens, do not enter the circle.” His eyes drift from the she-wolf to your silent form. As if sensing the scrutiny, your gaze connects with his own, and knowing he has your attention, Mark continues in a darker tone, “Just as spirits can pass into our realm, we can cross to the Other Side… so for the love of god, don’t do anything stupid.”

Your and Mark’s staring contest ceases when your head snapes toward the circle. Seconds later, you break the tense silence with a soft murmur, “Jackson says it’s getting worse. He can feel the witches trying to drag him back.”

“Then I guess that’s our cue.” He sighs before nodding toward the circle one last time, “I’m gonna do my best, Jack. Just hold on.”

With one final glance to the grimoire you gave him earlier, Mark inhales a deep breath and takes Changbin’s outstretched hand into his own. He closes his eyes, focusing every part of his brain on the electrifying sensation of the magical energy coursing through the wolf’s body. Bit by bit, he feels Changbin’s power bleeding into his own veins, awakening the slumbering supernatural nature of his soul. Once he’s sure enough he’s acquired enough magic, Mark opens his eyes and begins the incantation:

“Vita mortem, mortem vita est… Partis inferioris velum, partis inferioris ante illum vetum…” Almost instantly, the wind picks up while the air grows uncomfortably cold. He ignores the violent shivers wracking through his limbs and proceeds to repeat the words as the temperature continues to drop. With each spoken syllable, Mark’s head becomes dizzy and his flesh feels as if it’s being scorched off, but he continues.

No amount of pain could ever dull the hope of seeing his best friend alive once more.

“Holy shit—it’s actually working!”

Mark doesn’t realize he had shut his eyes until he opens them, nearly yelping in delight when he discovers the image of said friend standing in the center of the white circle. Jackson looks no different than the day he last saw him, and he can’t decide if he wants to laugh out of irony or burst into tears.

“The veil is down! I’m gonna start the spell to cross you over!” Mark yells over the howling of the wind, clutching Changbin’s hand tighter as he transitions to the next phase of the spell. “Ohto eestanay as vazat esvet ohnaz eespalit… Ohto eestanay as vazat esvet—fuck!”

A brutal force comes down against his head, almost resembling that of a punch, before spreading hot fire down his neck and to the rest of his body. Mark doubles over with a wheeze, attempting to fight against the painful sensations by grounding himself in Changbin’s touch. However, as soon as the first wave concludes, a second, even more excruciating one follows. He feels as if someone is trying to crush his brain—to kill him from the inside out.

“Mark-hyung! What’s wrong!?”

“It’s the witches!...” Mark is thankful that Jackson answers Yugyeom’s panicked inquiry, “They’re trying to break the spell!”

“Like… hell they will…” Mark hisses, righting himself with a pained groan before grabbing Changbin’s other hand. “I’m not going down without a fight—hold on!...”

He jumps back into the spell, weakening the manipulated pain through the absorption of more of the wolf’s energy. Borderline high off the power, he pushes everything he has into the ritual, determined to see it through to the end. After a minute that passes like a decade, Mark detects a shift in the atmosphere, indicating the near completion of the spell, and shouts:

“Jackson—get out of the circle! Get out now!”

As if in slow motion, Mark watches Jackson quickly move to escape the white border. But just as soon as his toe brushes the edge, he is wrenched away and lifted from the ground.

Dahyun cries, “What the hell is happening!?”

“They won’t let me cross over!” Jackson squirms and writhes, attempting to escape whatever invisible grip is holding him hostage. His efforts are futile, and he continues to rise higher and higher off of the ground.

“Hang on, Jack!” Mark releases Changbin’s hands and raises his own palms in Jackson’s direction. However, the same torturous pain from before returns once more, hitting his nerves like a sledgehammer to a brick wall, and throws him to the earth. “Shit—no! H-He has to pass through the circle!”

“(Y/N)! Don’t!”

Mark raises his gaze at Dahyun’s shriek, only to watch in horror as you rush past the flour boundary and grab hold of Jackson’s hand. A blinding light immediately erupts from your clasped palms, expanding through the area until all Mark can see is white.

After a long moment, his vision eventually returns, and he finds the forest completely silent. The temperature is no longer frigid, he notices, and the strain within his brain is gone. For a moment, Mark is filled with prowess, victorious at the fact he successfully carried out an ancient resurrection ritual, however, his triumph is temporary, especially when he notices your form laid motionless in Dahyun’s arms.

“(Y/N)—fuck!” Mark hurries to where you lay, stealing your figure from the she-wolf to cradle you in his own hold. “Shit, shit, shit—she’s not breathing! Fucking goddamnit!”

His panic only grows tenfold when he hears the murmur cascade from Dahyun’s lips:

“Mark… where’s Jackson?”

☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾

Jaebeom scales the final rung of the ladder before making his way toward the corner where the snoozing trio resides. He moves cautiously, mindful not to awaken the young werewolf caretaker, yet eventually finds himself perched on the edge of a familiar cot. His heart thunders inside his chest, and he cannot tell if it’s out of anxiety or hope. Though at this moment, Jaebeom can really care less to find out.

“It’s about time you showed up…” He winces at the broken husk of his companion’s voice, attempting to keep his expression as neutral as possible. “I thought you were actually going to leave me to die in the hands of a neurotic teenage wolf…”

Jaebeom doesn’t respond to her quip—he can’t find it in himself to do so.

Tzuyu raises an eyebrow, “What’s with the face? Did you take down the witch or not?”

“We did.” He hums, “The spell is broken.”

“Good thing—” The vampire pauses to cough, and the sound is like broken glass against his ears. “—you and your brother are safe for the eternity to come.”

“Tzuyu… I found the cure.”

“What are you waiting for then? My consent?” She snickers playfully, “We fuck for over a century and this is the most gentlemanly behavior I’ve ever seen from you, Beomie.”

Again, Jaebeom remains silent.

Recognizing the obvious tension in the room, Tzuyu’s face falls. “But… I guess it’s more complicated than that, hm?”

“There’s only enough for…” He’s unable to finish his sentence, not when his companion’s eyes are gazing at him with such sullenness and sympathy. Jaebeom has to look away for a moment, though the action does little to relieve the tightness of his chest.

“Ah, I see.” Tzuyu hums, glancing across the way to a slumbering Felix. Her pale lips twitch, as if attempting to upturn to a smile, but it instead appears as a weak grimace. “You know, I really never meant to hurt (Y/N)… or you.”

“Tzuyu—”

“I’ve known you for decades… but I’ve never seen you look at someone the way you look at her.” Another violent cough wracks through her body, expelling a mass of dark blood past her lips. Jaebeom is quick to wipe the splotch from her skin with the blanket, trying not to dwell on the fact that her skin is ice cold. “I’ll admit, I was jealous at first… I’ve always wanted someone to look at me like that…

“I know you’re afraid to care—to love, Jaebeom.” Tzuyu murmurs sadly, lifting a hand to rest against the hybrid’s cheek. “Especially someone like (Y/N)… and you’re right to. She’s too good… too human.

“One misstep and you could lose her forever.”

“I want to be selfish…” Jaebeom whispers, “I want to be selfish so fucking bad—”

“But you can’t be, Beom. Not with her.”

“Then let me be selfish with you.”

Tzuyu smiles.

“I’ve lived over three lifetimes, and he is barely a ways into his one—so you’re going to give the cure to that damn kid, Im Jaebeom.” He leans further into her touch as she caresses the apple of his cheek. “Promise me that you’ll stay away from her—to keep her safe?”

He nods.

“Good… Can you hold me for a moment? I’m cold.”

“I’ll hold you as long as you want me to.”

And so Jaebeom takes Tzuyu into his arms. However, it’s not until the vampire grows still does he allow a single tear to cascade from his eye, staining the bloodied bed sheets with the agony of a heart that has been broken too many times to count.

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battlinghurricanes · 4 years ago

Text

LITYERSES HEADCANONS!!!!!!!

I saw some other headcanon posts for him, so I felt inspired to throw my own ideas out there! I think some of my headcanons are pretty different from the ones a lot of people have of him, but I always like reading other people’s ideas so hopefully people will like this too!

(also theres a lot, this is long *cough* my bad)

- After the incident in The Lost Hero, after Midas dies, Lityerses is homeless. His father’s mansion is destroyed and it’s not like he has anyone to turn to.

- They mention in The Lost Hero that the Hunters of Artemis came across Midas and Lityerses earlier. When they did, Lityerses heard in passing about Camp Half-Blood. It’s the only place meant for demigods that he has even the slightest knowledge on, so he sets his sights on making it there.

- It takes eight grim months to reach New York. It’s half a miracle, slowly taking busses, hitchhiking, and sometimes just walking to the next city. Monsters attack him the entire way and he adds plenty of new scars to his collection.

- There’s no reliable way for him to get money. He gets much, much better at using his powers as a son of Demeter. He uses it to grow fruits, vegetables, and any sort of edible plant so he can at least have food of some kind.

- He goes to New York City because he doesn’t know what else to do. He doesn’t even know if the Hunters were talking about the city or the state but he figures he has to start somewhere. Unfortunately, the Triumvirate notices his presence before anyone from Camp Half-Blood does.

- He follows some demigods to Nero, who sent them to collect him. He offers a position working for the Triumvirate in exchange for food, lodging, and other basic support. Lityerses is tired and he wants to sleep in a bed and have proper meals he doesn’t have to worry about acquiring.

- He accepts, not caring if what the Triumvirate is doing is shitty or not. Nero sends him to Indianapolis to work for Commodus.

- Apollo’s decision to give him another chance was very affecting. Especially coming from ancient times when the stories of the gods on earth were far more real and immediate, he knows very well how the gods could treat mortals as simply disposable.

- He had never questioned his belief that any mortal who got wrapped up in business with a god suffered a horrible fate because of it, whether the god intended it or not.

- But then Apollo saved his life and defended him at the Waystation and told him he trusted him and Lityerses’s mind keeps drifting back to him over and over and over.

- His mind wants to reconcile what Apollo did for him with what he knows about the gods. He can’t, and that makes him feel a great many things that he can’t pin down. Apollo decided to care about him when he had no reason to, and he doesn’t know what that means for him.

- He feels a twinge of gratitude whenever he steps into the sunlight and pulse of anxiety whenever he wonders if he’s okay on his quest.

- He thinks about Meg, his little sister, and hopes they’re keeping each other safe.

- Lityerses can occasionally seem really dull, indifferent, or unresponsive because he gives super minimal reactions to things sometimes, but that’s really not the case.

- Being in the modern world for him is sort of like a slight, but near constant sensory overload. Sometimes, his brain is too busy processing other stuff to fully load up an emotional response. He’ll react to something in his mind but he won’t express it outwardly at all.

- Leo, running up: Wanna help me strap a firework to a crossbow bolt and try to shoot it into the office building across the street to see if it’ll blow up in there?!!!!! Lityerses, with a completely flat voice and blank expression: I think that’s a very bad idea.

- It’s definitely not all the time, but it does happen.

- (Me? Projecting sensory issues onto every character I like? It’s more likely than you think.)

- He has a very “go with the flow” attitude, to the point of being a character flaw sometimes. It can make him easy to manipulate.

- (Commodus: hey lityerses go put this barbed wire and war helmets and metal teeth on these ostriches Liyerses, in his head: uhuh uhuh uhuh uhuh yeah cool got it i hope i still have some fingers left tomorrow)

- He’s working on it though. He’s working on it.

- One side effect of this is that whenever Leo makes some pop culture or meme reference, Lityerses will just nod and agree. It takes Leo forever to realise that he was just lying going along with it.

- *mid conversation* Lityerses: I’d go get some food, but I don’t have any money Leo: dude, you’re literally just the 69 cents vine, not enough for chicken nuggets Lityerses: oh, for sure Calypso, overhearing: wait, you understood that?? Lityerses: no, I’ve never understood a single word that’s left leo’s mouth Leo: what?!!!! but you said you understood my reference to that dril tweet the other day, right?! Lityerses: yeah, of course Calypso: what’s a dril tweet?? Lityerses: I don’t know. Leo: YOU TRAITOR

- Another side effect: he’s a complete pushover for Georgie.

- At one point, when some of the Waystation crew are walking out in the city, she complains that she’s tired and wants to be carried. When her moms gently refuse, she immediately goes over to Lityerses and holds her arms out and says that she’s tired. He doesn’t even stop walking, he just swoops her up and puts her on his shoulder right away.

- Hemithia and Jo glare at him but he just avoids eye contact. “She’s already up there, too much effort to put her down now.”

- He was in the Fields of Punishment in the Underworld and wow was it incredibly traumatizing.

- His memories of death are sickeningly agonizing, but they also usually feel distant and unreal. Sometimes, though, they’ll worm their way into his dreams with horrific clarity. He’ll wake up in a cold sweat, hyperventilating, with full body tremors he can’t control.

- One morning after waking up like that, while sitting on the floor regaining his composure, Hemithea comes in to see why he wasn’t up yet. He pulls himself together in due time. He doesn’t answer any of her questions.

- He never talks about it, but he’s truly terrified of dying. He never was before, but now that he knows what’s waiting for him...

- It doesn’t help that he knows that, no matter how careful he is or how well he defends himself, he could die at any moment if Thanatos decides to bring him back to the Underworld.

- It weighs on the back of his mind that, at least on a technical level, he has no right to be alive. Sometimes he can’t help but think that the things he does now don’t matter in the end, because there’s no reason he would get a second judgement when he does eventually return to the Underworld.

- He does his best to shut that down and remind himself that trying to do the right thing helps the people around him, no matter what happens after his death, but the thought exists and it is painful.

- He really never voices these fears because he feels like all he can really do is try not to think about it, and when he does, he tries to forget as soon as he can. It’s a burden he shoulders as quietly as he can.

- He isn’t used to owning a lot of material possessions, both from how he lived in ancient times and then from being homeless for a while. He’s only ever described wearing that Cornhuskers shirt because it’s the only one he owned for a while.

- Not long after joining the Waystation, the first time he was going out somewhere them, Jo snapped that it just made him look stupid, trying to look tough by going without a coat when it was so cold outside. Earnestly confused and defensive, he tells her that he just doesn’t own one.

- After that, she insists on filling his wardrobe until he has enough clothes.

- (Speaking of the Cornhuskers shirt, he just picked it out on a whim, sort of thinking of Demeter (They grow corn here like we used to grow wheat, right?) and sort of just thinking it looked cool. Olujime once tried to talk to him about how some college teams were doing and Lityerses just goes “What’s football?”)

- He doesn’t really get modern fashion trends. Leo offers to catch him up, but he declines very quickly.

- In ancient times, dyes and patterns available for clothes were much more limited and much more expensive. He’s fascinated by all the colors and prints people can wear just all the time now. Lityerses wears a lot of bright colors because he thinks they’re cool and fun. He likes red, blue, and purple the most but he’ll wear a lot of stuff.

- Along with not really following any trends, he also hasn’t picked up on a lot of unspoken gender connotations that come with modern clothing.

- When the Waystation are first trying to get him some clothes, he picks out a pink jacket and Leo snorts at him like “You’re going for pink?” Lityerses just stares at him like “Yeah. It’s just pink.” Leo sort of realizes and goes, “Oh, it’s just, you know...” to Calypso. But Calypso is also just staring blankly and says, “No I don’t. I don’t get it. Is there something about pink?” And Leo notices Hemithea glaring daggers at him and he laughs nervously and goes, “Nevermind, it was a stupid joke anyway.”

- Hemithia: Leave the ancient demigod and ex-titan blissfully unaware of our complex, modern gender stereotypes. Leo, sweating: gotcha.

- He pretty much just wears what he finds comfortable. Generally it’s just t-shirts with jeans or basketball shorts.

- Lityerses is a super clingy sleeper and will reflexively grab on to anything within arms reach while he’s asleep. (He’s a big spoon by nature.)

- Leo discovers this and now, whenever Lityerses falls asleep on one of the couches, he’ll entertain himself by slowly pushing a pillow up to him until he inevitably grabs it and pulls it against his chest.

- No one gets those pillows back until Lityerses wakes up.

- He’s very buff. His muscles aren’t super defined, nothing at all like a bodybuilder, no six pack abs or anything. But he’s built. Thick arms.

- He’s very limber and flexible too. He has great balance, which lets him move as fast as he does in combat. He’s quite physically fit in general.

- He’ll never admit it, but he ended up getting attached to the highlights in his hair he got when Apollo revealed his godly form. He thought they were fun and different and he sort of missed it when his hair grew out.

#trials of apollo #toa #lityerses #pjo #litpollo #well none of its super litpollo but #you know you know #long post #also sorry for giving you super cute georgie and lityerses headcanons #and then punching you in the gut with the trauma of death and revival with no warning #not that sorry tho #god its been a long time since ive done headcanons like this #this better go in the tags #edit- it did for a min then disappeared :^)

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ginkgomoon · 3 years ago

Note

Hello there! I hope everything is going well with you. (・∀・)

I have some questions. In CH 30 & 32 the Time Observer mentioned about the "price being too heavy/dear" & he mentioned that he never expected for Victor to choose that method to prevent the crisis. I was wondering what price is he talking about & what's "the method" he mentioned? & Victor collapsing in CH 32 was not from hitting the bullet I believe. What exactly happened there?

Also...I don't know the details but I think I saw it somewhere that Victor goes through different timelines & dimensions for 10000 years in the later part of the story...? I remember reading it in a R&S that every time he crosses a dimension he'd experience soul crushing pain... The mere thought of doing it for so long honestly made me feel traumatized. I was hoping you could give me some insights as to what exactly he was doing.

I hope I'm not bothering you with tons of questions & they made sense. Thanks a lot in advance! Have a good day! <3

Hello!!

Thank you, you too! :)

I hope I helped answered your questions here. It's quite long, so enjoy the read!

I did Victor’s Time Observer analysis and I’ll be heavily referencing that post to help answer this particular ask. Big thank you to @cheri-cheri and @ey8508 for help clarifying some of my thoughts concerning Victor this chapter! Spoilers down below! ⏱

“With great power comes great responsibility.” -The Peter Parker Principle

We all know Victor bears great power, but also with that comes great responsibility. He is the sole individual who has the will and power to alter time and space, however this develops drastic consequences to his health and to history- all for his love for MC.

Victor doesn’t care about this price- he is more concerned with whether he can prevent the death of the girl in every unpredictable future.

“The person who can save the world… is not me, but her. As for myself, I know my ending line and how much pain I can bear better than anyone. I would rather take such a risk.” -Chapter 35-36 Rumours and Secrets

Chapter 30-6

Victor is seen to be flanked by bodyguards on Adagio Street. Moments later, in a pure white space, we see the Time Observer addressing Victor.

I stood in the centre of the street, looking hesitantly around, but I was unable to spot that familiar figure.

In the dead of the night, from the distant horizon, there seemed to come the sound of a mechanical little violin.

In a boundless, pure white space, the music would be at time peaceful and solemn, and at others somber and mournful. After the final note, that pair of tightly-closed eyes opened.

The Time Observer looked at Victor, neither showing surprise.

That pale white hand brushed lightly over the violin strings, and his gravelly voice spoke up with the pluck of the string.

TO: “The natural rules of operations no longer supply. This world… in memory is a turbulent past and in imagination, there is no serene future. She should have stayed in that world. Her return was a mistake.”

Victor: “If you’re still here that means we still have a chance.”

TO: “A chance that comes at such a heavy cost. Is it really worth it? You will soon understand, in some things, you are doomed to helplessness. Try with all your might, and yet, it remains out of reach.”

Victor: “I won’t let her die again. No matter when."

This will foreshadow future events such as in Chapter 32, where Victor shows a demonstration of this.

Chapter 32-6

Amidst the scattering glass shards, I saw a number of bullets flying towards me.

Only one thought ran through my mind.

Am I going to die?

Chapter 32-8

In the darkness, a crack suddenly splits open, and a blinding light appears, obscuring my sight. My heartbeat practically came to a standstill, the pain I expected never came. The blinding light disappeared, instantaneously replaced by darkness.

Time seemed to pause for a second.

The pitch black bullets, the fractured glass, the car in mid-air…

And then it fell all heavily to the ground.

And in this moment, Victor challenged “fate”, or rather, the “natural rules of operations”, stated by the Time Observer.

I reached out and grabbed the black clothing fluttering before me. Even my voice was trembling.

MC: “Victor…”

I looked in a daze at the man before me, at those fierce eyes beneath his wind-blown hair.

He was looking back at me, as if trying to etch me into his eyes with his deep gaze. But there was another emotion hidden within as well.

After confirming he was unharmed, I let out a sigh, then looked anxiously into his eyes.

MC: “What are you doing here?”

Victor: “Do you have any idea what you’re doing?”

But this time, his voice was flat.

MC: “I’m sorry… but I know exactly what I’m doing. I’m not unaware of the danger… I must simply stay and stop them.”

I hastily wanted to get Victor out of danger, but his feet were planted firmly. I looked up, to get a look at his expression.

His voice was steady, stopping me in my tracks.

Victor: “I see.”

MC: “You really believe I can stop them?”

Victor: “I said before, even if you don't trust yourself, always trust me. I won’t do anything I'm not sure I can handle. Go what you think needs to be done.”

He patted the back of my head lightly, with a hint of tremor in his voice. He didn’t ask me or stop me, as if he already knew the choice I’d made.

So, while the STF agents and runaway Evolvers were battling, MC was literally going to die at that moment. But Victor enters- using his Evol to stop time, ultimately stopping the bullets and MC’s death.

I whirled around, hoping to catch sight of him.

MC: “Victor!”

I wanted to tell him I’d done it, that I really had prevented this crisis.

A faint worry floated up in my chest. What about Victor?

Medic: “Someone, come quick! There’s another person here!”

I turned and hurried to the end of the bridge.

I then quickly found him.

Ringed by a crowd of people, there he was, the person I would recognise anywhere.

It was…

I halted my steps for a moment, then ran to him without hesitation.

I broke into a panic.

Chapter 32-10

Victor… What happened to him??

I pushed the crowd aside and frantically ran to him.

His face was pallid, eyes squeezed shut, his hair plastered messily to his forehead with sweat. I grasped his hand, unable to believe how icy cold it felt to the touch.

MC: "How could you… Why did you…”

Just then, those eyes shut with pain cracked open. He pursed his lips and then coughed violently, blood started trickling out. Even like that, he still chuckled weakly.

Victor: “I used to think… that your problem was that you thought you could control fate all by yourself. Stubborn, self-reliant, in over your head. Whenever anyone tried to tell you anything, no matter what they said, it was always in one ear and out the other.”

Although it sounded a little weak, his voice was unusually calm, and didn’t really even pause or halt. Almost if, if he stopped, he wouldn't be able to start again.

Victor: “But I really did learn a little something from you. You are the thing unto yourself, so only know the best what your values and decisions should be. No one can guide you. And just like I can’t hold you back, you also can’t change this decision that I’ve made. Don’t ask why, this time, just let me say my piece.”

His voice grew weaker, but he managed to lift his right hand and place it over mine.

I clasped his hand, and a feeling of suspense and dread came over me like I'd never felt before.

MC: “I know… I know… You don’t have to say more.”

He was afraid of something, but not because his life was slipping away. It was more like… something would happen.

Victor closed his eyes, completely exhausted. I squeezed his hand tighter, as if trying to hang on to those remnants of warmth.

You have to make it through this.

A man standing by the riverside swiped his hand through the fog, swiped his hand through the fog, stirring it up into an erratic vortex.

Zero: “Did he actually…”

TO: Like I said before, he is the most suitable candidate.”

Zero: “But he refused to help us open the Door of Return.”

TO: “Perhaps it’s only temporary, and he’ll change his mind. I didn’t imagine he’d choose this method for preventing this crisis. Too bad… the price was so dear.”

After Victor saves MC from death, she finds him on the ground- pale and in terrible pain. Throughout Victor’s time with MC, we slowly see the influence he has on her- and the influence she has on him. He tells her that while she shoulders everything on her own and never listens to anyone, she did teach him things in the process. With her love and kindness, she strives to defy “nature's course” and saves worlds. Literally.

You were correct, Victor didn’t suffer injuries from the bullets because he stopped them just in time but Victor is overusing his Evol, and it’s gradually taking a toll on his body. Even back before MC crossed over to the Winter World, Victor was trying to find other alternative ways for MC to live and not sacrifice herself. Unfortunately, there were none. He did also suffer immense pain whenever he time traveled, especially when it led to his time travel pocket watch cracking and breaking in the end.

Victor would normally be practical and very principled in how he executes his plans, but this time around, it was him. This- he- was the plan. That's it. This is similar to how Victor opened a time rift to send MC away in Chapter 18- to somewhere and sometime in space. He waited for her to come back with the help of the Time Observers to confirm her safety. Only someone with his powerful Evol could do that, otherwise they’d risk losing consciousness in the “Time Rift”.

Additionally, he held onto that hope that MC could and would be saved in the end, like how he tried to find her for 17 years after the orphanage incident, not knowing whether she was dead or alive. Victor wants to wield that control, denying “helplessness” and “winning all the bets” he had with MC prior to her “death” in Chapter 18. Victor stated that if she couldn’t trust herself, then she should trust him and his decisions to protect her. Even if it’s detrimental to his health. Life-threatening, even. Because in the end, Victor knows he will always win. He just does.

And since he knows that he won’t be able to stop MC from doing what she wants, we now see him fully embracing then acting upon it. He accepts that she’s her own person and he has grown to have so much faith in her, seeing how she successfully survived Winter World then coming back home safe. It’s almost like- “okay. It’s you and me against the world”.

On the sidelines, Time observer and ZERO both observe, surprised that Victor will pay such a high price to avoid MC’s death from occurring- with the risk of his own. Could they have lost their most powerful time Evolver from this incident?

Though, we shouldn’t be surprised that the Time Observers think that Victor would be so foolish to use his Evol up to the point where it would actually kill him just to save MC. It's literally in their name- “Observers''- they haven’t and aren’t even allowed to actively participate in the events that happened in Loveland, let alone the different histories and worlds that existed, other than claiming to “correct it” by influencing other people who can. They don’t appear to have this kind of empathy in understanding Victor and why he wants to save MC’s life, or how important she is to him.

“You misunderstand. We never alter, we are correctors of history. We want you to join us, your power’s scope of influence has already surpassed the dimension of this current world. Before you are rejected by it…”

Victor: “I will not leave this world.”

“Even if you’ve seen the future of what is all to pass?”

Victor: “No matter what happens, the person I’m seeking for is right here.” -Black Curtain: Chapter 6

Also taken from my Time Observer Analysis-

Since Victor’s Evol is strong and has the capability to do more than “observe” like the Time Observers, he is the one who is deemed the most suitable and more responsible for “grasping the time in the past and the future”. Ever since STF found out about Victor’s Evol, they wanted him to cooperate with them too. Every time he stops time, certain surrounding energy and space changes.

The organisation also entertains the idea of fate, and how things should be refused to be changed. Since they have “seen the future of how the world ends”, they want Victor to cooperate with them in making it stop. Nobody can rewrite the ending among them, except him. Victor refuses to join because he doesn’t adhere to this idea.

“QUEEN’s return has brought unexpected consequences; the entire collapse of the world is ahead of schedule. The world’s line has come to an end, no matter through time or space, we can no longer interfere in this world.” Was there a difference in letting each world go to the end alone to close all the world lines in the future directly? Although we found a breakthrough, this situation really caused us a lot of headaches: she who should not have survived and she should not have been sent to other worlds. As a result, it would seriously interfere and disrupt the timeline. No one had done it before, and no one except Victor could do it.

In disbelief, we weighed it and threw the olive branch- as long as he is willing to cooperate, we will help him find her. As decisive as he was to refuse a few times before, this time he had promised me without thinking. And for a moment, I didn’t know if his decisiveness was good or bad. -Chapter 33-34 Rumours and Secrets

Victor "travelling ten-thousand years in the future" was mentioned in his Chapter 35-36 Rumours and Secrets. The Space and Time Administration (who the Time Observers were under) could "repair his abilities", after he stopped the bullets from hitting MC. He would have to stay there for the Space and Time Administration's time duration of ten-thousand years. Victor accepts. (BIG THANKS TO @cheri-cheri FOR CORRECTING ME LAST MINUTE WITH THIS ONE, YOU AMAZING HUMAN!!)

#mlqc #mlqc victor #love and producer #mr love queens choice #恋与制作人 #mlqc translation #mlqc analysis #mlqc en #mlqc time observers #victor #mlqc spoilers

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giorno-plays-piano · 4 years ago

Text

The Void

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x mutant!Reader

Warnings: yandere, obsession, HYDRA’s experiments, brief mention of suicidal thoughts, captivity, home invasion, stalking, kidnapping.

Words: 2381.

Summary: Once an ordinary human, you keep running away from both HYDRA and Avengers, knowing what your powers will be used for. The problem is the Soldat picking up your trail.

P.S. The reader is somewhat dark-ish in this one.

________________

Carefully slipping inside the laundry room through a broken window, you landed on the cold concrete floor and shivered, hoping you could find a really warm blanket somewhere upstairs.

Although you still felt a bit ashamed breaking in the houses of other people like that, at this point it was the one and only alternative you had. Of course, there was always an option to submit to HYDRA or whoever else was hunting you down, but you didn’t really appreciated it, simply trying to stay away from both heroes and villains since to you they were all the same. You knew perfectly well once somebody captured you they’d be using you for murdering other people.

Thankfully, laundry room wasn’t locked, and you started wandering the house, peeping into each and every room. Watching photos of the family the house belonged to, you felt guilty again. These people weren’t at fault you were homeless and chased out from every damn place on the Earth, but you still took what was theirs just because you could find no other way to live. Well, at least you tried to leave the place as it had been prior to your break-in, except a broken window in the laundry room and canned beans you’d eat.

God, you could kill for a bowl of homemade chicken soup. You barely remembered eating it before HYDRA captured you a few years ago. Of course, they didn’t try to starve you there, but you couldn’t call what they’d been giving you real food either. Thinking of your cell and those meals made you squeeze your eyes shut and take a deep breath. Everywhere was better than there, so you needed to put your shit together and take whatever fate offered you.

It was getting late, and you glanced at the tiny window in the basement, wrapped in a big grey comforter you brought from upstairs. You never slept in the rooms of other people, not knowing when the rightful owners of the houses you broke in could come back. Generally, you didn’t have problems with people, either escaping before their return or finding your way out secretly without them knowing somebody was hiding in their basement. However, sometimes you had a feeling people hunting you were coming close, and you didn’t risk getting too comfortable. Today was one of those days, and you bit down on your lower lip. These ones were probably not HYDRA operatives - they’d never risk attacking you at night when your powers were at peak. Nevertheless, it didn’t mean whoever was coming for you was harmless. You had to be prepared.

That’s it. Somebody was approaching, you could feel it in your bones. It was probably the one and only thing you were grateful to HYDRA - you were nearly invincible in the dark.

Silently leaving the comforter on the floor near an empty can, you got up, moving to stand near the wall behind the door, hardened black mass blocking tiny windows and leaving the intruder only one way to get in. You hoped they weren’t bringing explosives as you still had a hard time compressing the darkness around them - a month ago it resulted in some serious damage done to the house where you were hiding.

But this time was different: there was only one man who came for you, A strange man, though. He had a metal arm, and his body… It was something you had never felt before. The man was like that Duracell bunny they showed in TV ad, enhanced to the point he was barely human, probably.

But he was still just a man, now all alone with a monster like you.

When he entered quietly, leaving the door barely open, you blew it off its hinges. You had very little patience - now you would have to have a sleepless night, trying to find a new hideout as far as you could from this place and hoping HYDRA wouldn’t track you down. Its operatives were way more creative in their attempts to catch you: that mirror box trapping light nearly killed you last time.

Wrapping your fists into black mass like boxing gloves, you punched the man, but he quickly moved away, apparently, more skilled in combat than you were. Well, whatever, you thought as the darkness disintegrated on top of your skin, and then the intruder got a direct blow to his stomach without you getting near him. Coming to you at night was a suicide.

You kept beating him down until he dropped to the cold floor of the basement, beads of sweat and blood shining on his skin as you pinned him down, completely unharmed. You did your best to avoid the vital organs, but it was probably unnecessary - you could literally feel the soldier regenerating while he laid down, staring at the ceiling. Was he HYDRA’s creation just like you were? Or did good guys make beasts like him, too?

“I won’t do anything to you,” you told him, coming closer to look into his surprisingly handsome face, “but I’ll kill whoever you send to catch me next.”

“HYDRA’s… coming after you.” The soldier muttered, coughing and wincing from pain as you towered above him.

“You or them, doesn’t matter much.”

A part of you felt remorse for beating the stranger so bad he couldn’t rip the restraints holding him down despite his enormous strength, but the other part made you remember you were the victim, not him. The only thing you ever wanted was living like a human being, not a lab rat or a weapon of mass destruction used by whoever hold you hostage.

Besides, if this guy didn’t know the nature of your powers before attacking you, now he certainly did. It was unwise to let him live - he would definitely let his masters know - but you couldn’t force yourself to end him. Killing wasn’t nice. You had never enjoyed it.

“Avengers can protect you.”

What? Did the man work for them, then? You smirked, shaking you head.

“Avengers can’t protect themselves. Now please be quiet and let me leave. We’re done for today.” Turning your back at him, you went to grab your backpack and then put a few cans in it to continue your journey, tired and upset you couldn’t rest despite travelling all day long.

“I can help you.”

You abruptly turned to face him still chained to the floor and clenched your teeth. This was what HYDRA’s men were telling you year after year. Helping you, that what they were doing.

“If you don’t shut the fuck up, I’m going to plant spikes right through your tongue.” You hissed at him, going back and watching him with his pretty mouth finally shut. “If you wanna play a hero so much, go wipe HYDRA out and forget I’ve ever existed.”

The soldier stayed silent, and you exhaled angrily, marching through the basement to the stairs and quickly going up. God knew how many people could be waiting for you outside of the house - Avengers were usually gathering together on the missions, even you knew that from occasionally seeing them in the news.

Shit, it was going to be a long night.

________________________

One more month was gone as you continued to run and hide like the world’s top criminal, chased out of many cities where you could find peace for at least a couple of days. Now it was mostly one-night sleepovers anywhere you could find. You finally understood what being a mad dog meant - sometimes you thought you could kill for those canned beans you hated so much before.

Slowly, but surely you were running out of options where to hide. The only place now was the forest surrounding that little town where you relocated after your brief encounter with HYDRA two days ago. Forest was a bad place to be. You had very little skills allowing you to survive out in the wild for long. The more you thought about that, the more you realized you had, in fact, only one option left.

Suicide. Only then you could become truly free of that mad chase and ensure no one would use your abilities for killing others. You already had enough blood on your hands.

And still, when you though of black spikes piercing your head, you were shaking. It would be so much easier if somebody just shot you when you weren’t looking.

Huh, what a cruel world you lived in, you thought while finishing a can of chicken ham - God, you didn’t even remember when you ate something so delicious. It was harder to imagine killing yourself after a good meal, but you still considered the option, looking at the carpet with a dull expression on your face.

You were euphoric after your escape from that facility where you were held, and now you were thinking maybe it was better to just wither there like all those countless men and women before you, unable to contain their enormous powers in pathetic human bodies. What was the point of being so strong if you couldn’t have your life back? What were these powers for except the destruction? You’d gladly exchange your fantastic abilities on a chance to return home to your family. That is, if HYDRA let it be, which was unlikely.

You blinked, tired to the point you barely felt your own body. If they’d decide to come for you now, you probably couldn’t dodge the attack this time.

But it wasn’t HYDRA who came for you - with a syringe in your neck, you suddenly fell down to the floor, watching the handsome face of a man who had seemingly emerged from the wall behind you like a ghost. What was that? Was he like you, too? You didn’t sense it in him the first time, but maybe the soldier was more dangerous than you anticipated. Well, he certainly was, you thought as he carried you upstairs like a firefighter escaping the burning house. Would he lock you down in a cell, too? Would he let his masters experiment on you for the sake of humanity? Would he kill you once you closed your eyes?

Before the soldier reached the front entrance, you had already lost consciousness under the influence of the drag he injected.

The darkness that followed should had been calming, soothing, as you only felt safe in complete darkness, but you couldn’t find your peace: it was cold and lonely and scary when you were falling down deeper and deeper into the black void. Did he kill you, then? Was it the end? Would you spend your eternity in the dark?

It certainly felt like eternity before you woke up, still in the middle of nowhere, but feeling a soft mattress beneath your back. Your arms and legs hurt - it felt like you were tied up to bed. However, the fabric of your clothes was nothing like the ones you wore before the assault. It felt soft, and smelled pretty nice, too.

But you still saw nothing, nothing at all. Everything was pitch black.

Were you in a dark room? A cell? Whatever, you could work with it, you though and called the darkness as if it was a part of you.

And nothing happened.

You called again, then once more and once more, but the darkness didn’t free you. It didn’t answer to your plea - it wasn’t there at all.

Suddenly, you realized there was no darkness surrounding you as you heard a subtle buzz of dozen projectors directed right at you. The darkness was in your head because they blinded you.

You were screaming and crying and jolting on the bed, trying your best to break free, crush the metal headboard, do anything at all to just touch your eyes, discover what they did to you as you felt nothing but numbness and some tingling. Did they pluck out your eyes? Did they take them out because it would be easier to control you once you lost your eyesight?

You didn’t know whether you were still screaming when you felt a stranger’s hand on your cheek as he sat down on the bed. Exhausted and horrified, you tried kicking him, but the restraints kept you in place as he lowered his head to your face, “it’s alright. You’re safe.”

Oh, it was him. It was the soldier who had emerged from the wall of the house you were hiding the last time.

“What did you… do to me?” Breathing hard, you yanked your head to the side to avoid his touch. Huh, safe, that how he called it. HYDRA or Avengers, there had never been any difference to you.

“I had to temporarily blind and drug you. The effect will wash off in a few days.”

With that, you forgot how to breathe for a couple of seconds. Temporarily? Did it mean you eyes would be alright? Did he not pop your eyes out of their sockets?

“Please, calm down. I won’t hurt you.”

You stayed quiet, but not because the soldier asked you to. You just laid there, listening to the buzz of the projectors and thinking you would be able to see something again. For a few seconds you were filled with a bitter sense of triumph. Maybe you were crying again, though you couldn’t really feel the tears streaming down your face.

Oh, how could you wish to die? How could you even think of committing suicide? No, no, never again, even if you’d have to break each and every bone in the bodies of your enemies, and rip their heads off. Whatever it takes just never to return to that black void again.

“No one knows you’re here.” The soldier said somewhere close to your face, and you furrowed your brows. “HYDRA won’t find you.”

“Until you push me to the battlefield.” You sneered, still furious he did such a horrible thing to you, leaving you here like that.

“Avengers don’t know you here either.”

Laughing sarcastically, you fell silent as you felt his flesh hand touching your cheek and brushing the hair out of your face.

“Don’t worry, I will fulfill your wish.” You could smell the metal of his breath. “You won’t exist for anyone but me.”

_______________________

Tags: @finleyjayne @alexakeyloveloki @helenaeisenhower @villanellevi @hurricanerin @void-hoechlin @abyssaint @heeeyitskay @chris-evans-indian-fanfic @navegandoaciegas @rosalynshields @brattycherubwrites @sllooney @angrythingstarlight @soleil-dor @lookiamtrying @buckysbunny @iheartsebastianstan @stargazingfangirl18 @ninefuckingoneone

#bucky barnes #dark bucky barnes #winter soldier #yandere #mcu #mcu fanfiction #bucky barnes x reader #dark bucky barnes x reader

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darkmulti · 5 years ago

Text

Forced Entry

Enemy roommate!Minho x female reader

Stray Kids

⚠️Warnings: breeding kink, scissoring, unprotected sex, degradation, dirty talk, spanking, blood (first time), overstimulation, readers first time, physical abuse, anal fingering, cum eating, blowjob

THIS CONTAINS NON CONSENSUAL SEX

PLEASE READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!

——————————————————————————

Well... this is fucking fantastic! Y/N scrunches her nose and groans in misery. She was stuck in the dryer for one fucking sock. To make it worse, the only person she could call for help was her empty headed roommate Minho. He was upstairs playing his video games with his online friends.

“MINHO! Can you please come here?” She yells for the man, and in no time, hears footsteps coming down the stairs. “Y/N?” He enters the laundry room, startled. “What’re you doing in the dryer?” He questioned.

“Oh.... you know, having a tea party. What do you think, Minho? I'M STUCK!”

“With that attitude, I’m not gonna help you.” He starts walking out till she says. “Wait Minho! Please help me, I’m sorry!” She quickly apologizes and explains herself. “I was reaching for my sock, then I got stuck! Can you please help me?”

“Only if you stop having a bitchy attitude towards me.” Minho folds his arms and leans against the door frame. “Fine don’t fucking help! I’ll just rot here for your amusement. Fucking weirdo. You can go now!”

“I’m a weirdo now? I’m not sure if it got through your tiny little brain, but it’s YOU who has the disadvantage in this situation.” Minho walks towards her and squats down. He touches her ass and playfully grabs her hips and pulls it back, landing it back on his clothed cock. “M-Minho w-what are y-you doing?”

“I’ve always wondered if you were a virgin. Let’s find out.” He pulls her booty shorts down and shoves two fingers into her. “P-please! What are you fucking doing?!” Minho spanks the girl’s ass. “Don’t fucking swear at me you little whore. Your pussy’s so tight, my fingers can’t breathe.” He starts scissoring her pussy, making her scream inside the dryer. “MINHO STOP IT!”

“Stop what? Stop scissoring your virgin pussy? Just wait until I tell everyone in school about this.” Minho chuckles and continues on.

“Minho! Please stop! Don’t do that, I swear I’ll be nice to you! I’m sorry!” She whines at the male and begs him not to tell anyone about this. “Minho please don’t!”

“Too late! I’ve already made my decision!” He quickly removes his sweat pants and takes his cock out. Y/N felt something cold slide on her pussy. “MINHO STOP STOP STOP!” She yells and kicks her feet back to try and defend herself. “No can do!” He slams his raw dick into her dry cunt, making her scream his name. “MINHO! STOP MINHO P-PLEASE!” The girl cries his name over and over, hoping he’d stop. But he doesn’t. Instead his hips move faster into her. “M-MINHO! AHH!” Minho leaves a sharp sting on her ass.

“My names not Minho you dumb cunt. I’m your master. I’m your owner. You will now do whatever I say, unless you want me to tell everyone at school.” He breaks her hymen causing her to bleed on his cock. “Minho-o! Um I-I m-mean m-mas-ster, ahh p-please slow!”

“Shut up whore!” He grunts and goes faster. The blood was the only lubrication. Y/N cries inside the dryer, regretting her decision. Minho grabs her hips and repeatedly pulls her back onto his cock. “Ma-aster! Pl..ease!” Her broken words matched her broken cries. Turning the sick fucker on even more. He does it a couple of more times until he yanks her out of the dryer.

“Finally!” She yells. She struggles against Minho, crying and begging him to leave her alone. She finally pushes him off and makes a run for it. Unfortunately for her, she didn’t even make it out of the laundry room. The man grabs her ankles and pulls her back, making her fall face first. “You shouldn’t run away from your master. You could get hurt!”

He pulls her back and rams his cock right back into her. She wails, losing hope at the point. “PLEASE MINHO LEAVE ME ALONE!” Minho ignores her request and wraps his arm around her neck instead. “Move! I FUCKING DARE YOU, YOU CUNT!” he thrashed her ass and thighs.

“MASTER PLEASE!” She screams, desperate to get his attention. He lets go of her neck, then slams her face down onto the floor. The man takes both of her hands and pins them behind her back, in an uncomfortable position.

“You take this cock and you enjoy every second of it!” The male grunts and speeds up his hips. His balls hit her pussy with every thrust, encouraging him to go faster. The little girl under him gave up. He was sitting on her, so she couldn’t move.

“You alive little girl? Did masters cock knock you out?” His words make her sob under him. “Crying doesn’t solve all problems princess. You had everything handed to you, your whole life. When will you ever learn to do something for yourself. Think about it. I’m making you independent with my actions!”

“You’re n-not doing anythi-ing for me-ee! You’re- re ra-raping me! That’s wh...what you're doing!” She starts bawling her eyes out, after stuttering about what she thinks. “I-I hate y-you!”

“Hate me all you want princess, you’re still gonna get this good old cock!” Minho makes her cum for the first time. She trembles under the man and screams for him to let her go. “I-ll pa...ayy you! Please stop!”

A hot sting starts on her slit, terrifying her because she never felt it before. “M-master! I’m scared! It h-hurts!” She tries to get up, but her weak arms couldn’t get out of Minho’s grip. Her body was aching under his.

“I’m gonna cum in you.” Minho’s grip on her arms tighten as he threatens to release in her. “NO NO PLEASE! I'M TOO YOUNG TO BE A MOTHER! NO STOP PLEASE!” She screams at the top of her lungs at the man and hopelessly begs him.

“Please! I’ll be the best toy! I’ll do literally anything else Minho!” Her legs kick at him, wanting him to actually pay attention. “Stop acting like a brat! You are gonna be the mother of my kids and you’re gonna like it!” “Minho no!” “Yes!”

He shoots up his cum into her burning, sore pussy. He throws his head back and shoves two fingers into her asshole.

“You’re gonna carry my kids right?”

She doesn’t respond.

“Dirty fucking bitch!” He mutters under his breath. His tip enters into her kitten again and he slowly thrusts in. “Can you feel that kitten? Can you feel all the veins popping out of my cock?” He leans down and kisses her neck. His hand makes its way to her clit, but loses control once it arrives.

Instantly he rubs it violently while pounding into her ruthlessly. The burn in her push increases causing her to knock out of breath! “P-p..lease!”

Minho flips the girl on her back and gets back on his groove immediately. “You’re such a whore! No one wants to fuck you with that bitchy attitude of yours.” He spit on her clit and it glided down to add more lub.

“Your kitten’s thriving around my cock angel. No need to act like you don’t like it because your pussy is telling me something else. My cock is drenched in your blood and cum.” He spits on her face then licks her like a dog.

“Good fucking sluttt. So quiet for master.” Tears leave her eyes. How could she possibly speak?! She was in shock, she didn’t know how to react.

Minho kept abusing her clit and pussy till she finally cums again. She clenches as tight as she can around him and squirts on him. Minho cums into her again, then removes his dick.

He gets on his knees and brings his soaked cock to her face. “Suck!” Minho forces his cock down the girl's throat and forces her to taste the bitter cum. She coughs it up right away and backs away from Minho with a petrified look on her face. “If you're not gonna suck my cock, then my better lick all the cum off the dirty floor, like the dirty little slut you are.”

She gets on all fours and obeys him. Her tongue dips down to the floor and licks all the juices away. Minho played with her for a little bit and sometimes shoved his finger into her ass if she was being too slow.

Once she was done, he pulled her into his embrace and kissed her temple. “See how nice I could be if you just obey me?”

—————————————————————————

Edited 🔐

This was a request! Hope you liked it.

4:00 am

I’m going to bed.

Xoxo N

#minho #lee know #lee know smut #minho smut #stray kids smut #dark kpop #kpop #kpop smut

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issabangtanfic · 4 years ago

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[Jungkook] The Windmill House (Chapter 7)

Masterlist

Synopsis: When for once rich doesn’t rhyme with Christian Grey.

Pairing: Jungkook x OC

A/N: Feel free to submit a cover! Tell me what you think in my inbox! Enjoy!

Mr. Jeon’s lips curl up into a smirk.

“Oh, hi.” He says, sounding pleased. Of course he is pleased to see me. His smile makes my blood boil.

“What the hell are you doing here?” I hiss, recoiling when the strong scent of alcohol emanating from him reaches my nose. He tilts his head to the side, on eyebrow raised.

“Wham’I supposed to be doin’ in a bathroom?” He retorts. Oh, I don’t want to be dealing with this.

“You’ve got to be kidding.” I mutter to myself, turning on my heels, ready to go pick up Ben and Sidney and leave.

“Wait.” I hear him before feeling his hand around my arm. Oh what now?!

He turns me around, and I glare at him.

“Hey, man.”

I spin my head and see the security guy I just walked past standing behind me. Mr. Jeon lets me go immediately.

“Everything alright?” The man asks him. Mr. Jeon stares at him with a deep frown, mouth hanging open.

“Are you talking to me?” Mr. Jeon asks. Can I leave?

“Alright, buddy.” The guy cajoles, grabbing Mr. Jeon by the lapels of his jacket. " Leave the lady alone.”

Taking the opportunity as soon as it comes, I escape the scene, leaving him with his problems. I can’t bother with him tonight. I nearly run back to our table.

“That was quick.” Sidney says between two selfies. I mutter to myself, deciding I should keep the encounter to myself. Knowing her, she’s probably going to get up to find Mr. Jeon and kick his ass.

It’s fine, he is literally being thrown out of the club at this very time. As the thought crosses my mind, I look out the window that gives onto the street. Mr. Jeon is there, staggering across the road. How drunk s this man. He almost trips on the side walk but eventually makes it up, aiming for the bench of the bus stop. I watch as he lays down on it, on his back, one leg up on the wooden surface, and just stays there.

I frown as I witness his strange behavior, and soon realize he’s falling asleep. Out there? Under a bus stop? Is he that drunk? Where is his assistant? How does he plan on getting home?

He’ll never make it to his place, wherever that is. He’s going to get robbed. As much as I despise him, this is really dangerous.

“Excuse me guys, I’ve got to use the loo.” The words are out before I can convince myself to do otherwise. I don’t know why I feel the need to lie them. That’s actually false, I’m lying because I know Sidney wouldn’t want me to be doing this. I rise from my seat.

“Again?” Ben says.

“Girl stuff.” I mutter, waving a dismissive hand. This excuse always works.

Discretely, I make my way out of the club and across the street where Mr. Jeon’s lifeless form is sleeping.

“Hey.” I call, shaking him awake. He convinces one eye open.

“You can’t sleep here. Go home.” I tell him.

“Hey.” He slurs, grinning at me. Why is he so happy to see me?

“What is your address?” I try. Mr. Jeon groans, painfully pulling himself into sitting position. He scratches the back of his head.

“It’s.. a tall building?” He replies. I grab my own forehead. I can still walk away.

“Why did you get so drunk all alone? What happened to you?” I tell him.

“You happened, Maya.” He says, pointing an accusing finger at me. My eyebrows meet my hairline.

“I happened?”

“Your boss called me today.” He says to me.

“I know.”

“He was mad. He was…crazy mad.” He explains. Well, no shit! “And then...another woman joined in and… they all started yelling.”

That has to be Ava. She always has been so protective of everyone. And she’s loud. I bite back a smile at the thought of her yelling at a man like Jeon Jungkook.

“And I felt so wronged.” He adds. Wronged? Him?

"I felt like you did everything to make me look like the bad guy.” He mutters. What a joke!

“Yeah, right. You are the one- “

“Wait, wait, wait. Miss Fair, Maya, please.” He cuts me off, jolting up and holding his hands up. I cross my arms under my chest, but let him go on.

“They were threatening get the police involved, telling me I was a monster and a predator.” He says. And they were right! I still could report him to the police.

“So I said: what the fuck did she tell you?” He mimics himself.

“And they told me everything that you said to them. And turns out you just told 'em the truth.” His voice gets quieter by the end of his sentence. I watch, speechless, and his head bows down. He quietly sits back down on the bench, elbows propped on his knees.

“I harassed you.” His voice is almost a whisper. At least he recognizes it.

“So I get drunk to make things a little bit easier for myself.” He speaks again after a beat. He looks up at me, eyes filled with regret.

“I’m sorry, Maya.” He says to me. I hate that he sounds so genuine. I almost want to believe it.

“And I know I can’t make it up to you now.” He adds, looking back down.

“I mean… I could, if you let me take you on a date but…” He trails off, his words hanging in the air. A date? With him?! Let me laugh.

“Oh!” He exclaims, shooting his wide yes up and me and bouncing off the bench. I almost jump at his sudden surge of energy.

“Would you let me take you on a date?” He asks me. I break into cold sweat. What is happening?

“A date?” I repeat. He nods vigorously.

“Promise I won’t bring up my dick anymore. Everrrr.” He slurs. I tilt my head to the side. I doubt he’s capable of that.

“What kind of date would you take me on?” I ask, just out of curiosity.

“I feel like…” He taps his chin with one finger. “I feel like you’re a museum girl.” He declares.

“A museum girl.” I repeat, testing the term.

“Am I wrong or am I wrong?”

“You’re right.” I tell him. It’s a good guess but pretty generic. It still manages to make his entire face light up like Christmas.

“See?! I may be an asshole, but I’m smart.” He says proudly. I bite back a laugh. This is quite amusing.

“I won’t bring you to the Design Museum like any lame dude would do.” He tells me, almost like a promise.

“Oh no?” I chuckle, raising an intrigued eyebrow at him.

“Nah.” He shakes his head. “I know a place.”

“Which one?”

“S’a secret.” He shrugs, making an aggravated grimace. “You’ll know if you go with me.”

“I see.” I chuckle. He’s quite funny like this.

“Will you go on a date with me?” He asks me again. I feel like a no would ruin his playful mood.

“Are you even going to remember my answer?” I challenge.

“No, I’ll remember. I’ll write it down.” He retorts, pulling his phone out. I have to fight back another fit of giggles as he navigates trough his phone.

 “Asked… Maya… out on a… date…” He says to himself as he writes a memo. “And she said?” He looks up at me, eyes hopeful. I know he is only this nice because of the alcohol, but I can’t bring myself to shut him down. I would be the person who tells a kid Santa doesn’t exist.

I’m 90% sure he won’t remember this anyways.

“She said yes.”  I murmur, watching as he beams at me with a face-splitting grin.

“She said yes.” He repeats, his thumbs working fast on his screen. “Awesome.” He pipes up, putting his phone away. I shake my head at him.

“I gotta…” He almost gargles, taking a step back. He has enough time to turn away from me before he vomits spectacularly.

“Oh, bloody hell.” I gasp, looking away although he’s showing me his back. I almost gag at the splashing sound his vomit makes as it hits the ground.

Mr. Jeon throws up once more, and I hear him cough. Still not looking, I fish two tissues from my bag and poke him with them.

“Thank you.”  He says, voice tight, before cleaning his mouth. He sighs deeply, sitting down and throwing his head back.

“What a way to impress a lady, huh?” He says, more to himself than to me. I’m anything but impressed.

“This is the best I’ve felt since your boss called.”  He tells me, eyes closing. What is he doing.

“Should I call you a cab?” I ask him. He hums, but that’s it. His eyes are shut. He falls asleep just like that?!

“Mr. Jeon?”  I try to shake him. He groans. This man is not going to help me. He doesn’t remember his own address. He leaves me no choice. Looking around, I hail the first cab I see.

“Mr.Jeon.” I call, shaking him quite vigorously. He opens his eyes and frowns at me.

“Up. We’re going to get you a bed.” I promise, speaking loudly to keep him awake, and open the door of the car.

“Let’s go.” I encourage him, and I thank the heavens for giving him the strength of walking while he lans onto me.

 “He better not ruin my backseat.” The driver throws at me, but keeps his eyes full of anguish glued on my companion, watching him with worry.

“He’ll probably pay you a brand new car if it happened.” I mutter, dropping his limp body on the seat. The driver raises an eyebrow at me.

“Now I want him to ruin my backseat.” He retorts. I close the door on Mr. Jeon’s side and walk around the car to sit next to him.

“Where to?” I ask Mr. Jeon, shaking him to wake him up.

“What is your address?” I enquire.

Heaving, I sit him upright so I can fasten his seatbelt. He doesn’t reply.

“Mr. Jeon.” I call again when his belt is fastened, but he as descended in sweet slumber.

“You’re not helping me.” I mutter to myself, securing my belt. I guess he’ll have to come with me. What a joke! I did everything to get rid of this man, and he’s here, almost sleeping in my lap. Pursing my lips, I push him his slowly-falling-ontto-me body back in place and give the driver my address.

It’s crazy that I’ve gone from running away from this man to literally taking care of him. He can’t seem to be able to leave me alone. But this time should logically be the last time. There is no way I’m returning to Zaap now that I know he hangs out there, and London. is big enough of a city for us not to run into each other ever again. He probably won’t be bugging me tonight, and I can just shoo him away tomorrow morning. You can do this.

I decide to call Sidney to let her know about everything, and as expected, she immediately starts screaming at me. I really don’t blame her. I try to tell her not to worry about me and to enjoy the rest of the night with her brother, be she refuses to leave me alone with Mr. Jeon. Honestly, I can’t complain that I have such protective people around me, and one thing I know is that I can never win against her. So she gets on her way home as well, although I obviously make it back first.

I shake Mr. Jeon awake, but he’s still barely cooperating. When I open the door on his side of the car, his eyes are open but that’s about it. I get my keys ready in one hand and help him up, but the man is heavy for me and I’m pretty sure he can’t walk. He’s just there, almost comatose, moaning and mumbling inaudible things.

“Need help?” Our cab driver proposes.

“No, I’ll be fine.” I lie.

“Mr. Jeon, you better get your legs moving or I’m leaving you on the side walk.” I threaten him, shaking him again so he snaps out of it.

“Walk.” I order before trying once more. I heave and try to lift him up, and he grants me with some help, pushing himself out of the vehicle. The driver makes it his business to close the door behind him, and I take him up the stairs to my doors, skillfully opening the door with one hand.

“Maya.” He mumbles once we’re inside. He is so heavy, I’ll just drop him on the couch and let him pass out there. As we walk past the kitchen, I hear Mr.Jeon gag.

“My flowers.” I gasp, watching is he empties his stomach in the vase I put his flowers in. What the hell?!

“Sorry.” He mumbles. Ew. At loss of words, I drop him on one of the stools behind the counter and grab him some tissues so he can wipe himself. I notice the huge stain of vomit on his sleeve and nearly barf myself.

This man is supposed to be intimidatingly charismatic, for fuck’s sake. I walk behind him and begin to take his jacket off so he doesn’t sleep with it on and stains my couch.

“Are we finally doing it?” I hear him ask me. Ha!

“Doing it? You stink of alcohol and you threw up on yourself.” I mutter, successfully removing the jacket. I roll it so the stained part doesn’t touch anything and leave it on the counter.

“I still can get it up.” He retorts, slumping over. Yeah, sure. Not picking up on his comments, I pour him a glass of water.

“Drink this.” I tell him. He lifts his head and sees the glass, but doesn’t seem interested. Losing patience, I shove the glass into his mouth and lift it so he has no choice but to drink. Once that’s done, get him up again and push him down onto the couch. He falls back, feet hanging over the edge of it, but it doesn’t seem to bother him. I sigh deeply. That was unnecessarily difficult.

“Maya.” He calls, eyes still closed. “I’m really sorry.” He murmurs.

“It’s just flowers.” I say dismissively, taking my shoes off.

“No.” He says. “For…you know, everything.”

I look up at him, confused, but he’s already gone, his chest rising and falling slowly as he sleeps. This man really is an enigma. I don’t know how to feel about him.

I’m about to head to the bathroom when I hear his phone vibrate in his pocket. Thinking it could be someone who is worried about him, I figure I should answer for him. I fish his phone out and look at the caller’s ID: it’s his assistant. I take the call for him.

“Thank god!” The man exclaims from the other side of the line. “Where the hell have you been?” 

“Hello?” I say. There is a short silence. 

“Who are you?” His assistant asks, tone icy and clipped. 

“Maya Fair. The interior designer? Do you remember me?” I tell him.

“Yes. Yes, I do. Where is Mr. Jeon?” He asks again.

“He is with me. He drank a lot tonight and-” 

“Have you signed an NDA?” He cuts me off.

“And NDA?” I repeat. Why would I have to sign a non-disclosure agreement?

“Did-“

The call ends abruptly, and I realize it’s because Mr.Jeon’s phone is dead. Well, at least he knows he’s with me. I’m too exhausted to charge his phone, wait for it to turn on and call him back. I plug Mr. Jeon’s phone and head to the bathroom to remove my makeup. Sidney arrives as I’m putting my pajamas on, storming in and yelling all kinds of reproaches at me. Mr. Jeon doesn’t even budge at the noise she makes, and all I do is agree with her half-sleepily. I’m crazy, What I did was dangerous, he doesn’t deserve my help, blah blah blah. I give her a hug and collapse onto my bed, falling asleep almost instantly.

“Should we smother him in his sleep?” Sidney proposes, towering over Mr. Jeon’s sleeping form. She puts her hands on her hips and bends over him, watching him with squinted, untrusting eyes.

“Sidney.” I admonish, stretching my arm and offering her a cup of tea. I guess her resent for the man is weaker than her love for black tea, because she leaves him alone.

“I’m just throwing ideas.” She mutters, walking over me to get her cup. She leans against the kitchen counter next to me, and we both watch the man in our livng room while sipping on our hot drinks. Mr. Jeon is sleeping in the same position I left him in, sprawled on his back, one leg bent, both of his arms folded and tucked under his head. His long eyelashes fanned against his cheeks, his chest rising and falling steadily as he breathes. He has a very subtle frown, which kind of looks adorable.

“He is hot though.” Sidney concedes although no one asked.

“You haven’t seen him throw up in the flowers.” I counter. I don’t think I would ever have imagined seeing Mr. Jeon in such a state. He’s always so serious and composed. I don’t think I ever heard him snicker like he did yesterday, out of pure amusement, not out of misplaced arrogance. It was new, and as disgusting as it was, it was a little charming I have to admit.

“I agreed on a date with him.” I declare. Sidney puts a hand behind her ear.

“Say that again?”

I roll my eyes.

“He seemed really sorry about the whole thing. I mean he drank his weight in alcohol because of it.” I explain to her. She raises an eyebrow at me.

“That’s a fucked way to prove your sincerity.” She mutters into her mug.

“It’s not like he did it on purpose knowing I would be there.” I counter.

“Yeah, but.” She pauses to take a sip of her black tea. "A date though???”

She has a point. He made me laugh, and he seems sorry, but it doesn’t mean I should be interested in him. He still wants into my pants, and while his actions can change, it won’t erase the past.

“I know, I’m not going. He probably doesn’t remember anyway.” I try to reassure her.

“The fact that you even accepted! You know very well that if you forgive this kind of man once, they know they have you.” She scolds. I glare at her and her chopsticks in her bun. How more stereotypical can you get?

“I know, Sidney. Jeez! You don’t have to bring everything back to him.” I mutter, know all too well what she was referring to. She leans back defensively.

“I’m just looking out for you. Red flags are red flags.” She mumbles.

“I am not going to fall for this man.” I say sternly. Sidney takes a quiet yet long sip of her tea.

“But you agreed on a date with him.”

“There is no date. I'm not going.” I repeat.

“Good.” She says, contented, and pinched my cheek. “Stop sulking.”

I glare at her again, but my eyes quickly get pulled back to the couch as I hear rustling in its direction. Mr. Jeon is slowly sitting upright, small, squinting eyes blinking slowly as he tried to get his bearings.

“Morning, pretty boy.” Sidney says, walking over to him. I watch, bewildered, as she crouches next to him. He gives her a confused grimace.

“Been squatting enough, haven’t you? S’time to go home.” She tells him, pointing at the door.

“Where the hell am I?” He asks, his voice raspy and laced with sleep.

“In my house.” I retort, making my way to the couch as well. He pulls his eyes to me, and his eyebrows connect in a frown.

“Maya?” He rasps, eyes getting even smaller. He looks sickeningly beautiful when he’s sleepy.

“I found you rat-arsed outside Zaap. So I brought you here. You threw up twice.” I explain to him, watching as his eyes widen at the news.

“Oh, god.” He groans, one hand covering his eyes shamefully. “I’m so sorry.”

I glance at Sidney, who is still being very hostile for someone who isn’t doing anything.

“Mr. Jeon this is Sidney, my roommate.” I introduce my sassy and overprotective roommate.

“Sidney, this is- “

“She told me about you.” She cuts me off, tongue rolling against her cheek. What kind of gangster acting is this?

“Sidney.” I scold. She scoffs, rolls her eyes and exits the living room. Mr. Jeon watches her in confusion. I quietly hand him is phone.

“Do you remember anything from last night?” I ask. He makes a low sound in his throat and leans back against the couch, reaching up and back to stretch.

I try not to notice the patch of creamy skin showing as his shirt moves up.

“Not past the fifth glass.” He exhales, slouching.

“I see.” I say to myself. He doesn’t remember he askes me on a date then, good. I won’t have to tell him no if he doesn’t know about it.

“I’m so sorry that you’ve seen me like this.” He says to me, rubbing his eyes some more. I can tell he’s still very tired.

“This is actually quite embarrassing.” He chuckles to himself. “I hadn’t planned on drinking that much.”

“Well you did. I don’t think I have ever seen someone as hammered as you. When the bouncer threw you out, you laid down on a bench and just stayed there.” I tell him. His brow furrows and he looks at me like I just grew three heads.

“They threw me out?” He asks. “Why did they throw me out?” He’s talking to himself this time.

“The bouncer could tell I didn’t want to talk to you.”

“Yeah, but I own the fucking place.” He retorts, his frown deepening. “These idiots threw their boss out of the club.” He exclaims.

“You do?” I try to hide my laugh in my cup of tea but he hears me chuckling at that, which makes him smile a little.

“This is outrageous.” He says. Poor guy!

“Should I get you something for your head?” I propose. He sighs deeply.

“That would be nice.” He gives me a tired smile. Nodding, I walk to the kitchen and grab a pillbox from a cupboard, almost wincing as I reach up. I realize I’m sore from carrying this big ass man on my shoulder all the way into the house. I also prepare a glass of water.

“There you go.” I say, handing him a pill and a tall glass of water. He gulps it down in seconds, probably feeling the dehydration from all that alcohol.

“Do you feel better?” I ask him once he’s done.

“I still feel like crap. But I know I should go.” He tells me, still barely able to keep his eyes open. I would tell him he’s welcome to stay until he feels better, but truth is he isn’t. I haven’t forgotten what he’s done, and I don’t want to be too nice to him.

“I’m not going to bother you any longer.” He declares, painfully lifting himself off the couch.

“Let me get you your jacket.” I tell him before making quick trip to the bathroom, where I disposed of his stinking suit jacket.

“It’ll need a wash.” I tell him, handing him the plastic bag containing it. He takes a peak and recoils at the smell.

“Jesus.” He says. Oh, I know.

“Thank you again for bringing me home with you.” He says after I walk him to the door.

“You’re welcome.” I reply.

“Miss Fair.” He tilts an invisible hat at me.

“Mr. Jeon.” I reply. He turns on his heels and leaves, and I close the door behind him. I lean against the door, close my eyes and let out a big sigh. This should be it this time. When i blink my eyes open, Sidney is glaring at me, hands on her hips.

“You’re too nice.” She says to me.

“Stop sulking.” I tell her, poking her cheek, my words mirroring hers.

“It’s over. I literally won’t have to ever see him again.” I say reassuringly, walking past her.

“I wouldn’t be so sure if I were you.” I hear her mutter to herself.

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sohotthateveryonedied · 4 years ago

Text

Just the Same

Summary:

“You’re sick.”

“You’re ugly.”

“Why didn’t you tell anyone you weren’t feeling well?”

“I’m fine.” Jason closes his eyes. “Just a little tired.”

“Uh-huh. And that’s why you have a fever?”

Read it here on AO3!

Bruce has a very simple plan for tonight, alright? He’s going to grab a quick post-patrol snack from the kitchen, then he’s going to take a shower, and then he will go promptly to bed. He’s tired. It’s been a long day. He just wants to sleep. (You absolute fool, the goblin in his brain screeches at him, because the goddamn Batman cannot get a goddamn break or else the world will literally split in two.) Fatefully, Bruce passes the den’s open doorway while half of his mind is preoccupied with sending Dick a goodnight text, and he happens to glance into the room. That’s when he stops in his tracks. Even more fatefully, Alfred is coming down the hall in Bruce’s direction, carrying a tray with a single cup of tea on it. “Alfred?” “Yes, Master Bruce?” “Were you aware that Jason was home?” Alfred looks over at where Jason is asleep on the den sofa, still in his leather jacket and boots. He doesn’t look remotely surprised by the sight. Then again, is Alfred ever surprised? “Master Jason got in while you were on patrol. I offered to make him dinner, but he said he wasn’t hungry.” Then there’s that classic Alfred Pennyworth eyebrow crease. “When he wakes up, do inform him that one does not forgo the need for nutrition when one has been dipped in a Lazarus Pit.” “I’ll be sure to do that.” “Now, if you will excuse me.” Alfred walks off with his perfectly level tray, on a perilous journey to Damian’s room. Bruce envies him. At least Alfred gets to go to sleep after Damian gets his nighttime tea. Bruce enters the den carefully, without a sound. God knows Jason hardly sleeps through the night without interruption as it is. Now, at least, he looks peaceful enough. So much time has passed since his last haircut that his hair curls against his temple, plastered with sweat. He must have come here straight from Red Hood business. At least he didn’t get blood on the couch this time. Quietly, Bruce pulls the knitted throw blanket from where it’s draped over the back of the sofa and lays it over Jason, tucking it in close when he catches a shiver rattling Jason’s teeth. Now that he’s paying attention, he can see that Jason’s cheeks are flushed as well. His mouth is locked in a grimace, even in sleep. Bruce presses the back of his hand against Jason’s forehead and clicks his tongue. Definitely a fever. Jason’s eyebrows wrinkle at the touch. His eyes crack open and take a moment to land on Bruce, sitting on the edge of the couch by Jason’s torso. It says a lot that he doesn’t go into battle mode as soon as he registers an unfamiliar presence in the room. “Mmph. Go away.” “You’re sick.” “You’re ugly.” “Why didn’t you tell anyone you weren’t feeling well?” “I’m fine.” Jason closes his eyes. “Just a little tired.” “Uh-huh. And that’s why you have a fever?” “Why don’t you mind your fucking—” Jason tumbles into a coughing fit, wet and hacking. “I’ll be right back,” Bruce tells him with a parting pat on the knee. His knees creak as he stands, heading for the bathroom down the hall. He digs through the medicine cabinet until he finds the thermometer, one of many that Alfred keeps in every bathroom in the house. He grabs a bottle of Tylenol as well. Bruce goes back to the couch and reclaims his spot next to Jason, who has stopped coughing by now, but his breathing is heavy. Bruce touches the thermometer to Jason’s temple, ignoring his weak swats. It reads out a hundred and one degrees. “When did you start feeling sick?” Jason grunts and rolls onto his side, curling in on himself. “Dunno. Yesterday, I guess.” Bruce frowns. Of course Jason would ignore any achy feelings for as long as possible. None of Bruce’s kids have a single self-preserving bone in their bodies. “Tell me your symptoms.” “Being a fucking snack.” “Jason.” Jason coughs. “Leave me alone, old man.” “Does your throat hurt?” “Yeah, so quit trying to make me talk.” “Any nausea?” Jason buries his face into a throw pillow. “You’re fuckin’ exhausting, you know that?” He sighs. “Not since last night. I’m freezing, lethargic, and my head is killing me. Happy?” Bruce hums. “It’s probably the flu.” “Yeah, no shit.” Jason closes his eyes. “Now will you leave me alone? You’re making my headache worse.” Bruce twists open the Tylenol cap and shakes out a couple of tablets into his palm. “Here.” He holds them out to Jason. Jason opens one eye, looks at the pills, and closes it again. “No.” “Jason—” “No. Don’t like pills.” Bruce can’t say he didn’t expect as much. Still, it does Jason no favors to continuously refuse any sort of medication, choosing to tough out the pain for as long as he can. It all ties back to his mother’s drug addiction, a disease which Jason watched slowly kill her over years and years. It makes sense that he’d grow up with an unwavering aversion to drugs. When Jason was a small tot, Bruce and Alfred spent what probably accumulated to hours of cajoling, trying to talk Jason into taking even the lightest painkillers. Lidocaine and numbing solutions were fine, but anything resembling a narcotic was out—and still is, apparently. It makes Bruce wonder how Jason reacted to the Lazarus Pit and its euphoria-inducing waters—part of the whole “magical healing” process. Maybe he was too out of his mind at the time to form a solid thought, much less remember his childhood trauma. This is one fight Bruce chooses not to get into, so he recaps the Tylenol and sets it aside. Miraculously, Jason is already asleep again. That’s fine with Bruce; it’s better his son sleeps this flu off than wastes his energy arguing. Trying not to jostle him too much, Bruce takes off Jason’s boots and leaves them on the carpet. He grabs the TV remote and settles in on the couch with Jason’s feet in his lap, pulling up a nature documentary on hyenas that he and Damian haven’t had the chance to finish yet. Looks like he’ll be catching up on his sleep tomorrow night. Right now, Jason needs him (despite how fervently he’ll protest as much). Honestly, this whole situation brings Bruce back to the old days. After moving into the manor, it took over six months for Jason to completely recover from the years of malnutrition he suffered on the streets. His weight was far too low for a boy his age, even more scrawny than Tim. Alfred provided Jason with plenty of vitamin supplements and extra servings at dinner to bulk him up, but his immune system was shoddy at best no matter how much weight he gained. During his Robin era it was illness after illness, from the common cold to a whammying case of pneumonia. This is the first time Jason has been sick in Bruce’s presence since his death, though. Bruce is learning about the eating habits of hyenas when Tim comes in from the kitchen with a cup of peppermint tea, despite having supposedly gone to bed three hours ago. He stands there in the doorway for a moment, looks owlishly at Jason, then at Bruce, then back to Jason. He grins. “No,” Bruce says. “You don’t even know what I was going to do!” “I know you, and the answer is no.” “Jeez, Bruce. I’m not gonna kill him.” Tim attempts to cross his arms, forgetting that he’s holding hot tea, and hisses when it scalds his arm. “The hand-in-warm-water trick’s never hurt anyone,” he mutters. “Go back upstairs. You’ll get sick.” Tim wrinkles his nose. “This is prejudice against people without spleens, you know. I could sue your ass.” “Sue me from upstairs where I can comfortably know that you won’t die from the flu.” Tim rolls his eyes, but he goes. Bruce hears him stomp up the stairs, getting quieter and quieter until the footsteps are gone entirely. Bruce shakes his head. How did he ever think that having four boys would be a good idea? He questions his younger self’s judgement every day. For the next three hours, Jason sleeps in fits and starts. He never stays awake longer than five minutes at a time, drinking water when Bruce prods him to and grudgingly letting Bruce check his temperature for any spikes. Bruce learns quite a bit about hyenas in the meantime, until the documentary ends and a new one about sea otters begins. In between the hazy bouts of wakefulness, Jason tosses restlessly in the throes of nightmare after nightmare. Beads of sweat roll down his forehead. In the back of his mind Bruce wonders, is this just the fever talking or are nightmares a nightly villain for Jason? The latter would come as no shock, but that doesn’t mean he likes the idea. Bruce runs his fingers through Jason’s sweaty curls, a reflection of years ago when he would do the same thing any time Jason had a nightmare during his youth. Jason has been cheated out of peaceful nights from the beginning. Of course, back then there wasn’t a white streak splitting the darkness of his onyx hair—a reminder of the pit water swimming in Jason’s blood. Bruce moves a lock of hair off Jason’s forehead, gentle as a moth. Jason’s eyes fly open and he jerks away from the touch, a gasp ripping up his throat. Bruce doesn’t move. He gives Jason a moment to regain his bearings, stilling the hand in Jason’s hair. Green irises lock on Bruce, frenzied. “Where?” he croaks. “The manor.” Jason takes a deep breath in, clenching his jaw. “Okay.” He lets it out. “Okay.” Bruce grabs the water bottle he’s kept on the coffee table. “Here,” he says, moving his hand down to Jason’s back and prodding a shoulder blade. “Sit up.” “Fuck you.” It comes out half groan, the illness-wrought exhaustion catching back up with Jason. “You need to hydrate.” “Double fuck you.” Bruce shrugs. “Drink half of this or I’ll call Alfred and have him convince you. Your choice.” Jason rolls his eyes and snatches the bottle. Bruce will take that as a victory. Jason sits up with enormous effort, groaning at the aches in his body until he’s upright next to Bruce. He drinks the water, wincing when it hits his sore throat. “What were you dreaming about?” Bruce ventures to ask. Jason lowers the bottle to narrow his eyes at Bruce like he’s the biggest idiot in this room. “Shut up.” The annoying part is that Bruce genuinely has no idea what Jason’s nightmare could have been about. His childhood? His death? His resurrection? Any of the traumatic things that could have happened afterward, ones that Bruce wasn’t there for? There is such a disconnect between the two of them now. He should count it a blessing that they have moments like this, though Bruce would greatly prefer spending time with Jason while he isn’t sick and miserable. But Bruce will take it, nonetheless. Jason drains a sufficient amount of water, only to lurch forward in another coughing fit as soon as he gets in a breath. “Christ,” he rasps, eyes watering. “Just fucking shoot me already, will ya?” Bruce rubs his back. “I could tranq you, if you really think it would help. But I can’t guarantee that one of your brothers won’t take advantage of that and draw mustaches on your face while I’m not looking.” “Har, har. You’re a fucking comedian now.” Jason’s voice is coarse as gravel, scraping up his vocal cords. “Want some tea? It’ll help soothe your throat.” “Later. Just wanna...sleep for now.” In spite of everything he stands for, Jason tips his head to rest it on Bruce’s shoulder. Whether it was intentional or he’s just so disoriented from the fever that he has no idea he’s even doing it, Bruce won’t take the gesture for granted. Jason is shivering, so Bruce pulls the blanket tighter around his shoulders where it slackened during his sleep. Then, in a riskier maneuver, he puts his arm around Jason and pulls him in close like he did so many times when Jason was a lot shorter and a lot less jagged around the edges. Bcuce still loves him just the same. Jason leans into Bruce’s warmth instinctively, but he warns, “Tell anyone about this and I’ll shatter your clavicle.” “Mm-hm.” “I mean it. You’ll need a goddamn orthopedic surgeon to fix you up if you breathe a word of this to anyone.” “I believe you.” It must be a good enough answer because Jason closes his eyes, relaxing in Bruce’s hold. “The only reason I’m gonna say this is ‘cause my brain is melting,” Jason says, “but...thanks. For being here.” He yawns. “Being sick alone fuckin’ sucks.” “I hear you.” “And keep Tim away from me, ‘kay? I don’t trust the little snot not to pull something.” Bruce snorts and unpauses the otter movie. “Go to sleep, Jay.”

#batfamily #batfam #fanfic commission #sickfic #jason todd #red hood #batman #bruce wayne #robin #batman and robin #fanfiction #fanfic

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violetnotez · 5 years ago

Text

HC: Working at a restaurant with them

So I work at a restaurant and let me just say- it kinda sucks. Its either super busy or super dead and *cough cough we are totally understaffed. But anyways, I’d thought it’d be fun to write HC for what it would be like to work with the BNHA boys at a food joint!

MIDORIYA

Where You Two Work:

Definitely a coffee shop, and a super aesthetic one at that

The type that doesn’t actually have the greatest coffee, but one that people come just because of how adorable and peaceful it is

The whole inside is made up of rich browns, creamy whites, and refreshing greens, with knick knacks of all shapes and sizes littering the walls and cabinets (and even from the ceiling)

You had first began working with Uraraka, but she gave her 2 weeks notice to your boss after a month of you working there

But she had also recommended a friend to take her place- and he got hired

On the first day, Midoriya was already pretty nervous- a new job! A new place! What if he couldnt do everything that was asked of him? What if everyone was super mean? What if he just downright hated it?

When he walked in, and saw this beautiful girl at the counter, he couldn't BrEaThE

He seriously thought you were an angel

When you greeted him as you usuallye became a Huge WRECK- stuttering, sweating, the works

And then he said you were going to train HIM

ONE ON ONE

Izuku didn't know whether to be terrified or ecstatic, because he 1) wanted to never be away from you now and 2) he had NO IDEA how he was going to survive being alone with you and having your undivided attention on him for a couple of hours

What makes him Angry:

Hates how people become so rude to you and show you no respect as a person

It also pains him that you just have to sit there and take it

He has literally seen people point in your face, accuse you of outlandish accusations, and call you rude names

Once witnessed an adult woman call you “stupid” and asked you “if you even went to school” because you accidentally put 2 pumps of caramel syrup instead of 3

This has literally happened to me-just not in the same context :\

Another time, this man was screaming in your face on how he hated his coffee and wanted his money back

Midoriya could tell you were extremely stressed even though you were smiling and being cheerful towards the man

The man mistakenly took your positive demeanor as an insult, because he decided to try and throw his half drinken ice coffee at you

Midoriya instantly saw this, and as if as a reflex, caught it right before it splashed all over your apron

“I think it’s time for you to leave now sir”, he said calmly, but his face didn’t match- it was furious

The man tried to yell at you some more, but he saw Izuku’s face and decided it was best to leave

After that incident, Midoriya didnt leave your side and kept checking up on you throughout the shift

How You Usually Work Together:

Midoriya is always the most helpful one

He’s extra helpful with you because of the MASSIVE work crush he has

But if you ever need help cleaning tables? He’s on it

Need to do the dishes? No worries, he’s got it

Just need a 10 minute break? You sure as heck know he’s dropping everything to make sure you rest

He’s not the best at making drinks, but his adorable personality makes him the best cashier

Mingled with your quick drink time, you two are always getting crazy good tips, especially since your both scheduled in the morning, which is typically the biggest rush of the day

Which you both share of course

When it becomes super dead after a big rush, and you two had cleaned up, you’ll make each other’s favorite drinks as you wait for your shifts to end

You two both worked hard, you deserve a free coffee!

Midoriya always asks for green tea boba, and you make whatever your feel like drinking at that moment

You’ll sit on the counter, smiling and laughing at Midoriya’s crazy stories about his friends over at UA, and just relish the feeling of being with him

Because he’s turned into your work crush too

TODOROKI

Where You Two Work:

I imagine Todoroki working at the most BOUJEE-IEST PLACE EVERRR

Like some super expensive sushi place that takes literally 3 months to get a reservation and you need to pay a down payment to eat there

Like tthe Boujee of the boujee

Is that even how you spell boujee oh well ACK

You had quit your last job because you hated it, and were now desperately job searching

One of the job sites you had joined sent you a message that this place was paying $15/hour

I WiSh

You of course instantly applied, and went to an interview a week later, completely nervous because of how rich this place looked

After the interview, you kind of assumed you wouldn’t get hired because you didnt feel you had enough experience, but to your surprised, you got a phone call a few weeks later asking you to come in for Training

You met your boss, and your manager, who showed you the ropes of the place- it was amazing seeing all these high class chefs at work and all the guests you recognized

Everyone was a high figure of society: social media stars, political figures, even heroes!

You began to sweat a little, realizing you’d have to be around this people every night

As you were looking around the room, trying to calm your nerves, you saw him-Literally the prettiest boy you had ever seen

He was wearing a white dress shirt and black bottoms that looked just as expensive as the restaurant, his hair was perfectly split between red and white, and he had a red patch over his blue eye, his expression calm as he filled an empty water cup at a small table

Your manager noticed you staring at Todoroki, your mouth slightly agape

“Ah, I guess you noticed Todoroki!” she cried happily, “Todoroki, when your done helping our wonderful guests, come and say ‘hi’!”

Todoroki looked up, his expression unreadable as he looked at his overly happy manager and your blushing face

He nodded solemnly at the woman thanking him for his water, and came walking over, the pitcher of water still in his hand

“Todoroki, I’d like you to meet our newest hostess, y/n!” she smiled brightly as Todoroki stared at you with so much attention you felt he was staring at your soul

He reached out his hand, his expression blank

“Welcome,” he stated matter of factly

His palm was warm, his calloused skin rubbing against your skin gently

“If you’ll excuse me,” he spoke to you and your manager, “I have to work to do.”

And just as quickly as he came, he was gone, his shoulder inches from brushing yours

“Well, he’s very ...mysterious,” you sighed, wondering if you’d be working with him more- the more you looked at him, the more you wanted to learn more about him

“Yes, yes, that Todoroki sure is a quiet one,” you manager agreed, “But, surprisingly, he’s one of our best servers! Ever since he started working here, we’ve been having TONS of regulars!”

“It’s probably that pretty face of his,” your manager winked, laughing as you blushed

“Or it might be because he’s the son of Endeavor,” she added casually

“WAIT-” you gasped, “He’S ThE sOn oF-

What Makes Him Angry:

The creepsters that try and get with you make him furious

He hasn’t told you he likes you, or even given you a reason to think he has emotions for you because he is terrible at showing any type of feelings, but he is HIGHLY observant of you

Because hes a starer not gonna lie its borderline creepy

He knows your mannerisms for when your happy and having a good day, or when you feel down in the dumps

You could look like the most cheerful person going into work, but Todoroki will know instantly that that happy smile of yours is being strained, and he’ll ask if you’re okay and if you want to talk

So when creepy idiots are trying to give you pick up lines or ask for your number, he knows right when you feel uncomfortable

And it also pisses him off because… he’s got FEELS for you

“Hey uh uhm…” the man yelled with an huge grin, snapping his fingers as if he remembered something he had been straining so hard to recover from his memory, “Y/N! Some more wine sweetheart!”

You turned around, putting on your fakest smile and fighting the urge to roll your eyes.

“Coming right over, sir!” you stated, carrying the very expensive bottle of wine this man had practically drunken half of by himself

“Thanks darlin’,” he smiled, giving you a wink that made you want to laugh in disgust- did this dude really think he had a shot with you? Gross!

“While your at it, why dont you stay for awhile, talk some with me- I’d bet we have alot in common,” he drawled, trying to be suave and smooth-talk you in front of his equally creepy-looking friends

“Sorry to break it to you sir, but if you look around, there’s no room for me to sit. And besides, I have to get back to work-,” you replied slightly less cheerfully, trying to move away,

The man grabbed your wrist, making your blood run cold.

“Aww c’mon darlin’, dont play hard to get,” he said breathily, wrecking of wine, “you can sit right here!” He then patted his lap, giving you a wink as his buddies laughed

You began to turn red form embarrassment, ready to do something irrational to teach this creep a well deserved lesson

“She won’t be sitting anywhere near you sir,” you heard Todoroki’s steady and confident voice near you, feeling his powerful presence that instantly made you feel safe

“And if you keep using vulgar suggestions like that towards our staff, I’ll be forced to tell security-and then I’d be able to teach you a well deserved lesson about manners towards women outside.”

You stared at Todoroki in shock- you had never seen Todoroki this mad, he was always so calm and collected. His face was so dark, it didn't even look like him.

“Are you trying to threaten me kid?” the man asked lowly, his tone dangerous as he began to stand up.

“Wait Nijagke- I think that’s Endeavor’s kid- look at the hair,” one of his buddy’s friend whispered to the man fearfully, “You dont want to mess with Endeavor.”

The man gave Todoroki a hard stare, slowly sitting back down.

“Your lucky you got Daddy’s name to protect you, boy,” the man hissed, “or I’d be the one taking you outside.”

“I sincerely doubt that,” Todoroki spat back, gingerly taking your hand in his and leading you into the break room to make sure you were okay.

How You Usually Work Together:

Todoroki is the definition of mysterious work hawtie

Like he barely talks to you but somehow talks just enough to know him as a person, but you’re always craving more information about him

Like you know he’s full name is Shouto Todoroki, he goes to UA, he’s Endeavor’s kid, he hates his dad, and that he only got this job so he wouldn’t have to be home more than he had to

Todoroki, let me give you a hug ^--^

But he also has the biggest crush on you and doesn’t know how to communicate it, so he does the wierdest crap

Like you once mentioned to your coworkers how you think chivalry is dead because men never give roses anymore, and the next day at work there was this huge rose bouquet in the work room sent to you

Your manager sees all this and totally tries to set you two up ALLL the time

Like she’s always dropping little hints like “Oh really, thats so funny y/n, because TODOROKI’S SINGLE TOO!”

Leaves you always as a stuttering mess while Todoroki blushes softly

Is always offering to do things for you and buy you lunch

And even if you refuse, he still buys you lunch

ALL THE TIME

Because he got that money to spend$$$

BAKUGO

Where You Two Work:

You two work at the most generic food chain, like McDonald’s or Taco Bell

You at first worked with Kirishima, you two only really working there for some extra summer cash

Kirishima was the most positive person ever and you loved working with him because of his optimistic attitude

He was always talking about his buddies at UA, and there was three that always came in asking for free food

*cough cough Pikachu, Tape Boy, and Best Girl Mina

But the one he ALWAYS talked about was his best friend

How Kirishima talked about him, he was a little rough around the edges but was super cool to be around, and you actually wanted to meet him- if he hanged out with such a fun group, he must be as chill, right?

WRONG

You came in one day to see Kirishima in the back room talking to your boss, a spiky blonde next to him that had his hands stuffed in his pockets

You didn’t think really anything of it, until the very next day

Kirishima waltzed in, his buddy from yesterday at his side, looking like he wanted to murder somebody, the hat he was supposed to wear balled up in his hand

“Im not wearing this stupid hat Kirishima,” he spat at his friend with so much force you couldnt help but be a little curious by him- he was pretty hot.

“C’mon Bakugo, its just a hat!” Kkirishima said nonchalantly with his usual smile, waving at you.

“Hey Kirishima, I thought you weren’t working today,” you asked, eyeing his friend from the corner of your eye

Even though he was sulking like a child, it was kinda….cute?

“Yeah, I am,” he sighed, “I was just coming over to introduce you to Bakugo! I got him hired!”

He smiled so happily, you couldnt help but smile with him, his friend still brooding

“Im only doing this because you forced me to, you idiot, and I got hired without your help,” he grunted out, stomping his way behind the counter.

Kirishima looked at your concerned face, giving you a reassuring smile.

“I promise,” he oathed, “he’s a little rough around the edges, but he’ll warm up to you!”

“Good luck training him!” he yelled happily as he walked out the door, leaving you with the fuming blonde behind you

Oh great

What Makes Them Angry

People

Just people in general

He HATES talking to people

He is always cooking because hes quick and makes the food really good, but being even close to customers- NO

He will YELL at a child who drops food on the ground

And has done it

But his biggest pet peeve is people who feel entitled enough to say crap about how to food isnt up to their ‘standards”

Because 1) 9 times out of 10, he made the goddamn food

And 2) They always yell at you for all their insignificant little problems, and you take it

Like what the hell you’re actually nice to them after the yelled in your face?!

He hates seeing you cry

Like if somebody makes you cry- they’re dying

One time a lady screamed at you from the register that she shouldn’t have to pay for cheese on her burger, calling you really rude names

You politely excused yourself to get your manager, and as you walked by Bakugo in the back, he saw you trying not to cry

Angry Pomeranian activated

As you’re explaining the situation to your manager as he hands you some water to calm down, you both hear Bakugo screaming in the front

“-THE HELL YOU YELLING AT MY COWORKER?! YOURE EATING AT MCDONALDS YOU IDIOT HOW CHEAPER DO YOU WANT IT TO BE?!”

You literally had to fight for your boss to not fire Bakugo after that

How you usually work together:

Bakugo acts like he always hates being there

Only talk in grunts and eye rolls

When he does talk, he’s always whining or yelling

Its kinda scary

He always acts indifferent to you-but- he actually likes you

Like ALOT

When he clocks in, he is always angry, until he sees you, and he seems to melt a little bit

He thinks, for some odd reason, you look adorable in the uniform

Which was a real What the Hell moment for him because HE IS HaRdCoRe

He doesnt do CRUSHES

Kirishima catches on real quick though

He doesn’t really say anything about it- he just kinda watches it

When he drops hints though to Bakugo, Bakugo intatantly gets MAD

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN I GOTTA CRUSH ON HER?! ON THAT TWERP?! HELL NO!”

Thats when Kirishima KNOWS his buddy definitely has a crush

One time you were slightly late to work, still not even in dressed in your work clothes

You were wearing a cute off the shoulder top with a skirt

“Sorry! I was at a family event! I didnt think I’d be late!” you huffed out, hastily clocking in

BAKUGO COULDNT STOP STARING

When you walked, he literally was just MESMERIZED by your LEGS

Kirishima noticed his friend practically drooling

“Really?” he laughed, elbowing his friend, “No crush?”

“SHUT UP YOU BAKA,” Bakugo stuttered, trying to hide his blush

AHHHHH

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

Requests open!

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jinmukangwrites · 4 years ago

Note

Listen this is crackhead territory but I fucking love the idea that pre-crisis Jason Todd /hated/ the costumes and wore them only out of spite. Youre welcome to pick between the green scaley panties or the deadass circus getup he gets from Dicks old stuff somewhere in the detective comics lmao they're both unique atrocities (Also ily Jinnie

"Jaylad, what are you wearing?"

Jason looks down at his clothes, raising his eyebrows dramatically like he doesn't see anything... wrong.

Jason looks back up at Bruce, eyes wide and incredibly innocent. Too innocent. Jason is definitely up to something, and he's definitely pretending like he isn't. "Um, clothes?" Jason says. "Gee, B, I thought you were a detective."

Bruce stares at Jason, trying to figure out what in the world would posses his newest kid to want to go out into town in a nice dress shirt and tie paired with none other than... bootie shorts. with holes in them. Pockets poking out through the bottom hems like Jason cut them with a dull pair of scissors but left the pockets intact just to make them look even more rediculous.

"Master Jason, won't you be cold?" Alfred asks, not sounding as bothered as he should be.

Jason grins and shakes his head. "Nope! I have warm blood."

Bruce resists rubbing his jaw with his hand in exasperation. "Jason, why are you wearing those... Shorts?"

"Oh!" Jason gasps and hits his forehead like he's just realized he's forgotten something. "You meant these? You see, Bruce, I've found I really like super short shorts! My legs feel so free, and I've decided I'm never going to wear long pants again—I cut all of them!"

"Good for you, Master Jason."

Bruce looks at Alfred with betrayal before returning his gaze towards the atrocity that is Jason Todd. He's definitely up to something. But Bruce won't fall for it. He takes a calming breath and turns towards the door. "Fine then," he says.

"Yeah, fine," Jason shoots back. And it's left at that as the three of them leave the manor into the city for a rare family dinner out.

-o-o-o-o-

It takes Dick a moment to realize what's going on. At first he didn't even realize that something was going on, in fact it was the staring from the other diners that called Dick's attention to it.

Jason is sitting at the table, one leg stubbornly resting on the wooden table and victoriously staying there even as Bruce keeps trying to knock it off. Which, well, isn't exactly out of character for Jason. The kid is persistent and likes to kick his feet up onto things. It's just, well, he's not exactly wearing the most appropriate pair of pants in the world for that kind of position.

"Ahh, feel the breeze on my thighs!" Jason says loudly halfway into dinner and Bruce almost chokes on his lobster. The woman at another table isn't so lucky as she quite literally launches a stream of wine from her mouth in a coughing fit. "My legs are so fr- mph!

Bruce landed his mouth over Jason's mouth just in time to prevent the boy from finishing the sentence, but the damage is already done. Dick and many more diners in the fancy restaurant are all now painfully aware Jason if hardly wearing any pants and is rather eager to verbalizes that he's hardly wearing any pants.

The manager is standing across the floor of the restaurant, looking painfully caught between asking a disruptive customer to leave and asking Bruce Wayne to leave.

After a few more loud comments from Jason, Bruce decides to see him and Jason out himself, head in his hands all the way until Dick watches them drive away.

Dick shrugs and puts all the doggie bags from their meal in the passenger seat of his car, knowing that Jason must be trying to get something from Bruce, and it must be important if public humiliation is his strategy.

He makes bets with himself on the way back to Blüdhaven of what it could possibly be about.

He thinks he has a good idea. And he wonders how long it will take for Batman to cave.

It only takes a week.

-o-o-o-o-

It was pure chance Tim managed to grab a picture of it. His parents were out—again—and he was lucky enough that the newest nanny was a bit of a ditz so she didn't even notice him sneak out with his new camera.

Gotham is a huge city, but it's a cold night which means the Dynamic Duo is more likely to start at the Narrows tonight rather than anywhere else in the city. Get the worst of it done to warm yourself up, and then deal with the rest of the city after you've already worked up a sweat.

But still, it was still just a bunch of luck that Tim happened to be staking out on the fire escape hanging over the exact alley Batman and Robin eventually end up in.

He notices quickly that Batman is annoyed about something, and Robin is babbling loud enough to be obviously proud of something. Perhaps the same something.

It's just chance that a fly runs into an electric bug zapper at the same time Tim takes his picture of the two of them, allowing just enough light for just enough time for his camera to get just the right kind of lighting for the photo. Batman and Robin quickly move on and Tim quickly runs home before the nanny notices him gone.

She doesn't notice him gone. He grabs a bowl of ice cream and retreats to his room to look at the pictures he's captured tonight.

And, because a whole lot of luck, Tim finds himself being the first to know about the costume change, besides the criminals who found themselves at the wrong end of the bat-fist tonight of course.

He stares at the picture for a long time, thrown off.

"Huh," Tim says quietly to himself, "Robin's wearing pants now. Nice."

-o-o-o-o-

If Jason knew beforehand that jacking the batmobile's tires, hitting Batman with a tire iron, and calling him a big boob would not only land him the position of Robin, but the costume as well, Jason would have hit the jerk a little harder.

But that's okay now. It took some time, but he finally has a decent pair of pants to fight in now.

And besides, it was totally worth it to watch Bruce look halfway dead from embarrassment for an entire week until finally cornering Jason and begging him to wear proper pants.

Jason did, for a condition.

He smiles, cherishing the image Bruce's horrified face every time Jason mentioned how good the breeze felt on his exposed legs.

Yeah. It was so worth it.

#jason todd #bruce wayne #red hood #batman #tim drake #red robin dc #drake #dick Grayson #Nightwing #alfred pennyworth #batman comics #dc comics #jin writes #ask #fan fiction #fanfiction

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1zashreena1 · 4 years ago

Text

The Homicide is Hot -12

18+, m/f/f, technically OCxDiego Jimenez [Power]

Summary: Princess struggles with her own morality. But all cats are gray in the dark, right? Oh, and Diego has an epiphany.

WARNINGS: Ridiculous descriptions and ‘the code is more like guidelines’ outlook on grammar. Is it OOC if the character was given essentially zero development in canon???

Literal murder guys, seriously*** Protective Diego, feels, a blow job, plus size woman+fit man, insightful and helpful Julio, f o r e s h a d o w i n g

A/N: Princess took on a life of her own and has essentially become an OC. There are infrequent mentions of her description (specifically as plus size) and her actual name in later pieces (its Bicki). She started as self-insert so she looks like me (plus size, white, short, blue eyes, curly hair). If that is not your thing, I totally understand. And do not feel obligated to read this, I will not be offended!

I’m not a fan of “plot” so be aware that most of this series is just meandering through their relationship, angst-fluff-smut whiplash style. But with dick jokes.

Please don’t hesitate to let me know if you would like to be tagged or removed.

TAGLIST: @chelsfic @symbiont13 @nicke0115 @bunnykjm @rosee-sensuelle @girlpornparadise @mandoplease @heresathreebee @xxsteph-enrixx @jetiikad @joalsglasses @mutantcookiesecrets @demoncatstone @squidlywiddly87 @lockedoutofmyotherblog @poeedamerons

gif by @el-cheung

"Its hot when he's homicidal." There. You said it.

Okay but remember that time when he stabbed two dudes and carved an ear off of a third? And you were gonna like, die if you didn't blow him IMMEDIATELY???

WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH ME.

Wait, wait. Maybe this is … good? That is not the correct word but you know what I mean. If I'm going to be with someone in his position then I need to be able to handle everything that entails, right?

You glance over at TMP, the small stuffed panther is facing you on the breakfast bar. You know its ridiculous, but you feel like he's watching you. It only takes half a second, but you flip the stuffie around so he can't be a voyeur just like his namesake.

The small dry erase board in your lap reflects sunlight back up into your face. Its covered in anxious scribbles regarding last weekend, you're desperately trying to sort them into some semblance of helpfulness. It isn't going well.

I already know he is in love with me, straight out of the horse's mouth. Lol 'horse'.

Seriously. You cannot go one day without a dick joke.

I love him. I mean, how can I claim to love someone if I don't accept all of them? He doesn't maim indiscriminately, it has a point. Is it justified? I don't know. Do I trust his judgment on it being justified? I think I do. I guess the better question is: Do I care?

I'm already in it. He's paying half my bills, he already paid off all my debt. I've accepted so many gifts with the knowledge that they were bought with laundered drug money. Hell, every article of clothing I'm wearing right fucking now was purchased by Diego. Also, he said that those guys lost a shipment to the tune of EIGHTY THOUSAND DOLLARS, so you know, that's an accessory charge. At this point, even if I decide I have some arbitrary moral high ground, I'm definitely rolling around in a ditch, legally speaking.

You've always known that your morality was a bit off center than most people's, but being with Diego has put it into sharp relief. There are so many things that are illegal that you just don't care about. And your very visceral reaction that night was irrefutable proof.

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

Last weekend

Diego does not like the cold. The heat in the SUV is turned way up, you already closed the vents on your side of the backseat. You're on your phone, pretending to ignore the massive hand sneaking under the hem of your dress while your legs are flopped over his lap.

Diego rumbles at you, the phone comes down just enough for you to peek over the top at him.

"Yes? Is there something you would like, my Murder Panther?" Your smirk is damn near audible as you question him.

His eyes trail down to your lap then back up before he answers in a growl, "There is something I would love." The rockiness of his voice never fails to make you quiver just a tiny bit.

Just as those long fingers brush your thong his phone chirps. Repeatedly. And then starts ringing.

Diego snatches the cell out of his jacket pocket and hisses at the screen. Not good, you think. He answers it with a tirade of Spanish, shoots you an incomprehensible look, then retreats from you. Nooooo.

Being the only one in the car who doesn't speak Spanish is its own variety of delightful hell. Bastian and Julio are exchanging meaningful looks in the front while you just have to wait. Diego has gone quiet, which is utterly terrifying.

He disconnects the call, then passes the phone to Julio, who shows it to Bastian, who then changes course.

Diego reluctantly pulls your dress back down as you drop your feet to the floor. He raises a thick arm and tucks you into his side underneath it before kissing the top of your head apologetically.

"We have to run an errand."

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

The warehouse looks like it came straight out of a Law and Order episode. Its abandoned yet eerily lit from the inside, there is a suspicious assortment of motley vehicles parked outside, and two tattoo covered dudes toting semiautomatics appear as you pull up.

"Please tell me those belong to you." You mutter quietly. Your immediate concern is Diego's safety.

Diego gives you the shark smile. "The men or the guns, Princess?"

In the dark, at this incredibly sketchy location, and with the threat of violence thick in the air, he is actually a little bit scary.

You swallow the apprehension and glare at him with a raised chin. "Yes." You snap, crossing your arms in a stubborn huff. Holding his gaze right now is kind of intimidating but you manage it.

"Si, everything here is mine." His voice is hard as steel but the hand that comes up to grip your chin is gentle. It takes a second for you to realize that he is including you in that group. And that you like it.

You take in his features, those eyes are black in the darkness, but the silver in his beard glints in the partial moonlight. The defined jawline, his long straight nose, those perfectly framed velvet lips, thick brows and even thicker hair. So fucking gorgeous. Cupping his bristly cheeks, you whisper one requirement, "Just make sure to come back to me, baby."

Diego leans his forehead down on yours briefly, then kisses your nose. "Wait here for Diego, my Princess." His voice is dark and dripping with emotion. Julio opens the car door from outside and Diego steps out, adjusting his jacket and tucking the abalone-inlaid gun into his pants. He doesn't look back as they walk away.

Bastian steps out and closes the driver's door to smoke. The only door left open is the rear passenger next to where you sit. You're too preoccupied to stay focused on your cell. You look up to see that Bastian is on his phone, Probably his boyfriend checking on him. You can certainly understand that.

Faint voices float out of the open warehouse garage door, but everything is in Spanish. You slide down to the pavement and pace slowly. Its been almost twenty minutes, should you try to check on him? Each lap of pacing takes you ever closer to the empty doorway, purely by happenstance of course, until finally, finally, you can see people inside.

There are three men kneeling on the floor, surrounded by at least two dozen others armed to the teeth. There are more guns than you have ever seen in your life, all being handled casually. Diego paces slowly in front of them, rattling off some rambling array of options, judging from his tone. Whatever he just said must have been unfavorable because two of the kneeling men start crying and begging. I should not be here.

Diego digs both hands deep into his pants pockets, as though searching for a lost item, only to pull out the larger of the switchblades that you know he always carries. Ambling forward, he snatches the man furthest from you by the hair and yanks his head back. The angle looks excruciating, but what happens next is infinitely worse. The blade glints under the overhead lighting as Diego slides it smoothly across the man's throat, triggering a cascade of red.

Diego just slit his throat.

Diego just killed that man.

Diego just committed murder.

You're frozen. Think. Think. If you move now someone will hear your shoes, you stuff a hand into your mouth just in case you make any noise. Your plum dress and black booties should blend into the night, thank fuck the dress is longer so there's less gleaming pale leg to reflect the moonlight.

I should go I should go back to the car I should go home. Your thoughts are racing but you can't look away as Diego skirts the rapidly expanding pool of blood and approaches the next man. He leans down to listen to the doomed man's pleas, one huge hand on his shoulder in mock comfort. Almost faster than your eyes can follow, Diego stabs him three times in the chest. The man coughs, then chokes on blood. Diego nudges him backwards to the floor with an expression of mild disgust before he can cough blood onto those exceedingly expensive shoes. The noise of his death is a quiet gurgle.

You can't feel your legs. Your stomach plummets and your heart rate leaps. This is Diego. This is my man. This is who he is and what he does. And this is what happens if you wrong him.

Just like I'm doing right now?

Sudden understanding makes your palms sweat and your jaw shake. Breathe. I trust him. You know, all the way down to the bottom of your soul, that he would never do anything like this to you.

I'm different.

I'm special.

I'm important.

I have power.

The thrill of getting away with something courses up your spine.

All of these men are his to command, available at his beck and call, and his to dispatch as he sees fit.

And you? Diego belongs to you. This powerful man chooses to kneel at your feet and pleasure you with his mouth, he dotes on you with gifts and gourmet dining, he waits for your text responses with baited breath. You want nothing more than to belong to him.

Movement snaps you out of your own head; Diego is approaching the last man, all confident stalk and predatory grin. A different feeling settles low and deep in your abdomen. Murder Panther. MY Murder Panther.

Diego strokes over the man, no, this one is younger, the young man's hair. He is definitely an adult, but hasn't been for very long. Diego is whispering in his ear, the guy nods frantically and tilts his head toward you. You watch in morbid fascination as Diego carves off his ear.

Diego wipes the blade off on the man's shirt, then pats him on the head as he walks off casually. He gestures to the group as he puts the knife away and they close ranks to help the lone surviving man to his feet and carry him off.

Before you can jolt your body into retreating Diego turns to head your way. He glances up… and sees you.

His face, Oh no. Shock, horror, dismay, annoyance, and finally, determined resolution all cross his features in under three seconds. He uses his broad body to block you from his men's view and marches you back to the SUV. "Get in." He snarls, but he doesn't push you.

You slide all the way across the backseat to crash against the opposite side and Diego follows, slamming the door behind him and locking it. He scrubs a hand down his face and turns to you, expression grim.

You can't imagine what you look like, Probably a scared little bunny. But what you feel like? Oh, that is a different story. Damn near everything about what you just witnessed was so fucking hot. The actual homicides were kind of 'meh' (What is wrong with me???), but his power and ability and danger? Those you are definitely into.

He looks simultaneously defeated and defiant. "Well?" He barks with an expectant gesture. "This is me. This is what I do. You call me Murder Panther, but its different to see, isn't it, Princess?" The way he spits out his pet name for you hurts. He's lashing out in fear. He thinks I'm gonna run.

You keep your eyes locked with his as you reach out to his leg. He flinches at the contact but stays stiff. Your voice is smoky and dark, "I need you. Right fucking now. Give me your dick."

For the first time since you've met, Diego is speechless. His jaw hangs open while he watches you sink to your knees in front of him. Seemingly paralyzed, he just blinks as you rip his pants open and yank the material down over his hips. The instant you achieve clearance for his cock your mouth is on him. Your moan must vibrate the entire vehicle its so loud.

"Princess!" He finally gasps. "You. What. Fuuuck, what is. Oh, hell yes." His hips jerk and you dig your nails into his lower abdomen. He is fully erect in seconds, a little confusion isn't enough to cockblock Diego. Big hands flit through your peripheral vision erratically before settling on your head. The angle is finally correct and you slide him all the way down your throat, he practically howls with it. "Ahh, h-haaa. Jesus fuck, that feels so good. Shit, shit. Princesss."

The way he calls for you, writhing with it, is almost too much. You moan back but don't stop bobbing your head on his length. Firm suction intermixed with sporadic long licks of your broad tongue have him leaking steadily in no time. Your left hand cups his balls, squeezing gently just to feel him tense up. He's salty, but not bitter. You want it. You need him.

Your right hand snakes down to hike up the dress. Once it’s over your wide hips you spread your knees so you can sink down onto his shoe. He doesn't notice at first, not until your hips start rocking in time with your suction.

He grabs a fistful of hair to get your attention. "Are. Fucking christ woman, are you riding my foot?!" His eyes are huge, mouth open to pant.

You nod tightly, "Mm hmm." The moan vibrates all along his cock, causing his hips to rise off the seat.

"Ohh, oh fuck. You're so wet. I can hear it." He groans as though in agony. The thrusts begin to pick up pace and you grind down onto him. Your mouth can open just wide enough to accommodate the majority of his girth, you already know your neck is going to kill you tomorrow. Worth it. The skin of his cock is silky slick with both of you, he glides across your tongue easily but it requires pressure to fit him down your throat. Its like consuming fire, you're burning up from the inside out and its painfully perfect.

In the darkness of the unlit SUV you can't see anything, you can only hear Diego moan and pant while your nose is buried in the soft hair on his lower belly. The intensity of being engulfed in his scent drives you to distraction, you grind down hard on his foot and you're so, so close. His hips lift off the seat to push deeper and you ride his motions, swallowing around the head of his cock. One enormous hand sinks deep into your curls, he pulls gently just because he knows you like it. His purr is deep, "My perfect little Princess."

That's all it takes. You drop your entire weight onto his foot to shudder and whine as an orgasm rips through you. Hips jerking in time with each spasm deep inside, you ride out all the waves without ever breaking rhythm on his dick.

Diego is frozen in shock as he realizes what just happened. He pulls you off, much to your whining disappointment, to stare down at you in awe. He stutters a little, "Good. Girl."

The instant he releases ringlets you dive down onto him with renewed vigor. The emphatic praise only spurs you on even stronger. Everything is wet; his dick, your mouth, his pants, your chin, the seat, your dress, his shoe. Everything. The sounds, the way he tastes, you're desperate to have him.

"You want this? You want Diego?" His voice is so rough, so harsh. You nod tightly and moan for him, high pitched and hoarse. "Princess, so damn good, take it. Take all of me. Fuck, you look goddamn amazing on my cock." His hands stroke endlessly over your hair, his hips are jerking harshly and you know he is close. "Shit. Shit shit shit. Come," he is gasping, panting, "Come again for Diego, mi amor." His body stiffens, his legs shake, the grip in your hair tightens, and his head drops backwards to the seat as he pours down your throat in scorching jets.

Diego collapses, boneless and breathless, but you don't release him. Your right hand shoots down between your legs to work your clit furiously while you continue suckling softly.

"Yesss," he sighs upon noticing your actions. His voice drops low, overflowing with sinful threat, "You come for Diego. Pretty little Princess, all mine. Follow orders, come on your Murder Panther."

It breaks you. Your whole body seizes up as you wail for him, clenching down on nothing in painful ecstasy. Finally relinquishing his cock, you flop face down into his lap with an exhausted groan. Diego melts back into the seat and you both just lay there, panting.

Diego raps on the door window but stays slumped down and loose-limbed.

Bastian unlocks the SUV, then pops the driver's door to stick his head inside. "Yeah, boss?" The blonde studiously avoids looking lower than Diego's face. You can hear Julio chuckling behind Bastian.

"Fuck the club. Take us home." Diego decrees lazily. You sputter joyful laughter directly into his pants.

You ride home curled up in his lap, snuggled into that salt and pepper beard you love so much while Diego feathers kisses all over your face, the knife cradled in your hands.

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

Diego stumbles down the stairs the next morning, yawning hugely, only to find Julio in the kitchen, unashamedly raiding the fridge. Bastard, Diego chuckles.

"Manito! We need to talk." Julio gets right to the matter. "Before Gordita gets up." He adds pointedly.

Uhh, what. "Fine. Talk. Also, are you eating carrots at 10:12am??" That is disgusting.

Diego plops down onto a barstool and stares dejectedly at the espresso machine until Julio rolls his eyes and turns it on for him.

"Look, you need a check, eh?" Julio sighs but stands firm while Diego side eyes him suspiciously. When no objection comes, Julio forges on, "She saw you murder two people and cut an ear off a third last night, right? And her response was to blow you in the car? Fucking ride your foot to come, what, twice?"

Diego smiles dreamily, "Yeah. It was a good night." So. Much. Licking.

Julio passes him the steaming mug, "If you don't put a ring on it, pendejo..."

Diego nearly drops the mug as his closest confidante walks off into the living room.

Shit, Julio is right.

#damnit diego #murder panther #rough me up then dick me down #24 fucking 7 hours in this house #zash writes #some whiplash #feels and dick #dick and feels

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threeletterslife · 4 years ago

Text

01 | Over the Moon

→ next chapter

→ summary: You feel isolated in the vast American country with no one but your older brother and your six rowdy friends to keep you company. But when they disappear without a trace, you're left with nothing. Nothing until you become dragged into the world of the mob. The mafia world promises glory, fame and big bucks. But that comes with backstabbing, pain, regret and vengeance behind the veils. You're not ready for that alone. Are you?

→ genre: 85% angst, 15% fluff | mafia!au

→ warnings: profanity, death, graphic depictions of murder/torture, mourning, drinking

→ wordcount: 11.6k

The whiteness of the room is blinding. The lights above are almost excruciating. But most of all, the silence is deafening. As if there's nothing alive and breathing in the room.

But there is.

The only visible signs of life are six men dressed clad in shades ranging from deep blue to black. They are standing completely motionless, but their faces are contorted with all kinds of emotions. Their expressions speak in anger, frustration and exasperation.

Some of them are panting quietly for breath—sounds that can only be heard if you have a sharp hearing. Others have perspiration dripping down their brows—none of them make a move to wipe it off. All are stiff in stance, glaring at one another through their cold, unnerving eyes.

There's no doubt about it—tension is in the air.

One man shifts his weight from his left foot to right. He clears his throat, straightening out his crisp, black suit in the process. "That's enough."

The tension is sliced in half. Chaos chases out the silence.

"What do you mean it's enough? I stand by my original opinion, and I'm not allowing the rest of you to distort it in any way."

"But it is enough, Namjoon. Sit down, will you? All of you."

There's the loud rustling of the men's slacks as they obediently take their seats. One man stays standing; he radiates power and dominance in his aura, staring down at those seated below him.

"I still don't think it's right, Boss," Namjoon tries again. "He wouldn't have wanted this at all." Namjoon wipes the excess sweat off his brow, shaking his head in disdain. He's in the spotlight, daring to voice his thoughts. "Granted, he wouldn't have wanted to die either, but look how things turned out."

"You're wrong, Namjoon," another man scoffs. He crosses his legs and glares at Namjoon. "He did want it. He said it in his goddamn will! Stop arguing with Jin, because frankly, he's the boss, not you!"

"Calm down, Hoseok," Seokjin sighs, shifting his weight on his other foot. "You are to address your superiors by their titles..." he trails off, brows furrowing as he becomes immersed in his thoughts.

"Fine," Hoseok huffs. "Underboss, I frankly think it's right to follow the exact words of his will. Why would he bother to write a will if we don't even heed to it?"

"Hoseok," Namjoon groans in frustration, "we need to interpret the will accordingly. I just don't think taking things too literally will help us. Yoongi? Some help here."

The man who had been leaning back casually in his chair coughs in surprise. "You were doing just fine," he mutters. "I think the underboss is right," Yoongi sighs. "We need to be pragmatic about this—"

"You and your fucking pragmatics," Hoseok spits out. "Let's face it. You two are the only ones with different opinions. Majority rules."

Yoongi doesn't answer. He suddenly takes a disinterest in the conversation and sinks back into his seat, refusing to speak. Namjoon takes the action as a sign to start his defense. "Jungkook and Taehyung barely count," he scoffs. "Jungkook follows everything Taehyung does and Taehyung follows everything the boss says—"

"Hey!" Taehyung yells, suddenly standing up from his seat. "You trying to call me and JK fucking backboneless?"

"I still think our opinions matter..." Jungkook frowns. "Boss?" He looks toward Seokjin for help, but Jin doesn't answer, lost in his own thoughts.

"I'm just saying what we're trying to do is obviously wrong," Namjoon argues.

"And you call yourself a lawyer?" Taehyung laughs scornfully. "Don't you think it's too fucking late to say what's right or wrong?"

"Show some respect to your underboss," Yoongi scolds. "And it's funny you're trying to talk morals, Taehyung. Need I remind you of your own sadistic antics?"

"Fuck you!"

"Let's not be so vulgar," Yoongi retorts.

"You know what? In the end, it's up to the boss to make the executive decision," Namjoon says, quirking his brow at an obviously fuming Hoseok and Taehyung. "So I suggest we all shut up and listen."

All eyes are on Seokjin, now, waiting for him to say something, anything. The man sighs, finally sitting down at his seat. He scans the eyes of the other men in the room, his own eyes cold and calculating.

"I say majority's right, this time," Seokjin declares. "We're down one man, morale is low and we need to fill the gap. If she's smart enough... as smart as him, we'll be in good hands."

"And if she isn't? We're putting a lot at risk," Namjoon says.

"The only risk we're putting in is the detrimental effect it'll have on your mentality," Jin replies. "You don't want her here because she'll remind you of him. You can't bear to have anyone that reminds you of him walking around our halls. I understand and respect that, Joon—" he takes a small breath "—but we need her help... As much as she needs our help."

"And how do you know she needs our help?" Yoongi challenges.

"Her brother's dead, and she doesn't even know."

Unemployment is the best and worst thing that's ever happened to you. Sure, you have no idea how you're going to spark the start of your career or how you're going to explain to your parents why your economics degree isn't paying off student debt. But you also have all the time in the world. All the time in the world to binge-watch your favorite TV shows, that is.

If your parents were here, you'd probably hear an earful from them. The "why can't you be more like your older brother?" type of shit. But the thing is, jokes on them, your brother's literally been MIA for a good six years now.

In fact, you've been covering for his poor ass ever since he decided to drop out of his prestigious college. (Which your parents still have yet to find out about.)

But you suspect they might never find out. First off, your parents are more than 6,000 miles away from you and your brother, so the only earful you get from them is on the phone. Second, they're calling less and less these days. Ever since you and your brother turned eighteen, they've been more lenient, suspecting both of you were CEO's of prospering law firms or hospitals. Third, you're a nasty good liar, something your brother had taught you very well.

You kind of miss him. He's the only blood relative you have in this country, anyway. Your parents are 6,563 miles away in South Korea, while you're stuck in the oh-so-jolly United States of America with your brother.

Then again, he was supposed to protect you, to care for you, ever since he and you had moved to California with your parent's best wishes for both of you to strive for a spectacular education. But to give him a bit of credit, your brother had been by your side since you were in seventh grade to your senior year in high school. And to give him even more (possibly undeserving) credit, he'd helpfully guided your hormonal thirteen-year-old self into the delights of American society when he was only fourteen, himself.

But he ditched you nevertheless, and you're all alone.

Well, you weren't completely alone, you suppose. Sure, your host family was okay, but they had never understood the perils of your teenage angst like your brother had. And besides, it's nearly been six years since you've moved out of your host family's home. You're truly alone now. With no one but sweet Netflix to solace you and coax you to wake up to a new day.

You and your brother are probably the biggest disappointments to your parents, ever. Technically, this time, your brother's the bigger disappointment (for once) because at least you got your master's degree in economics. Your brother never even showed up to his first college class.

God knows where the fuck that man is.

Sure, he always sends you ungodly amounts of money every month—you suspect he's made himself a goddamn CEO of some obscure company—but you would very much rather have his presence than his money.

As much as you're bitter from his unexplained absence in your life, you still desperately want to be in contact again. And he did help you find your passion for economics in the first place.

It's funny because you always thought your brother would hit it big and become some world-wide famous brain surgeon; he'd always been the smarter one of the two of you. Well, your brother was smart, but he definitely wasn't smart enough to control his stupid infatuation with the mafia. And once your brother becomes passionate, there's no fucking way out.

The last you remember, he had been conducting intense research about the most notorious mafia bosses of the 1900s. One time, he'd made you memorize all the positions in the original Italian mafia—you'd given up after he tried to make you spell out 'consigliere.' Another time, between the summer of his high school junior year and senior year, he'd tried to convince your host family to fund his “educational, enlightening and beneficial' trip to Sicily, where 'the original mafia was founded.' ” His words, not yours.

He was insane, that brother of yours.

The worst part was that somehow he'd managed to find friends that would help fuel his idiotic passion for the mafia. Damn his excellent social skills (that you very much lack). Honestly, if you had his brain, you would've definitely not wasted it on researching deadly gangs.

But his friends became your friends and that was that. Except they had all left you in pursuit of something that definitely wasn't education.

At this point, you wouldn't be surprised if your brother disappeared only to continue his crazed mafia research with his best friends. Maybe he's lying undercover somewhere like the total goof that he is, trying to sniff out LA's most notorious criminal gangs. It's a thought that makes you scoff every time.

He should be twenty-four right now, just a year older than you. He should still be in school, getting the proper education you and your parents expected him to get. But noooo, he just had to go off to do his own thing. And now you're left to make excuses for him on the phone.

Last week was your mother's birthday, and when she asked you where the hell your brother was, you had to make up some intricate lie that he had to attend a doctor conference.

Whatever. At least that dumb bastard sends you a generous monthly allowance. You have better problems than to scrounge around looking for your brother—who, you may politely add, is a grown-ass man.

You're twenty-three, unemployed, single as fuck and lost in this vast nation of supposed opportunity. You need to find out what to do with yourself first before looking for your brother. In fact, you should probably stop watching Netflix this instant.

You should probably get dressed and get out there to greet the world with your unemployed status in hopes of landing a stable job your parents would approve of.

And so, as a woman of your word, you do just that.

You're in the middle of looking for your purse when someone knocks on the flimsy door to your apartment.

Weird. You don't usually get visitors.

Ditching the effort to find your purse, you stumble over to the door, trying to peek out of a small hole you've been telling yourself you had to fix for the past three months. But that attempt is futile. The hole that you had always convinced yourself was noticeably large was obviously not large enough for you to discern anything on the other side of that damn door.

You sigh. If it's some murderer out in the middle of the day ready to stab me to death, at least I won't have to pay off my damned student debt.

But you digress. When you open the door, to your slight disappointment, you don't see a murderer. In fact, you see two people—two vaguely familiar people.

"Jungkook? Taehyung?"

"Hey, Y/N," Taehyung smiles.

"Hi." Jungkook waves shyly from behind his friend.

You stare at them, shellshocked and frozen. You haven't seen Jungkook and Taehyung since your brother decided to jump out of your life. They are the subject of vague memories of laughter and good times shared that you'd pushed to the back of your mind as time passed.

You figured Jimin's decision to quit college had something to do with his friends. And now here they were.

"Is Jimin with you?" you ask, unamused and definitely not returning the friendly smiles.

"Ah, that would be a no... Well, as of now, no, at least." Taehyung shrugs. "We've actually been looking for you."

"Oh?" You raise your eyebrows. "Really? Because I've been looking for you. Well, not you, but um my brother actually. Park Jimin? I hope you've heard of him."

Jungkook chuckles softly. "Haven't changed much, huh?"

"I guess." You cock your head, brows furrowing as you think. "So... do you want to come in?"

"Sure!" Taehyung grins, marching right into your humble abode with Jungkook right by his heels. "Nice place, by the way," he comments, looking around at your rather neatly organized living room.

"Thanks," you mutter, closing the door. Taehyung and Jungkook have already made themselves at home on your couch. "So... did my brother set you up to do this? He usually sends letters when he mails me the monthly allowance, but that lazy ass hasn't even been doing that these days... Is he busy?"

Taehyung chuckles, shaking his head. "Jumping right to the chase, huh? Not even a hello? Or a 'how are you doing, Taehyung?' C'mon, don't you miss us? We hung out a lot as kids, remember? The whole lot of us. Right, JK?"

"Right, Tae."

You let out an exasperated sigh. "All of you left me."

"We're sorry," Jungkook replies almost immediately. "We didn't mean to ditch you or anything..."

"Yeah? Well, that's exactly what you did," you say. "Just... Where the fuck is Jimin?"

"Damn since when did you fucking cuss?" Taehyung snorts and not to mention totally ignores your question. "Has it really been that long?"

"Answer my question, Kim Taehyung."

The man raises his eyebrows but speaks. "He's not here, Y/N," Taehyung sighs. "Um... but, it looks like you're doing fine without him, you know? Lookin' good." He grins goofily, saluting to you, but you're unamused yet again.

"Why are you guys even here? I honestly could've sworn you were dead just by how MIA you were."

"Ah... that's..." Jungkook looks down at his feet.

"It's about Jimin, actually," Taehyung blurts out, standing up.

"Oh, lord," you mumble. "What kind of trouble is he in, this time? Do I need to bail him out of jail?"

"Listen," Taehyung says. He stands up, his previous silly demeanor replaced with a serious one. "We... Well, you have to come with us."

You raise an eyebrow. "Just because I was friends with you six years prior doesn't mean I'll spontaneously follow you to wherever."

"But Jimin's waiting for you!" Taehyung exclaims. "Don't you want to see your brother?"

"Well, of course... but—"

"Listen, sweetheart," Taehyung sighs. "You—"

"No, YOU, listen," you interject, raising up your hand. "You can't just expect me to waltz back into my brother's life again. He... well, all of you, ditched me for a reason. I don't know what happened for all of you to change your minds but..." You sigh. "Besides, if Jimin's waiting for me, why didn't he come himself?"

"He's not in the best condition, you know? He's gone down with some cold, and we don't want him to get worse now, do we?" Taehyung says. "We know it's been six years, Y/N. Don't you think that's all the more reason to come visit us? We've missed you, after all."

"Just one, small, quick trip to our house," Jungkook says, fidgeting with his hands. "You'll meet everyone else there! It'll be like a reunion."

You blow air out through your nose. "Like the old days," you mumble.

"Like the old days!" Taehyung exclaims.

"Jimin's not in the best condition, huh? He was always so susceptible to the weakest of viruses," you shake your head. "And you guys have been living together without me? Some kind of family."

"We didn't want to bother your studies," Jungkook says. "Jimin, Taehyung and I all dropped out of college, and Jimin didn't want to become a bad influence on you."

"Right..." you say, eyebrows crinkling in thought.

"But you've graduated, right?" Taehyung asks.

"Right."

"So come and visit us!"

You tilt your head sideways, staring into Jungkook and Taehyung's eyes until Jungkook looks away. You and Taehyung have the longest staring contest before you blink first. "I'm not going to contract whatever Jimin has, right?"

Taehyung grins. "I hope not."

"Fine." You sigh, rubbing your forehead. It can't hurt to visit your long lost brother. Maybe you can give him an earful and convince him to contact your parents. Maybe you can convince him to stop pushing you away? "I'll go."

Jungkook and Taehyung look as genuine as they did back when you had been close friends with them. And besides, if they wanted to murder you for whatever reason, they would've already done it. So you shrug and walk towards the front door. The purse you'd been looking for catches your eye; it had been wedged between some dirty old shoes. Picking it up, you turn to Jungkook and Taehyung. "We're not going to walk, are we?"

"Of course not," Taehyung snorts, catching up to you and opening the door for you as you walk out. "See that car over there? The nice, red sports car?"

"Yeah, is yours the minivan behind it?" you genuinely ask.

Jungkook giggles. "Actually, the red sports car is ours."

"What?" you deadpan. Dropped out of college, my ass.

"Well..." Taehyung snorts, helping you down your own steps. You protest by swatting his hand away, but he insists and persists. "Namjoon, Jin, Hoseok and Yoongi make the big bucks."

"Really?"

Jungkook opens the shotgun car door for you. "Yeah! Here, you can take the shotgun seat while Taehyung drives it responsibly back. No speeding, there's a lady present."

You snort, sliding into the nice leather seat. "Thanks."

"No problem," Taehyung grins, making himself comfortable in his own driver's seat as Jungkook takes the back for himself. "It'll be a forty-minute drive, so we better get all comfortable here."

"Um, yeah. I can think of several questions on the spot," you say, strapping yourself in just in time before Taehyung speeds off.

"Ask away!" Taehyung chirps.

"First off, what on earth do you guys do to afford this kind of car? Shouldn't some of you be drowning in student debt?"

"Namjoon's a lawyer," Jungkook pipes in. "Hoseok's a surgeon, Yoongi's an anesthesiologist and Jin's a head chef at some famous place he owns."

"Talk about successful..." you trail off. "What about everyone else?"

"Eh, school's disgusting," Taehyung chuckles. "I'm a waiter at Seokjin's restaurant and JK here's a cop."

"But that's better than being unemployed, though," you sigh. "What's Jimin been up to?"

"He's a bartender," Taehyung says. "Got pretty damn good at it too."

"Bartending, huh? Never really thought he'd be into that. Last time I saw him, he was obsessed with the mafia. Guess it's bartending now, huh?"

Jungkook laughs. "Yeah, I guess."

The conversation flows nicely after that. You ask question after question and Jungkook and Taehyung give you answer after answer. And by the end of the forty-minute drive, it's as if they never left you. You had been the closest to them in your childhood, anyway. You almost forgot how good it feels to have quality talks with your childhood friends. In fact, you kinda forgot what it's like to have a friend, so this was a nice change.

"Hey, we're here," Taehyung smiles. "Home sweet home."

"We're in front of a wall," you deadpan as Jungkook snickers in the backseat.

"It's a gate, silly," Taehyung snorts. "Just gotta punch in a code..." His fingers move lightning fast across a keypad, and suddenly the wall is separating, creating a small space for the fancy car to drive right through.

Your mouth drops open when you see the house, er, mansion, that's before you. "That's your house?"

"Home sweet home," Taehyung chuckles. He parks the car in front of the elaborate steps that lead to a large, white door. "Hold on," he tells you as he hurriedly gets out only to open the car door for you on the other side.

"Thanks." You get out of the car, unable to take your eyes off of the beautiful mansion. "I've been missing out..."

"You have," Jungkook grins teasingly.

"C'mon, everyone's waiting inside!" Taehyung calls from the top step. God knows when he'd sprinted up those stairs.

A sudden wave of relief crashes over you. It's been six years. Six fucking years. Now you can finally see your brother. You don't like to admit it. You rarely end up admitting it. In fact, you don't think you've ever admitted it.

But you look up to your older brother with all your heart. And you're more than elated to see him again for the first time in half a dozen years.

The moment Taehyung opens the grand, wide doors to the even more grandiose mansion, you sprint in without a moment of hesitation.

You're greeted by white marble floors, a crystal chandelier and an occupied glass dining table. Four familiar faces stare at your excited self. They've grown. The boys you practically grew up with, that is. Their faces becoming sharper, highlighting their features and their once wide, childish eyes, squinted and emotionless... Something about the way they sit elegantly on the dining chairs sets you off. And you can't really pinpoint what.

There's Seokjin with a new hairstyle that makes him look like a rich billionaire (and judging by the mansion you might even be right on your judgment). Then there's Namjoon who's lost all of his baby fat, his eyebrows creased slightly and his legs crossed casually. Hoseok's dressed to the nines, gold rings encompassing his fingers. Even Yoongi too... The kid who had used to be shy and awkward looks like he could murder a man with his gaze alone.

Your smile drops as you realize the person you wanted to see the most is missing from the mix.

"Where's Jimin? Is he in bed?"

Hoseok gives you a strange look before turning to Taehyung. "What did you tell her?"

That one little question makes your heart drop. You should've known Taehyung spits out lies easier than he blinks. You should've called him out on his bullshit the moment you had doubts.

Jungkook gives you a nervous look before he pushes out one of the dining chairs for you. You frown, looking between Jungkook and the chair incredulously.

"Please, Y/N, it's been a while. Sit down, make yourself comfortable," Seokjin soothes. "Everything will make sense soon." He gestures for you to take the empty chair, which was conveniently placed between his seat and Namjoon's.

You raise your eyebrows. "Jin? What...? What's going on? Joon?" you question, turning your eyes to the man who had known your brother the best. Namjoon averts his eyes, leaving you stranded in your own confusion.

"You didn't tell her anything?" Yoongi sighs. "The truth, I mean?"

"Why would we?" Taehyung defends sharply. But when Hoseok glares daggers into his head, Taehyung looks down at his feet.

It chills your blood to see your old-time friends like this. Cold, distant... serious. When you were younger, there wasn't a hint of tension at all between the eight of you. Now tension is all you see.

"Jungkook, fetch the document, please," Jin sighs, running a hand through his otherwise well-combed hair. "How have you been, Y/N? Getting by? Jimin always made sure to send you some money..." he trails off, giving you a small smile.

You watch as Jungkook scampers off, like a dog with his tail between his legs. Something just wasn't right.

"Y/N?" Jin asks, softly.

"Taehyung said Jimin's sick," you stupidly say. "I hope you guys haven't been condoning him to get in trouble."

"Not even a 'hello,'" Jin chuckles.

"Where is he?" you demand. You're getting a bad gut feeling and your eyes fleetingly glance at the doors behind you.

Jin notices your hesitation, smiling at you warmly. "Hey... hey, I'm still the same Seokjin you knew... You're safe here, Y/N."

"What do you mean, safe?" you accuse. "Are you implying that I wasn't safe before?"

"You sure ask a lot of questions," Hoseok snorts.

"Let the girl ask. She's confused, can't you see?" Namjoon bites back. "Things will make sense in a bit, all right?"

"Why doesn't it make sense now?"

Jin smiles patiently. "You see... it's a bit... complicated, Y/N. But we promise you, you'll be safe."

"Safe from what? Is Jimin that sick? Is he in the hospital? Shouldn't we go there right n—"

A document falls on the table, right in front of your seat, shutting you up. You freeze when you catch sight of the text.

"What is this?" you ask in a tiny voice as your body suddenly becomes cold. You laugh nervously and with shaky hands, you bring the document closer to you to inspect it. To see if your eyes weren't fooling you. "You're pulling my leg. This isn't what I think it is."

"Oh but it is," Hoseok sighs.

"Shut up," Namjoon commands. "Y/N... I'm sorry."

"W-What do you mean?" you breathe. "You expect me to believe this? This is bullshit. What do you mean you're sorry?"

Deny it. That's it. Be in denial. There can't be one single reason that that's true.

But the letters don't lie. You can't look away from the writing in a large, clear font, scrawled across the very top of the document. Last Will & Testament of Park Jimin.

Someone puts a warm hand on your shoulder, trying to comfort you. "Please, read the will first," Jin says. "We'll explain everything. I'm sorry, Y/N. We all are..."

You clear your obviously dry throat. "No," you say as clearly as you can though you notice the hesitation and inconsistency in your voice. "You can't expect me to believe this. If you're going to play games with me, I'll get going. I didn't come here for a prank. I actually came here to see my brother."

You're about to push your chair away to stand up, but someone places a hand on the back of it, obstructing you from leaving. You look up to glare at this rude someone only to see Jungkook. He gives you an apologetic glance before moving to block your view to the entrance entirely.

"Let me go," you say through gritted teeth.

Seokjin shakes his head before looking you dead in the eyes. "Y/N... We're sorry."

You scoff, shaking your head. "Sorry that you don't know where my brother is too? You didn't have to cover it with his fake death."

"Are you stupid? You must be an idiot!" Hoseok sighs in exasperation. He taps his fingers impatiently on the table. "I'm done playing with your denial game. Face it. Your brother's dead, Y/N. Read his goddamn will before I lose my patience and read it out for you."

You stare blankly at Hoseok. "Dead?"

"Hoseok," Seokjin warns. "Y/N... I know you may have your doubts, but you have to trust us. That document... Jimin would've wanted you to read it."

"Stop," you command. The room spins and frankly, you feel a bit sick. "Stop acting like he's already dead. There's just... there's no way. He's twenty-four! He can't be dead now." You run your hands through your hair, feeling distressed and out of your mind. "He never even said goodbye to me..." you mutter. "He would've said goodbye." You shake your head. Tears that you didn't even know were there start to drip down your face. "I don't believe any of this."

"We can show you the body if you'd like," Hoseok shrugs. "But we don't want to do that now, do we?"

"You're serious."

"We wish we weren't, Y/N... We're sorry," Jin says. And he does look really apologetic. "Please... just read the will, and I promise I'll explain the rest to the best of my ability."

You're completely shell-shocked to silence.

There's no way he's dead. If he had been terminal or something, he would've said... He should've said something in his letters. It's not possible. I haven't seen him in person for six years. It can't end like that. And to hear this from his best friends?

Taehyung puts a comforting hand on your shoulder, tugging the will closer to you. He slowly picks it up, helping you grip onto the single piece of paper. At that moment, you come so close to ripping it apart to shreds. That damn will was the only solid proof you had of your brother's death. No will? No death.

But you know things don't work as linearly as that.

"You might have doubts, Y/N. And I understand," Seokjin soothes. "I know how hard it is to be on the receiving end of news like this. And I get that you haven't seen Jimin in years. You might even feel like you can't feel a difference when he was alive and when he's gone... I know that might scare you at the moment. And I know that's pushing you into denial, Y/N. But we brought you here for a reason... So, please. Give us another chance and read the will. Your brother would've wanted that. Most of what's on there is for you, anyway."

You feel numb. And you hate it. You hate that Seokjin's right. Jimin could've died a year ago, and you wouldn't have known; you wouldn't have felt a difference. Apparently, Jimin's dead now, and you still can't seem to bring yourself to fall to the floor and grieve like you mean it. You just feel twisted inside. Like you drank a glass of spoiled milk. But you can't seem to grasp the concept of your brother's apparent death. How can you when he was basically dead to you for six years? What difference did it make? He never contacted you anyway. If he really was dead, you wouldn't feel a difference at all.

God. You hate yourself for thinking about these things.

At this point, the sad, confused, frustrated and angry tears blind your vision, but you're able to make out the image of someone reaching across the table to hand you a tissue. You accept it gladly, wiping the tears with the best of your ability. Looking up, you see Yoongi, his stare completely blank and his hands holding out the tissue box for you. "Thank you..." you whisper, taking a deep breath to steady yourself.

Then you finally let your eyes gravitate to the document. You've been gripping it so hard with your sweaty, shaky hands that the once clean, straight paper is slightly crumpled and damp. But that's the least of your problems.

Besides the printed title, the rest of the will is even in his handwriting. The scrawl is neat and in slight cursive—you can recognize Jimin's writing anywhere.

Your wet eyes take in every word your brother etched onto the paper with black ink. It's strange to read something so solemn, so straightforward from your lively, passionate brother. The will isn't long, but you take the time to reread every sentence, mulling over every word.

It isn't much, actually. Just states who gets what... And it seems like you've inherited everything he owned. Which, contrary to the mansion he lived in, wasn't much.

Unreal. This whole situation feels like a nightmare. And maybe you are asleep, and your mind is playing your greatest worries against you? You're praying to wake up any second.

But you never wake up, and the nightmare drowns you deeper as you come across the next line in the will:

If, by somewhat likely chances, I was murdered, I trust that Kim Seokjin, Kim Namjoon, Min Yoongi, Jung Hoseok, Kim Taehyung and Jeon Jungkook will take care of Park Y/N in their home; if my death was through natural causes, the following men should quietly send Y/N her inheritance.

You reread the sentence again. Then again. And again. You pull the paper closer to your eyes, hands shaking as you do so.

Maybe I misread it. Maybe I...

But you hadn't misread it. The line stays the same as your eyes painfully cross it every time, a part of you breaking off and withering away by each glance.

You feel dull. Shocked, yes, but already numb. Your thoughts are a jumbled up mess. There are so many questions, but you can't make out coherent words. Such a shame... You usually always know what to say.

If... If my brother had died through 'natural causes,' which I'm guessing pertains to illnesses... then I wouldn't be here. I would've gotten my inheritance with no strings attached. The fact that I'm here... Murder? My brother thought it was a somewhat likely chance that he would be murdered??

It's so crazy that there's no way anyone would be making it up. You can feel the shadow of doubt limping away. And what's left makes you feel more vulnerable than ever. Being able to read that will too... It was like an eye-opener. A call to you that Jimin was really dead. Whether you believe it or not.

"You need explanations, huh?" Seokjin sighs, nodding. He puts a warm, comforting hand on top of yours, but you're so cold, so far gone, you can barely even feel it. "Hey, hey..." he says softly. "Y/N?"

You're nodding through tears. "I don't know what to believe," you finally admit in defeat. "I don't even know why I'm crying. I'm just confused."

"I'm sorry, Y/N. I understand. It's a lot to take in. And..." he hesitates. "It's going to be a lot more to take in as well..." He looks at you cautiously to see how you're coping. And you seem to be doing better than he had expected because he continues on. "I need you to listen to me very closely and not let doubt or denial of any sort to block me out, alright?"

Seokjin rubs soft circles into the back of your hand as you nod very slowly. Yoongi hands you another tissue. (Almost as if he was preparing you for a huge breakdown.)

"Listen, I'm going to be very frank," Jin says.

He's treading water, you notice.

"You've heard of the gangs around LA, right?"

You frown. "What?" That was the last thing you expected to come out of Seokjin's mouth. Though a bit bewildered, you nod. "Of course I have. The brutal murders, the shootings, the stupid territory fist fights..." You trail off when the realization hits you. "J-Jimin... He... He didn't mess with them, did he?"

Your heart sinks in your chest when Jin doesn't answer right away.

"He was always so obsessed with the mafia. He didn't just follow them and get in trouble, did he? He's not that stupid, right? Please, Jin, please say something. Tell me that isn't true." You sound pathetic even to yourself, but you can't help it.

Now it seems believable. It's entirely conceivable that your brother had been murdered by some malicious gang members for sticking his nose in their business. And you don't know what to make of this new information.

"Well," Jin sighs. He softly grabs your hand, and his warmth makes you feel just a little bit calmer. "It's partly true..."

"God," you groan, pulling your hands away from his and burying your face into them.

"We're in a gang, actually."

The spoken sentence shatters you. "Come again?"

"We're the mafia, Y/N. Your brother... all of us."

It sounds so preposterous, you almost scoff. But you don't. Jin had told you to trust him, and insanely enough, you were instinctively doing just that. Besides, the more you think about it, the more it makes sense. God, it explains so much. And the color drains from your face as everything clicks. That would explain the ungodly amounts of money Jimin had sent every month. That would explain the mansion. The crazy good jobs half of them are holding despite being so young. It would explain why your seven best friends had left you—probably on Jimin's account because he definitely wouldn't have wanted you to be affected. It even explains why these six men in front of you aren't anything like the six boys you had spent your childhood with. Why they look so cold, ruthless... intimidating.

And you thought you were dragged here to see your brother. Ironic.

"How seriously are you involved?" you ask carefully.

"Seriously enough," Namjoon answers. "Seriously enough for it to kill your brother, that is."

You frown at that. "I feel obligated to believe all of this," you sigh. "I don't want to believe any of it too—"

"Do you really think we'd be lying?" Hoseok sighs.

"What else would you think?" you bite back. "I think I have every right to be incredulous at the moment."

"Of course you have every right to be 'incredulous,'" Hoseok says. "But you'd better save it for later. See, honey, we're the mafia. One of the many affluent gangs in this city, you understand? Two and a half days ago, your brother was murdered by an enemy gang member or two, and we have yet to figure out which gang and who in the gang..." He sighs deeply, raising an eyebrow at you. "We've recovered the body, but I don't think you'll recognize it anyway... That doesn't matter. What does is that your brother wants you to join us now that he's dead. Living in this house would mean your blood is with us."

You feel tipsy again. Dizzy. Nauseous. Numb.

"You ruined everything," Namjoon accuses, glaring at Hoseok.

You steady yourself by gripping the edge of your chair. "I think I need to leave," you finally say after a long pause.

Just walk away. Pretend as if nothing happened. Maybe in due time, you'll forget everything that had just unfolded in this room.

"Ohh, you wouldn't want to do that, sweetheart," Taehyung murmurs.

You raise a challenging eyebrow at him. "I can do what I want. Need I remind you that all of you kept me in the dark for years. And the moment you need me, you decide to call me over for whatever reason despite the fact that I don't want to be involved at all. And if all of this is true, that also means you let Jimin get murdered. I'm not going to join your gang—if it even exists. I'm out."

You force your chair back, nearly stepping on Jungkook's toes as you stumble away from the crystal table. Muttering a quick apology to the sad-looking man, you quickly turn on your heels before making a dash to the exit.

Just as you're about to heave the large doors open, a loud voice commands you to stop. And you do, just for a little while, meeting Hoseok's eyes. "I'm going to walk away like this never happened. I'd appreciate it if I'm never contacted again."

Hoseok scoffs. "Not a good choice. The moment you leave those doors and walk out of our territory, you're in danger. Do you really want to die as painfully as he did?"

"Hoseok..." Seokjin warns.

But Hoseok pays no mind, rolling his eyes. "It looks like they jumped him while he was unsuspecting."

You freeze.

"He had no weapons on him. We checked. Completely defenseless. They duct-taped his arms and legs together like a helpless animal so he couldn't move. Then, they beat him, crumpled up his body until bruises blossomed and bones broke. Pulled out a few fingernails and teeth. But slowly. One at a time. Managed to damage a few organs as well... Internal bleeding was pretty bad," Hoseok pauses, staring at you with a cold, hard look in his eyes. "Then they forced rubbing alcohol down his throat... and duct-taped his mouth shut."

Your legs shake so hard, they give out. Your body hits the cold, marble floor, but you don't feel the impact in your bones.

"And do you know how he died?" Hoseok says. "You would think from blood loss... or a concussion." He stares at you as if he were expecting you to nod your head and answer to a degree. When he realizes you're shocked frozen, he sighs. "Your brother asphyxiated in his own vomit. Had to examine it myself, actually. And Yoongi would tell you the exact same thing."

Now it seems too real.

The last image you have of your brother was when he was eighteen. And that's the image of Jimin you played in your head when Hoseok had painted the vivid pictures of your brother's murder. The innocent, passionate, caring person you'd known. Gone. Just like that. And in such a cruel, inhumane way.

It hurts in a way you've never hurt before.

"Y/N, you see?" Taehyung sighs. He walks over to you, holding out his hand to help you up. When you make no move to take it, he forces you up himself, carrying your frozen, shell-shocked body back to the dining table. He carefully places you back on the chair like you're a fragile doll and speaks, "Whoever killed him might be after you. Jimin's made quite a lot of enemies who would do anything to kill him and his family. And you're the only family he has in America."

"Your brother wants... wanted you to be safe. We want to respect that, Y/N..." Jin soothes. "For Jimin, don't you think?"

"For Jimin?" you whisper, shaking with fear, grief, anger. "For Jimin?!" The tears are drowning your face again. "You're going to use that against me? None of us knew what Jimin wanted! You can't just assume what anyone wants! He's dead! He's... dead. Only he would know what he wanted, but he's gone..." You sob, your fists shaking with overwhelming emotion. "I just miss him," you whisper. "Ah, thanks," you mutter quietly when Yoongi hands you the third tissue of the day.

"We all miss him," Jin says. "We also understand your grief, Y/N. We're not your enemies, alright? We're on your side, and we're here to help you. I know things seem dubious at the moment. I apologize but I'd like to stay true to Jimin's last wishes. The will speaks what he wants, and we're merely acting on that. But we won't force you to join our little gang...

"We want to give you time to make your final decisions while also keeping you safe in the meantime. You're welcome to stay while you decide. We're not horrible men, Y/N. We wouldn't force a resolution out of you if you're not in the right mental state."

"A-And if I walk out right now?" you challenge.

"That'll be beyond what we can handle. We can't promise your safety outside of our territory, Y/N... But yes, you may walk out right this second. No judgment, no troubles... from us, that is."

"I... I need time, Jin. I can't do this right now." Even to yourself, you sound defeated.

"Hey... It's alright. Here, I'll guide you to the room you'll stay in..."

God, they had it all planned out, didn't they?

You look at the magnificent doors behind you. And for just a split second, you contemplate leaving. But you can't. Not when these people are the only people left. With your brother gone, your parents, oh god, your parents, thousands of miles away... The only people you have left are your childhood friends.

Childhood friends that are apparently associated with the mafia. And you were incredulous in the beginning, but the more you watch how the six of them acted, how they carried themselves... You would be crazy not to believe they were in the mafia.

And as Jin places a comforting hand on the small of your back as he leads you to the room you'll be staying in for who knows how long, you can't help but wonder if Jimin, the sweet, caring and enthusiastic person you knew had changed like his friends.

The Jimin you knew wouldn't hurt a fly.

Now, you're not so sure.

The hallways of the mansion are elaborately decorated with aureate designs and classic paintings. The expensiveness of your surroundings makes you feel even more at unease. Are you making the right choice? Can you trust these six men? Is it too late to back away? Would your brother have wanted this?

A stranger to your panicked thoughts, Jin steadily guides you further into the mansion. Though the twists and turns of the hallways are confusing to you, he seems to know them quite well. Finally, he comes to a stop in front of a white door.

"Your room's on the other side, Y/N," Jin says, giving you a small smile. "There's no pressure at all deciding where you want to go. But in the meantime, I hope you can be comfortable here. If you need anything, ask Jungkook or Taehyung, alright?"

You nod, dumbly. "I can stay here as long as I want?"

"Until you make your decision," Jin says. "So, in a way, yes. You can stay here as long as it takes to make your decision."

You nod again, unable to come up with an answer of any sort. Jin notices your slight hesitation and puts a comforting arm on your shoulder.

"I know it's been a lot to take in, Y/N... And I'm personally sorry we didn't reach out to you beforehand... But it'll be like the old times, I promise."

"In the old times, we were a family," you mutter.

"We still are."

You make an unsatisfied grunt, shaking your head. "I don't think I was ever part of that family."

Gingerly, Jin turns you around to face him. Though you admit you're being a bit difficult at the moment (and rightfully so), he doesn't look frustrated at all. He crouches down, putting his hands on your shoulders, shaking his head and giving you a kind smile.

"You were always a part of the family, Y/N," Jin soothes. "But think of your alienation from us as an act of safety precaution. Believe me, the rest of us did want to tell you about our... involvement, but Jimin didn't want to put you in any danger. Especially when you were busy trying to follow the path to your career. And eventually, we all agreed with that reasoning. It's dangerous work as you may understand. You have to be completely set on involvement if you want to be a part of it. I know you're probably thinking why we would ask you to join if it's so hazardous... But at this point, it'd be more hazardous to let you go, and Jimin wouldn't have wanted that..." He trails off, checking your face as if to check your emotions. But you've managed to keep a stoic look, though internally, your emotions are a mess.

"I want to apologize for dragging you into this mess, Y/N," Jin sighs. "But back when we were teenagers... Lost and confused in a new country... Feeling and looking like aliens, we were together. We were a family. And now's the chance for us to reunite, don't you think? Jimin would be happy..."

You flinch at the mention of your brother's name. "I... I just..." You're at a loss of words, eyes turning wet with emotion. "Give me time, please," you manage to mutter. "I need time."

"Yeah," Jin says, softly. "Of course."

He lets go of your shoulders, giving you space as he steps back. "Jungkook will come later to escort you to dinner, but other than that, we'll try not to bother you..."

"I don't think I'll be hungry," you say. How could you? It'd be wrong to have an appetite at a moment like this. Your skin still crawls at the vivid descriptions of your brother's demise by Hoseok. With a final sympathetic look from Jin, you enter the room, closing the door behind you.

You take a few, uncertain steps in. The room has sort of a musty smell to it, though it looks well-cleaned and organized. Without a second thought, you push the light gray drapes aside to reveal a large window. You open it to breathe in the fresh air. It calms your insides much more than you expected it would.

With a newly rejuvenated mind, you take a few steps backward until you're situated in the middle of the rather commodious room, taking in your surroundings. But upon closer examination, your heart plummets.

This room...

You slowly slide to your knees, looking helplessly at the decorations on the walls, the pictures in the frames, the drawings, the polaroid photos...

A familiar face looks back at you, grinning happily. Inside that pictured photograph is a younger version of yourself. It's you and Jimin arm in arm. You remember that moment exactly. It had been on your fourteenth birthday. Jimin had gifted you a polaroid camera, which you had forced Seokjin to take a photo with.

Next to the wall of polaroid photos capturing sweet moments you shared with your brother and his six friends is a familiar drawing. It's the piece of artwork you drew when you were very young. Before you and Jimin had moved to America. It's a colorful marker drawing of the Park family. You had falsely drawn your older brother shorter than you because he had been annoying you that day. And at the time, Jimin had gotten pissed with your petty antics... But as years passed, you remember he cherished that piece of artwork. And now it had ended up in this place...

A broken sob escapes your trembling lips when you realize this is his room.

How cruel that they have placed you here. In a room that would bring back memories of him.

Or maybe they thought this would help. Maybe they thought you could connect with your dead brother again.

All you can feel is cold inside. The Park Jimin you had used to love and look up to might not be the same man who had lived in this room. He'd changed. And so had his friends.

But you still find yourself staring at the decorated walls—too afraid to go and touch the photographs and paintings that hold so much memory—yet not afraid enough to ignore them completely.

Recalling your childhood wasn't too bad. It'd been pretty great, actually. Well, aside from the fact that you didn't exactly have parents to guide you in your teenage years. It's scary how much of a presence Jimin and his friends have in your past. You'd celebrated every birthday with them. Went to every high school party with them. Had Sunday night movie marathons with them. You'd known them all almost like the back of your hand (maybe even better because you don't like to look at your hands).

Indulging in the past is therapeutic. Until you arrive at the present, that is. And the future becomes a mystery.

What the hell will you do without your brother? And if what Seokjin was saying was true... and you're actually at the risk of being brutally murdered, then wouldn't it be better to stay behind the safety of the walls that your 'friends' offered to provide you?

Your mind is jumbled up with all kinds of thoughts. When everything happens too fast, you have a hard time getting back on your feet. You need time. Time to think. Time to mull over the pros and cons. To dissect your thoughts completely before acting recklessly on them.

You're not too sure of what to think. But you are sure of a couple of things. Your brother really was dead. There was no lie behind that. You'd seen the will... his last wishes... his handwriting... heard of the graphic way he was killed... And some deep feeling inside you knows. Two and a half days ago, you'd felt shitty for no reason. Then, you had thought it was something you ate. But now, you realize maybe that had been the universe's fucked up way of signaling to you that your brother was struggling to hang on to his last seconds of life.

You're also sure that you're angry. Angry at whatever bastard that murdered Jimin. And if it had happened in a way that Hoseok had so vividly colored in your imagination, you wish his murderer would die as painfully as he did. Revenge. Maybe that's what you want.

But you can't take vengeance all by yourself. You're just some average Korean-American young adult who's trying to please her parents who are back in her home country. You need help. And Jin had offered you help...

Those six boys are all you have left in this vast country.

But they're dangerous, another part of you argues. They're actually part of the mafia.

Your mind takes you back to the moment when Hoseok had so blatantly told you how your brother had been killed. He hadn't even flinched as he spoke such gruesome details that had made your skin crawl and breaths quicken. In fact, none of the boys had looked truly sad about your brother's death.

You fist your hair in frustration. I don't know what to do. You stare blankly at the portrait photo of you and Jimin with the other boys. Maybe staring at the inanimate Jimin will give you answers...?

You have no idea how long you've been staring and thinking when there's a soft knock on your door. Though the sound is nothing close to a disturbing racket, it is still a rude awakening to your thoughts.

You clear your throat before answering, "Yes?"

"May I come in?"

You recognize that voice as Jungkook's. Soft, curious and intuitive. "Yeah, sure," you say, making sure to wipe the residue of your tears away.

You can feel his presence, though your back is turned to him. He seems cautious, watchful as he slowly walks towards you. Finally, you turn around to face him. "What are you here for?"

Jungkook laughs quietly. He takes his leisure as he closes the window, and the room suddenly feels warm again. "Don't want you catching a cold," he mumbles, glancing at you before smiling cordially. "I'm here to escort you to dinner."

Right. Jin had told you about this.

It looks like Jungkook had changed his clothes. A more casual wear consisting of gray sweatpants and a hoodie. He looks like any normal guy you could find in America. It chills you that he's involved in a gang. Looks deceive.

"I don't have much of an appetite. Sorry," you say unapologetically. "I haven't made a decision either if that's what you want me to mention." Jungkook seems taken aback by your candidness, but you shrug. "May I please be alone? I need time..."

"I wasn't going to mention your decision," Jungkook says. He looks a bit sad you turned him down, but he begins to leave the room. "Just thought you'd be hungry... It's been more than six hours since you've come here."

"I know," you say. "I'm not hungry, though. I'm fine."

Jungkook nods dejectedly, "Alright. Have a nice night." He gives you a semi-worried look before he saunters away, closing your door lightly.

You breathe a sigh of relief when he's gone, releasing the tension you hadn't even known had built up in your shoulders. Sighing, you slump onto the ground, staring up at the high ceiling of the room. Maybe if you just think in silence, you'll know what to do.

You lose yourself in your mind until another knock on the door startles you.

"Y/N?"

God. That's Seokjin, this time.

"I told you I'm not hungry, Jin. If that's what you're here for."

You hear the door open, but you continue to stare up at the ceiling.

"Oh, Y/N..." you hear Jin sigh. He crouches down next to you, and you can suddenly feel his warmth by your side. "You're not hungry because of shock. But you should eat. Skipping meals shouldn't become a habit."

"I dunno," you mumble, turning your head over to look at Seokjin. "There's a part of me that doesn't want to leave this room. You knew it was Jimin's, and you gave it to me."

"I thought it would help with your thoughts..." Jin says. He puts a reassuring hand on top of yours. "Remember those days when we were younger? I just hope recalling the memories helped a little."

"Can't say it didn't."

"Good, good..." Jin trails off.

You finally sit up, staring curiously at the man. "Don't you miss him? Why is everyone acting like they don't? Aren't you guys the ones that had spent the six years I couldn't with him?" You're not angry, just confused.

"Of course I miss him, Y/N. We all do. We're all grieving inside, though we choose not to show it to those around us," Jin sighs. "I think we've all cried about Jimin's passing, Y/N. Some are more open about it than others..." He pauses. "We'd... Well, we'd like to share a meal with you. You know, make your time here worthwhile. A small dinner might not help the bad feelings go away completely, but it can help temporarily. All you need is a nice, refreshing drink and a hot, savory meal, Y/N. We'll be by your side. No one here is against you."

The way he says it makes everything sound so tantalizing, so believable, so obtainable. You should've known better. But then again, they're all you have.

You hesitate. Then: "I'll... I'll go to dinner."

Jin smiles, helping you up. "You won't regret it."

You're not in much of an ecstatic mood, obviously. You were beginning to regret agreeing to Jin's talented convincing until you see the dining room and momentarily forget half of your day's unfortunate events. Your jaw drops as you enter it and your eyes latch onto the shining chandeliers and crystal decorations.

"Wait 'til you see our kitchen," Seokjin chuckles.

You nod just to agree. It makes you just a tiny bit happier to think that your brother had lived in such a lavish place. At least he got to experience the good stuff...

You see the rest of your brother's friends standing around the large crystal dining table, each holding a glass of wine of their choice. It's a strange contrast between the luxuries of the room and the casual wear of the people in it. You'd expect to see them dressed in gold-trimmed tuxes and suits, but they're all in sweats—expensive sweats, granted, but sweats nevertheless. Seven dainty chairs surround the table, on which the food's already steaming on silver plates.

"Just in time!" Taehyung announces. "We were worried the food would get cold!"

"Oh," you mumble, nodding awkwardly before pulling out a random chair to sink into when—

"Excuse me, that happens to be Namjoon's seat."

Startled, you look up to see Jung Hoseok sighing and shaking his head. "Assigned seats, Y/N."

"Cut her some slack, Jung," Namjoon says. "She had no way of knowing. And if you can't tell, she needed convincing to be here, so you better play nice." He turns to you, smiling, though the smile doesn't reach his eyes. "You're welcome to sit in that spot if you'd like."

Already feeling quite out of place, you pause before replying, "No... Uh, I'll just... um, sit where my brother sat then..."

"Oh, that's next to me," Jungkook says, pulling your chair out for you as you sink in it gratefully. Looks like you're sandwiched between Namjoon and Jungkook. In front of you is Yoongi, across from you on the left is Taehyung, across on the right, Hoseok. And smack dab in the power seat of the table is Seokjin. It occurs to you that you're the only one sitting.

Awkwardly, you look over to Jin, who gives you another reassuring smile. "You may be seated."

Your eyes bulge slightly as the five other men take their seats as if they're heeding to Jin's commands.

What is this? A monarchy?

When Jin takes his seat, no one makes a move, you note. Your throat itches, begging for a drink of water or a sip of wine to calm your nerves, but you are not going to be the one who moves first. There's obviously some sort of crazy shit going on here, and you're going to tread lightly until you figure out what it really is.

Finally, finally, when Jin reaches forward to take a sip of his blood-red wine, conversations resume, breathing resumes and the eating and drinking commences.

You're shell-shocked. That's what you are. You're unable to move until Jungkook slides you a piece of filet mignon steak onto your plate.

"I remembered you loved that particularly," he says, before returning to his friendly conversation with Taehyung.

But your favorite meal—in all of its glorious scent—doesn't appeal to you today. So, you keep your ears open to listen to the conversations around you. Wondering how they can have conversations at a time like this...

Taehyung seems to be telling Jungkook about the cute chicks he saw while he was working at his restaurant. Your eyes widen as Taehyung makes a quite inappropriate gesture with his hands. And you nearly choke when you see Jungkook playing along with it.

"Get a hold of yourselves," Yoongi says disgustedly at them. "Y/N isn't blind or deaf, you know. Keep your sexual fantasies in your bedrooms."

Hoseok snorts. And even Seokjin seems to chuckle.

"Sorry," Jungkook mutters as Taehyung just rolls his eyes.

"It's hard when soo many hot, rich girls come to Seokjin's restaurant, you know?" Taehyung grins. "Even harder when they slip their numbers into your tip."

Jungkook giggles. "That's real smooth of them."

"I know! I can't help that I'm so hot," Taehyung laughs. He laughs even harder when he sees Namjoon's disgusted face. "Face it Joon. Being a lawyer sucks, doesn't it? No girls to hit on... Just old farts in court."

Namjoon just sighs, sipping his wine. "You know what? Taehyung? It is quite a shitty job. My stress levels strike the roof whenever the topic of my career emerges. Go get me some vodka."

Taehyung looks offended that his joke had turned into a chore for him to do. He sighs, shaking his head, muttering something on the lines of "can't take a fucking joke." Before he leaves, he calls out, "Anyone else wants another drink?"

"Coke and rum for me," Hoseok quickly answers.

"Tonic and gin," Yoongi says.

"The usual," Seokjin calls. When Taehyung scrunches his face in confusion, he sighs. "Grapefruit soda and tequila."

"Right," Taehyung replies. "Y/N?" he asks. "Pick your poison if you'd like."

You jump at the sudden mention of your name. "I dunno..."

"Maybe something strong?" Taehyung suggests. "You know, to help..."

"Right... Something strong."

Taehyung grins. "I'll see what I can do."

"Get me some gin and lemonade, pretty please," Jungkook laughs.

Taehyung gives him a disdainful look. "If you want it, come help me in the kitchen, bitch."

Jungkook grumbles but he complies, following Taehyung and disappearing behind a corner in which you assume the kitchen lies.

"They might 'accidentally' poison our drinks for all we know," Namjoon sighs, shaking his head. "I trusted Jimin more when he handled our drinks. He is... was the best bartender in the city," Namjoon smiles. "God, his concoctions were literally unmatched."

For some reason, what he says makes you feel even more empty inside. "I can imagine," you force out.

You hate this. You shouldn't have come. You're uncomfortable, placed in the middle of a group of friends that have no respect for your grief. Now there's an awkward silence at the table with Taehyung and Jungkook gone, but you make no move to fix it.

"So, Y/N! I saw you looking at our interior design, earlier!" Namjoon says, clapping his hands together.

God, not the small talk, again.

"Yeah, it's beautiful," you say, half-heartedly. Maybe you should come up with an excuse to leave. Maybe you should feign sickness—you already feel queasy, anyway.

"Eh, I don't really like it," Hoseok says. "It was like this when we bought it. I never liked all this bright crystal action going on, but it'll have to do."

"Right?" Yoongi agrees. "I wanted a more modern home. This seems so regal."

"It's not like we can move, though," Namjoon sighs. He hastily adds, "It'd take too long, and we wouldn't appreciate the hassle."

"We should be thankful for what we have," Seokjin says kindly. "Not many young adults are able to live in such luxury."

"Of course. If it's a good year, our total legal annual income in this household well surpasses four million."

You cock your head. Legal? Had you heard that right? Did that mean they had an illegal income? You speak before you can stop yourself. "Wait—"

"Here come the drinks!" Taehyung enthusiastically sings as he sashays in the dining room with a silver platter full of pretty glasses. Straight away he hands Jin his tequila concoction, then Namjoon his vodka, Yoongi his gin and Hoseok his rum. Jungkook slides into his seat with his gin and lemonade in hand.

Taehyung slides up next to you, holding up a tall glass of—

"Water?" You scrunch your eyebrows, looking wearily at the clear glass.

"Everclear," Taehyung answers. "It's illegal in California, but we've got some connections." He winks at you.

"Careful. That's 95 percent alcohol," Yoongi says. "You don't want to wake up in the hospital now, do we?"

"I'm sure one glass will be fine," Taehyung says, handing you the glass before sliding into his seat. "I trust Y/N is able to drink responsibly. Isn't that right, Y/N?"

You hum quietly, staring at the clear liquid blankly. Would too much of it kill you? But if you did die, it wouldn't matter at this point, right?

Taehyung laughs and he reads your mind as he replies, "I'd be killed if I gave you something that could kill you."

Right. A hard dose of alcohol is what you need especially after today.

One second you're semi-complaining that you're unemployed and single. Then suddenly karma bitches at you and your brother's dead, joined a gang and made enemies that had decided to brutally murder him. And now you have to decide whether you want to join the mafia or be left alone to be killed by the same entity that killed your brother. All in one day.

Even the thought makes you scoff.

So when Seokjin proposes a toast to you and talks off in tangents of what comprises of a short speech, you can't help but tune out. After the clink of glasses, you down the eponymous liquid that's actually ever so clear.

It burns your throat in all the wrong ways, but bottoms up, you finish it all.

After that, everything is hazy. The itch in your throat does not go away, and the room seems to spin around. Damn that drink is strong.

"Someone have her back before she collapses," you hear Yoongi say.

But you're able to stomach it in, head lolling uselessly to the side as you stare dumbly into oblivion. Your thoughts are muddled, thank god, which is all that mattered.

"Taehyung, I swear. Everclear shouldn't be taken plain. It's supposed to be drunk with a mixer for god's sake," Namjoon sighs. "Now it's your responsibility to get her to her room."

"That's going to be hard, considering she can probably barely walk right now," Hoseok says. "Jungkook should go too."

"Don't try anything on her," Namjoon sighs.

Taehyung looks offended. "What? Why would we? She's halfway gone. We wouldn't stoop that low."

"Yeah..." Jungkook says. "That's too low."

"You guys should get going while she's conscious..." Yoongi says. "She looks like she's going to pass out any second now."

"Why did you even think of giving her Everclear?" Namjoon rolls his eyes.

"She asked for it! She wanted a strong drink! I only did what she asked," Taehyung says, raising his voice.

"Let's not argue," Seokjin cuts in. "The hangover will definitely be bad... But her worries aren't with her at this moment. Don't give her a headache by yelling over each other. We'll have to cut dinner short. Taehyung, Jungkook, get Y/N to her room. Give her a few glasses of water before she blacks out. Hoseok, Yoongi? Looks like you two are on kitchen duty tonight."

"What?" Hoseok whines. "That's never our job!"

But one look from Jin has him quiet.

"I just hope she doesn't wake up with a giant hangover..." someone says. You can't tell who. You're mixing voices up in your head and your vision is blurry.

"You're kidding right?" another voice counters. "Everclear hangovers are the fucking worst."

It's the last thing you hear before everything becomes black.

—next chapter

—masterpost

—masterlist

#bts #bts fanfiction #ot7 #seokjin #yoongi #hoseok #namjoon #jimin #taehyung #jungkook #mafia au #over the moon #otm

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one-leaf-grimoire · 4 years ago

Text

“Illusion” ch 7!

Link to the full Ao3 work

Warnings: hangover, mentions of drinking/drugs

Also MC has a moment where she literally does this:

Uh oh... a hint of romance? Perhaps...

"Hey... you okay?"

Someone's voice softly pervades my mind, finally stirring it enough for consciousness to take hold. The first thing I do is wince, scrunching up my face. Ow ow ow! Fuck... My stomach feels like it's full of fire ants, crawling their way up my esophagus and into my throat. I splutter out a weak cough, someone pressing something cold onto my forehead. I can feel liquid dripping; whether it's from a wet cloth or my own sweat, I don't know. It feels good, though, on my burning skin.

"Hey, can you speak? I'm so scared..."

I open my mouth in an attempt to speak, but end up coughing instead. Ouch! It rips through my throat like barbed wire, but I manage to crack open my eyes. I see a familiar (albeit fuzzy) face peering down at me, her eyes full of worry and fear. "...Alice?"

She manages to smile, smoothing down my hair as she crouches next to my bed. "Thank god... I was worried you weren't going to wake up!"

I nod slowly, a little confused as to what's going on. Last night... we went out... and... That's where my memory runs out. "What happen- OUCH!" I cry out a small exclamation of pain as I sit up, my head throbbing. "Ow, ow, ow... Am I hungover?!"

Alice nods slowly, rubbing my shoulder. "Probably... geez, you really don't hold your liquor well, do you? I leave for one second and you wander off and collapse drunkenly in an alley!"

"You left?" I blink slowly, putting the puzzle pieces together with much difficulty. "I-I didn't go with you?"

"No, I asked if you wanted to, but you said no," Alice explains. "I don't blame you, Margery puke is something I don't want to see, either."

Right... Wren came in... he told us Margery was sick... and then...

Did I drink anything after that? I suppose I wouldn't remember...

"Come on, you need a shower. You probably have alcohol poisoning or something." With some difficulty, Alice pries me out of bed, wraps me up in a blanket when I start shivering, and leads me out into the hallway. "Everyone else is out and about, I managed to get the Captain to give you the day off.

"Oh..." I say softly, for some reason feeling very upset by this news. My eyes even start to water a little. "That's... good, I guess."

Something doesn't add up. I was in an alley? Drunk? Wouldn't I have just stayed at the bar if I passed out? Unless someone dragged me out-

"Oh, good morning, you two! I'm glad to see you awake~"

...huh? That voice...

I look up and have to squint, but finally the face of the taller man grows into focus. OH... FUCK!

"J-J-Julius?!" I stutter out, a lot louder than I mean to. I feel my face heating up for some reason. Ah! Get a grip! Why am I reacting this way... he literally just said good morning! "I mean... uh, good morning to you, too?" I wish I could shrink down and disappear into the blanket that's wrapped around me.

Despite the fact that I'm definitely blushing an embarrassingly dark shade of pink right now, Julius just smiles and lets out a relieved sigh, but the corners of his eyes crinkle with worry. "Ah, you're probably exhausted, I'll leave you to nurse that... hangover." He pats me on the shoulder, his hand lingering for a few moments longer than normal before letting go to brush past me. I stand there, still kind of stunned, before my senses hit me again. "Oh-" I turn around to see him glancing back at me. "Let me know if you need anything. You know where to find me!"

He finally disappears around the corner, and I let out a heaving sigh. Jesus, I must be really out of it... I hear a giggle and look over to see Alice smirking at me. "What was that?"

I suck in a breath through my nose and look away. "I-I don't know what you're talking about!"

"You're red as a beet! And you basically moaned his name!"

"What?! And I'm sick, of course I'm red! There was no moaning whatsoever!!"

"Hmm, whatever you say~"

"Alice!"

Eventually she stops teasing me, and I start to feel better after taking a shower. However, my stomach still feels all wonky and I end up throwing up into a toilet for about seven minutes straight. "I was wondering when this was going to happen," Alice says sadly as she hands me a glass of water after the "tide" has retreated. "You didn't throw up at all last night, and Julius said you hadn't when you were in the alley. I guess it has to happen sometime."

I nearly choke on my water. "H-Huh?! Julius... he was the one who found me?!"

"Yeah, actually. I guess you were lucky, he always knows what to do-" Alice freezes up as I suddenly clap my hands over my face and shamelessly burst into tears. "What? Hey, hey, it's not a big deal!"

I shake my head a little as I feel her arms wrap around me.

"Everyone has this happen... it's not something to be embarrassed about! Julius doesn't care, he's seen it all, I'm sure!"

Her embrace doesn't melt the growing icicle of fear away.

I'm not embarrassed... I'm happy.

Because... I can't put my finger on it, but I think something bad happened last night, I was in danger. But Julius...

I don't know why I can't shake that uneasy feeling throughout the day. A nagging suspicion in the back of my mind keeps kicking me, trying to force me to face the very real chance that I wasn't drunk.

If I wasn't drunk, then what was I?

At about five in the evening, Alice gets dressed to leave our room. "I have a patrol, it's going to go until tomorrow morning," she groans, even though this kind of mission is usual for her. "Are you going to be okay? I know you said that you don't think you have to worry about anyone here anymore-"

"I'll be fine!" I give her a smile from my bed, still sipping water. "See you later!"

Alice bids me farewell before leaving me alone once again. I sigh and flop back on my bed, closing my eyes and scraping the corners of my mind to find an explanation for these badly-fitting puzzle pieces. The dread won't go away, so it must mean something, right?

My friends... they wouldn't hurt me...

But the last thing I remember drinking, the Cinnamon Whiskey, it was bitter, not sweet or spicy.

I open my eyes again to stare at the ceiling blankly.

Did I really drink after that? I don't remember at all...

Suddenly, I get an idea. Without hesitation, I get up and pull on some clothes before running off towards Captain Hervey's office. Luckily, he's inside, working on some papers. "Oh, it's you," he greets sternly, getting up out of his chair as I close the door behind me. "I was wondering when you were going to show up... how are you feeling?"

"Er, good, sir," I reply, feeling my face heat up. "I'm really sorry about being a nuisance... I didn't mean to get so drunk or anything, to be honest, I don't really remember drinking very much, but it happens, I suppose."

Hervey eyes me curiously before letting out a hearty laugh. "It happens! You've got to work up your tolerance somehow, I suppose!" He suddenly grabs my head and shakes me around playfully, a little more rough than my stomach can bear right now. "Just don't embarrass the squad, that's all I ask!"

"Ah! Y-Yes sir!" He finally releases me and I straighten up. "I was wondering... do you still have last night's bar tab somewhere? I'd like to see it."

"Huh? Why?" I shrug, earning a sigh from the captain as he turns to rummage through the trash. "You're lucky... I just paid the tab, and was about to take out the trash." Hervey always pays for our nights out, which is why he has our tab. "Here, now scram!"

I catch the crumpled up paper he tosses me, squeak out a thank you then run back to my room. This should tell me something...

Once in my room, I uncrumple the tab and start skimming through it. There, that's the inn... and there's the drinks we got...

My blood runs cold.

According to the tab, we were served just five cinnamon whiskeys.

Just... five.

Wait... if we just had five... then what the Hell did I drink later?!

I loosen my grip, and the paper wafts down to the floor at my feet.

I... I can't have been... drugged?

The cinnamon whiskey was bitter.

No... I-

But, who would have done it? Some random guy at the bar? I didn't notice anyone else come close to us... then, the bartender? No, that would be too easy to trace! Then...

It was one of them... Giles, Elia, Nigel, Alice...

Maybe not Alice, but right now the dark cloud of paranoia won't let me let go of that option.

So... it wasn't just one of my squadmates. It was one of my very own friends...

The hope I started to feel is gone, leaving nothing but an empty, taunting shell. Because, it's not over. Once again, someone is trying to intimidate me, to harm me, to make me fear the people around me. They've succeeded.

Thank goodness Julius found me... who knows what would have happened, then? It explains the severity of my illness this morning. This isn't a hangover, it's the product of some potent, poisonous drug. My hands tremble where they rest on my bare knees, and suddenly my nightgown is not nearly enough to shield me from the chill of this room.

I'm... still in danger... but why?! I ball up my fists, feeling hot tears on my cheeks again. At this point, I'm feeling more frustrated than afraid. Why would someone target me like this? What did I do?! How do I make it stop...

Suddenly, I've been sitting there in silence for a long time, longer than I meant to. I look up sharply at my door, faint light from the hallway spilling under the crack.

I... I'm alone... Alice... she's going to be gone all night...

The frustration decidedly turns into fear. Visceral fear. I could die tonight. Someone could kill me in my sleep.

So... I won't sleep!

I move mechanically, slipping off my bed and turning on a light. My fingers are shaking, fumbling at the lamp.

I...I'll be fine! I can do this alone... and in the morning, I'll tell Alice, and we'll tell the captain-

No. I won't be fine.

I...I can fight them off... I have magic!

My hands clutch my Grimoire as I sit cross-legged on the floor, staring with wide eyes at the door. There's no strength in my gaze.

They haven't even gotten here... but they've already defeated me...

My blood freezes in my veins as I hear a footstep.

Then another.

I-it's coming closer...

I can it so clearly. They're getting closer.

Okay... get ready...

I hold up my hand.

You can do it... if you cast Fear Landscape now...

The footsteps slow as they near my door. I squeeze my eyes shut.

Do it... please...

My body refuses to move. My magic refuses to move. I'm completely petrified with fear.

I... don't want to die... please...

The footsteps speed up, and disappear down the hall.

I stay sitting there for a moment, before my eyes snap back open, blinking away tears.

I'm pathetic... I'm right, they've already defeated me...

My Grimoire thunks to the ground as I drop it, and I stare at the pair of useless hands I've been cursed with.

There's an escape... maybe I should just leave now... I'll be to the castle by morning. Lawrence will protect me, right?

No. A life with Lawrence would be worse than anything I have to face tonight. No matter how nice or comforting he tries to be, he can't erase the past. He'll never bring me the same warmth from his smile as...

...

That's right... there's someone still here that I can trust!

The realization fills my limbs with purpose, and before I know it, I throw open my door and sprint away as quietly as I can. I turn a few corners, climb one set of stairs, and there it is, that room, his room!

I skid to a stop before I slam into the door and knock on the wood urgently, glancing behind me. Please be here! Please- I feel like a rabbit, being chased down by a ravenous pack of wolves, ready to tear me apart the moment I falter. Please... please!-

Mid-knock, the door opens, and Julius pokes his head out. "Oh! Good- evening-"

He doesn't get to finish as I push my way inside, bursting right past him, and slam the door shut with a loud bang. I gasp in a breath, adrenaline still filling my veins as I lean against the closed door. I did it! I escaped... I should be safe now... now that I'm...

I suddenly go pale.

...oops. I just broke into Julius's room, didn't I?

I turn around slowly to look back up at Julius, who is speechless, his mouth open wordlessly. Finally, he blinks a few times. "Er... to what do I owe the pleasure of this late-night-visit?" He closes his eyes as he smiles, still emanating that comforting aura that I was seeking out.

He looks... so warm... so... safe...

Safe.

It's something I desperately want to feel right now, but even here in this room, locked away from the danger outside, I can't relax.

"...what's wrong?"

I get snapped from my thoughts as Julius gently touches my shoulder. I slowly look up at him, at his concerned face. He knows something is wrong...

"Hey, whatever it is, you can tell me, alright? Even if it's something, er- girly, although I'm sure Malota is better suited for that kind of- Ah! Why are you crying? Did I say something?"

I shake my head, and without another moment of thought I let the tears fall, and fling myself into his warm, safe chest.

OooooOooooOo ;.; Nice! Please comment and lmk what you think 0.0

I’m having so much fun writing this rn I hope ya’ll like it too <3

#grey deer fic #fic #illusion #julius novachrono #julius novachrono x reader #black clover

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killyourrdarlingss · 4 years ago

Text

Posting this finally, a really fun piece I did for @softfuzzyships who was so nice to comm me. I'm so honored, seriously thank you so much dude ❤ literally everytime you ask me for writing I'm like YESS anyway I'm so glad and please enjoy ❤❤❤❤

Looking to the almost empty street in front of them, they realize the air is thick. Zach feels their throat sting with each gasp.

A hand reaches for them, shrouded in black and their head aches as they feel it touch their hand, instantly hissing in disgust they slap it's hand away--

Wait, his hand…?

Was it really…?

The shadow retreats, no emotion on its blank face, their eyes stinging.

Why are they stinging?

It's another one of the mishaps that always seem to happen. They just always have to happen. Have to come in the form of thoughts… to think of him… of all people.

But now, he's more smoke than anything else, he's a shadow that causes emotional distress. Anger, sadness… rage.

Tears spill from their eyes and they know they mean nothing, nothing more than frustration. They want to shove their hand into its stomach, pull out the innards, show it how they made them feel.

They wipe away the tears that formed and look to Kurapika at their side, this creature-- some sort of amalgamation of memory had spawned… but how?

Kurapika looked scared, he never looked scared. Zach feels the cold sweat of the night drip down the side of their face.

The faceless creature looks upon, emotionless and empty. Flinging a black substance at the ground that has them both jump back.

From here, the image of the creature is more clear, a blacked out smudge, it's dark outside, but the glowing empty sockets where eyes should be, are gone. The memory only hollows into a pit of nothingness.

Zach felt bile rise in their stomach.

The rustle of a chain stirs their thoughts and looking over to see red scarlet eyes overtake the hollow ones. The sound of a scream and fresh gravel underneath a shoe lunging forward is all the sounds before--

"Hey! Snap out of it--"

A piercing sting across their face and Zach groans as they come to, Kurapika is looking at them and he looks worried, his hands are covered in black sludge, the byproduct now leaving a blackened handprint across Zach's face.

"Oh, thank God-- I thought you were…" the rest is jumbled.

"Kura-- what..." touching the side of their face they hiss-- why was it so hot, what kind of nen…

Getting up, they look upon the man. He's misty, like clouded in smoke of some sort but the vague details Zach can figure out and they feel sick. Some sort of illusionist nen type, making them both see things.

Their hand comes away clean now, no pain as they shake their head and try to focus, just focus, that's all they need to do, focus.

"It's not him… it's just an illusio--"

As they say it Kurapika is suddenly gone, looking around they're in a white room, a man standing before them with a smile they had long forgotten, their chest ached and the man beckons with his hand.

Zach looks down to their hands, on one is a tattoo, it's smudged and streaked but its the word 'Again?' Question marks surrounding it in all shades of red. The other one a black stain, it was simple, a 'X'. They look up once they finish reading, the only thing they manage is to clench their fists and scream.

But, it was silent. No walls to bounce off of, the white room just grew more vast underneath their feet, and the apparition grew closer, every memory didn't make sense, all the colors were off, his mouth was open but no sound came out, footsteps only sounded like dull splashing, too far off.

Their memories were-- blank.

Until,

"It's... fa… Zach--!"

The voice was so familiar and looking up to the man it wasn't right coming from his lips, something was off something…

Opening their hand, the one with the 'X' was now a jagged piece of mirror, a shard. Cutting dull into their skin but upon positioning it towards him revealed--

Escaping their lips was two syllables as they gripped the shard harder and looked up, tears in their eyes and now the man looked scared. The name they spoke was audible, and the distortion went from something familiar and wanted, to one of reality, anger, anxiety--

Zach lunged forward and buried the shard of glass into his neck without remorse, blood and black veiled smoke escaping while screams around them enclosed. As they pulled back, they stabbed again, screaming their curses into the holes they reigned upon the man's chest.

Blood was pooling. The room wasn't white anymore, it was red, the body was limp against the hand against his collar and Zach stabbed once more,

"Hate..." the blow hits, right into his chest and the man coughs out blackened blood, "all this hate--!" Tears stream down their face, "Everything I loved!" They twist their knife,

"I'm taking it all back from you!"

The illusion breaks as Zach stabs hard enough into the man's heart, everything in the world going white.

They're in the middle of the street, only the dim lights illuminating the road. Soaked with blood and gore. Their knife was buried in the hunter's chest, buried in his heart.

It was not the man who they'd seen… but it…

"Zach--!"

The voice is strained, and they drop the corpse instantly. Zach doesn't even take the time to rip the knife out before something warm is against them, covering their eyes.

"Zach… please don't look."

It was a horrific scene, thinking about how many blows they'd dealt, the hunter probably didn't even look human anymore… but, Kurapika had his hands over their eyes, Zach shivering in the night air, biting the side of their mouth and shakily breathing out.

"Let's… let's go home, please."

Kurapika nodded, a small approving noise and slipped a hand around Zach's waist to support them. Only taking the hand off their eyes once they were far enough away.

Within five minutes of their apartment Zach finally made small talk, trying to ease the demons in their head and looking to Kurapika, it was the only thing getting them out of it. Any problem, they fixed by looking at him, even if he was covered in blood... and gore. The dried crimson flakes slowly off his features in the light breeze.

Neither of them talked about what they saw. Nobody wanted to bring up the conversation.

A late night walk turned into bounty hunting, realizing it now, as their memories started to come back, Zach remembered more.

The man said they wouldn't remember him, he was sent to capture them both, some kind of paid job. Then grinned, all teeth as black smoke surrounded them. Then, only one sentence as he laughed out,

"I think your nightmares want to talk."

Zach somehow managed to repress the emotion of complete disgust as it all came back, pushing down the feeling once more as they saw the lit doors of their apartment come into view.

By the time they'd made it up the elevator and through the door, both rinsed in the shower, they were both more than happy to just sleep.

It came quick, the moment their head hit the pillows.

Nothing is an inch out of place as Zach sits at a very well decorated table. The centerpiece is that of every flower imaginable and every color too. The wait staff are manning each dish on the table, placing plates with fancy gold cloches on top.

As Zach's dish is placed onto their plate the weight staff freeze in place as if from a movie. They're sitting on the farthest end, a man no younger or older is sitting across from them. The sound of a cloche unveiling the stranger's food rings through the air, and there's nothing besides a splatter of blood on his plate.

He eats it anyway. Fork and knife against the splatter, not making any means of a mess and bringing the stained fork tips to his lips, savoring the flavor.

He motions towards Zach, the cloche still sitting atop the fancy dish. Zach looks down and sees their reflection in it. It distorts within seconds and the man across suddenly looks displeased.

The unsettling atmosphere almost makes them choke, the man's unblinking eyes, all the waiters and waitresses are looking at them now. Their heads turned at unnatural angles to make sure they saw them.

Zach shakes as they go to reach for the cloche, the audience of the wait staff claps as they do and a thick black substance starts to spill from the plate as they slowly lift it. The clapping reduces to a ringing in their ears and the man across from them grins like a fox who had just caught it's dinner.

The cloche is gone, Zach doesn't want to look down, the lump in their throat is suffocating but they lock eyes with the grinning man and he laughs.

The table is gone, the room is deserted, blood pools at their feet and the man is beside them with a sharp clawed hand digging into their shoulder,

"You should have looked down."

They don't, they're forced to, and they're gripping something wet, bloody and spherical. No they don't want to look. They look towards the man but where he once was was only a familiar figure, a blade lodged in his heart, yellow strands of hair dyed red.

His hand out reaching for them.

"Zach…?"

They only manage to scream.

A gasp of air, and they're pinned to the bed by a familiar face. They feel themself crying and panting, only looking up to make sure they aren't hallucinating.

Coming to, they see the worry in Kurapika's eyes is unlike anything else they'd seen. As if he'd already been awake and waiting, he looked exhausted.

"Kura… I--"

"Nightmares, yeah?"

Zach nods, because at this point Kurapika knew him better than anyone else,

"What happened with the hunter… it must have carried over to a nightmare." They shake their head and sit up, Kurapika shifting to sit close beside them, lacing their fingers together in a very tight hold.

They finally speak,

"I saw someone, from my past, who hurt me. A long story, but, I was so angry, so mad. He hurt me and this hunter, he knew that and got into my head." Zach sighs, "and I… I--"

Kurapika hushes the thought, "you did what you had to do, Zach… you, you saved me." Kurapika has a melancholic smile as he says it.

Zach stays silent but leans their head against his.

"I was stuck in a loop, my… my family, you know it all but. It was different, as if I was watching a movie and couldn't help, I was forced to see it. Over and over."

Zach swallows, and grips his hand tighter, looking at Kurapika and sighing out. "No wonder neither of us could sleep… even in my nightmare the guy… well, he's… he's dead. But-- he was there. Mocking me. Some fancy setup but, unnerving and awful. It's like I was being mocked… and then he… he…"

Kurapika was closer now, arms around Zach and hugging him like their lives depended on it, "If anything bad is going to come out of your mouth next. Listen-- I'm alive, and I'm not planning on going anywhere. I'm not going anywhere without you."

Kurapika holds them at arm's length and places a kiss to their forehead,

"I promise."

Zach felt tears tug at the corners of their eyes and they let themself cry, barely feeling them,

"Good… that's all I ever want to hear."

They wrap their arms around him and sigh in relief, the exhaustion once more, hitting them like a pound of brick. But, even so, they both stay there until Kurapika finally breaks the silence, hand slowly moving through their hair.

"Now lay down, I'll make sure you sleep well, I got a bit of rest so… relax, okay? I'm here."

They do, resting their head against Kurapika's lap and letting his fingers run through their hair. Exhaustion washed over them again, as well as the feeling of Kurapika's fingers slowly massaging their scalp, and a soft hum escaping his lips.

They yawned, nestling their head firmer against him, falling asleep to the beautiful tune.

They wake, and it's not a dream, no horrors awaiting, no confusing dreams to scare them. It wasn't any of those things since they could smell clearly fresh cooked pancakes and hear the sizzle of butter hitting a pan.

Blinking their eyes, they push themselves up and look out from the bedroom to the kitchen, Kurapika hearing, and looking over, beaming.

"You're awake!" He seemed joyful, happy and grinning as he strides to the bedroom and sat down beside them, "Yesterday... sucked, so, I'm making your favorites. Hopefully they're good."

Kurapika looked bashful, and in that moment, Zach just leaned over, crushing him in the strongest hug they could manage. Kurapika obviously returned the favor, a small gasp is all that escaped him.

"I love you, so, so much." they sighed out and buried their head against him.

"I love you too-- now," Kurapika pats their shoulder, pulling them onto their feet, "let's go eat… because I might have--" he looks over his shoulder and sighs, "yeah something is definitely burning."

A sigh, but Kurapika only shrugs it off, looking at Zach with a smile, pulling them into the kitchen for a well deserved meal.

#gothiepost #writing #softfuzzyships #TYSM ZACHHHH #since its copied to tumblr some italics/etc arent posted right #so don't @ me too much. its proper on my document #ALSO WARNINGS INCLUDE MURDER. BODY HORROR. UPSETTING SITUATIONS. PTSD TYPE TRAUMA. BLOOD. SLIGHT CANNIBALISM MAYBE?? GENERAL HORRORS #uhhh idk what else... nightmares and murder mostly... a lot of stuff #dont read if you dont like scary hsjsjjs

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