#do you drink coffee do you like gore do you like to be out past 9pm do you like to be around more than 6 people do you

[aajjks]

Love & War (m)

warnings: vèry lóng, híghly 18+ thèmès, èxplïcït smüt/sèx, únprótèctèd sèx, chèátíng, górè, múrdèr, prègnáncy, lônlíness, èxplïcït víölèncè, blóód, yándèrè cháràctès, bördèrlínè cóffèè àddïctïön, dàrk jüngkóók.

pairing: yandere police officer jungkook x fem!Barista reader

genre: strictly 18+ killer fic, rated M, Gore, thriller and erotica

word count: 6,000

note. My fingers have been hurting so much these days because I’ve been dedicating a lot of time to writing this. I started this draft on October 14 and now I have finally finished it today and I wanted to publish this because I have worked hard on this so much I’ve done a lot of extensive research so please guys like it and re-blog it. This is worth a read I promise please please send feedback and let me know what you think because I really need it.

•••

This case in particular is brutal.

As Jungkook sits in his office space, he’s looking at the latest crime scene pictures. And they are brutal, the man’s throat is literally spilling out, tongue cut off.

There’s so much blood.

Seodaemun-gu is particularly cold, and he’s been working overtime, as an inspector he’s been pretty busy thanks to a psychotic serial killer who’s been targeting a lot of men lately

This is the 17th victim.

Jungkooks been trying to piece the puzzle together, he picks up the warm cup of coffee and gulps down another sip, his furrows his eyebrows, he knows that it’s just one person doing all of these killings.

The pattern of killing is too similar, the gore, the marks, the method.

There is a familiar drug found in every single one of the victims bodies.

“Fuck.” He curses as he drops the pictures on the table, he needs to catch the killer before it’s too late, it is too late anyways.

October isn’t so kind this year, it is harshly cold. And this case has his whole attention. “I’ll catch you, psycho.” He mutters under his breath.

He will catch the psycho before Halloween.

Jungkooks grip on his cup tightens. He will make this killer pay. Just as he’s staring at the pictures again, his phone rings.

He sighs, averting his gaze to his phone as he picks it up, a small smile playing on his face. “Hey baby!!!” He grins speaking into the phone.

He loves his girlfriend so much. She’s the only thing that is making him happy these days.

“Hey koo!” as she greets him back, he cannot stop smiling, “ahh so are we still on for tonight?” He asks slyly, she makes him so happy.

There is a silence for a few seconds, but he waits patiently for her response, Jungkook holds the phone up his ear, waiting.

“Oh… sorry baby but no, I’m kinda busy tonight. You know this assignment is keeping me up all night. I can’t I’m so sorry.”

His smile falters.

“U-Uh..”

This is the third time.

“Umm it’s okay.” he replies, playing it cool but honestly, he’s a little upset because she’s been doing everything but spending time with him and he’s the one trying to solve a fucking murder case.

“Don’t be upset koo… I swear I’ll make it up to you.” He sighs. “It’s okay baby. I…understand.” Jungkook knows there’s no point in arguing.

He just misses her.

After talking to her for a few minutes, he finally ends the call. It’s time he refocuses on the case.

What he should be focusing on right now is catching the killer

And not the fact that his girlfriend is literally ignoring him for the past days, he’s barely seen her face this month, it’s bothering him, but he cannot afford to be distracted right now.

There cannot be an 18th victim.

He won’t let it happen.

•••

It’s lonely

But at least now he gets to go to his favorite coffee shop and drink, coffee in peace while staring out at the view, honestly speaking the view isn’t that special but jungkook likes to have some free time to himself just so he can reconnect with the world.

he enters the coffee shop, the bells above jingle as the door opens, it’s not too crowded today which is a good thing because the less the crowd the more he can focus and think.

Only a handful of people who are drinking and waiting for their orders as he approaches his table. Jungkook sits down on it, taking the chair out.

He scans the area. He likes how peaceful it is here because his job is not peaceful or neither cute, he has just come back from seeing a gruesome murder scene and this is exactly the detox He needs right now.

“Hey!!! Mr Jeon?” his snap of his thoughts when the barista calls out his name, he turns to look ahead, and smiles seeing the familiar face.

“Hey Ms yn! How’s it going? I think I’m just gonna have the regular.” He tells, looking at you, and you nod, you’re a sweet girl.

You’ve been serving him coffee for the past year almost, “well got it! Maybe I should get you some brownie too; of course courtesy of me.” You laugh, “looks like you really could use some sweetness in your life since you work so hard”

He laughs a little, shaking his head. “yeah you’re right. It’s been quite bitter these days.” He mutters to himself almost.

You walk away. impatiently, he waits for his coffee.. He might have an addiction, but it’s OK. Caffeine is necessary when you’re a police officer.

Sometime later you come back with his order. And he looks at you, thanking you.. “thank you Ms yn. Appreciate you for putting up with me.” he jokes, you give him a kind smile, “oh Mr Jeon how about you Just call me yn?” You insist and he almost blushes.

“Ahhh sure sure I will but only if you call me by my first name too.” He waves his hand, picking up his coffee to take a sip, and the smell of the brownie just fills his nostrils and he hums in delight

“The brownie smells so good and this coffee is awesome. Thank you so much.”

You wink in return, which has his cheeks actually burning up

You’re bold and you’re confident and that he appreciates about you because maybe you like him a little and you don’t really make an effort to hide the fact

“Okay.. I’ll go now have fun” he watches as you go away.

And he can’t help but feel his heart flutter in his chest.

•••

A few days later, his same routine just goes on and on, but there is not a single point that he has been able to catch, which could help him actually lead to the killer

And his days are only getting worse. There’s an emptiness that he’s starting to feel. Honestly, he feels like a failure.

A failure of a boyfriend and a failure of an inspector.

Jungkook steps into his dimly lit apartment, shrugging off his rain-soaked jacket. The warmth of the place feels hollow, as if reflecting the emptiness creeping into his chest. He slumps onto the couch, running his hands through his damp hair. His mind is a mess, caught between the horrifying images of the latest crime scene, Mina’s growing distance, and the subtle comfort he finds in your quiet presence at the café.

He pulls out his phone and stares at Mina’s name in his contacts. Something in him snaps, and before he can overthink it, he presses “Call.”

It rings longer than it should.

“Hello?” Her voice is clipped, impatient.

“Mina. Can you come over?” he asks out of desperation because he so lonely, and he needs to feel her love and her warmth.

“It’s late, Jungkook. I’m busy.” he understands it. She’s been busy, but it’s been so long since he’s been with her physically and she keeps on being distant.

He’s starting to break, his face falls, and his voice hardens at her sudden coldness.

“Busy with what?” he demands, the sharpness in his voice surprising even himself. he gripped the phone tighter and waits for her response with a thumping heartbeat.

There’s a pause, long enough for unease to settle in his gut. “Work,” she finally says, but the word feels rehearsed, flat.

“Bullshit.” He stands, pacing the small living room. “You’re lying to me.” he knows that she’s lying. Does she really think that he’s that stupid?

“Excuse me?” Her tone hardens, defensive.

“You’ve been distant for weeks,” he says, his voice rising. “The late nights, the dodged questions, the way you look at me like I’m a stranger. If there’s something you’re hiding, Mina, I deserve to know.”

She exhales sharply, a sound halfway between frustration and guilt. “You’re paranoid, Jungkook. You’re always at work, always chasing some killer. Maybe the problem isn’t me—it’s you.”

“That’s not an answer,” he snaps. “You think I don’t notice the way you’re pulling away? The phone calls you don’t take around me? If you don’t want to be with me, just say it.”

Her silence cuts deeper than any words could.

“You’re impossible,” she finally says, her voice trembling with suppressed anger. “You think everything revolves around you and your job, but you don’t even see what’s right in front of you. Maybe I have been distant, Jungkook, but can you blame me? You’re so wrapped up in your case that there’s no room for anything—or anyone—else.”

He clenches his fists, his nails digging into his palms. “You’re deflecting. Just tell me the truth, Mina. Are you seeing someone else?”

Her sharp intake of breath tells him everything he needs to know.

“Mina,” he growls, his voice low and dangerous.

“I’m not doing this,” she says, and the line goes dead.

Jungkook stares at his phone, his breath coming in ragged bursts. The quiet of the apartment feels suffocating, pressing in on him from all sides. He throws his phone onto the couch and grabs his keys, his mind a whirlwind of anger, betrayal, and something he can’t quite name.

But for a fact, he knows that he’s lost Mina forever. And the realization dawns on him as he stares at his phone screen. He’s alone once again like he has been for a month.

But maybe this time, forever

And it doesn’t take him long to break down in his apartment. He’s so alone and maybe he will be forever. Why can nobody ever love him?

Is he not deserving of love?

•••

The coffee shop is dark except for the faint glow of a single lamp by the counter. You’re wiping down the tables, your movements unhurried, as if you have all the time in the world. The sight of you—calm, grounded—makes something in Jungkook loosen, just slightly.

You look up as he enters, the chime of the bell breaking the silence.

“Jungkook?” you say, surprised. “It’s late. What are you doing here?”

He doesn’t answer immediately, just walks over to the counter and leans against it. “I needed to get out of my head.”

You study him, noting the tension in his jaw, the shadows under his eyes. “Rough day?”

He laughs bitterly. “You could say that.”

The way you look at him, makes his heart flutter in an abnormal way, maybe it’s the loneliness that he’s making behave like this but you’re gaze actually drives him crazy

You hesitate for a moment before stepping around the counter, standing a little closer to him. “Want to talk about it?”

“No,” he says quickly, then softens. “I just… I don’t know. Everything feels like it’s falling apart.”

You nod, not pushing him for details. Instead, you reach for the bottle of whiskey you keep hidden behind the counter for nights like this. You pour him a glass and slide it across the table.

“Here,” you say. “On the house.”

He takes a sip, the burn in his throat a welcome distraction from the turmoil in his mind. “Thanks.”

You sit down beside him, the two of you falling into a comfortable silence. But you can feel his eyes on you, heavy and searching.

“You’re always here,” he says suddenly, his voice soft.

“Someone has to be,” you reply, your lips quirking into a small smile.

“You know Y/N? I’m so fucking alone. My girlfriend is probably cheating on me. She doesn’t care about me…. No one cares about me.” His voice breaks on the last sentence.

You look at him with pity and something deeper swimming in your gaze, but he doesn’t know how to pinpoint it, you urge him to continue so he does.

He chuckles, but it’s humorless. “It’s more than that. You don’t know what it means to me, Y/N. Just… knowing there’s someone who gives a damn.”

Your heart skips a beat, but you play it cool. “Well, you look like you could use someone in your corner.”

He turns to you then, his gaze intense, and for a moment, neither of you speaks. The air between you feels charged, electric

“Why do you care so much?” he asks, his voice barely above a whisper.

You hesitate, your pulse racing. “Maybe I just like seeing you smile.”

You’re the first person who has ever said that to him, and in that moment, he realizes that your silence is the only silence that doesn’t feel suffocating.

You look at him with such a deep emotion that it makes him go crazy, what are you doing to him? Why do you care about him so much?

You’ve been there for him since day one. You’re so comforting so kind and so nonjudgmental.

You listen to him rant, Complain, but you don’t say anything every time.

The more he looks at you, the more his heart keeps on thumping, inside his chest and alcohol just rushes through his body, and suddenly his pants feel so achingly tight.

The silence between you both is charged with tension, a tension that makes shivers go down his spine, you’re looking at him in a way that has him hallucinating that you want to lure him in.

He just wants to drown in your embrace, feel you in a way that no one has ever, he just wants to bury himself to hilt inside of you so maybe he can feel wanted again, and maybe he will feel safe for once.

His breath hitches, and before either of you can think better of it, his lips crash into yours.

•••

The back room of the café becomes a blur of heat and desperation as you both stumble in while he’s busy, shoving his tongue on your throat. It’s not tender—it’s raw, messy, driven by an ache neither of you can name. He breaks the kiss after it feels like hours, and he dips his head low and you feel his hot wet lips on your neck, His hands are rough against your skin, his lips leaving trails of bruises along your neck.

“Jungkook,” you whisper, your voice breaking as his hands grip your hips. It feels so fucking good. The desperation and the need is driving you insane.

You can feel his muscular body, he’s so perfect. You have dreamed of this moment for the longest time. But you never really thought that it would come true.

But as he kisses your neck, his lips burn on your skin. And that makes you realize that this is your reality. You are finally getting to live your dream.

You moan out his name again breathlessly gripping on his shoulders so tightly as he attacks your neck, whispers of his name leave your mouth, you’re getting breathless, just by him kissing your skin.

That’s how much you want him.

He doesn’t respond with words, only pulls you closer, his movements frantic. It’s as though he’s trying to drown in you, to forget everything outside of this moment.

His scent is so exotic, he’s always smelled so good whenever he’s visited the café, his son is so stronger it surrounds the whole café and right now you’re so close to him. It’s getting you high.

You know that he’s drunk, he’s so fucking drunk and vulnerable, but you cannot bring yourself to stop him, especially not when he pushes your panties down, his lips hot on your collarbones.

How can you bring yourself to stop him when he’s suddenly licking his fingers, as he takes them out you, you stare at him, they’re glistening with his Saliva.

He’s so beautiful and so handsome, and the most sexiest man you’ve ever seen.

You can only encourage him, and you do that, when he finally starts to push his two digits inside of you, your hips buck up.

You’re so fucking wet it’s embarrassing.

He scissors them inside of you, curling them inside your gummy walls, hitting that spot that has you seeing stars, immediately and he’s barely even started

“AGGH…” you moan out loudly, He groans at the sound, sinking his teeth in your neck once again, he’s so needy right now, you feel his body temperature burning.

You’re burning up too.

Jungkook whispers in your ear, “take off my boxers.”

And you do, after that you start stroking his hard thick length, he’s so big, as you stare down at it, you gasp because it’s leaking already and it’s angry.

He’s been neglected for the longest time, you actually hate his girlfriend, but good for you. You get to feel him inside you like this.

He’s hungry for this. As you finally start to do the magic of your hands, he lets out a guttural moan, it’s so loud, and it rings in your ears.

you love the sounds he’s making right now. He sounds so hot almost like an animal in heat.

But he starts fucking your hand furiously, you lift his head up from your neck to look at him and you just want to keep him with you forever

He’s so beautiful.

He’s drooling, his eyes are closed as he feels the pleasure that you are giving him, the pleasure that he’s been denied for the longest time.

“T-Thank you so much for this because you have no idea how much I need this you have no idea how much I need you… yn- ngh… I’ve been dreaming about this… how about you… and you feel so much better than my imagination”

Jungkook cannot wait anymore though, just as he’s close, he wraps your legs around his waist and gently removes your hand, kisses you hard as he shoves his cock in your warm pussy.

“Let me feel your pussy, I need you, baby…” he begs, you grip his shoulders and kiss his cheek. He lets out a shuddering breath once your heat cages him in.

He starts moving his hips at a really fast pace, he’s jackhammering into you, Jungkooks moaning is echoing throughout the back room.

“NGHH mhmm AHHHG…. AHHH…”

The pleasure that you’re feeling right now is the most that you’ve ever felt in your life and you never knew that you could feel this good while having sex.

The sex with him is feeling so hot, so good and so fucking raw.

He’s so big you can see it bulging from inside of you, you gasp.

“Cum… please Cum inside me.”

You press desperate kisses on his neck, and on the hollow of his throat He’s so vocal about this. So hot. And then he lets out a desperate mewl as he cums inside your cunt.

It’s hot, thick and full as he fills you up to brim.

But it’s starts leaking out because it’s so much, you can feel it running down your thighs.

“You felt a-ah… so fuckin good, yn.”

When it’s over, the two of you lie tangled together on the worn couch, your breaths mingling in the quiet.

“I’m sorry,” he says suddenly, his voice hoarse. “I shouldn’t have—”

“Don’t,” you cut him off, resting a hand on his chest. “Don’t apologize.”

He looks at you, his eyes searching for something he can’t find.

“You’re not alone, Jungkook,” you say softly. “Not anymore.”

But as he drifts off to sleep, your words echo in his mind, and unease curls in his chest.

•••

The first rays of sunlight filter through the cracks in the blinds, casting faint streaks across the cramped backroom of the café. The room is quiet, save for the sound of Jungkook's breathing. He lies awake on the couch, staring at the ceiling, your head resting on his chest, your arm draped over him like a lifeline.

The memories of the night before play in his mind on an endless loop-your soft moans, the way your body had responded to his touch, how you had whispered his name like a prayer. He feels a pang of guilt, but not for what he did. He doesn't regret it. Not the way your warmth had pulled him from the cold void he'd been living in, not the way you made him forget the weight of the world for a few fleeting hours.

What eats at him is the realization that he used you-your body, your kindness, your feelings— for his own selfish needs. And yet, as much as the guilt gnaws at him, a darker truth lingers: it had felt so good. You had felt so good.

Your breathing changes, pulling him from his thoughts. You stir slightly, your fingers twitching against his chest before you lift your head to meet his gaze.

"Good morning," you say softly, your voice thick with sleep.

He swallows hard, unsure of what to say.

“Morning,” he replies, his voice quieter than he intends.

You sit up slowly, the blanket slipping from your shoulders as you adjust yourself on the edge of the couch. For a moment, neither of you speaks, the weight of what happened between you hanging in the air.

“Are you okay?” you ask finally, breaking the silence.

“I don't know,” he admits, running a hand through his disheveled hair.

You bite your lip, looking down at your lap. "Last night..."

“Wasn't supposed to happen,” he says, cutting you off.

You flinch slightly but force a small smile. “I know,” you murmur.

He sighs deeply, sitting up and leaning forward, his elbows resting on his knees. “I don't regret it,” he says finally, his voice low.

Your head snaps up, your eyes wide with surprise.

“I don't regret being with you,” he continues, his tone softening. “But I regret... I regret that I used you. That I let my emotions... my loneliness take over. You didn't deserve that.”

You shake your head, reaching out to touch his arm. “Jungkook, you didn't use me. I wanted it too.”

He looks at you, his dark eyes filled with conflict.

“I know you did. But that doesn't make it right.”

You hold his gaze, your heart aching at the vulnerability in his expression. “It's not wrong either,” you whisper.

He exhales sharply, standing up and pulling on his jacket. “I need to think," he mutters. “I need to figure out what I'm doing.”

Jungkook walks through the quiet streets, the early morning chill biting at his skin. His mind is a storm of emotions-shame, guilt, longing. He knows he should be thinking about Mina, the case, about everything that's been spiraling out of control in his life. But all he can think about is you.

You, with your soft smile and kind eyes. You, who had welcomed him without judgment. You, who had given him a moment of solace in the chaos.

He doesn't regret being with you, but he regrets what it means. He regrets how easily you've slipped into the cracks of his carefully constructed walls.

And yet, even as he walks away, he knows he'll come back to you. He always does.

Meanwhile, you’re feeling the same… after he leaves you at the door as it shuts.

You sit on the couch long after Jungkook has gone, staring at the spot where he had been just minutes before. Your heart feels heavy, conflicted. Last night had been everything you'd ever wanted, but now it feels tainted by his guilt, his regret.

Still, you can't bring yourself to regret it. Not when it had felt so perfect, so right.

But as you move to the front of the café, preparing for the day ahead, you can't shake the feeling that something has shifted between you and Jungkook. And you're not sure if it's for better or worse.

But you do know that this was only the beginning and this is not gonna end ever and you don’t want to.

•••

A month goes by, he hasn’t visited the cafe after that night woth you, he’s started to get over Mina, The investigation starts to grow worse, the killer more mysterious than ever. Jungkook’s focus shifts entirely to the case, but the memory of that night with you lingers, a dangerous distraction. He avoids Mina entirely, his guilt toward her eclipsed by the tangled emotions he feels when he sees you.

It’s only a matter of time before everything comes crashing down.

•••

The night Jungkook slept with you still lingers in his mind, haunting him like a half-remembered dream, a moment of clarity and chaos all at once. He tells himself it was a mistake, that he was drunk, confused, and in need of something—someone—that wasn’t Mina. But he knows deep down, it was more than that. It was the kind of intimacy that made him feel human again, something he hadn’t felt in a long time.

Yet, when he wakes up the next morning, reality settles back into place. He tries to push you out of his thoughts as he makes his way to work, but every time he passes by the café, he finds himself looking for you, wondering if you’re there. The guilt gnaws at him, but the emptiness inside makes him think about you again, just for a moment.

What Jungkook doesn’t know, what he can’t see, is that the girl behind the counter, the quiet barista with the warm smile, has already made up her mind. You’ve already planned it out.

Mina is your problem now.

Mina never did anything wrong. She never even knew the darkness that lurked beneath your calm exterior. To her, you were just another face behind the counter, the one who always smiled, who always gave her the right change with a soft chuckle. She was just another customer. But that was before you realized she was still with Jungkook, and that was the last straw.

Mina knows about your crush on Jungkook because, on several occasions in the past, Jungkook had brought her with him when he visited the café. It wasn’t frequent, but enough for Mina to catch on to the subtle tension that simmered between you and him.

You hadn’t meant to make it obvious, but every time Jungkook walked into the café, your demeanor shifted. You’d become a little more flustered, your heart would race, and your eyes would light up, especially when he greeted you with that easy smile. It didn’t take much for someone like Mina, who was always looking for cracks in the façade, to notice.

The first time Jungkook brought her in, you did your best to be casual, to act as though you weren’t paying any special attention to him.

But Mina, watching from across the table, saw how you seemed a little more eager, a little more careful with every cup you made for him. She observed how your voice softened when you spoke to him, how your hands trembled just slightly as you handed him his order. It wasn’t hard for her to figure it out: there was something more than just friendship between you two, even if it was unspoken.

After that day, Mina started coming in more frequently when she knew Jungkook would be there.

She made a point of sitting at a table near the counter, watching the subtle interactions between you two, almost like a game. It gave her a sense of satisfaction—of control—to see how much you cared for him, how much you tried to hide it.

What really gave Mina the final piece of the puzzle was the day Jungkook brought her in again. This time, the way you interacted with him was different. You didn’t hide your feelings as well. You weren’t as guarded. Maybe you thought Jungkook had stopped noticing, that you could just be yourself around him without it being awkward, but Mina saw through it.

She watched you smile at him a little too brightly, watched how your voice softened when you said his name.

That’s when she knew. She had been right all along.

From that point forward, Mina began to play with this knowledge, poking at you, dropping little comments here and there about Jungkook. It wasn’t out of genuine interest in your well-being.

No, Mina was the type who thrived on power, on knowing things others didn’t. She knew you had feelings for Jungkook, and she wasn’t above using that against you.

Mina wasn’t a regular customer, but she made it a point to come by whenever she knew Jungkook would be there. She’d sit back, watch, and wait for you to slip up—because she knew it wouldn’t be long before you showed just how much you cared.

You watch her from the back of the café, your fingers tightening around the edge of the counter as she orders another coffee, laughs too loudly at something a friend says, her smile a little too bright.

You’re not the type to go unnoticed, not anymore. You’ve made sure of it. But this girl? She’s everything you’re not. Beautiful, untainted. Her life is easy—untainted by secrets or shame. But that life is a lie. And she doesn’t deserve it.

The tension builds like a slow-burning fuse as the afternoon wears on. Your hand shakes as you wipe down the counter, the hum of the coffee machine loud in your ears.

Mina doesn’t know how much you hate her. Doesn’t know that she’s the one thing standing between you and what you’ve convinced yourself is yours. Jungkook.

The thought of him with her, the way he always turns to her in the café, makes your stomach twist. You wish she’d just disappear. So, that’s exactly what you’ll do.

•••

The café is quiet as you lock up for the night.

The faint hum of the city lingers in the distance, but it doesn't reach your small sanctuary.

It's been a month since the night with Jungkook, and though he hasn't been back to the café in days, the memory of him is enough to send a shiver through your body.

You've noticed changes-small ones at first. A nauseous unease in the mornings, a fatigue that you can't shake. Tonight, though, you can't ignore the obvious anymore. Your period is late

far too late.

When you get home, you head straight for the drawer where you hid the pregnancy test. It had been an impulsive purchase a few days ago, something you hadn't wanted to face until you

absolutely had to.

The bathroom feels impossibly quiet as you take the test, sitting on the edge of the tub and waiting for the results. Seconds stretch into an eternity. When the lines appear, bold and unmistakable, the air leaves your lungs.

Your mind races. The weight of the word sinks into your chest. It's him. Jungkook. That night.

The night when everything felt like it could finally belong to you. But now, this?

Panic bubbles inside you, but it's swallowed by something darker, more visceral.

Mina's face flashes in your mind, and it's as if the pregnancy test has turned her shadow into a living, breathing entity. She's always there, always hovering around the edges of your thoughts, a reminder of what you'll never truly have.

She broke up with Jungkook that night. You've pieced that much together. She left him, but her presence still looms over you.

It's her fault you feel this way. Her fault that Jungkook can't be entirely yours.

Before you realize it, you're out the door again, the pregnancy test left abandoned on the counter. The idea takes root in your mind with terrifying clarity.

Mina's address isn't hard to find. She used to post pictures from home-soft, curated glimpses of her perfect life.

The city streets blur as you drive. Your fingers tighten on the wheel as adrenaline floods your veins.

When you pull up to her house, the world feels unnervingly still. The house is modest but exudes her curated style, clean and pristine. A pang of rage surges through you.

You knock softly at first. When there's no response, you knock louder, your fist trembling against the wood. Finally, the door opens.

Mina stands there in a loose sweatshirt and leggings, her hair tied back, and her expression instantly hardens when she sees you.

“What are you doing here?” she says sharply, her voice cutting through the air.

You don't answer. You push past her, stepping into her living room without waiting for an invitation. She whirls around, glaring at you.

“Excuse me?” Mina snaps, her hands on her hips. "You can't just barge in here-"

But you're not listening. Your focus sharpens as you glance around the room, taking in the perfection of it all. Everything she's built, everything she's taken from you without even knowing it.

“You ruined him,” you say suddenly, your voice low and trembling.

Mina freezes, her brows furrowing. “What are you talking about?”

“You don't deserve him,” you continue, stepping closer. The words spill out, raw and jagged. You never did. You threw him away.”

Mina's eyes widen, and for the first time, there's a flicker of unease in her expression. “Are you insane?” she says, backing up slightly. “This has nothing to do with you.”

But it does. It has everything to do with you.

The knife is in your pocket, cold and heavy against your palm as you pull it out. Mina's eyes go wide, and she lets out a sharp gasp.

“Y/N, stop. What are vou doing?” she says, her voice trembling now, you see fear in her eyes, and that is so satisfying

“I'm taking back what's mine,” you whisper, stepping forward.

Mina screams as you lunge, but she's fast. Her nails rake across your arm as she tries to push you away, drawing blood. The knife slips from your grasp briefly, clattering to the floor, and the two of you struggle, crashing into the coffee table.

She fights harder than you expected. Her fists hit your sides, her nails digging into your skin.

But your rage is stronger, a blinding force that drives you forward.

Finally, you grab the knife again, plunging it into her chest. The scream chokes in her throat, her hands flailing weakly as you press the blade deeper.

The fight leaves her body, her eyes glazing over as she crumples to the floor.

You stand there, panting, your body trembling with adrenaline. Blood pools around her, staining the pristine floor, and it's then you notice the streaks of red on yor wn arms.

Her nails. She scratched you.

Your breath quickens as the reality sets in. You grab a dishcloth from the kitchen, wrapping it around your arm to staunch the bleeding.

You leave quickly, your mind racing. The blood you've left behind is a risk, but it's done now.

She's gone.

As you drive away, the silence in the car feels deafening. You glance at your bandaged arm, your chest heaving with a mix of fear and exhilaration.

It's over. She's gone.

But the faint, nagging thought of the blood you've left behind lingers in the back of your mind, a seed of doubt that you can't shake.

•••

The next day, Jungkook’s phone rings with the news. Mina’s body is found in at her home reported by the neighbors, discarded like a broken toy. The details of her murder are grisly—so much blood, so many signs of a struggle. But there’s something more. Something that gnaws at him,

He doesn’t know it yet, And Jungkook has no idea how close he is to the one thing he’s been hunting.

As he visits the scene of the crime, his heart heavy with guilt over his own sins, the truth starts to swirl around him, each clue pulling him closer to you. But you are always just one step ahead.

And you’re not finished yet.

•••

Jungkook stands at the edge of the crime scene, Mina’s home. Familiar home, his mind racing as he watches the forensic team finish their work. Mina’s body has been taken away, but something about the scene feels unfinished—unnerving. As the team packs up, the lingering sense of wrongness creeps into his chest.

He takes a few more steps into the room, his eyes scanning every inch.

The silence is heavy, thick with the smell of blood, and something else, something he can’t quite place. He feels like he’s being watched even though he’s the only one left. His gut instinct tells him there’s more to find, something hidden beneath the surface.

“Detective Jeon,” a voice calls out, pulling him from his thoughts. He turns to see Officer Lee, the junior detective, holding a small evidence bag.

“What is it?” Jungkook asks, his voice tight with impatience.

“Sir,” Lee continues, stepping closer. “We found something odd in the kitchen area, near the counter. It’s fresh blood, but it doesn’t match the scene at all. It’s… different.”

Jungkook raises an eyebrow, his curiosity piqued. “What do you mean, different?”

Lee’s face shifts, his expression nervous. “It’s not the same consistency as the blood we’ve been seeing from the victims. It seems… newer, almost as if it wasn’t part of the original violence.”

Jungkook’s heart skips a beat. The blood. It’s almost like the killer made a mistake. He follows Lee to the kitchen, where they find the dark stain on the floor. It’s small but unmistakable, a sharp contrast against the faded red of the rest of the scene.

He kneels down, his gloved fingers brushing the edges of the stain. The blood is darker than what they’ve seen from the victim, almost as though it’s been there for some time—but that doesn’t make sense. He knew Mina was killed just hours ago.

“Is this from the victim?” Jungkook asks, still focused on the stain.

“We don’t think so,” Lee replies, his tone uncertain. “It’s not consistent with the rest of the scene.”

Jungkook’s eyes narrow. “It looks fresh.”

His instincts kick in. Something is off, and he knows it’s not just the stain. His gaze lingers on the blood. He needs to know more. If this is part of the same pattern, then they’re dealing with something entirely different.

“Send it to forensics,” he orders. “Get it tested immediately. I need to know what we’re dealing with.”

Hours pass before Jungkook finds himself in the sterile white of the forensics lab, waiting as the technician works quickly to process the blood sample they’ve retrieved from the crime scene.

He stands by, his mind on edge, feeling the pull of the unknown tightening its grip. The room is quiet, save for the hum of machinery and the faint clicking of keyboards as the technician runs the test.

Finally, the technician hands Jungkook a printed report. Jungkook takes it with a calmness he doesn’t feel, his fingers trembling ever so slightly as he scans the document.

The results are like a slap in the face.

The blood—this blood—belongs to a woman.

His chest tightens as he rereads the details. But it’s not just any woman. The test shows the presence of hormone levels consistent with early pregnancy.

A pregnant woman.

The words blur before his eyes. His mind struggles to make sense of it. Pregnant? How could it be?

This isn’t just some random woman who happened to get involved in the case. This is a pregnant woman. The kind of detail that changes everything.

He stares at the report in stunned silence. Mina’s murder doesn’t fit with any of the previous patterns, but this… this is a whole new level of complexity. And, despite his growing confusion, Jungkook can’t shake the nagging thought that the killer might be someone unexpected—someone who’s been hiding in plain sight.

Jungkook’s mind races as he pieces everything together. The fact that the blood belongs to a pregnant woman is huge. It feels like a lead that could take him in an entirely new direction, but there’s something else gnawing at him. A suspicion he can’t quite shake.

It’s the note he found on Mina’s body. The strange connection between the killings. Every victim has had a twisted background, all male, all with histories of violence or crime. But Mina… she was an exception. A woman. And she wasn’t involved in the same kind of criminal activity.

His gut is telling him something isn’t right. He’s seen this before—when his intuition is pushing him toward an answer, even when he doesn’t have all the pieces. And now, with this new revelation about the blood, that nagging feeling is only growing stronger.

Could the killer be a woman? Could the killer be pregnant? The thought unsettles him, but it makes sense. Perhaps this is the killer’s twist—targeting those who have wronged others, who’ve hurt people in the most vicious ways, while hiding behind a carefully crafted disguise.

As he stands there, staring at the test results, a chilling realization slowly begins to creep in. He hasn’t even begun to connect the dots. He hasn’t yet put it all together.

And the more he thinks about it, the more he realizes the one thing that’s been staring him in the face all along: someone close to him could be hiding this terrible secret.

But he doesn’t know who that is yet.

The blood. The pregnancy. The mysterious nature of Mina’s death—everything points to a killer who’s been hidden from view. Someone who’s not just playing a part in this sick game but is actively controlling the strings.

Jungkook takes one last look at the report in his hand. The piece of paper seems to burn with the weight of its revelation.

“Pregnant,” he mutters under his breath, the word tasting bitter in his mouth. “Who could it be?”

Jungkook’s thoughts are muddled. He hasn’t even considered the possibility that someone he knows could be involved. But the facts keep leading him in that direction.

With every passing second, the answer feels closer, yet farther away. All Jungkook knows for certain is that this case is far more complicated than he ever imagined.

And the killer is closer than he thinks.

•••

That night? he decides to visit his favorite coffee place again

The café is dimly lit, the warm golden glow of the overhead lights casting long shadows across the empty tables. It’s late—well past closing time for most places—but you’re still here. You’ve started staying later than usual, lingering in the quiet of your sanctuary, unable to go home to the lingering guilt of what you’ve done.

You’re wiping down the counter when the bell above the door chimes. The sound startles you, breaking through the silence. When you look up, it’s him.

Jungkook.

He’s standing in the doorway, his hair slightly disheveled, his eyes heavy with exhaustion. It’s been a month since that night, and he hasn’t been back since. Seeing him now feels like a punch to the chest, and for a moment, you can’t breathe.

“Jungkook,” you say softly, your voice barely audible. “You’re here again after a long time..”

He offers a small, tired smile as he steps inside, his hands shoved into the pockets of his jacket. “Hey,” he says, his voice low and gravelly. “I know it’s late… but are you still making coffee?”

You nod quickly, trying to push down the rising emotions threatening to choke you. “Of course. For you? Always.”

He sits at his usual spot near the counter, leaning back in the chair as he watches you move around the machine. The silence between you is thick, weighted with everything unsaid.

As you hand him the cup, his fingers brush against yours. The contact is brief but electric, sending a shiver up your spine. He takes a sip, his eyes closing as he lets out a soft sigh.

“This is exactly what I needed,” he murmurs, more to himself than to you.

You can’t hold it in anymore. The words burst from your lips before you can stop them. “I need to tell you something.”

He looks up at you, his brows furrowing slightly. “What is it?”

Your hands tremble as you grip the counter for support. You’ve been rehearsing this in your head for days, but now, with him sitting there, the reality of it feels overwhelming.

“I’m… I’m pregnant,” you say finally, your voice barely above a whisper.

The words hang in the air, and for a moment, his expression is unreadable. He sets the cup down slowly, staring at you like he’s trying to piece together what you just said.

“What?” he says finally, his voice low and filled with disbelief.

You swallow hard, nodding. “It’s yours, Jungkook. From that night.”

His breath hitches, and he leans back in his chair, running a hand through his hair. “Pregnant,” he repeats, almost to himself. The weight of the revelation sinks in, his eyes flicking to your stomach before meeting your gaze again.

“That’s… that’s a lot to process,” he says finally, his tone careful.

“But.. promise that I won’t abandon you… I will take full responsibility.. don’t worry… I’m so sorry”

You’re about to say something—anything to break the tension—when his gaze drops to your arm. His brows knit together as he notices the faint, raw scratches peeking out from beneath your sleeve.

“What happened to your arm?” he asks, his tone shifting, more alert now.

Your heart skips a beat, panic rising in your chest. You pull your sleeve down instinctively, hiding the marks. “It’s nothing,” you say quickly, too quickly.

He doesn’t look convinced. His eyes narrow slightly as he studies you. “Those look fresh,” he says, his voice sharp. “Did someone hurt you?”

“No,” you say firmly, forcing a laugh. “I’m just clumsy, that’s all.”

Jungkook doesn’t respond immediately. He just watches you, his gaze searching, like he’s trying to read the truth in your expression.

“Y/N,” he says finally, his voice soft but insistent. “If something’s going on, you need to tell me.”

You shake your head, plastering on a smile that feels more like a mask. “It’s nothing, really. You don’t have to worry.”

But he doesn’t look convinced. His jaw tightens, and he leans forward slightly, his fingers drumming against the edge of the table.

“Are you sure?” he asks, his voice low.

You nod quickly, avoiding his gaze. “I promise. Everything’s fine.”

He doesn’t press further, but the tension in the air is palpable. You can feel his eyes on you as you turn away, pretending to busy yourself with cleaning.

The rest of the conversation is stilted, awkward. He finishes his coffee quickly, his movements stiff and deliberate.

“I should go,” he says finally, standing up and sliding the cup toward you. “Thanks for the coffee.”

You nod, forcing a smile as you watch him leave. The door swings shut behind him, and the silence that follows is deafening.

You lean against the counter, your legs trembling beneath you. The scratches on your arm burn as if in reminder. You knew this moment would come, but now that it has, you feel the weight of everything crashing down around you.

He doesn’t suspect you—not yet. But the way he looked at you, the questions he asked… it’s only a matter of time.

•••

Jungkook sits at his desk in the dimly lit precinct, the case file for Mina’s murder spread out before him. His mind is a storm, every detail looping back to the one piece of evidence he can’t shake—the fresh blood at the crime scene, identified as belonging to a pregnant woman.

He had brushed it off at first, thinking maybe it was some unknown accomplice or a bizarre twist in the killer’s pattern. But now, after his late-night visit to the café, everything feels like it’s coming together in ways he wishes it wouldn’t.

His hands clench into fists as he remembers Y/N’s confession.

And then there were the scratches.

They’d looked raw, fresh—exactly like the kind of defensive wounds a victim might leave behind. He tries to dismiss the thought. It’s Y/N, he tells himself. Sweet, shy Y/N, who wouldn’t hurt a fly. But the evidence won’t let him go.

The blood. The scratches. Her sudden nervousness, the way she pulled her sleeve down, the way she avoided his eyes when he asked her about it.

Jungkook takes a deep breath, trying to steady himself. He doesn’t want to believe it—doesn’t even want to entertain the thought. But as an inspector, he knows he can’t ignore the signs.

He flips through the photos from the crime scene, his eyes lingering on the smear of blood leading away from Mina’s body. The forensic team had confirmed it didn’t belong to Mina, and it wasn’t old enough to have been left by anyone else.

It had to be the killer’s.

He leans back in his chair, staring up at the ceiling. His mind races with conflicting thoughts—his duty to the case, his growing feelings for Y/N, and the sickening possibility that they might be connected in ways he can’t yet comprehend.

“Jeon,” his partner calls from across the room, breaking his train of thought. “Anything new?”

Jungkook shakes his head, snapping the file shut. “No,” he lies. “Still piecing it together.”

But inside, he knows he can’t ignore this.

The next night, Jungkook finds himself back at the café. It’s late again, and the streets are quiet, save for the occasional hum of a passing car. He tells himself he’s just here for coffee, to clear his head. But deep down, he knows that’s not true.

Y/N is behind the counter, her movements slower than usual, as if weighed down by something unseen. She startles when she sees him walk in, her eyes wide, but she quickly masks it with a smile.

“Back again?” she asks, her voice trembling slightly.

He nods, offering a small smile of his own. “Couldn’t stay away. You make the best coffee, remember?”

She laughs softly, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. He watches her closely as she moves, noticing the way she avoids his gaze, the way she keeps her sleeves tugged down over her wrists.

When she sets the cup in front of him, he doesn’t drink right away. Instead, he leans forward, resting his elbows on the counter.

“Y/N,” he says softly, his voice steady but probing.

She looks up at him, her smile faltering. “Yeah?”

“You never told me how you got those scratches,” he says, his tone casual but his eyes sharp.

Her breath catches, and he sees the flicker of panic in her expression before she quickly masks it. “I told you,” she says lightly. “I’m clumsy.”

“Clumsy enough to leave marks like that?” he presses, his gaze unrelenting.

Her hands tremble slightly as she picks up a cloth and starts wiping down the counter. “Why are you asking?” she says, her tone defensive.

He leans back, his jaw tightening. “Just curious. You know, with everything going on… people getting hurt. Makes me worry.”

She doesn’t respond, her focus fixed on the counter. The tension between them is thick, the silence stretching uncomfortably.

“I’m fine,” she says finally, her voice barely above a whisper.

But Jungkook isn’t convinced. Every instinct in him is screaming that something is wrong, that she’s hiding something. And yet, despite everything, a part of him doesn’t want to believe it.

“Okay,” he says finally, his tone softening. “If you say so.”

But as he leaves the café that night, the weight of his suspicions feels heavier than ever. The blood, the scratches, her nervousness—it all lines up too perfectly to ignore.

Jungkook walks slowly back to his car, his mind swirling with thoughts he doesn’t want to entertain. He stops just short of the driver’s seat, leaning against the door and staring at the dark street ahead.

The Y/N he knows—the one he’s been drawn to, the one who seemed so kind, so unassuming—couldn’t possibly be capable of this. Could she?

He slams his fist lightly against the roof of the car, frustration boiling under his skin. He doesn’t want to doubt her. But the evidence doesn’t lie.

That same night, Jungkook decides to dive deeper into the case. He returns to the precinct and retrieves the forensic report on the blood found at Mina’s home. He’s read it before, but now, with fresh eyes, he scans the details again.

The report confirms it: the blood belongs to a pregnant woman. The realization sends a chill down his spine.

Jungkook rubs a hand over his face, exhaustion creeping in as he tries to piece it all together. The killer had left no other trace—no prints, no DNA—just this blood. It was careless, uncharacteristic of someone who had been so meticulous with the other murders.

Why now? he wonders.

The connection feels tenuous at best, but the scratches on Y/N’s arm flash in his mind again, and he can’t ignore the unease building in his chest.

“Jeon,” his partner calls from his desk, interrupting his thoughts. “You’re still here? Go home, man. You’ve been at this for weeks.”

Jungkook forces a nod, shutting the file and grabbing his coat. “Yeah, I’m going,” he mutters.

But he doesn’t go home.

Instead, he drives back to Mina’s house, parking a short distance away and stepping out into the cold night. The crime scene has long since been cleared, but he needs to see it again, needs to feel it.

The house looms dark and silent, a grim reminder of what had happened within its walls. He steps closer, his boots crunching against the gravel as he shines his flashlight across the ground.

And then he sees it—a faint stain on the walkway leading away from the house.

His heart pounds as he kneels down, pulling on gloves and carefully swabbing the dried blood. It’s faint but fresh enough to have gone unnoticed during the initial sweep.

He stands, staring at the swab in his hand. It could be nothing, a stray smear left behind by someone from the forensics team. But it could also be something.

Someone.

As he slips the evidence into a bag, his mind circles back to Y/N. The scratches. Her sudden announcement. The way she seemed so on edge, so unlike herself.

The thought makes his stomach twist painfully. He doesn’t want to believe it, but the pieces are falling into place, and the picture they’re forming is one he can’t ignore.

He gets back into his car, gripping the steering wheel tightly. His next steps are clear: have the blood tested again, cross-reference it, and get answers.

But for now, he sits in the dark, staring out at the empty street,

Caught between his duty as an inspector and the growing fear that the woman he’s falling for might be the one he’s been chasing all along.

•••

It’s been days since Jungkook swabbed the blood at Mina’s crime scene. Days of sleepless nights, staring at reports, running DNA tests, and trying to ignore the tightening noose of suspicion around Y/N.

The results came back that morning. The blood is a match. A match for the mysterious pregnant killer. A match for Y/N, You.

The words on the report burn into his mind, but he can’t bring himself to process them fully. Instead, he spends hours driving aimlessly through Seodaemun-gu, circling back to the café before stopping outside Y/N’s small apartment.

He’s not sure what he’s going to say, or do. The woman he’s fallen for—who is carrying his child—has killed at least eighteen people, including Mina. But the thought of turning you in feels like a betrayal he’s incapable of.

Jungkook climbs the steps to your door, his heart pounding so hard he’s sure you’ll hear it the moment he knocks.

The door opens almost immediately, and Y/N’s face lights up in surprise. “Jungkook,” you say softly, but there’s a tension in your voice, as if you’ve been expecting this moment.

He steps inside without asking, closing the door behind him. His eyes scan the room, searching for something—anything that might confirm what he already knows.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” you say, your voice low. You move to the small kitchen, your movements stiff.

“Y/N,” he says, his voice calm but firm. “We need to talk.”

You freeze, your back to him, her hand resting on the counter. “About what?”

He doesn’t answer immediately, instead stepping closer. “You already know what.”

Y/N turns to face him, Your expression guarded. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Jungkook.”

“Don’t,” he says, his tone sharper than he intends. He exhales slowly, trying to keep his emotions in check. “I know, Y/N. About Mina. About all of it.”

Your face pales, and for a moment, you doesn’t respond. Then you cross your arms, your gaze steady but wary. “You’re mistaken,” you say evenly.

“I’m not,” he replies. He reaches into his jacket and pulls out the forensic report, dropping it onto the table. “This is your blood. At Mina’s house. You were there.”

Y/N’s breath catches, and you looks down at the report, your hands trembling. “It’s not what you think,” you whisper,

“Then tell me what it is!” His voice rises, the frustration and desperation spilling out. “Because the evidence says you killed her, Y/N. It says you’ve killed all of them.”

She doesn’t deny it. Instead, she steps back, her hands gripping the edge of the counter as if to steady herself. “I did it,” she says quietly, her voice breaking. “But they deserved it, Jungkook. Every single one of them.”

He stares at her, the weight of her confession hitting him like a freight train. “Mina didn’t deserve it,” he says, his voice hollow.

Her eyes fill with tears, and she shakes her head. “She broke you, Jungkook. She hurt you. And I couldn’t—”

“That wasn’t your decision to make!” he shouts, his voice cracking with emotion. “You had no right!”

Silence falls between them, heavy and suffocating. Y/N’s tears spill over, but she doesn’t move, doesn’t try to defend herself further.

Jungkook rubs a hand over his face, his thoughts spiraling. He knows what he should do—what his duty demands. But when he looks at her, at the woman carrying his child, he feels nothing but agony.

“I’m pregnant,” she says suddenly, her voice trembling.

“I know,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper.

“SERIOUSLY YN What the fuck have you done? I fell in love with a psychotic killer. FUCK!”

She flinches at his tone, her tears falling harder. “I didn’t mean for this to happen,” she says, her voice cracking. “I just, I couldn’t let them keep hurting people. I couldn’t let her keep hurting you.”

Jungkook closes his eyes, her words tearing through him. When he finally looks at her again, his expression is unreadable. “Do you understand what you’ve done?” he asks, his voice quiet but laced with pain.

“Yes,” she whispers.

“You’ve destroyed everything,” he says, his voice breaking.

She sobs, collapsing into a chair. “I didn’t mean to destroy you, Jungkook. I—”

“You didn’t destroy me,” he cuts her off, his tone icy. “You destroyed us.”

The room falls silent again, the weight of his words suffocating them both.

Finally, he speaks, his voice hollow. “I can’t turn you in, Y/N. I should, but I can’t. Because I—” He stops himself, shaking his head as if to dispel the thought. “But I need you to know that what you’ve done… it’s unforgivable.”

She looks up at him, her tear-streaked face full of anguish. “Then what happens now?”

Jungkook stares at her for a long moment, his jaw clenched, his hands trembling. “I don’t know,” he says finally, his voice barely audible. “I don’t know.”

And with that, he turns and walks out, leaving her alone with her guilt and the devastating weight of what she’s done.

•••

He takes a lot of Days to think about what he’s gonna do next, the truth is that he’s fallen too deeply in love with you to turn you in especially since he found out that you’re pregnant and as fucked up as it sounds, but the way you confessed to him that you killed Mina because she had hurt him,

It switched something inside him.. no one has ever gone that far for him.

You’re expecting his child

He has to do something to save you. He cannot turn you in no matter what.

So he decides to do something, a week later.

Jungkook sits alone in his car, parked a block away from the station. The stack of case files sits on the passenger seat, the details of eighteen brutal murders outlined in gruesome detail. At the top of the stack is Mina’s file.

The weight of what he’s about to do crushes his chest, but he’s made his decision.

If you go down, you take his child with you. You take him with you.

He exhales sharply, gripping the steering wheel until his knuckles turn white. He’s always been a by-the-book cop, but the moment he fell for Y/N, that part of him started to crumble. Now, he’s about to destroy what’s left of it.

He enters the station with confidence and a mask.

The precinct buzzes with energy as Jungkook walks in, the familiar hum of chatter and clacking keyboards filling the air. His partner, Detective Choi, greets him with a nod.

“Got something for me, Jeon?” Choi asks, leaning back in his chair.

Jungkook sets the files down on his desk, forcing a calm expression. “Yeah,” he says. “I’ve been looking into a lead.”

Choi raises an eyebrow. “A lead? We’ve been spinning our wheels on this for months. What kind of lead?”

Jungkook opens Mina’s file, pulling out the report he fabricated the night before. He had spent hours doctoring evidence, crafting a story that would absolve Y/N of suspicion.

“This,” he says, handing the report to Choi.

Choi scans the document, his expression shifting from skepticism to curiosity. “A drug connection?”

“Yeah,” Jungkook lies smoothly. “I traced the source of the drug found in all the victims to a trafficking ring operating out of Incheon. It’s messy, but I think one of their enforcers is responsible for the killings.”

Choi frowns, flipping through the pages. “An enforcer who kills eighteen people, including Mina, and just disappears?”

“That’s the thing,” Jungkook says, leaning in. “I think they’ve already been eliminated. Internal cleaning. It explains why the killings stopped after Mina’s case.”

It’s a bold lie, but Jungkook delivers it with conviction, weaving in just enough plausible details to make it stick. He knows Choi is sharp, but he also knows his partner is tired of this case. They all are.

Choi nods slowly, handing the report back. “It’s a stretch, but it tracks. You’re saying we close this case on the assumption the killer’s dead?”

Jungkook shrugs, feigning indifference. “Unless you’ve got a better lead, I don’t see another option. The evidence lines up. It’s messy, but it fits.”

Choi exhales heavily, rubbing his temples. “Fine. I’ll run it by the chief.”

•••

The reaction is mixed. Some detectives are relieved to put the case behind them, satisfied with Jungkook’s explanation. Others grumble about loose ends and unanswered questions, but no one presses too hard.

“Good work, Jeon,” the chief says, clapping him on the shoulder. “You’ve been on this for months. Go home. Get some rest.”

Jungkook forces a smile, nodding. “Thanks, chief.”

As he walks out of the precinct, he feels the weight of his actions settle over him. He’s betrayed his badge, his oath, and every victim in this case.

But he’s saved you.

But there’s still a lot of loose ends that he needs to tie up, especially to convince his department that the pregnant woman was a pawn.

He needs to do something really convincing, and soon because time is running out.

•••

After a lot of days later, you’re almost now almost two pregnant, Jungkook hasn’t visited you after that confrontation and you think that maybe he’s abandoned you and maybe he’s gonna arrest you but you’re ready to pay for your sins.

You know what you were getting into when you decided to do this and you don’t regret killing any one of them.

Especially not Mina

Only if you had any idea… about what is happening around you…

 The apartment is quiet when Jungkook arrives. The air feels thick with tension, the kind that comes from unsaid words, from everything that’s been building up for weeks, months even.

He’s been here before, countless times, but tonight feels different. It’s as if the weight of everything that’s happened has finally caught up to him. The lies. The murder. The twisted love you’ve both been hiding from.

You’re sitting at the kitchen table when he walks in, a cup of cold coffee in front of you, untouched. The dim light casts long shadows across your face,

making you look almost ethereal, but there’s a darkness in your eyes that he hasn’t seen before. He doesn’t know whether it’s the guilt or the truth that lingers between you both, but it’s there. It’s palpable.

You don’t stand up when he enters. You don’t even look at him at first. Instead, your fingers trace the rim of the cup absentmindedly, like you’re lost in thought, deciding what to say. Or maybe deciding if you should say anything at all.

“You’re here,” you say finally, your voice quiet, almost resigned. “I was wondering when you’d come.”

Jungkook closes the door behind him, his breath heavy. The sight of you is almost too much to bear.

He feels the pull, the urgency of everything that’s been building up since that night at the café. But there’s something else too. Something darker. The guilt. The secret he’s been keeping. The knowledge that he’s closing his eyes to the truth.

“I had to,” he replies, his voice hoarse. His eyes move to you, scanning your face, trying to find the woman he once thought he understood, the one who wasn’t a murderer. But now, nothing seems as simple as it once did.

You finally look up, your eyes meeting his, and for a brief moment, he sees it. The crack in your facade. The vulnerability that you’ve been hiding. But it’s fleeting. Quickly masked by that cold, calculating expression he’s learned to fear.

“You did what you had to?” you echo, a bitter smile tugging at your lips. “Funny. I didn’t know I was something you had to protect.”

Your stomach twists, guilt washing over you as you feel the weight of your words. The truth that he’s been avoiding hits you like a punch to the gut.

“I didn’t want to…,” he starts, his words faltering. “I didn’t want any of this. But I couldn’t let you go. Not after everything.”

You smile, but it’s not a smile at all. It’s a mask. A shield you’ve put up, but he sees through it. Just like he’s starting to see through everything you’ve done.

“Why didn’t you let me go, Jungkook?” you ask, standing slowly, your eyes never leaving his. You take a step toward him, the space between you narrowing with every heartbeat. “Because of your guilt? Or because you want me? Because you want us?”

Jungkook feels the heat rising in his chest, his body tense, his hands balled into fists at his sides. He wants to deny it, wants to tell you that it’s not like that, but the truth is too raw to ignore. He’s in too deep. He’s in love with you.

“I…” he hesitates, struggling with the words that seem impossible to say. “I don’t know what to believe anymore, Y/N. But I want you. More than anything.”

The words hang in the air between you both, thick with tension. You step closer, the space between you vanishing entirely. Your breath is warm against his skin as you raise a hand to his chest, tracing a line down to the hem of his shirt.

“Then why do you keep pretending like this is all just a mistake?” Your voice is soft now, a little breathless, but there’s something in it that makes his heart race even faster. “You know what I’ve done. You know the truth. So why are we still playing this game?”

His chest tightens as he stares into your eyes, the question echoing in his mind. Why are we still playing this game?

He’s already crossed too many lines, already made choices that can’t be undone. He’s in love with you, and that’s the only truth he can hold onto right now. But the guilt, the knowledge of what you’ve done—it’s suffocating him.

“I’m here because I don’t have a choice,” he says, his voice barely a whisper. “I’ve already made my choice. And it’s you.”

You look at him, your gaze calculating, but something flickers in your eyes. Relief? Or is it something darker? He can’t tell anymore.

“You don’t have to choose between me and the truth, Jungkook,” you say, stepping even closer until you’re inches apart. “The truth is… we belong together. In everything we’ve done. In everything we’ll do.”

The words send a shiver through him. There’s no going back now. He knows it. You know it.

His hands reach for you, pulling you into him, and your lips meet in a kiss that is desperate and consuming. He’s not thinking anymore. He’s not questioning. He’s just here, with you, drowning in everything that’s pulled you both together.

When you finally break apart, his breath is ragged, his chest heaving. Your hands rest on his shoulders, your eyes dark with something he can’t quite place.

“I’ll do anything for you,” he says, his voice hoarse, the words pouring out of him without thought.

“I know,” you reply softly, your fingers brushing against his neck. “And I’ll do anything for you too. But we have to be honest with each other now. No more lies.”

He nods, the weight of your words sinking into his bones. There’s no turning back now. “Jungkook.. you know it was a big skill investigation rate. How did you even convince your department to close the case tell me what did you do.”

He looks at you and smiles

He’s made his choice.

“Okay fine I will tell you.”

The investigation was closing in, and with each passing day, the walls seemed to close in tighter around Jungkook. The blood—so carefully planted at Mina’s crime scene—was becoming a ticking time bomb, and the pressure to keep Y/N safe weighed heavily on him. His heart hammered in his chest every time the case came up in discussion, and he knew he had to take drastic measures.

He needed to shut it all down. Permanently.

That’s when it hit him: a recently discovered body in a nearby district. A woman—pregnant, recently deceased, and conveniently found under suspicious circumstances. She wasn’t the killer, but to Jungkook, she might as well have been. He could use her to frame the entire investigation.

When Jungkook visited the morgue that night, the body lay still on the cold steel table, a haunting reminder of the fragile line between life and death. The woman had died under mysterious circumstances, no clear motive, no clear suspect. And with her pregnancy, she was the perfect pawn.

Jungkook’s mind raced as he walked around the body, his eyes lingering on her swollen belly, her pale face, the indistinct bruises on her skin that told a story he wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to know. He felt a sharp pang in his chest, the ghost of guilt flickering behind his thoughts. But there was no time for hesitation. He needed this body.

In his mind, he already had a plan.

He would stage the scene, make it look like this woman was the killer. He’d plant evidence that suggested the woman had been linked to Mina’s death—trace amounts of blood, a few fingerprints in the wrong places. A well-placed piece of clothing or object to tie her to the scene. It was risky, but it was the only way to close the case without implicating Y/N.

The morgue attendant, a sleepy-eyed man who didn’t seem to care much for the dead, handed him the body without question. Jungkook took a deep breath, making sure his hands didn’t shake. He carefully moved the body, knowing exactly what he needed to do.

Hours later, the police were called to a new crime scene. It was the same as always—an empty alleyway with the body of a woman found in a position that suggested something far darker than a random attack. The crime scene looked eerily similar to the previous murders, and that’s exactly what Jungkook had hoped for.

His mind worked quickly, placing the body of the pregnant woman at the scene as though she had been the one to kill Mina. The blood trail leading away from her. A few well-placed items. The evidence was there, but just subtle enough to make it believable.

The next day, Jungkook presented the findings to the department. His colleagues seemed to buy it without much question.

The body of the pregnant woman, found near the alley where Mina had been murdered, in her own home, was identified as the suspect. The evidence—though still sparse—was enough to back up the theory he had fabricated.

“I’ve spoken with forensics,” Jungkook said, standing tall as the room buzzed with suspicion. “The blood found near Mina’s body and the scene where this woman was found confirms our theory. This woman, whoever she was, was clearly involved. And she was pregnant, which explains her connection to the killer we’ve been hunting.”

The room fell silent, the officers looking at each other in confusion. But Jungkook pressed on, pushing the narrative with an authoritative tone.

“She was part of the criminal network, no doubt. This is why the killer used her. She was a pawn, an expendable figure, dragged into something much larger.”

“But with her death, we’ve finally identified her role. She’s the one we were after.”

Jungkook’s voice was steady, rehearsed, convincing. He wasn’t just presenting evidence; he was weaving the story.

One of the officers, a sharp-eyed veteran named Park, raised an eyebrow, leaning forward with a skeptical look. “Are you sure, Jeon? This all seems… too neat. A little too perfect.”

Jungkook took a breath, pushing his doubts aside. “We have to tie it up. The evidence is there. It explains everything. And it leads us to believe that the killer is someone who knew how to manipulate the situation. A pregnant woman was used to distract us from the true killer.”

He met Park’s gaze, holding it long enough to send the message. There was no going back now. He had to make this work.

•••

After a lot of deliberation, and no further suspicions or clues, Jungkooks lie worked

But there were too many questions now. How far could he go before his lies caught up to him? Would the department ever suspect him, even if they’d closed the case?

And most importantly, how much longer could he keep this secret—his secret—hidden from everyone, especially from Y/N?

With the department’s approval, Jungkook walked away from the case, his mind heavy with the weight of the lies he’d told. But as whenever he looked at Y/N, the mother of his child, he knew that no matter what it took, he would do whatever it took to keep her from being discovered.

The announcement came in later that day: Case #178-C, the Seodaemun Serial Killings, officially closed.

The case was officially closed. The department was satisfied, the investigation wrapped up, and the media was ready to move on to the next headline. Jungkook, however, couldn’t shake the feeling that everything was unraveling. He had used the body of a pregnant woman, a victim in her own right, to save Y/N—and his own conscience.

And now you two, will be together forever, and it will be your own heaven where no one will ever disturb you both and your growing family.

Everything is fair in love and war after to all

And this was both.

The love stored in his heart and the war of his own conscious, and eventually the love for you and his heart lawn over the war in his conscious.

“So you see, yn? Start packing your bags. You’re moving in with me and we’re gonna get married and have a child and live happily ever after.”

He stares at you with a lot of love in his eyes, but there’s something darker and you recognize it because it’s such a familiar look

A look that you often saw in your own mirror.

You kiss him again and smile against his lips.

You will do anything for him and you know now that he will also do anything for you.

Everything was worth it.

He was always worth it.

And he knows for a fact that you’re always gonna be worth it

[fluffylino]

ghostface ! hyunjin

little did you know you'd end up bumping into someone unexpected at a halloween party

-suggestive? so flirtatious istg

you weren't this type of person. the type of person in college to actively go seeking out parties and big frat parties. infact thats what you'd probably prefer avoiding. classmates and seniors drinking till they pass out or doing god knows what in bathrooms.

it was scary to be amongst so many people yet deep down you really wished you could experience a party like this. atleast for once in your life.

a recently made friend encouraging you to join her and her group of five friends. you weren't exactly on that level of closeness to go out with them but they genuinely were sweet. you felt like you could trust them. however they weren't as much into halloween as you.

you were wild on the inside. god knows what they'd ever say if they ever found out you found ghostface attractive.

not the killing and gore and all. just the idea of a mask like that. hiding someone's appearance completely.

yet all one could see was their physical figure, mannerisms and...their voice.

"you've never watched scream? the 1996 film?" you questioned, voice raising in pitch as they all shook their heads.

"oh is it that ghostface dude you keep mentioning?"

"technically yeah...imagine bumping into somebody wearing that whole outfit...here..in this place"

you said, getting a little anxious as you saw the classmates dressed up as various characters. some a little too gory and drenched in fake blood.

it was a halloween party afterall.

"I really hope he's there..." another friend chimes in. her cheeks visibly turning red. her and her huge ass crush on this guy.

"hm and if he is? what you gonna do with him" you can't help but tease her. nudging her shoulder and wriggling your eyebrows mischieviously. she laughed nervously.

"shhh what are you saying! dirty dirty!" her eyes widening. internally you questioned the innocence of this poor girl. she wasn't the type to think dirty thoughts.

"you think hyunjin will really be here?"

she whispered, looping her arm around yours. both of yall walking past people and into the house. streamers and decorations all over. lights dimmed down and occasionally flashing. the music louder than expected.

"..hwang? hm i don't know" you mumbled, feeling a bit shaky. guilt setting in slowly.

the thing was...you may have had a teeny weeny crush on him as well. however you pushed it aside when you found out she liked him like crazy. she described it as falling in love with him completely. it was a little too extreme but you simply laughed along. knowing all too well that they had never even spoken once in the previous semester.

hyunjin was a senior by a year or three. watching him from afar in the canteen. heart thumping faster than usual when he glanced your way too many times to be casual.

"he's looking at me, isn't he?" she'd always blush and say, trying to avoid him in all the possible ways.

a little delusion because it took only a few instances for you to figure out that he was...looking at you everytime you either walked to buy some coffee or whenever you'd be laughing and cracking jokes.

but you never know? maybe you just thought he knew your existence.

its only when the music gets louder and more people start coming in do things get overwhelming. grabbing a few shots of soju and downing it quicker than ever.

"we're gonna go there okay?" she slurs, waving goodbye and running off somewhere amidst the crowd with the other three. you hum to yourself, smacking your forehead. beginning to feel the alcohol kick in.

just when you think you should leave, your eyes land upon a mask. worn by someone who looks absolutely sculpted.

no flowy robe to match the creepy mask yet the way his arms looked in a tank top the stranger wore was worth drooling over.

looking away quickly when he turns his head towards you.

"god-...f-fuck he's hot..." you mumble breathlessly to yourself. cheeks burning and body on fire.

trying to steal another glance at the stranger. however he had vanished. was he in the crowd or did he go to the kitchen or backyard or-

"looking for me, honey?"

neck spinning to the side to come face to face with the elongated mouth and downward eyes of the spooky mask. a choked out shout leaving you.

"u-uh i-...i m-mean" you don't even know what you're saying at this point.

its the way he's leaning over you. towering above you.

"sooo you got a boyfriend?"

his voice goes straight to your core. its insane how turned on you are. realising he's playing along. reciting lines from the film.

"why? you wanna ask me out on a date?"

dragging your syllables. its the alcohol thats talking now. growing more confident and comfortable with this supposed stranger.

"maybe..."

the mask tilts comically.

leaning down even lower. that is until he sits on the short table opposite to you. carelessly dropping a few leftover candies on the ground. its a mess anyways.

he moves closer. thick thighs on either side of yours. his elbows resting on his knees as he seems to stare back.

expressions hidden under the damn mask. seeing just a sliver of his eyes under the mesh.

"you're pretty...pretty hot to not have one" muffled behind the mask. you can hear him breathe.

eyes trailing down to his arms unconciously.

"you think i'm hot? even though i'm dressed up as joker?" you chuckle. blushing incredibly hard.

because for some reason this stranger felt familiar. his mannerisms and his physique.

"even hotter, baby"

his voice. you've heard it before. you feel like you know this man's voice. no wonder you were enthralled. why couldn't you pinpoint who it belonged to?

"do i know you?" you sit up quickly. mimicking 'ghostface' who sat infront of you.

moving closer till his body heat engulfed you.

"mh do you?"

he tilts his head, humming condescendingly. goosebumps rising on your skin when his hands carefully rest on your knees.

"cause I definitely know you honey"

again.

your heart races.

unconciously leaning into him.

"you do? i see this little game you're playing" you tease. placing your hands on top of his. he lets you.

"m'not playing any games sweetie"

the man laughs lowly. shoulders shaking and neck arching to look down at you. growing more and more interested.

"yeah? then why don't you show me whose under this mask"

gently placing your index under his chin. his hands resting higher on your thighs now.

"oh i couldn't. that would ruin the fun wouldn't it."

allowing you to play around with the edge of the mask. edging him on mercilessly.

"what if i said i wouldn't mind it staying on"

you whisper, eyes meeting his briefly. arousal pooling in your abdomen.

whoever this was. you knew him for sure.

"while we talk? or did you mean during sex? please do tell, doll"

his voice drops an octave lower and you let your instincts kick in. forcing you to your limits with his teasing.

pushing the mask up just enough to kiss him senselessly.

it takes him by surprise, and you find yourself clinging onto him. his hands sliding higher to hold your waist.

quite literally using his strength to pull you right onto his lap. the low table creaks at the weight of two .

(lord have mercy we must stay focused brothers we MUST STAY FOCUSED AAA sorry i had to lolz)

"f-fuck...who are you..." you whisper, nose brushing against his. he huffs out a breath. choosing to kiss you with more fervour.

your fingers slipping under the mask.

shakily pushing it higher until your heart throbs. but that isn't the only thing throbbing when you see his uncovered face.

hyunjin.

"y-you...hyu-njin" going absolutely speechless as it sets in.

you're kissing hwang hyunjin.

the senior you thought you'd never even have the courage to talk to.

the mild taste of peach soju on his tongue. quietly opening your mouth for him to trail his tongue over your bottom lip.

the dark mesh falling over your face when you let go of the mask to fist at his fluffy hair. you could run your fingers through his hair.

his grip on your thighs strong enough to firmly keep you planted directly over where you could feel him.

getting worked up with how affected you were.

the feeling of his hands, his hair, his hot mouth moving passionately...his covered length....

"your friend. tell her you're with me, baby"

hyunjin pants out, nudging his lips to the corner of your mouth. your eyes widen, heart pounding.

"tell her im kissing you"

it felt like you were committing a sin. but you just couldn't bring yourself to care that much.

"tell her...i don't plan on letting you go home anytime soon"

.

.

.

.

ha ha ha ha ha ha ha surprise!

its a late halloween present but who cares! ghostface hyunjin has made an appearance acjwugsbsjskskshs~

<3333

[meowhara]

࿐.ೃ࿔*:･ 𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑨𝒃𝒚𝒔𝒔 𝑾𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝑴𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝑨𝒃𝒐𝒅𝒆

⊹ ࣪ ﹏𓊝﹏𓂁﹏⊹ ࣪ ˖ miguel o’hara x fem siren!reader

cw : blood and gore (not much but still)

synopsys : miguel's residence was a unique one, though nobody knew the existence of a deadly being inhabiting beneath it

It was always the same question whenever anyone visited his house. They’re always wondering why it was built like that. Some parts of his house where the tiles should be, were replaced by thick glasses. Clear enough to see the deep blue water underneath. His house was practically built over a gigantic man made body of water. It wasn’t an empty body of water either, there was life thriving underneath. The variety of fishes no matter what sizes or kind live there with coral reefs and underwater plants for the aquatic creatures to live in. Making a whole complete living underwater ecosystem.

“I don’t understand.”

“Don’t understand what?” Miguel huffed, his back facing the man that considered him a friend just because they met back in college.

“You. Look at this place.”

“Was that supposed to be an insult?” He popped open a bottle of fine alcohol and poured a glass for himself, then leaned on the kitchen’s counter before taking a sip.

“No… Not really.” The man reverts his gaze to the wide window behind Miguel. The marine life beyond that window was just stunning. For somebody like Miguel, having this kind of lifestyle wouldn’t be anyone’s first guess.

Miguel rolled his eyes from his reply, walking off from the counter with his drink before walking upstairs. “Would you mind leaving? I’m busy.” He scowled.

“Why? Are you hiding something?”

Miguel’s eyes twitched, isn’t he just polite?

He set himself down on a couch in the middle of the room. The living room was a unique one. There’s a spot where the tiles are supposed to be, left absent and empty. Leaving a literal two rectangular pool connected to each other’s ends, with a wide angle where an “L” shaped marine blue sofa that stretches for at least three meters long on both of its sides. A coffee table made out of thin marble with an oval shape in the center which was also in blue, decorated with gold lining.

The pool, oddly, is a wide one. It was made so that a whole human could slip through it, rather than for decorational purposes. Nobody really pointed it out in the past though, it seems to be a normal thing for anyone to have in their home if they had the money for it. Most people would drown from how deep the pool is if they're not careful. The bottom of the pool was out of the question from how deep it was intentionally made.

The ceiling was high above with water flowing down, forming a thin wall made out of water. Flowing down onto the same pool in the middle of the room. Tall windows on one end of the house, showcasing the breathtaking beauty of Nueva York, especially at night.

His eyes focused on the ill-mannered man he barely knows. Watching each one of his moves carefully.

“Don’t you have a Girlfriend?”

“Broke up.” He answered quickly as the man stood before him after he finished strolling around uninvitedly.

“How did you get your hands on these types of creatures anyway? I’ve never even seen some of the fishes you have swimming around underneath these tiles.” He tapped his feet onto the transparent material underneath his feet. The fishes swam away from the loud thumping noises of his feet.

“I have my own way.” He spoke before taking another sip.

“Illegal?”

“No.” After a long pause, he continues, “Would you mind doing me a favor?” Miguel added.

“What favor?”

“Taking a few steps away?”

“What? Why?”

He shrugged, “Personal space.”

“Geez.” Unsuspectingly, he took a few steps back until his feet were almost touching the edge of the floating platform.

A low whistle escapes Miguel’s mouth seconds before a creature with high speed emerges from underneath the water. Slamming the unsuspecting man into the ground, knocking air out of his lungs. He felt its sharp fangs digging into his flesh with the creature’s weight pushing him forcefully onto the ground. A creature with a human-like body and a massive fin instead of legs hisses their sharp fangs at him, their hair long with water dripping down. Its eyes are as dangerous as the dark mysterious sea, ready to devour him at any second. The man’s eyes widened in sheer panic as he tried to push whatever it was away.

A smile plastered across the host’s face. Calmly sipping all the remaining wine into his system with his back relaxing against his seat. The man screamed, fighting for his life. He even begged for Miguel to save him. But he was too busy watching your beautiful form ripping flesh out of your prey’s body with your mouth. Watching his pet feasting on her favorite meal of the day. His screams died down eventually. The scene was a complete mess, chunks of meat everywhere with a mixture of blood and water splattered across the floor.

Miguel set the empty glass in his hand down before standing up and closing the distance between the both of you slowly. When you saw him approaching you and your meal, you hissed at him.

“Easy there, cupcake.” He scoffed, “I’m not going to steal him away.”

He stood there as you possessively dragged the remaining of your meal back into the pool. Drowning it with you. “That brat.” The word came out from his mouth followed by a chuckle and a shake of his head.

“Lyla, clean this shit up for me.” He commanded the programmed woman.

“You're spoiling her Miguel.” She complained, her hollow body flickering in the dim lit room.

“I'm not. My baby got what she deserves.”

This has been going on for a pretty long time. People disappeared after entering his home, especially the uninvited ones. Although, there are some exceptions. There is someone that loves crashing into his place.

“How many times did I tell you to stop coming here?” His arms crossed over his chest as he scolded the only person that would leave his abode unharmed.

“It's not my fault you made this place very interesting.”

“That was not a reason for you to keep coming here every time I went to work.”

“Aww, don't brothers share?” Gabriel teased.

“I hate you.” Miguel pinched the bridge of his nose in exasperation.

“I won't be coming here ever again.”

Miguel raised his eyebrow, unamused by his little brother's promise.

“I won't be coming here ever again, if you let me have a party here.”

“No.” He didn't even think before the answer left his mouth.

“Then I'll pester you until the end of my life.”

“Go on then. I would rather you bother me rather than inviting people here.”

“Come on, my friends would love this place.”

Miguel's eyes were not focused on him after he saw a glimpse of your eyes inside the pool from where he's standing. He saw the hunger in your eyes upon looking at his brother, a tasty meal for your kind. He knew this would happen that's why he never invited anyone over except for your feeding time every once in a while.

But there's no way he would let you feast on his own family, he shook his head with a serious look on his face. He knew that you would listen to him either way, so he sighed as he watched you disappeared before his eyes.

“If you still want to live, leave.” Miguel spoke with a firm tone in his voice.

“But—”

“I said no to your stupid party and that's final. Leave before I told Lyla to never let you in here ever again.”

“You would ban me from coming here just because of this?”

“Gabriel.” He warned, insisted on letting him stay and telling him the reason why was never the best move to pull no matter what the situation is. Miguel watches as he leaves, listening to his brother swearing under his breath before the door shut by itself. The sound of small waves of water followed by ripples of water made Miguel turn his body to look at your head peeking out of the pool with a frown evident on your face. Breaking his heart from how sad you look after not getting what you wanted, he hates disappointing you.

Your eyes were fixed on the door, hoping your walking food would come back. “I know baby, I know. I'm sorry, okay? But you can't eat him.” He lowers himself to touch your face, gently caressing your cheek. You keep your head fixed on the door without hissing at Miguel. Human language is a foreign one to your ears, you can't understand anything, just a few basic words. Miguel was fully aware of this so he repeated himself. The certain word will always taste bitter to his mouth when it comes to pleasing you. “No baby, you can't eat him.”

Your frown worsens from the word ‘no’. You're not sure what it means, all you understand is that every time the word escapes his mouth, he won't let you get what you desire. “I'll make it up to you tomorrow, I promise.”

After that, he fed you even more men to satisfy your hunger. Their bodies sunk into the abyss of water where the monster he fell in love with abode.

[emberfrostlovesloki]

The Crucible [Hotch x Reader]

Photo credits: Left (@roting) Center (@dudeitiskarev) Right (@moodboard-d)

Prompt: Aaron finds himself alone with a homegrown terrorist group whose leader he put away a year ago. He gets beaten, shot, and dumped in the woods where the reader finds him and attempts to keep him alive long enough for the paramedics to get to him. 

Pairing: Aaron x Non-BAU!reader, gender-neutral!reader. The reader uses they/them pronouns 

Category: angst/hurt/comfort [happy ending] 

Word Count: 14.9K 

Content Warnings: Food is mentioned, alcohol is consumed, there is a hate group [the bad guys], severe beating [glass broken on a body, unwanted touch, forced drinking, punching, hitting, groping (Aaron)], shooting [Aaron], death by gunshot [a bad guy], gore,  mention of past abuse [Aaron], arguing, near death, hospitals, deep concern and coping mechanisms, language. If I missed any, please let me know. 

A/N: Hi all! It has been a while, but I am back now thanks to the end of the semester. I hope you are all doing very well! As always, I return with a novel of a Hotch story. I’ve had this idea for months now, and I am happy with how it turned out. I do want to encourage you to read the Content Warnings as this is angsty (though it has a happy ending). If you like this concept and would like to see a part two, let me know. I have many fluffy ideas for Aaron too, and those are coming, pinky promise. I am so happy to be writing again and hope to do a lot of it during the summer. Please be kind to yourselves this week and do something you love. If you enjoy this fic, likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated! Love Levi - ❤️

P.S. Special shoutout to @criminalskies for sharing emergency medicine with me for this fic! If I got things wrong, I'm sorry pookie.

List with all stories 

y/n = your name 

_c/t_ = coffee or tea

y/l/n = your last name 

y/a =  your age

Aaron drove down the lonely highway. He’d passed briefly through Shenandoah National Park. The peacefulness of the trees had calmed his mind for the hour that he was in the park, but as he got back onto the main road, the conversation that was bothering him started to edge its way back into his consciousness. Hotch wanted to close his eyes and potentially scream, but he settled for rubbing his hand angrily over his brow and then his eye bags that seemed to get heavier each day. 

Sean had reached out last week saying that he was going to be in New York meeting someone and had asked if his older brother had wanted to get a drink and catch up. To Hotch, this was last-minute planning according to him and his packed schedule. But he’d managed to drag himself out of bed and on the road on Saturday morning. When he got into the city, he and Sean met up at a swanky restaurant that suited Aaron’s taste a bit more than Sean’s. That at least he had to give his little brother credit for. 

In their adult lives, the Hotchner brothers had never seen eye to eye. It had only gotten worse when their mom had passed leaving the last real reason for them to be civil behind. Not that they were outwardly hostile, at least they hadn’t been until this afternoon, just that Aaron carried a lot of guilt and Sean had never seen to be able to step past his anger about what life had thrown at him. Neither could be blamed for their responses. But when Aaron arrived at the restaurant, Sean moved forward and shook his hand, and even gave him a hug with his other hand. Hotch returned the hug, realizing just how many years it had been since Sean and he had seen each other. 

They pulled back and looked at each other for a moment before moving inside and being seated. They both decided to just have a drink. Aaron got a mezcal mule and Sean opted for a margarita on the rocks. They both did a bit of catching up on their first drink, but things started to get rocky when Sean said, “So, I’m seeing someone new. Her name is Jennifer and she’s got three kids from a past relationship. I’m going to visit her and her family over the weekend. If things look good I’m thinking of moving from Nashville. Or I’ll invite her to move down with me.” Hearing this, Hotch took a sharp breath in. Sean had always been impulsive, but this was a lot, even for him. Aaron had hoped that with time, his brother would have grown out of this lifestyle. 

Hotch furrowed his brow and asked, “How long have you known her?” Sean sipped his drink but didn’t love Aaron’s tone. He replied a bit defensively, “A month and a half, but I don’t see why that’s a big deal. I’m just feeling it out, Aaron.” Hotch couldn’t help but scoff and say, “It sounds like a bit more than that.” Aaron’s reply only solidified Sean’s defensive nature, and he replied hotly, “Well what do you mean by that? You don’t even know Jennifer.” Aaron took a steadying breath. He didn’t want to come off as creating a narrative, or not trusting Sean, but Aaron had seen the same thing play out with his brother again and again, and each time Sean got hurt. Hotch looked at Sean and said, “I shouldn’t have said it like that. But what I’m trying to say is that you jump into things. You and I have both seen it before. You say that I don’t know Jennifer well, but from what I’m hearing I don’t know if you know her that well either, and you’re already talking about you or her moving across the country. Does that sound logical or well throughout to you?” 

Sean was already heated. Something about Aaron’s attitude made him feel judged. His older, well-put-together brother always had something to say about his life. Sean set down his empty glass and said, “Well maybe you’d know more about me and my life if you called me sometimes. Or unlocked yourself from the chain connecting you to your desk and came down and saw me sometimes.” Aaron sighed and tried to defend himself even though he knew Sean was right saying, “Sean, I have Jack. And my work doesn’t just let me have off time like yours does. Plane tickets go both ways. And you never answered my question.” 

Aaron pinched the bridge of this nose.  He just once wanted Sean to think through his actions. Sean responded, “You’ve always thought you were better than me. And I think you really stopped caring about me when Mom died. But let’s be honest, you stopped caring when dad passed.” The mention of their family so quickly broke Hotch’s facade of composure and he said, “Don’t bring family into this Sean. You know I don’t talk about that. I care about you and I want you to make good choices.” Sean let out a sharp breath and said, “You don’t talk about it because you refuse to admit how fucked up it left you emotionally, Aaron. At least I can connect with women. And don’t start acting like dad on me now.” Sean’s latest comment landed like a slap on the face to Aaron and he said, “You better not be comparing me to him, Sean. You had better not be doing that right now.” After all the beatings Aaron had taken for his mom and for Sean who always seemed to be getting into trouble during his younger years, the comparison made Aaron feel sick. Before Aaron had a chance to reply or defend himself for making a comment he already regretted, Sean continued, “And I don’t think you're qualified to comment on my relationships or how I’ve hurt people before. Haley dumped you and then died because of you. So I can think of at least one woman who’s been treated worse because of a Hotchner and it wasn’t me.” 

What Sean said made Aaron see red for a second. He stood, towering over Sean who was still sitting. It was one thing to have Sean bring up their parents, it was one thing to call him a workaholic and be emotionally unavailable. He knew these faults already. It didn’t really hurt him to hear them again, but the comment about Haley ate at him like acid on flesh. He had tried. He had tried so hard with Haley. He had loved her. He’d loved her with everything there was in him, and yes, it wasn’t enough, but that didn’t mean he didn’t love her. That her brutal death hadn’t torn him open sinew by sinew. Aaron felt his heart pumping in his ears. He was biting his tongue so hard that he tasted iron in his mouth. His fingernails dug into the calloused skin of his palms. If Sean was anyone else but his family, he would hit him. However, after all the abuse Aaron had seen, he made a promise to himself that he would never be violent with his family. It took everything in Hotch to uphold that promise. When Aaron came back to his senses, he realized he was standing. It was a good thing as Aaron grabbed his jacket and moved away from the table. He looked at Sean like he didn’t know him as he said, “Don’t ever call me again,” and walked out the door. 

The first hour of the drive back to Quantico was filled with a silence so oppressive that Aaron felt it weighing him down like an iron vest. The next hour all Aaron could think about was what Sean had said, and how he had responded. It wasn’t a good feeling. The way he’d ended things, but he wasn’t sure what else he would or could have done at such a cruel statement. If Sean could say something like that to him, to his face, then he felt justified with his final words of their conversation, even if Aaron had seen shame slowly creep up Sean’s face as he realized what he’d said. What Aaron ended up feeling for the rest of the hour was grief. Grief not only for missing Haley but for what felt like a death in his and Sean’s relationship. 

Hotch would have liked to drive all the way home, get another stiff drink, take a hot shower, and sleep, but the fact that he had a drink and it was still a long way off from home made that an impossibility. Aaron checked his gas tank. He did need a top-up and he hadn’t seen a station for miles, however, he approached what looked like a small bar nestled in the middle of nowhere. He slowed slightly and looked at the exterior of the old wooden building with a wrap-around porch. The Coors Light and Miller Light neon signs fighting to be seen in the bright daylight gave away that it was a bar and not some old building with a few cars parked outside. Hotch knew he needed a bathroom and this was going to have to do. It would be in and out. He’d grab a beer so he didn’t look like he was just there to relieve himself; even if that was the case. 

Aaron pulled into the parking lot. His hands tapped the wheel restlessly as he picked one of the many empty spaces. Something in his gut felt off, but he blamed it on the argument. As good as he was with dealing with stress, this was different. Hotch dropped his head for a second and tried to get his bearings. When he’d taken a deep breath, he raised his head and unbuckled his seatbelt, opened his door, and swung his feet out onto the gravel of the parking lot. The stones crunched under his tread. Hotch stepped up the three stairs onto the wooden porch. He could tell the building had seen much better days. He wouldn’t be surprised if there was rot in the wooden beams that smelled of pine sap. Hotch opened the door which creaked on rusty hinges, as soon as he stepped into the dim, ill-lit room, Aaron knew that he had made a mistake. There there were five patrons and the bartender scattered around the small space. Three of the big burly men were sitting at the bar, and before they turned around to look at who had entered their space, Hotch could see the symbols of hate on their leather vests The antiquated flag of the South that rested above the bar solidified that this was the hangout for a very particular group of people. If he could, Aaron would have walked right back out the door. Even his more casual slacks and button-down were a far departure from the denim jeans, stained baseball caps, and leather, but it was too late, the men sitting at the bar had turned in their seats and eyed him suspiciously. 

It was too late to turn around now and just walk out the door. It would look strange and there was something inside gnawing of him to investigate this space further. Call the FBI with evidence of the type of activity happening here. Not only that, but his bladder protested as well. He quickly cleared his throat and moved into the space and toward the restroom sign on the far wall. He strode with a false confidence toward the bathroom, the men turned back to their conversation but with lower voices. After Aaron relieved himself, he moved from the poorly lit room that smelled like piss. He rinsed off his hands and realized that there weren’t any paper towels, so he opted to wipe his damp palms and fingers on his pants. It wasn’t ideal, but it would do. 

Moving back into the bar, Aaron stepped up to the wooden countertop next to one of the men who continued to eye him with distaste. The man behind the bar turned his gaze at the tall, broody man standing in front of him, sizing Aaron up. After an awkward moment, the barkeep asked, “What can I get you?” It was clear from the way everyone was acting that he was not welcome here. At this point, Hotch didn’t want to be here either. After letting out a low breath, Hotch replied steadily, “Just a Budlight.” The bartender nodded and grabbed a clean glass from the cups stacked up on the back side of the bar. He moved to the draft beers and filled the glass to the brim, the frothy head spilling just the smallest bit over. The man didn’t bother wiping the side of the glass dry as he added a lime to the rim. As the red-faced man sat the glass down in front of Aaron he said, “That’ll be five dollars.” Hotch nodded and pulled out his wallet. He made sure to keep his FBI ID hidden as he pulled out a ten-dollar bill. Aaron’s eye flicked up the flag on the wall, and he regretted giving this place any money. But he’d just drink his beer as fast as he could without it looking conspicuous and then get the hell out of there. He handed the man the cash who grunted and pulled out a slightly wet five-dollar bill from the tip jar. Hotch took a few sips from the drink trying to drain the glass as quickly as possible. There was no chance of taking a picture without it being obvious, but he’d call the FBI as soon as he was back in his car. In fact, as soon as he was out the door.  As he was drinking, one of the men from the tables near the window moved to the bar next to Hotch. 

“Another Coors Steve.” The man who had just ordered was so close to Hotch that he could smell his sweat and very clearly see his hateful tattoo. The fact that the man had that visible in this place only solidified that Aaron would never take this road again. This place seemed more than just a spot for the locals to hang out and chat over a cheap beer. Hotch was halfway through his beer and making good time when the door opened again. Aaron couldn’t help like the rest of the patrons to turn his head slightly at the entryway. Hotch felt his stomach clench as he saw who was walking in the door. All other thoughts left his mind, and his work side kicked in. Aaron knew the man walking in the door well. He’d arrested him one year ago for a litany of hate crimes. The memory of the two young men who had been killed by the man stepping up to the bar with a familiar smile made Aaron’s stomach turn. Roman Invictus LeBrant, formerly Hayden Jude LeBrant before he fell down the alt-right pipeline and joined a hate group was a hard person to forget. 

Roman noticed Aaron too. He was the man who had put him away for a year and two months of hell. Half of his time in prison had been spent in isolation for his protection as he kept picking fights with the inmates. Thanks to the fact that Roman had no spine and didn’t want to spend any time in jail, he had ratted out all of his co-conspirators and so-called ‘friends.’ Due to this, he had gotten off with a lighter sentence. The very sight of Agent Hotchner shot a bolt of rage through him. Roman’s face broke into a malicious smile. This time the tall and sauve FBI agent was on his turf, with his people. He didn’t have all of his friends to back him up. The man moved up to the bar with confidence. Everyone in the room's attitude shifted as their chosen leader entered their space. The man sitting next to Aaron quickly got up and made room for the man. Everyone also stood at the sheer presence of the man that they so revered. He stepped between Aaron and his friend. Roman looked at Steve and then to his left saying, “Steve, Dan. How are you motherfuckers?” The felon was so close to Aaron that he was brushing his thigh. The lack of personal space was meant to disturb Hotch, but it wasn’t working. Aaron had set down his glass, his eyes facing forward with a determined gaze. The fact was, as quickly as Roman had gotten out of prison, he had began his normal campaign of terror again. After that the man had made himself very hard to find, and to the top of the FBI’s most wanted list. So Hotch had a responsibility to make sure Roman got put back where he belonged. Unfortunately, Aaron couldn’t just whip you his phone and get the FBI here in an instant, and Roman knew this and was enjoying it. 

The bartender could sense the tension between Hotch and his friend but chose not to speak. Roman looked straight ahead as well saying, “Hotchner.” Aaron replied, “LeBrant” in greeting. Aaron could feel his gut clench with worry. There was little he could do right now. Roman had come in the front door and was well aware that he was alone, so Hotch was left with not much more than his wits. He had his small pistol on his left ankle, but reaching for that would do little good as everyone in the bar was probably armed. Roman finally addressed the bartender saying, “Steve, I’ll take a shot of whiskey and one for my agent friend too.” At the word agent, the whole room's attitude shifted again. It was tense before, but now that they knew a fed was in their midst, the tension turned to simmering anger and fear. 

Aaron knew that there wasn’t much worse than to be in a room full of people like LeBrant who were angry and afraid. Steve let out a chuckle and poured two generous double shots and placed one in front of Aaron and one in front of LeBrant. Aaron wearily looked at the drink and Roman took him with a single swig before turning to Hotch for the first time saying, “Aaron, I don’t think that drink is poisoned as I just had one myself, so drink up. I think you’re going to need it for what’s coming next.” Aaron met Roman’s hateful gaze, raised his shot glass, and said sarcastically, “To your health,” before downing the shot. The dark liquor burned down his throat and he stopped himself from coughing. As Hotch kept his face straight LeBrant asked, “So, have you liked my recent work? I’d think this is a sting operation on the FBI’s part, but you’re looking pretty alone from where you’re sitting right now.” The large man’s words were true as the group of men in the bar had all slowly started surrounding Aaron and cutting off any escape plans he might try and make. 

Aaron was racking his brains for a way out of this situation but the repetition of the question, “Didn’t you like my stunt at that church, Agent? Didn’t it get your blood flowing? It certainly had me, excited.” Hotch cringed at the implication and replied, “I find little to be excited about to send a sixteen-year-old suicide bomber into a church filled with people, mostly women and children.” Roman scoffed and nodded at Steve for a beer bottle. Aaron shifted in his chair slightly which had an impact as everyone, including Steve, pulled guns on him. Everyone, except LeBrant that was. He was the king of his castle and he knew he would be protected no matter what. Roman raised his hands and said, “Easy boys. Take it easy. We don’t want things to get messy, just yet at least.” Hotch swallowed thickly and Roman grabbed the bottle off of the bar, looking at the label before quickly whipping it above his head and over the back of Aaron’s skull. 

The sound and feeling of the ice-cold beer and the shards of glass colliding with Hotch’s head was so intense that it knocked him off his chair. Aaron took in a sharp breath as he closed his eyes as the alcohol streamed down his head and wetted his hair and the collar of his shirt. Closing his eyes didn’t help Aaron much with keeping a handle on the situation as he leaned heavily forward against the bar before being wrenched back by serval hands on his body to the center of the room. 

Aaron stumbled as he was led away from any support. He could hear a few low laughs at his condition but was more worried about what was going to happen next. Hotch opened his eyes to see the floor swimming in front of his eyes. Before he could even get his feet under him, a knee met painfully with his groin. The pain of the glass tearing open his scalp and the feeling of warm blood flowing from his head was surpassed by the acute pain emanating from his nether regions up his body. Aaron grunted with pain and screwed his eyes shut again. The hot, large hands fondling a sensitive area of Hotch’s body had him open his eyes again. 

He wasn’t surprised that it was Roman doing the fondling, thankfully at this point over his clothes. LeBrant spat in Aaron’s face as they made eye contact and Roman’s hand slowed as he said, “How do you like that Hotchner? How does it make you feel?” Aaron’s gaze hardened and he refused to reply to LeBrant’s taunts and demeaning actions. The gruff man gave Aaron’s groin a hard squeeze before stepping back. Hotch had just started to catch his bearings, when he realized he was being supported on either side of his body by two men with the rest of the gang stepping in front of him. His eye caught that his only gun had been taken. Roman, like a shark circling a bleeding victim in the ocean, hoping to get some sort of fearful response. When the man didn’t get one he snarled and pulled out a jack-knife and moved back to Aaron’s face flashing the point of the blade dangerously close to his skin. Still, Hotch didn’t flinch and Roman flicked the knife over Hotch’s cheek drawing fresh blood apart from the red liquid slowly causing Aaron’s vision to be disabled. Hotch naturally pulled back and Roman laughed before saying, “How would you like me to blind you, Aaron? Or cut off one of your ears. Do you think the FBI will still want you after that?” Aaron couldn’t stop himself from coughing out in pain as the men holding him tightened their grips on his forearms. 

Roman was happy with his enemy's position, as bloody drool slipped from his mouth and onto the floor of the bar. LeBrant stepped back and stated, “Boys, if you want to have some fun you can. You can blame Agent Hotchner for locking me up for a few years, so why don’t you pay him back in kind? Now, no serious boldly harm, and not too much blood. You’ll have to clean this shit hole up after the mess you make of him, but enjoy for a bit.” Hotch raised his head to look at Roman defiantly, hoping to show that he still wasn’t afraid. Whatever he had planned for him, he still didn’t regret putting him away, and putting him away again. LeBrant met Aaron’s stern brown eyes and sat back at the bar, grabbing another drink like nothing was happening. The man said over his shoulder as the real beating began, “You’re welcome for the whiskey, Hotchner.” 

LeBrant managed to down two more beers while watching and listening with a sick satisfaction to Aaron as he got punched, spat on, had drinks splashed in his face, and forced down his throat. Hotch gaged as another bottle was cast aside and hit the wall with the sound of shattered glass. He was beyond the point of silence as he took blow after blow to his face and torso. Aaron was sure his nose was broken as he took another hit to the face and his nose radiated pain through his nasal bridge and up his skull. He grunted in pain as his ribs got another beating. If pulverizing him to death was the plan, then the men surrounding him were doing a good job at that. However, what these bruisers weren’t very good at, and apparently Roman wasn’t good at noticing either, was that Aaron’s DNA was getting spread everywhere in the room from his saliva on the shattered beer bottles, or his blood dripping on the floor, or his hair which had been harshly pulled to jerk his head up. That was the thing about groups like these, they loved to act tough and strong, but their brains weren’t aways fully used. People like LeBrant could use others as a shield, but no matter what happened, it was going to be hard to get rid of every trace Aaron would leave in the space. 

Hotch’s hold on consciousness was becoming harder, but he managed to notice when the front door opened again. Aaron had hoped it would be someone who was an outsider like him, someone who didn’t belong here. But the normalcy of seeing a man being beaten told Aaron the new man was part of the group. Hotch’s neck hurt as he made eye contact with the man. He had sandy blond hair and clear grey eyes. The look of surprise and innocence quickly left the young man’s face before anger and hatred took over. Aaron dropped his head not sure what was happening but unable to support his own head. Because of this, he didn’t fully understand why the arms that were holding him up suddenly slacked and there was a heavy scuffle of feet as the floor came dangerously close. Before he could reach the ground there was shouting and then a loud popping sound that Aaron realized was a bullet once he felt a searing hot pain tear through his side whipping his body back and to the ground. The pain was worse than anything Aaron had already felt before now. The pain was so bad that he struggled to get oxygen in and his vision went black for a few seconds before he took a huge choking gulp of air in which only blinded him with more pain. 

While Hotch was writhing on the ground trying to get a grasp of what had happened and not blacking out, the older, more seasoned members of Roman’s gang stood for a brief moment of silence, as the men realized what had happened before an uproar started. They dropped their victim and rushed to the newest person in the bar throwing the gun from his hand. Roman stumbled out of his chair, face turning red with rage as he took a breath and shouted at the top of his lungs, “What the fucking hell are you doing Davies? What the mother fucking hell!” Spittle flew from his mouth and Davies, the newest, and youngest recruit to LeBrants' cause swallowed nervously. He hadn’t expected this response. He thought he’d get praise for his actions as he was always told to take bigger steps and take risks for the cause. Greg, one of the senior circles slapped Davies in the face and said, “Roman’s talking to you. Answer him.” Davies stuttered as he said, “That’s the guy that put you away. I thought that I should put him where he belonged. Hanged from a noose or underground. I ain’t got no rope, so I shot the fucker.” Davies was all in and zealous for the group's beliefs and in his case. Roman bowed his head and muttered “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” under his breath. 

LeBrant came back to the moment when Aaron let out a soft whimper and placed his hand over his stomach where blood was pooling dangerously fast beneath him and onto the ground. Even in his agonizing state, Aaron knew that the most important thing was to try and stop the flow of blood as much as possible. If it was instinct or training, Hotch couldn’t be sure with the pain he was in. For now, all he could do was try and survive. Roman was thinking the same thing for himself as a multitude of options flashed in front of his mind. He was the leader and he needed to act like one as Davies looked at him like a deer in the headlight while the rest of his men glanced uneasily between Aaron’s hunched-up body on the floor and their leader. 

Roman cleared his throat and took a more secure stance, with his feet apart and chest out. An idea was forming in his mind and he just needed his people to fall in line. Roman looked at Davies first and said, “It’s alright son. You did well shooting the fed. He earned it.” With those words, the men seemed to relax a bit and one knelt down next to Hotch to see the damage. Roman nodded a self-soothing gesture before saying, “Okay. Steve. Get us a trash bag or something to stop the blood so it will be easier to clean. Let’s do that first.” Steve rummaged through his back bar and tossed a roll of saran wrap and tape to Greg. Hank another senior member moved next to Greg and asked Roman, “Are we saving his ass?” LeBrant scoffed and replied, “Funk no. Just don’t want the fucker bleeding all over. Now, wrap him up tight, and don’t make it too comfortable on him either.” Hank snorted back laughter and he pulled Aaron’s torso off the floor roughly. Hotch tried uselessly to stop anyone from removing his hands from the gunshot wound, but he was too weak to put up a fight. His large hands were slick with blood as he tried and failed. Greg took out the plastic wrap and pushed the roll to Hotch’s stomach causing Aaron to groan out in pain. The pair on the floor moved the roll over the agent's wound minimally stopping the flow of blood. Davies watched as Aaron convulsed in pain on the ground. 

The young man had thought he would feel better killing a fed, but what he was seeing was making him want to vomit instead. When the seran wrap was taped tight over Hotch’s blood-soaked shirt Roman instructed, “Greg, Hank, Davies, go take Agent Hotchner into the woods. Far away. I’d recommend the national park. Don’t kill him. Let him bleed out or better yet, let some animal finish him off. Take him in his car and then when you’ve dumped the body torch the car.” Everyone else, we’re cleaning this place, top to bottom. No drop of blood, nothing can be found here.” Everyone nodded and took on their roles quickly. 

Hotch was jerked back to consciousness as he was dragged out the front door. He blearily saw someone open the door to his SUV before he was placed in the back seat. His brain was thinking of trying to run, to call for help, but he was stripped of his phone and hardly had the strength to keep his eyes open. Davies was standing outside the car still not sure what to do exactly, and most certainly not sure how to feel. Roman looked out the window at the man that had the potential to fuck his life over again. He turned to Steve and said, “Go out there and kill Davies. Headshot, make it fast, and don’t let him suffer.” Steve looked up at Roman and said astoundedly, “Roman?” LeBrant turned to Steve and said, “You heard me. The kid’s a liability. I am not going back to that shit fucking hell hole of a prison cell, and Davies seems to be trying to send me there, so go out there and get the job done. Put his body in the truck with Hotchner and tell Greg and Hank when they set the car on fire to leave Davies's body in there.” 

It was with blind adoration that Steve hesitantly grabbed his rifle and stepped outside. The young man was still standing while looking at Aaron’s SUV as Greg and Hank looked at a map to decide where to drop Aaron off to have his last few moments of life. They were arguing about accessibility, getting the car in without being seen, and lugging the agent out into the middle of the surrounding forest. It had to be just right without the chance of anyone catching them but still able for two men to pull off alone. They didn’t trust Davies for shit. He was too green for the whole operation. Not trustworthy in their eyes.

Meanwhile, Aaron had gathered some of his bearings in the back seat. He was unhappy with his supine position in the back. It would be far too easy for him to be taken out quietly and quickly after the SUV had pulled away from the bar. While Aaron was waiting for something to happen, he pressed his left hand to his side tightly, grit his teeth, and used his right to slowly inch himself up to a seated position. He was well aware that this position was causing him to bleed out faster, but at this stage, life didn’t seem too long, and if he was going to go out, he would understand as much as he could as to what was happening around him, and if possible, leave traces for the team to find his body after. 

The thought hurt Hotch as Jack would lose both of his parents. Aaron held himself back from crying, but the idea of his son being alone tore at him just as badly as the hole in his torso did. Aaron did not expect to see what he did. Just as his eyes got high enough to see out the window, the young man who had shot him had his name called from the porch of the establishment. Davies was about five feet from the bar and turned around. He didn’t see the shotgun in Steve’s hand, but Aaron did. There was nothing Hotch could do but close his eyes just before the blood splatter and brain matter painted the tires of his car. Aaron fell back onto the seat, not expecting to see an execution like that. He was too beaten to get back up, but at least he was laying on his side instead of on his back which would afford him a look out the front window so he could see where he was going or try and make mental notes of some landmarks; assuming that he wasn’t going to be blindfolded. From the state of things outside and groups shouting at each other, Hotch didn’t think that those dumping him would do anything more than take him far out and drop him. 

A few moments later the back door was opened again and several men heaved Davies's body onto the floor in the back of the car. Aaron didn’t focus on the body apart from unintentionally seeing what was left of what had been a youthful face. He was unrecognizable now. Hotch closed his eyes and tried to steel himself for the ride to come. If he survived long enough he’d think about the man on the floor -- later, much later. Right now he centered his head on Jack, then on the team who were on a case in Ohio. Lastly, he tried his best to listen to Hank and Greg as they got in and revved the engine. 

They were silent as they slowly drove out of the parking lot. The crunch of gravel and Aaron’s labored breathing punctuated the silence. It was clear to Aaron that the two men in the front were remaining quiet so Aaron wouldn’t have any more details about them, their plans, or the organization. He and the BAU had taken Roman down once, and they didn’t want to be in that frying pan again. As they hit the main road, Greg, who was driving, stayed just at the speed limit to not attract any attention from passing cars even though there were none on the road. However, as the car started hitting bumps, Aaron couldn’t hold in his pained grunts and whimpers as searing pain shot through him with each unexpected dip or rise in the SUV. It seemed that Aaron’s pained sounds were too much for the men, and they looked at each other and then the downed agent in the rearview mirror before they both started a light conversation that was fully juxtaposed to the gruesome scene around them.  

The men began talking about the weather and then talked about their wives. Aaron could hardly hear the conversation as he tried to keep himself awake. The duration of the car ride took about half an hour, and Aaron noticed one very strange-looking tree that had been struck by lightning and bifurcated down the center almost perfectly. His brain had started to be pulled into so many different directions as his sanity slipped away from the blood loss. His brain wondered how many trees like that got struck annually, and he knew that Spencer would have an answer to that question. The team flashed before his mind when an abrupt halt of the car almost had Hotch fly into the seatbacks in front of him. He managed to not have that happen, and shortly after Greg and Hank were at the left side of the car and both grunted as they pulled Aaron by the legs out of the car. 

Hotch almost hit the muddly path, but the two men held onto his underarms jostling him back to awareness. As strong as these men thought they were, they hadn’t realized just how hard it was to drag a limp body around, and Aaron had no strength to walk on his own feet and no desire to help in his own demise. In fact, if he could make it harder for them, he would. So Aaron coughed and made sure that some of his spit and blood got on the ground. Not only that but he also dug his toes into the earth so his tennis shoes left little trails in the mud. Hotch knew that if he was dealing with a more competent group, they would do something about this now, but Greg and Hank were too busy hauling him along to care at the moment. Greg was significantly taller than Hank and due to this, Aaron’s left side was far lower to the ground making the weight distribution of his toned body uneven. After only ten minutes, once the trio had entered what seemed to be a secluded and wooded part of the forest, the shorter man who was carrying the greater bit of weight grunted out, “Let’s dump him here. I can’t keep doing this and then have to trash a car too.” Greg, who was also tired agreed and they dropped Aaron like a load of bricks and took off as quickly as they could discussing loudly that there was a cliff face nearby and it was unlikely that anyone would find Aaron for days. Hotch moaned slightly and took in the scent of the wet earth near him. He supposed that dying in the forest, in nature, wasn't the worst place to go. It smelled nice and if he could only turn over he’d see the sky and canopy of trees above him once more. As his vision started fading again he realized he might not have that chance. 

Nearby Aaron’s dump site, y/n had been on a four-day long backpacking trip. They’d asked their boss for the Friday and Monday off months ago. y/n had needed a chance to unwind, be alone, and potentially scream into the void. That type of behavior didn’t normally fly in their apartment and they were feeling so much more at peace after their first day of hiking. y/n had found a lovely spot to set up their small one-person tent for the evening. When y/n had gotten up the next morning and looked down the tall rock ravine, they saw the bolts in the wall from previous climbers. They regretted that it had rained the last night making any climbing impossible. y/n considered continuing moving along the twenty-five mile trail they had mapped two months before, but realized that they weren’t with a group and they were already almost halfway through the trail and could finish hiking it in a full day. Because of this, and because y/n had promised to do whatever they felt like on this trip, they decided to stay in that spot for the day. It was a bit off the beaten track which is what they wanted and in all honesty real life had been so stressful recently that just taking a day to sleep, read, and swim in the nearby river sounded like exactly what y/n needed. 

y/n slept in another hour before making a cup of _c/t_. While they sipped their steaming cup, they picked up their most recent book and took a few minutes absorbing the pages of the story making small mental notes about where the plot might go and if some twist was coming in the next chapter. Somehow all the books that y/n read ended up having weird twists that they loved to hate. After getting through their drink and feeling warmed, y/n changed into light hiking attire that could be stripped down for a dip in the lake as long as the water wasn’t too cold or full of bramble from the rain last night. It was a short hike down to the water's edge and it was crisp, but not too cold to for a midday swim. y/n laid a towel down on the rocky shore after getting out of the water and drying off in the warmth of the sun. They dozed on and off as they tanned for a bit. Not that y/n was a vain person, but with the oncoming of summer, having a bit of a tan couldn’t hurt. When y/n was happy with their time by the lake, they moved back toward their tent and supplies which they had put in a bear bag and lifted high above the ground. It was about a thirty minute walk back to the tent when y/n would plan on what to do with the rest of their free day. 

It felt wrong to just waste such a pretty day. When y/n was close to their campsite, they stopped in their tracks abruptly. The sound of voices and heavy footsteps is what made them halt. y/n’s stomach dropped for some reason. If they were on a more well-known trail or popular camping site, y/n would likely greet those on their walk in the opposite direction. But this was different. This area was secluded, off the beaten track. And from the sound of it, it was two men moving slowly nearby. y/n had spent enough time outside camping and backpacking to hear loads of horror stories of those having bad things done to them on the trail. Sure some of them were overembellished, but certainly not all of them, and y/n wasn’t willing to take the risk with their own safety. y/n slinked back into the brush and hoped that the men would stop before catching sight of their tent. y/n took slow soft breaths and waited, all there was to do was wait. Just as the footsteps seemed to be right on them, they stopped. 

y/n couldn’t see the men. They’d stopped just out of sight. As they stopped, y/n realized that something was very, very wrong. The strong breathing of the men had hidden the sounds of another person. Someone who was clearly in pain. Their breathing was raspy like air wasn’t fully supplying their body. There was also a very painful-sounding grunt as the injured party hit the ground. One of the men said, “Fuck, that’s hard work. I don’t believe Roman’s stories now about all his brawls and picking people up in the clanger now.” There was a grunt and another, deeper voice replied, “Shit man, I don’t believe half of his crap, but he’s the boss. He says jump and I jump. Now let’s get back to the car and torch it. The agent here won’t last long.” The first voice agreed and said, “Yeah. I need a shower and another beer. Let’s hope it’s all cleaned up by the time we get back to Steve’s.” 

y/n felt like they couldn’t stand still any longer. The desire to take a deep breath of just look out to see what was happening at the men who were talking pulled at them like an itch. But not all itches should be scratched. Some needed to not be disturbed, and it felt like torture, but y/n held back from moving until the sound of chatter and footsteps were long gone. Even after they were out of audible range, y/n waited. After another few restless minutes, they got up from their hiding position. From the sound of it, someone, perhaps someone unsafe was very injured. Even so, it wasn’t like y/n to leave someone hurt to fend for themself. With caution, y/n moved through the low brush and mud, and after a few paces, they noticed a man lying on his stomach. It didn’t take y/n more than a second to realize that the man on the ground, even if he was some hardened criminal, was unable to fight. Besides this fact, there was the comment about the “Agent not being around long,” so the man might have been on the opposite side of crime. Without hesitation y/n moved next to the prone form in the mud and set down their backpack. The man gave a small sound, perhaps aware that there was someone else near him. y/n looked over the man and noticed the saran wrap around his torso. It was a poor attempt to staunch the flow of blood from a bullet wound. Given how much blood the man had lost, there was no time to lose in getting the man medical help. 

y/n knelt down next to the man and noted the thick blood coating his forehead and brow. y/n patted his shoulder, and he managed to open his eyes. Aaron could see the blurry figure of someone kneeling in front of him. He thought it was a hallucination until they touched his shoulder and tried to say something to him. Understanding the stranger's words was beyond all comprehension to him now. y/n could tell that he didn’t understand or see them well, but at least he was awake. It would be in his best interest to keep him awake. If the man slipped off to sleep, he may never wake again. So with that in mind, and to try and keep him in as calm a mindset as possible, y/n took off their jacket which they had tied around their waist, and placed it on the man’s back. It would do for a bit of padding and something to soak up the excess blood. There was no need to cut this side of the plastic wrap, and why it had been added in the first place was a mystery. But that wasn’t the main goal right now. The main goal was to stabilize the man for long enough until medical help arrived. y/n grit their teeth and said firmly. “I’m going to roll you over onto your back and then run to my tent and grab some supplies while I call 9-1-1 for you, okay.” 

The man didn’t make a sound, but y/n knew that shifting his weight was going to be painful, so they didn’t waste more time. Given the man’s parlor, there was no time to waste. y/n grabbed the man’s shoulder and hip and tried to slowly and carefully roll him onto his back. As soon as y/n pulled their hands away, which were slick with blood, the man groaned in pain as his body settled. He was still awake. y/n cringed to hear him and said, “I’m going to run to my camp, get some supplies, and call in an emergency helicopter. I’ll be back in five minutes max.” y/n swallowed thickly trying not to be sick at the sight of the man. They grabbed his right hand and placed it over the bullet hole. The man’s hand was crusted over with blood, and it was large. His fingernails had dirt caked under them, and y/n imagined that it might be painful when he got washed up with all the hair his arms had on them. y/n snapped back to the moment. It had only been a millisecond, but in moments of high stress,  they always found themselves focusing on the smallest, most insignificant things. They shifted their eyes to the man’s and he seemed to be locked on theirs. y/n nodded their head and said, “Hold your hands here, as hard as possible, okay.” The man nodded slightly, and with that, y/n got up and ran toward their campsite. 

It was in moments like these that y/n hated that they didn’t always carry their cell phone with them when they camped alone, but then again, they hadn’t expected to find themselves in this situation either. y/n was an experienced outdoors person. With friends and family that respected and highlighted being self sufficient and being able to take care of one’s self. In their world being unable to handle any situation was a weakness and therefore y/n had pressed themselves to always be prepared. This included knowing basic first aid and other skills that were more niche to their interest in spending a lot of time outside. Although it had been hard to be a parental figure and having to figure out being self-sufficient from a very young age, the parentification had equipped y/n for moments like these, and for meeting strange men in the woods if it ever came to that. y/n ran as quickly and as carefully as possible. It would be no good to anyone if they slipped and twisted or broke an ankle or wrist before getting back to the man. The image of his bloody and bruised body was seared in their retinas. They hadn’t seen anything this bad, ever, and the questions on what had happened to the man and who he was came faster than y/n could process them. It was all a sickening blur. y/n made it to their camp and almost dove into their tent. They found their phone first which was still on the solar-powered charging brick. y/n checked for a signal and let out a small prayer of thanks that there was a signal. Even though they were pretty far out, a signal was more often present than not. And if there wasn’t, there were always ways to contact emergency services, but it would take longer, and there wasn’t time for longer right now.

         After one ring the emergency operator answered, “9-1-1, please state your name and the nature of your emergency.” The woman on the phone sounded calm, calmer than y/n felt. Their breath had picked up with all the running, and they had to clear their throat before saying, “My name in y/n, _l/n_. I’m at Shenandoah National Park on the east side camped near Ghost View Lake. There’s a man who needs a Medevac as soon as possible. He’s been shot in the torso, and he’s been severely beaten.” There were a few clicks on the other end of the line and the responder asked, “Are you with this man now? Is he still breathing?” y/n nodded, taking in the person’s words before saying, “I’m not with him right now. He was breathing when I left him. I had to run to my tent to call you and get my emergency supplies.” There was more typing and a muffled voice on the other end of the line before the woman came back on saying, “Please get back to the man as quickly as possible. Do you have any medical training?” y/n nodded saying, “Some, but not much. The bullet seems to have gone clean through though, and he’s lost a lot of blood.” As y/n was speaking, they began packing all of the important things to help the hurt man into their large backpack. By the time they had started zipping up the sides, the operator had told y/n to get back to the Hotch and light a flare for the helicopter to see so they could find a spot to land. The woman relayed that it might be twenty minutes or more before help came, and to keep the man awake if possible. As y/n ran back toward Aaron, they were given more specific instructions on what to do once they were back. y/n kept the woman on the line and as soon as they found an open and dry spot close to where they had found Aaron, they pulled out a flare and struck it against the cap of the flare. Once the melting hot red light burst from the tip like the tale of a demon, they set the flare on a smooth rock, far enough away from the wet brush and leaves to not start a forest fire. Once this was done, y/n moved as quickly as possible back to the man.

         Since y/n had been gone, Aaron felt his strength ebb again. Had the person said something to him? The world was dark again and he was beginning to feel numb. But the memory of the feelings of their hands on his, pressing against his stomach reminded him that they had been real, at least for a moment. Hotch also knew that sleep was death, and therefore grit his teeth and pressed against his torso again over his wound. The pain shot through him again, though his time was less intense; he knew this was not a good sign. Just as Aaron felt his hand slipping, he noticed a bright red light in the corner of his vision, and the person who had been with him before returned.

         y/n skidded to a halt in front of the man, falling to their knees saying, “Hey, you’re still with me. Good. You’re doing good. Help is coming, I promise.” y/n placed their hands on either side of his head and the feeling of their fingers on the side of his face had Hotch open his eyes slightly. Just the simple feeling of touch was a comfort, even if he was doomed to bleed out on the forest floor. Hotch pondered how funny small things became huge things when life was about to end. y/n noticed his brown eyes on them and said, “I’m just making sure your head is laying flat. Then I’m going to check your mouth to make sure you’re not going to choke on your own blood.” Aaron tried to nod, but he couldn’t manage it. y/n knelt further forward and helped Aaron open his mouth. Thankfully there didn’t appear to be any blockage of his trachea, though his breathing was labored. Where or what that situation was, was beyond y/n, so they moved to the next thing the emergency operator had said to do. 

The woman was still on the phone, but y/n was so hyper-focused on the task in front of them, that they didn’t think to give a report on the man’s condition. While he was trying to see the person in front of him more clearly, y/n started pulling things out of their backpack and setting them on the ground, attempting to not get them muddy or contaminated while still being efficient. Once y/n had pulled out their small knife, their first aid kit, and the clean clothes they had, they rezipped their bag and moved to the man’s feet. y/n spoke loudly, so the man could possibly hear, “I’m going to raise your feet. Keep the blood going to your head as much as possible. y/n grabbed their bag and placed it just to the side of the man’s lower legs. y/n didn’t want to shift the man’s body much, if at all, so they had to have things in place. They took another sturdy breath and lifted his left leg just high enough to move their backpack under his knees. The man groaned and y/n said, “I’m sorry. Sorry,” y/n repeated one more time before moving the other leg next to the first. y/n knew that this would be the least of the man’s pain. y/n placed their hands on the ground and took another stabilizing breath, reminding themselves that they could do this. That they could do anything, that they had had to do everything. y/n tried to picture the man as someone they’d protected in the past. Someone that they would do anything for. This helped y/n in moving forward to the next step. Before doing what needed to be done, y/n looked at the man again, tapping his face. Those big brown eyes met theirs again, half understanding, half sad. y/n said more softly this time. “This is going to hurt. I’m sorry. Try not to bite your tongue. Keep your teeth clenched,” y/n demonstrated, “like this.” y/n they looked a fool, but what else could they do?

         y/n pulled a packaged sanitary wipe from the ground and ripped it open. They rubbed it over their hands thoroughly. When the moisture had evaporated, y/n grabbed their first aid kit and pulled out all of the cotton balls and cotton bandages that were inside. y/n placed them on top of the kit and hoped the no wind would blow the supplies away, there were already scant few as it was. Next, y/n grabbed their knife and opened it with a flick of the wrist. y/n knew that once they made the next move there was no going back until the medics arrived. With a look of determination, y/n shifted forward and carefully slipped the tip of the knife under the plastic wrap covering the man’s front. His shirt protected his skin from the sharp blade from cutting him further, and y/n cut up and out with as much care as possible. The blood made the surface of the saran wrap slippery in y/n’s free hand and the multiple layers were not as easy to cut through. However, after what felt like an eternity and with y/n’s heart beating loudly in their ears, the plastic was freed from his body. y/n quickly closed and locked their blade and pushed the plastic barrier aside along with Hotch’s soiled shirt. Even though the saran wrap hadn’t done much to stop the blood from leaving the man’s body, it’s removal along with the final absorption barrier being pulled aside allowed the blood to ebb up a bit more in a trickle of crimson. Again y/n didn’t have time to look at the deep red pooling up on the man’s stomach. Instead, they grabbed a cotton ball and with as much mental strength as they had, pushed it into the weeping wound. The man’s body jolted in pain, but y/n ignored him and grabbed another piece of cotton and then another, pushing each of the white puffs into the bullet hole. The clean cotton was instantly stained red, and y/n tried to ignore the man’s cries of pain knowing that this was for the best. Keep the blood in the body, get his legs up, keep him awake. That was what the nurse had said and what was what they were going to do. At least to the best of their ability. Another eternity later, the hole was filled. It was still releasing blood but at a slower pace.

y/n grabbed the biggest cotton bandage they had and pressed it on top of the packed wound. y/n placed both hands over this last dam, and pressed down to try and keep the man stable. To keep him alive. It wasn’t until all of this had been accomplished that they managed to look up at his face. The man’s eyes were drooping closed and y/n said, “Hey, hey, stay with me. What’s your name? Can you tell me your name?” Aaron turned his head to the side slightly to try and get a better look at the person helping him. It was a comfort to be in their presence. He still couldn’t see them so he said in a low voice, “Hotchner.” y/n nodded, assuming it was a last name. They were at a loss for what to say next. Nothing felt right, so they opted for questions, easy ones. Or at least ones that seemed easy for them. “Hi, Mr. Hotchner. Where were you going today? What brought you this way.” 

Aaron, whose brain had been feeling numb for some time, had started getting more blood circulation thanks to his legs being lifted off the ground. He could feel his helper's hands still over his side. Where he was and what was happening felt beyond him again. He didn’t like the feeling at all, but his body was shutting down and he half-mumbled, “I’m going to see my wife. It’s been a long time since we’ve seen each other.” y/n, nodded and replied softly, “I’m sure she’ll be so happy to see you. And I know you’ll be happy to see her.” It wasn’t until this point that y/n had thought about him as a person. Not actually as a person, person, but as a man with a life and things outside this very moment of survival. But as they raised one hand and just barely shifted his hair that was caked with blood, off his forehead it became increasingly more difficult to see Mr. Hotchner as anything else than a man who is hurt and probably afraid to die. At the person’s touch, Aaron moved his dominant hand up and this allowed y/n to see that he wasn’t wearing a ring. This fact only came to y/n’s mind because Mr. Hotchner had just said that he was going to see his wife. y/n justified that perhaps the man was just one of many many husbands who didn’t wear a wedding ring, but for some reason, y/n didn’t think that this man would be one of them. Something in their gut just said otherwise. A moment later Hotch said something that would shock y/n even more as he said, “I’m worried about Jack. I can’t go away.” y/n looked up at him and moved their hand back to the now blood-soaked bandage and asked, “Who is Jack Mr. Hotchner?” 

The image of Jack passed in front of Aaron, and he saw himself holding his child, Jack smiling. Maybe it was Christmas time because the lights were twinkling in the background. Then Jack at his first soccer game came to mind, his little legs carrying him toward a ball he was sure to miss. Hotch blinked back tears as he came back to himself. Weakly he said, “My son. Jack is my son. He’s a good kid. Really good. He doesn’t deserve this.” Aaron was thinking about the very real possibility of his son losing both of his parents, but he didn’t vocalize that out loud. y/n furrowed their brow and said “You’re going to be fine Mr. Hotchner. It’s going to be okay. You’ll see your son and your wife again. I know it.” y/n was speaking to themselves now mostly. The trauma of finding someone brutalized in the woods and the possibility that he might die in front of them was finally settling in. y/n had experienced trauma before, but not like this. This was different. Thankfully y/n didn’t have much time to explore this train of thought as the sound of the helicopter approached nearby. y/n bowed their head in thanks for the sound that drowned out their thoughts and didn’t even realize that they had set their head on Aaron’s chest while still keeping their trembling hands on his wound. 

When they arrived, it took the emergency medics a moment to pry y/n off of Aaron as they struggled to let the man they were trying to save go. When y/n realized what was happening, they moved off to the side on unsteady feet and watched the flight paramedics assess and then begin rudimentary efforts to stabilize their patient. y/n watched as a blood transfusion was started and the packing of the bullet wound was made better with medical-grade supplies. These things felt like a blur and as the two-person medical team began moving Aaron onto a stretcher, the sound of police sirens in the distance became audible. y/n realized that the helicopter operator had shared the patient's location and law enforcement was coming to help. This allowed y/n to relax slightly realizing that they were not going to be left alone in the woods once the Medevac was gone. 

Although y/n had felt peace knowing more help was on the way, the questions seemed endless as police arrived and went over the course of the afternoon again. They pointed out everything. Said as much as they could remember and watched as the orange helicopter lifted off and moved Eastward. The last thing they heard from the trauma team at the hospital was, “We have a multisystem failure. Patient is already on a transfusion and Fentanyl…” as they passed by,. y/n’s brain now felt like scrambled eggs and they longed for some respite. Eventually, the police said that y/n would need to come to the station and that they could get a ride in one of the cruisers. Behind y/n’s back, the officers also noticed that y/n should also go to a hospital, and driving there themselves was not a safe idea for them. A few minutes later, y/n tipped their head against the headrest in the backseat of the police car simply letting things happen to them at this point. The officers had assured them that a recovery and crime scene team would gather their belongings from their campsite along with their car. This was all for evidence too, but y/n was too tired to comprehend what was being said to them. 

A few hours later y/n made it out of the room they had been seen in at the hospital. It was very dark outside at this point but the police had easily identified the man they had found, Special Supervisory Agent Aaron Hotchner. The words ran over y/n like a wave. Anything would bowl them over now, but finding out that they had found a federal agent near death in the woods was astounding. In the hospital, y/n was given a thorough exam and then given some strong sleep medication and some Benzos so that y/n could have a sound night’s rest. The local police station had called the Quantico Field Office to let the Beaure know that Agent Hotchner was in critical condition at the JFK University Medical Center.

 As it turned out the BAU was out on a case at the moment, but the Lead Team Coordinator said they would reach out. Within the hour the hospital and police station knew that a member of the BAU was flying up immediately on their jet and should be there sometime around three in the morning. With this information in mind, the police had asked y/n to stay at least one day in town before going home. The very professional-sounding man, Agent Rossi, who was headed to the hospital had asked them to stay and talk. The police had made the choice easy by booking a cab and a room to get y/n from the hospital to the hotel room they had booked in their name. Thankfully, y/n’s boss, after a few minutes of explaining what had happened, had given them the rest of the week off. y/n knew they would need it. Nothing felt quite real anymore and some more time alone would be good. Before y/n went to call the cab, to get a shower and sleep, they stopped at the receptionist's desk and asked, “Do you know if Aaron Hotchner is in a stable condition?” The nurse asked them how they knew the patient and y/n showed their own medical bracelet and explained that they had found Mr. Hotchner. The man looked at y/n and how tired they appeared, nodded, and replied, “I’m sorry, I can’t share any information about the patient” There was a long pause before they added, “However, Mr. Hotchner is still in the ICU.” y/n nodded, wanting more information but also knowing that they had already been told more than was allowed. With that scant information, y/n moved outside and caught their ride. 

The first thing that was surprising to Aaron was the fact that he woke up at all. The feeling of the stiff mattress against his fingers and the crisp sheets covering his body. The sterile scent of antiseptic was the next thing he noticed. He took a few moments to just take in the fact that he had survived the ordeal with Roman. Much of what had happened after the beating in the bar was foggy and beyond his reach. He tried to take a deep breath to center himself but that was a serious error as this triggered parts of his body that weren’t ready to be used that way yet. He let out a cough only exacerbating his pain. The feelings of multiple IVs which he detected now became more apparent and when he opened his eyes, the blurry figure of someone standing came into better focus as the door to his room opened letting in more light from the hallways. As his vision cleared, he could see Dave turn around and greet someone who must have been a doctor. Rossi stepped back a bit, but just knowing Dave was here let Aaron be checked over and taken care of. He didn’t have the energy for much more than being pocked and very lightly prodded before he slipped back into unconsciousness. 

The next time Hotch woke, he was more aware. The room didn’t spin and he could see Dave looking down from his seat near the hospital bed. Aaron didn’t know what to say and just said, “Hey.” At hearing Hotch, Rossi sat forward in his seat and softly replied, “Hey there. Looks like you had a hell of a time with Sean.” Sean hadn’t even crossed Aaron’s mind, but Dave’s attempt at humor while he was feeling like hell was actually funny and Aaron let out a half scoff, half laugh before leaning his head back on the pillow. It wasn’t until he tried to move the blanket to feel more covered that he realized his arm was in a cast. His whole body felt numb, and in that moment, he was grateful for opioids. Rossi moved forward and moved the blanket up and over Aaron’s shoulders. Hotch looked up at Dave and asked, “How bad?” Rossi’s eyes moved toward him, a sure sign that it wasn’t good. After a deep breath, Dave said, “You lost a lot of blood, you’re fighting an infection, concussion, broken arm, and multiple lacerations to your head and body.” Hotch nodded, absorbing the information before saying, “Yeah, Sean really did a job on me.” Rossi could see regret in Aaron’s eyes even though the statement was an attempt at a joke. Dave frowned. Something had happened with Sean and it wasn’t fair to Aaron after being through such a crucible that he should feel bad about anything at the moment. Dave thought about reaching out and patting Hotch on the shoulder, but it was likely Aaron wasn’t looking for touch right now, so he settled with telling his best friend that the team was coming to find LeBrant, who had gone into hiding, and how Jessica would bring Jack down when the doctors said it was okay. Aaron nodded again, thankful that Dave knew him so well. When Rossi had given him some time to just relax and center himself, Aaron asked, “Who was it that found me? Have you seen them?” All Aaron could remember about the person who had saved his life was that they had stayed with him. That their presence, even if he had died, had made him feel safe. 

Rossi replied, “I haven’t seen them yet, though I’ve asked them to meet me here. There are some questions I still have about their report. They should arrive in a few minutes, and that way you can have some time alone if you like. I did read about them, they’re name is y/n y/l/n y/a and they live in Virginia.” Aaron swallowed, his mouth feeling dry before saying, “I’d like to see them when they come. If they’re comfortable with it.” Dave nodded and replied, “I’ll ask them when they get here. For now, just try and rest. Let me know if you need anything and I’ll get the nurse.” Aaron nodded and let his eyes slip closed again. He could sense that Dave was keeping things from him, about what he couldn’t tell, but he’d ask in time, for now, he was alive. 

y/n entered the hospital again. This time it felt better. They were going to get some answers, hopefully, or at least some information about Agent Hotchern’s condition. They’d answer more questions about that information. After the last few day or so the thought of Mr. Hotchner hadn’t left their mind. y/n went to the receptionist who paged another party in the hospital and after a few minutes, an older man walked into the hallway. y/n could tell that he was Agent Rossi instantly. His clothing and demeanor gave him away, along with the deep circles under his eyes. y/n turned toward the man and extended their hand toward him. Rossi gave y/n a reassuring smile and as he took their hand said, “Hello. I’m Agent Rossi. You must be y/n y/l/n?” y/n nodded yes and said, “Yes Sir. That’s me.” Dave gave a small laugh at being called sir, and gently led y/n to a seat on the far side of the waiting room. They both took a seat and there was a moment of awkward silence as they both made mental observations about the other. Finally, y/n said, “Agnent Rossi, I’m happy to answer any questions you might have about my report, but could you tell me if Mr. Hotchner is alright?” Dave dipped his head and pulled himself together saying, “He’s doing better. He’ll have a hard and long recovery, but he’ll be alright. Hotch has gone through a lot, he’ll make it through this too.” y/n listened thinking about the type of person that can say with confidence after such an ordeal that they would make it though. It seemed like a lot, but Mr. Hotchner was clearly cut from Kevlar. y/n replied, “Thank you for telling me. Now, um, what questions did you have for me? I wrote down some notes to try and jog my memory.” Rossi lifted an eyebrow as y/n pulled a notebook from their mini backpack and flipped to a page that had a neat, color-coded timeline of events. Dave smiled at this before saying, “I would like to look at your notes, but I have some questions of another nature to ask first.”

y/n looked confused about what Rossi had said, and he clarified stating, “I’d just like to know if Aaron said anything to you while you were with him?” y/n let out a breath realizing this was a more personal visit. This was to see how his coworker was, not physically, but mentally and emotionally. y/n felt bad for not having thought of that before now and swallowed, realizing this was going to be another layer they would need to unpack within themselves as well. After this thought had passed, y/n replied softly at first, “We did kind of talk, though I did most of it to keep my mind still.” Rossi nodded encouraging y/n to continue, which they did. “I did ask him where he was going and he said that he was going to see his wife. And that he was sorry for his son. He tried to say more after that but it was all sort of jumbled up.” y/n looked up, fresh emotions welling up in them at the remorse that Mr. Hotchner had shown while he lay dying. There was a glimmer of tears in Dave’s eyes too and y/n moved a hand to his comfortingly and asked. “Agent Rossi?” to check in on him. Dave sniffled and moved a handkerchief under his eyes before squeezing y/n’s hand back replying, “Please, just call me Dave. Aaron’s wife passed a little over a year ago. I, I guess I didn’t know what he would think about, but it would make sense.” 

Hearing Dave’s words, a pang of hurt shot through y/n. Suddenly Aaron’s words made more sense. He said he was going home and being sad about it. Jack’s name popped into their mind and y/n asked hopefully, “His son, Jack. He said he had a son. Is he okay? Is Jack with his mom?” Dave closed his eyes and replied reassuringly, “No. Jack is fine. He’s a sweet and hyper kid.” That thought, of Aaron’s son being there for him, made y/n feel better. It was strange for them, to have such intense and strong feelings for a man they hardly knew, but then again, they had been through a lot together. There were a few more minutes of silence as Dave processed and moved on by asking to look at y/n’s notebook and to ask questions for them. Looking at y/n’s notes and the very detailed recount they had written was precise and smart. Not perhaps like a profiler, but somewhat so. That conversation lasted about a half hour and Rossi could see that y/n was tired and he still needed to broach the topic of them seeing Aaron, so to take something off of their plate he began by saying, “y/n this has been very helpful for me, both as Aaron’s coworker and as his friend. I know you’ll need your own time to process and work through all of this but I might need to contact you again by myself or a member of my team. Would it be okay if I left you my number and I got yours?” y/f felt a hitch in their breath thinking that this might be over. All the adrenaline came to a big crash like a wave on the rocks. But it had to end sometime, at least they thought so, so they nodded yes. The pair traded numbers and then Dave said, “y/n, I know this has been a lot, but I was just with Aaron and he asked if he could speak with you if you’re up to it. If not, he’ll fully understand.” 

At the suggestion, y/n’s eyes shot up in surprise. Not that they hadn’t been thinking about the man twenty-four-seven since they’d first seen him in the woods, but the idea that he would even want to see them felt like a surprise. Curiosity suddenly turned into apprehension and for a second they thought about running out of the room for some wild reason. But y/n came back to earth and knew that perhaps this would be their only time to see the man they’d helped and it would hopefully make things feel more resolved, more final. And they’d have the peace of mind of knowing that he really was alright. So y/n nodded yes and Dave gave them one of his reassuring dad smiles and got up, leading y/n toward Aroon’s room. He flashed his badge when he came across anyone looking at him funnily. At the door to Hotch’s room, Dave knocked and opened the door slightly saying, “I’ve got a visitor for you, Aaron.” There was a muffled response from inside and then Rossi stood back and said, “I’ll be just outside when you’re finished.” y/n swallowed thickly and stepped into the room. 

The space was large enough for a chair or two by the hospital bed, surrounded by medical equipment that beeped on a cycle of minutes, keeping time. The lights had been dimmed and as y/n’s eyes adjusted, they took a small step closer toward the bed. Mr. Hotchner was all cleaned up from his blood-soaked state and now that he was visible, y/n couldn't help but notice how striking and attractive he was. y/n pushed that thought aside, it wasn’t the time. His dark eyes met theirs, and y/n said awkwardly, “Hello Mr., I mean Agent Hotchner, Sir.” Hotch let out a half laugh and said replied, “It’s alright, you can call me Mr. Hotchner, or just Aaron is okay.” y/n nodded listening to his deep voice. Different than how it had been in the woods. There was life in this version of him, and it made y/n feel better. y/n took another step forward, not sure what to expect. 

Aaron watched y/n move forward. They were young. Younger than a normal person should have to deal with such stress and anxiety. He could see their apprehension even as they stepped close to him. Aaron cleared his throat and said, “Why don’t you have a seat, y/n.” y/n did as he said feeling the authority in his presence even as he was in bed recovering. Of course, he wasn’t directing that toward them, just that that power was there in him. It didn’t surprise y/n that he was someone important in the FBI. y/n sat in the chair closest to Aaron so they could hear him better. y/n wasn’t sure how to act now. They wanted to say they were sorry about his wife. But that was too personal. y/n opted for just asking, “Are you feeling okay?” The words sounded hollow in the face of the pain he had experienced in his life. 

Hotch smiled slightly, seeing the struggle in y/n’s eyes. He was glad to see y/n. To really see them and know who they were given how they had kept him calm and feel safe a day ago. Once y/n was seated he replied, “I’ll be okay. It’s just going to take time. I wanted to see how you are doing actually.” y/n’s eyes widened slightly. Shone in the darkness of the room. Taken aback they said, “I’m… okay. I always end up being okay in the end.” Hotch nodded, seeing himself in y/n instantly. Another survivor of a difficult life. It was easy to compartmentalize, and he didn’t want that for them. Not this young. So he said again, “I hear you. But how are you, really feeling?” y/n took a deep breath and tried to suppress the emotions before saying in a shaky voice, “Tired, scared and I don’t know why.” Aaron nodded in understanding. He moved his hand toward y/n, not sure what his intentions were with that movement. Hotch replied, “You don’t have to think about it all right now. But don’t let it out with someone at some point it will eat you up. Do you think you can take this?” 

y/n knew that Aaron was asking about just life in general. How overwhelming it could be after something like this. They had dealt with these feelings before, not like this, but close enough for y/n to say, “Yes. I can bounce back.” Hotch knew that response too. The bounce back. He didn’t want to pressure y/n to seek help, he’d be a hypocrite for saying so, but he worried. This person had saved his life and he didn’t want to see them crumble for it. Hotch took a moment and said, “Thank you for being there for me. I wouldn’t have made it without you.” Not really thinking he added, “You made me feel safe in that moment. I didn’t know if I was going to feel that again.” There was a long silence after his statement as they both absorbed his words. The quiet was punctuated by y/n’s quiet response of, “You’re welcome. I’m happy I could be that for you, Aaron.” y/n looked over at Hotch and could see there was something there. A bond, a name whisper on the wind, or a star. It was a flicker for just a moment and it was gone, but they had both felt it, some of the overwhelming feelings they both housed within. 

In another moment Aaron said, “I’ll let you go, but I’m sure Dave has given you his number, but tell him to give mine as well. I may not be at my best right now, but if you ever need anything y/n, anything, you can give me a call.” y/n nodded and stood wondering if the last they’d ever see of Aaron Hotchner, and was at least grateful for having crossed paths with him. They brushed their hands over his hand for a moment before smiling, saying “I hope you are well soon, Aaron,” leaving the room. Aaron watched as their figure moved outside and stopped to talk to Dave for a moment then disappeared. 

Rossi entered the room and asked, “Do you feel better now?” Hotch nodded and replied, “Yes. Did you give them my number?” Dave laughed and said, “Sure did, office and cell.” Aaron huffed but then said seriously, “y/n will need protection for a few weeks at least.” Rossi replied, “Already on it. Or Garcia is on it. Knowing her, y/n will be getting flowers and chocolate for life.” Hotch laughed at the truth in that statement and felt better. Yes is sucked, this sucked, and his body hurt like hell, but he was alive and things would get better. Aaron’s mind flickered back to his fight with Sean and he laid back on the bed with a groan. Dave watched and eventually, Hotch said with his eyes still closed, “Would you call Sean for me?” Rossi had Sean’s number in case of emergencies with Aaron, Jack, or Jessica. Rossi had everybody in the team's close family on that list. Dave couldn’t help but say, “Why do I have to call him, if you do will he throw his phone out the window or something?” Hotch scoffed and replied, “Just about, but I need to talk to him.” Rossi understood and took out his phone and dialed Aaron’s younger brother before handing the line over to Aaron. 

Aaron had something planned to say, but Sean beat him to it saying, “I’m sorry, Aaron. I shouldn’t have treated you like that. You don’t deserve it.” Hotch let out a breath and replied as lightly as possible, “You bet I didn’t. But I want to apologize too. I got hot-headed…” Rossi motioned for Aaron to ask if he wanted him to leave the room or not. Aaron nodded his head no, and Dave settled in his chair. As Sean and Aaron spoke, and attempted in their own ways to make amends, Aaron knew that things would get better. There was family, be it Jack, Sean, or the team, and there were people out there willing to help. The image y/n smiling down at him filled him with a strange warmth, and he let the image and feeling linger as Sean went on about his day.

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[alice-after-dark]

Deer Wife AU - First Kiss

Inspired by @hiemaldesirae's deer sinner Vox designs (1 | 2 | 3) and his Attic-Wife Vox AU

TW for graphic violence, mild gore, murder, cannibalism, agoraphobia, and other canon-typical triggers.

Alastor trusts him. Vox realizes this with a thrill. He actually trusts him.

For the past 3 weeks, Alastor had begun leaving Vox's door unlocked during the day, with explicit instructions that Vox was not to leave the house unless an emergency arose ("Go to Cannibal Town. Find anyone and tell them Alastor told you to go to Rosie and they'll help you") and to stay away from the basement ("There's nothing down there you need to trouble yourself with, darling"). They still took their meals in Vox's room and he was locked in at night, but otherwise he was free to move about his new home to his heart's content.

This new freedom had made the blue deer anxious at the start and he'd refused to leave his room for the entire first week, despite Alastor's reassurances. Some gentle coaxing had seen him to the top of the stairs to greet Alastor upon his return home, but he'd struggled to make it any further.

Today, however, he stands in the kitchen, clutching a steaming mug in his hands. He made his own coffee today! Alastor will be so proud! The nausea in his stomach won't actually allow him to drink said coffee, but he still made it all the way to the kitchen by himself! And if all goes as planned and he can withstand the anxiety, he'll be able to greet Alastor at the door this time! He's wearing one of his favorite dresses. He wants to look nice for him. It'll be a special surprise.

He wants to flee back to his room desperately, but decides to do the dishes instead, to keep his hands and mind busy. He has no idea where anything goes, so he just leaves them to dry when he's finished and ends up wiping down the table and counters. He wanders into the living room next, coffee forgotten, and begins to straighten the pillows on the couch. They're not really all that messy to begin with as Alastor keeps his home very tidy, but it gives him an outlet for all the nervous energy he feels. He goes in search of a broom. He used to help his mother sweep all the time as a child and it always made him happy to help her. He wants to help Alastor too. He searches a couple closets, frowning as he comes up empty. There is one door left in the hallway. One with a sturdy lock on it. No, not that one. That one is the basement. He is not allowed in the basement. He begins to walk away before doubling back, wide-eyed.

Something is...leaking out from under the door.

His heartrate spikes. What is that?! He watches in terror as a thin green tendril slithers up the door, deftly undoing the lock and letting it fall to the floor with a heavy thunk. Vox holds his breath as the door slowly - so agonizingly slowly, creaks open. The tendril retreats and a greenish ooze pulls itself into the hallway, rising and taking on humanoid shape until another Sinner stands before him. Snake-like yellow eyes dart around the hall, wild and unfocused until they land on Vox.

"Huh? Who the fuck are you?"

Vox can't find his voice. He hasn't seen another Sinner, hasn't interacted with anyone, since Alastor came into his life. Who is this man? Why is he in their home? A forked tongue flickers out of the lipless mouth as it twists into a sneer.

"Well, who'da thought the infamous Radio Demon would be hiding such a pretty little thing away?" The Sinner takes a step forward. "Fucking bastard tried to take a taste ah me...I should make him regret it..."

Vox doesn't have time to consider his words before the Sinner lunges at him. The blue deer barely manages to duck out of the way, tripping over his own feet and falling to the ground. A hand curls around his ankle and he shrieks, a sharp burst of electricity exploding from the site of contact. The Sinner curses and lurches back.

An emergency. Alastor said he can leave if there's an emergency. But the Sinner is between him and the door now. He can't get out, can't even get to the stairs to run for the safety and comfort of his room.

Vox's eyes land on the open door of the basement. He bolts. He doesn't quite manage to get the door closed before the Sinner grabs it, wrenching it out of the blue deer's grasp and causing him to lose his balance. He tumbles down the stairs and hits the cement floor below hard. Pain erupts in his shoulder and he wails. It's dark, he can't see, and the Sinner is on him before he can get his bearings.

Vox pushes at the hands that grab at him, closing around his throat in an iron grip. The Sinner's eyes are bloodshot and manic. "Gonna leave your corpse for him to find." Vox feels around the floor, desperately search for something, anything. "Maybe I should cut up that pretty face of yours too." His hand closes around smooth wood. "Make you ugly and force him to stare at it while you regenerate." There's a flash of recognition. "Maybe he won't even want you anymore..." He swings.

The flesh of the Sinner's throat makes a loud squelching sound as the ax makes itself at home deep in the side of his neck and the Sinner's hands go slack as he goes down with a gurgle, collapsing onto his back and grasping weakly at the thick blade of the ax. The blue deer takes a desperate breath, greedily sucking in air as he scrambles up and grabs the ax again, brings it down again and again and again even after the Sinner has stopped moving. He finally stops when he feels the sharp burn in his arms and he nearly loses his grip, embedding the ax so deep in the Sinner's skull that's he's almost certain it's caught in the concrete below. He isn't sure how long he sits there, the corpse cooling on below him. His breathing is heavy. He feels floaty and lightheaded. There is blood and viscera everywhere.

Oh, he's ruined his dress.

The thought encourages him to move, shoving the Sinner's corpse away from him. Instead of standing, however, he simply sits in the darkness, hands folded primly in his lap as he thinks.

From the beginning, Vox could only remember bits and pieces of his life above; the fear of his father, the hyperawareness of his appearance, societal expectations and the like. Alastor had told him that it was perfectly normal for Sinners to struggle with memory loss during the first few months of their Hellish existence. Usually it was resolved within a few months or so, but for some it took years, even decades to right itself. On especially rare occasions, some Sinners didn't regain their memories at all. Typically though, one good metaphorical jostle to the noggin - a reminder, a trigger - was all it took to bring everything back.

Vox couldn't say he ever expected his to be driving an ax into a man's skull.

He staggers to stand, fumbling in the dark. The sliver of light coming in from the top of the stairs leads him to the wall and the light switch there. He turns it on.

Oh.

There are weapons everywhere. Mounted on walls, laid across tables, even several in the nearby sink, covered in what Vox can only assume is blood. There is another door on the opposite end of the small room, open and with a lock on the floor much like the basement door upstairs. It is dark, but Vox is certain he can hear moaning and crying coming from inside.

He doesn't enter. He isn't even supposed to be down here. Instead, he tries to pull the ax free, but it remains wedged in the Sinner's skull. His adrenaline is fading fast and his muscles tremble with exertion.

Vox takes a deep breath. His heart is still racing. What should he do now?

"Oh my."

The blue deer whips around towards the stairs, blood running cold as he meets Alastor's mildly startled gaze. Red eyes drift around the room as the other deer takes in the chaotic scene. Vox is suddenly very aware of how much blood there is and just how much of it is on him. Alastor descends the stairs slowly. "What happened, darling?"

And all at once everything is too much and Vox drops to his knees and begins to cry. He's babbling, unsure if he's even making any sense, but he can't pull himself together. The adrenaline has left him tired and achy and everything is just too much. He isn't sure when Alastor reaches him or when he takes him in his arms. All he knows is that when his sobs finally die to weak sniffles, he is fully in the Radio Demon's lap and the very thought makes his face burn.

"Goodness. You've had quite the day, haven't you?"

Vox nods into Alastor's chest. There's a gentle hum of static radiating from the red deer and it soothes him. Alastor pets his hair and ears, shivers running up Vox's spine when his gentle fingers brush against his antenna. Those same fingers trail down his jaw and tip up his chin and then Alastor is kissing him. It's soft and tender and Vox eagerly returns it. They only break apart when the Radio Demon picks him up in his arms and begins to carry him upstairs. Behind them, Alastor's dolls have already begun to drag the Sinner's corpse back towards the other room.

"Why don't we get you a nice bath and a change of clothes, hm?" Alastor says. "I'm sure you'll feel much better after that."

Vox looks up at him, confused. "You're not mad?"

"At you?" Alastor asks. "Of course not, darling."

"But...I went in the basement."

"It doesn't sound to me like you had much choice. And you did quite marvelously with that ax."

Vox knows he's blushing. "I'm sorry...I got my dress messy." He feels bad for ruining Alastor's gift. He liked this one a lot too.

Alastor laughs. "My dear, I wouldn't be any good at this if I didn't know how to get a little blood out." They've reached his room now and have made their way into the bathroom. Alastor sits him on the closed toilet as he begins to draw the bath. "I'll go get dinner started while you get cleaned up. Just put your dress in the hall and I'll take care of it."

The water is warm and it feels so good on his aching muscles and it's nearly an hour later before he finds his wounds tended to and himself dressed in his coziest nightgown and robe and seated at the table with Alastor.

"I remember some of my life now." He says it casually, without any preamble.

Alastor regards him with interest. "Oh? Do tell."

Vox stirs his food. "I killed my parents. I put sleeping pills in their drinks so they wouldn't wake up. And then I killed them with an ax in their own bed. My mom was a fading star who wanted to live vicariously through me and forced me to do all these auditions. I was actually pretty good though, so I got a lot of jobs. But it was never enough. My dad thought it was sissy work." He pulled at his nightgown. "He'd have a fit if he saw me now."

Alastor hums. "They both sound quite awful indeed. No wonder you dispatched them."

Vox nods. Some things are still fuzzy, but he has a good grasp on what his life was like now. It makes him feel more grounded. More sure of himself.

"What do you do with them?" Vox asks.

"Hm?"

"The people in the basement. What do you do with them?"

"Oh, why I eat them, my dear."

Vox feels like this should shock him more. Like...it really should shock him more. Like he's more shocked by how un-shocked he is by it. The man he's been living with for several months has just told him he eats people. The man who quite literally owns his soul and could do whatever he pleases with him has just told him he eats people. Well, it is Hell after all. He glances down at his own food, drawing a snicker from the red deer.

"No, darling, I don't feed them to you."

"Why not?"

Now Alastor actually does look shocked and Vox can't help but feel a little swell of pride at having drawn such a reaction from him.

"Would you like me to?"

Vox considers. "Maybe? I'm not sure. I've never eaten a person before, but you like it, so..."

Alastor doesn't say anything. Instead, he calmly spears a chunk of meat on his fork, stands, and circles around to Vox.

"Open."

Vox does without hesitation.

It's not...bad. It's not bad at all, actually. Vox chews and swallows. "Wow. You're such a good cook you can even make people taste good."

Alastor laughs. He kisses him again. Vox will definitely eat more people if it gets him more kisses.

"So..." he begins to ask when Alastor returns to his seat. "What are you going to do with that guy? Are you going to eat him too?"

Alastor shook his head. "That was the original plan, yes, but now I think I'll be making him a surprise guest on my radio show." Vox tipped his head in confusion. "Ah, I forget you haven't actually heard my show yet. I'll get you a proper radio. I'd love for you to listen, my dear. Now, tell me, did anything else happen on your eventful day?"

"Oh, I made my own coffee!"

"Splendid!"

[captain-joongz]

Abraxas; Act 1, Chapter 2 Part 2

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

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

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

Chapter word count: 18.3k

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

Previous part | Series masterlist | Next part

A/N: unexpected sleepover kept me busy most of the weekend but here finally comes the second part of the chapter, i'm so excited for you to read the ending hehehe! let me know in the comments or through asks what you think, i'm curious to know your opinions! <3

The early summer heat was already hitting halfway through May, and as I sat in the station that was barely AC-ed, I suffered like a dog through the sudden and surprising rises of temperatures in between of bouts of rains.

Truthfully, looking out of the window, I wasn’t sure whether I’d rather be sitting here in a half empty dead office with barely anyone present (6 o’clock on a Friday afternoon usually not pulling much traffic around these parts) or sitting in full leather on my bike by some seedy club peeping at what Jungkook was doing this particular evening like a creep.

I wasn’t able to put much time into any extracurricular activities, the current task I’ve been made responsible of forced me to spend most of my time behind a desk, scrolling through endless police reports, paparazzi photos and news articles, taking names of cases and trying to find out what kind of people they were and who they were associated with. And after the hours and hours I’ve spent on this I was truly starting to get sick of it, almost missing the few days I spent watching a warehouse in the middle of the winter only to get trolled by Yoongi. Obviously, I wasn’t made for an office job.

With a sigh I finally gave up after trying to focus on the currently opened case on my table and dragged myself to a bistro on the corner. I’ve been drinking so much coffee these past few weeks I was on the verge of throwing up anytime I just saw a brown paper cup, but I soldiered through for the fresh batch of caffeine that would allow me to die a little slower and more painfully. And as I waited in the line, I dreaded returning to the station and continuing in what’s been my sole purpose in life for days upon days.

Still not being able to move anywhere with Jungkook kind of haunted me, it stayed at the back of my mind practically every day, just calling me to go out there and do something. But I couldn’t exactly spend the whole night chasing shadows when I had to show up to work at 7 am. Sometimes I would wonder what Yoongi thought about my sudden absence, whether he was trying to uncover some mastermind psychological warfare plan while I was really just too busy to do anything other than sit in that damn building and sleep, but admittedly it did always put a little smile on my face imagining him being silly over why I’m not following his every step like before.

Occasionally I would tag along with the team for additional interviews and questionings, stand behind Minjoon and listen and absorb their strategies. Unfortunately, all the people we talked to, all the witnesses who were mostly workers from around the warehouse, they knew very well to keep their mouth shut about anything illegal. In the end we couldn’t get more out of them than them hearing shots and calling the police. Nobody saw anything and heard nothing beyond that, as it seemed.

But we knew we were going to hit the wall here, no one in their right mind would snitch like this, especially if this truly was the Min gang. For all the neutral demeanour and suave charismatic energy, people were still terrified of Yoongi. No matter the image he had right now, no matter how much he tried to situate himself as a businessman unconcerned with the underworld, everybody still remembered how he came up, how much violence it took for him to take his place, how much blood was spilt and continued to be spilt any time someone went against him. You didn’t act up against a man like that.

And given the fact the Kims were somehow involved as well, it was double the risk. A single word could cost you your life, no matter which side the hit came from.

That only left us with carefully dissecting the lives of the victims, trying to find out how they got there and who they messed with to end up massacred on a floor of a run-down warehouse in Incheon, which was a feat in and of itself, but Minjoon and Seungcheol worked on that diligently. I sometimes met him just as he was about to leave to presumably go question someone about them, but I haven’t heard much from them yet. So lately we were all mostly stuck behind our computers.

I shook my head at nothing in particular and with one last sigh I picked myself up and went back to the station coffee in hand, resigning myself to another few hours of ruining my eyesight and back at that stupid little cramped desk. These past two weeks really made me realise just how on each other we were in that little space, and how Park sat comfortably in his office doing god knows what.

When I arrived back, I was shocked to see Minjoon suddenly back sitting by his own desk submerged deep into whatever it was he was looking at. He barely even registered my entrance, and I deliberated on going up to him or going back to my own desk to not disrupt him, but in the end decided to procrastinate just a while longer.

Minjoon looked up as soon as he heard footsteps approaching and we exchanged friendly but tired smiles while he pulled out a chair next to him for me to sit at.

“Doing overtime too, I see,” he greeted me with, eyes once again glued to the monitor. I looked over his shoulder to see him reading up on a report of a crime from two years ago. The name was very familiar to me after all these days. It was one of the guys from the warehouse.

“You going over what Park Doyun was involved in again?” I jumped straight into reading the report alongside with him. It was an armed robbery from two years ago, but due to a mess up in the prosecution they were acquitted on some obscure technicality. It was honestly a huge embarrassment, because there was some good evidence, but it all went down the drain. It was the first thing that really smacked us in the face once we put the guys through the police database, because everyone was talking about it around the precinct and Minjoon immediately made the connection.

“Yeah, supposedly there was a third accomplice, but I can’t find any mention of anyone else being involved,” Minjoon muttered somewhat dejectedly, the exhaustion showing through his expression and posture. I patted him on the shoulder, trying to bring his spirits up while I was just as sick of this as he was. He only shot me a grateful smile over his shoulder and went back into the report.

The Police Academy truly doesn’t prepare you for the hours and hours of just pure research and paperwork, what a lie.

“Is that what one of the people in the neighbourhood told you?” I queried some more, desperate to distract myself from my own tasks long enough to gain some strength to go back to it. Minjoon hummed absentmindedly, but in the end gave up as well and turned to me.

“Yeah, it was the most I could get from this one old lady sitting by a convenience store on his corner,” the detective said around a yawn, decompressing into the chair and letting the day just wash over him. It was obvious that whatever he was doing today was catching up to him, and it didn’t surprise me much given that he was gone for most of the afternoon.

“What do you got so far?” I leaned back on my chair as well and turned so that we were face to face, and we just lounged there for a moment smiling at each other cheekily, “About the whole thing.”

That got Minjoon sighing again, wiping his hand over his face. “Most is the usual stuff,” the man started, launching into another long monologue brought up by my questions, “out of the six victims, two grew up in the same neighbourhood down in Gojan-dong. You know, the same old – not the greatest families, poor backgrounds, started messing around the block and got into a lot of trouble. That’s where the reports start flying in. The other four are from around there as well, but not as close by.”

I sat on the information for a moment, as this was the first time I outright asked about the details. “So they’re all from Incheon anyway?” I ended up saying, and Minjoon only nodded.

“Two of them lived pretty close to each other, went to the same school, and they have that one record together,” he continued talking, “but you know how it gets. The people living around there only talk about how pitiful it is they fell off the good path, and if there is something more organised going on beneath, they either don’t know about it, don’t want to know about it or will never talk to a cop about it.”

“But we can be pretty sure they were already tight back then,” I hummed. Minjoon moved a little on his chair to get more comfortable. I saw his eyes jump to the time showcasing on his computer before he turned back to me and the conversation, and I was suddenly hit with the realisation that he most likely wanted to go home and I was keeping him here.

“Yeah, according to the teachers they were troublemakers and there was some violence happening on other students,” Minjoon expanded on that, “and one also mentioned a kid from a school on another block that they used to hang out with a lot that was also known for trouble, but she couldn’t remember his name. She wasn’t very surprised that they died in a gang affiliated murder though, according to her they were most probably dealing already back then between the peers.”

“That’s tough, that’s real tough. Surviving on the streets like that just gets you involved in all kinds of trouble” the empathetic words spilled from my mouth before I could really think twice about it and I panicked a little. I wasn’t sure how much the people around the unit knew about my childhood, but it definitely wasn’t something I wanted to discuss with any of them, even Minjoon. Some things were just better left in the past, especially since it’d probably make my colleagues dislike me more.

“Yeah, but the worst thing is that I just can’t get the name of that third kid,” Minjoon carried on completely submerged into his own world, “I showed her pictures of the other guys, but she didn’t recognise them. Then I was trying to choke some info from an old lady sitting by one of their addresses, but she only mentioned that there were three boys involved in that robbery but couldn’t remember the third one because he was from a nearby neighbourhood, just that these three were always together and didn’t do anything good.”

“And it���s not any of the other four guys?” I asked once more, just to make sure I didn’t miss anything. Minjoon shook his head and leaned back onto his chair, just watching me with tired but smiling eyes.

“But I think it’s a safe bet that these three must have stood at the beginning of everything, I just can’t get the name of the last kid,” Minjoon finished with a sigh, fingers subconsciously playing with the hem of his shirt, “I don’t know how they got into the big game or where the other dude is though.”

“Do you think there’s a possibility he escaped? That he’s alive somewhere but skipped cities or something to get away from the trouble?” I pondered out loud, as we both exchanged conspiratory glances, but Minjoon just shrugged.

“I mean, anything is possible in this game really,” the detective closed the conversation with a definitive nod of his head. I thought that was my cue to go back to my desk and let him leave, but he surprised me with turning the conversation around on me.

“What about the files? How are you doing?” he asked suddenly just as I was preparing to stand up and go. For a split second I looked at him surprised, and then relaxed into the chair again with a smile.

“Honestly, it’s such an annoying work,” I complained a little whinily, allowing myself to be a little more open with Minjoon, “I have to go through every little article, report and a picture on the internet concerning the victim. Some of them are normal working class people who worked around the docks or clubs, but some are wealthy bastards.” Minjoon chuckled at me, fingers drumming a calming beat into the table.

“Some have no ties to Yoongi at all apart from like eating at his restaurant once or staying at his hotel, but some I think are worth investigating into,” I went on, giving Minjoon the opportunity to just listen to me babble for once and not the other way around, “like some businessmen that have done deals with some of Yoongi’s shadow companies or were frequent visitors of his clubs, there was this one dude that was really closely related to some charity events Yoongi put on. I think it’s worth looking into those.”

Minjoon smiled at me brightly, his whole persona suddenly lighting up at hearing me talk about the case. He straightened up and leaned towards me, hand grabbing my shoulder in a gesture that has become very familiar to me coming from him to a point when I had to fight an embarrassed blush and a smile at the warmth and pride it filled me with.

“Good job, Y/N, good job,” he said earnestly, eyes looking straight into mine until the direct contact got a little too intense and I dodged it, “I knew I could count on you with this.” This time I really did blush, an intense feeling of vindication filling me at finally having someone recognise the work I was putting into this case. I mumbled my thanks to him, too overwhelmed to even look up, but I felt his hand squeeze my shoulder in answer before he retracted it back.

“I put them into different groups,” I jumped back into the explanation to escape the atmosphere change, “the ones that are inconclusive when it comes to gang involvement, the ones that are mostly low-tier workers around the gang affiliated hotspots and the big wigs that died under strange circumstances and most likely were closely related to Yoongi’s business in one way or the other.”

I didn’t even realise I had naturally switched into calling him Yoongi even in front of Minjoon, but thankfully he either didn’t notice or didn’t think it strange. Once I clocked it though, I promised myself to make sure to never make the same mistake in front of Hwang or Park, who I didn’t want to risk questioning me about it. Was I paranoid? Maybe, but I had a good reason for it with my track record.

“Have you looked through all of them?” came Minjoon’s question after a few moments of silence and I startled minutely before shaking my head in response.

“Not yet, I’ve got like a case and a half left,” I answered him truthfully, the distaste over having to go back to my desk and keep researching this file still rotting on my table resurfacing and souring my mood. I had managed to forget I’d still need to return to it once Minjoon left and it had me slumping into my chair.

The man must have noticed my change in mood, since he gave me a small encouraging smile and then leaned towards me somewhat conspiratorially before lightly enquiring “you wanna get out of here and grab something for dinner?”. I visibly relaxed at the offered out and nodded enthusiastically basically before he even finished speaking, making him laugh heartily.

In one swift movement he was standing on his feet offering me his hand. I took it gingerly and let him haul me up, the feelings of guilt that have been eating me away for not dedicating more of my time to the task soothed by Minjoon’s approval of ditching work.

It didn’t take us long to turn off computers and collect our belongings before we both headed out into the still incredibly hot air of the parking lot in front of the station. He must have been just as excited to leave as me, with how gingerly he led us out and towards his car, only stopping when I lightly grabbed his arm. The officer turned his whole body to me, surprise and confusion written over his face at my sheepish expression. I gestured towards the other side of the parking lot where a solitary dark car stood parked.

“I’m here by car as well, we could go to the restaurant down the street so we can both leave by car?” I suggested and Minjoon as quickly brightened up and agreed.

Thus we found ourselves sitting over our respective bowls of kimchi jjigae just a few minutes later. This was a known spot for us, as they fed most of the police force from our station with the homely family run restaurant located only three minutes by foot away from our office. When we walk in, the kind middle-aged lady running it already greets us by our names and knows our tastes by heart. It was such a nice feeling to have a place like that, I had to admit that.

We both must have been pretty hungry, because for the first half none of us even spoke, too focused on our bowls and stuffing our faces like a pair of vultures. Once the dust settled and we were handing the empty dishes back to the smiling woman, we found ourselves once again just looking at each other not knowing how to start up a conversation. After few moments of awkward silence, Minjoon decided to break the ice.

“You mentioned you sorted the cases into three groups, right?” he started off the subject of our work again, waiting for me to nod and then continuing, “Once you get through them all, you should pull out the other cases we have connected to Yoongi and look through them again with the new ones in mind. There might have been things lost or not noticed.”

The feeling of disappointment that hit me was almost palpable in the air, and I felt my expression freezing into an awkward smile trying to not let it show outwardly. I didn’t want to anger Minjoon or make him feel bad about this, and I did realise I was a total newbie to the unit and a newbie to this particular investigation, but I would lie if I said it didn’t hurt that I seemed to be eternally stuck behind the computer while the others actually did all the investigating.

Minjoon still must have felt my lack of enthusiasm, even though I tried to show my agreement as happily as I could muster, and he hit me with another sheepish apologetic smile.

“I know what you’re thinking,” the man begun, hands on instinct raising as if trying to console me, “but this could be your own thing, you know? It would be your call and your own investigation. We could also ask the violent crime team to help you out with questionings.” Now, that did sound marginally better, and I found myself swaying. I mean, I really didn’t have much choice, I would still agree even if I was truly just a glorified secretary to them, otherwise I’d be booted of the team quicker than I could say ‘fuck you’. But like this, it at least didn’t feel like a complete lost.

“So, once I went through the cases, I’d have free range and I could try to investigate and close some of them?” I made sure before I truly consented to anything, and when Minjoon nodded and agreed, I relaxed a little bit.

“Okay then,” finally I accepted, “I’ll look through the old cases too.” That seemed to make him very happy, and he made sure to smile at me brightly and shower me in gratitude and praises, but I couldn’t really help the sinking feeling at imagining myself going through more cold cases. At least there was a clear end to that in sight with these.

After that the conversation shifted slightly to lighter topics and Minjoon ended up telling me some funny stories about our colleagues’ mishaps at work. I laughed at them heartily while feeling this strange rift between us deepen even more, realising more than ever that I was truly a stranger in this unit full of people who actually somewhat liked each other.

I promised myself that this time next year, I will be sitting here with the whole unit and be a part of those fun stories as well.

Later in the evening, as we walked leisurely back to our cars after finishing up at the food joint, Minjoon suddenly seemed a little more hesitant and withdrawn. At first I saw it as a reluctance to part after a nicely spent evening, but soon I came to realise that there was something he wasn’t sure how to tell me. I could see it written all over his guilty unsure face, mouth opening for a moment without words coming out and then shutting again. I waited patiently for him to gather his courage, until the man finally broke the suddenly awkward silence.

“So, we were making some plans with the team,” Minjoon opened hesitantly and immediately I felt a shot to my heart knowing I wasn’t a part of whatever discussion they were having as a team, but I kept my mouth shut. I only hummed in response, encouraging him to go on.

“Well, next Friday we’re going to speak to Ms. Kim,” he finally got out, and I froze a little, “I just felt that a heads up was needed for that particular encounter." And I wasn’t going to lie, there was a little bit of panic that seized me at the mention of her name.

Miss Kim, alias Kim Jiyu, alias the sister of the man currently in charge of Kim Enterprises and any other business the Kim family was running legal or not, was notoriously known in both the underworld and the law enforcement sphere as a very unpleasant and harsh woman that people only ever can have the displeasure of meeting. There was a lot of stories floating around about her, and most were extremely unflattering to her character. All kinds of adjectives were attached to her, from spoiled or mean all the way to downright cruel and heartless.

The meeting with her could mean only one thing – they were trying to get the meeting with the Mr. Kim himself, but as most people, couldn’t get through his sister first, as she acted as a wall between him and the rest of the world. Unless you came with a warrant, the chances of speaking to him alone or at all were very slim, most visitors got handled by Ms. Kim before they even made it through the receptionist.

I shuddered a little bit at the thought of meeting her and doing a questioning against her and the crimes her family was involved in. Allegedly. After this thing was over, I had to go to good old Jungkook and troll him a little over parking tickets to decompress from this whole ordeal.

I turned to Minjoon, taking in his worried face, and I put on my bravest expression, nodding with a gentle smile. We didn’t really speak after that again, both of us just processing the information that was traded throughout the whole evening.

When I got home, I was so exhausted I just wanted to crash into the bed and sleep for twelve hours but sleep just wouldn’t find me until the early hours of the morning, and I found myself lying there with closed eyes, brain overheating with everything that’s happened in the last 24 hours.

I nervously shimmied around, earning another judging stare from one of the maids and a warning shake of head from Minjoon, as we waited in the entrance hall to be accepted by the lady of the house.

When Minjoon mentioned going to interview Ms. Kim, I truly didn’t even begin to imagine we would go into her house. That morning pulling up in front of a huge modern mansion and getting greeted by a chauffeur and a gardener before I even made it halfway through the gate was truly a shock. I don’t know why I was expecting maybe an office or something, given the fact it was one of the richest residential parts of Seoul, but still.

As usual, my nervousness made it that I was there first, way before Sunmi or Minjoon got there, who were the two people assigned to this task, Hwang and Seungcheol trying their luck loitering around the office building where Mr. Kim must have been. It was a tactic that was already well known to me in our unit, fighting on two fronts and then exchanging found out info. In my mind I was transported months back, to the first time I was brought along, the “first time” I officially met Yoongi in the VIP lounge in Pied Piper and how I nervously sat in front of him while he laughed at me like my presence was the funniest thing that’s ever happened to him.

The feelings of unease and queasiness that thinking of Yoongi often brought along manifested themselves and I started sweating even harder, slowly gaining Minjoon’s worry as he looked me up and down. I shook my head to him very slightly, hoping it was seen as a comforting gesture and it wouldn’t make him hover over me in an attempt to shelter me or comfort me.

The silence in the hall stretched for several additional minutes and the three of us stood there awkwardly, scrutinised by every member of staff currently on standby. I felt the scolding gazes doubly, as I didn’t make much effort on the visual front, rocking up to one of the most expensive houses in the most expensive neighbourhood in my worn washed out jeans, a simple black tee and a breezy short-sleeved shirt with an aggressive flower print, hair styled in a way that was the most practical and needed the least amount of time to achieve and a face red and sweating both from the hot temperatures and the nerves, the look finished with a pair of old sneakers basically crying for help.

I couldn’t look more out of place in the pristine light green hall with sleek furniture and floors made from massive marble tiles and I felt properly as an outsider, both from the perspective of a kid growing up in an impoverished block and as a colleague that wasn’t properly informed about the details of the visit. Even Minjoon wore a nicer pair of jeans and a shirt, which he never did, and Sunmi looked as elegant as ever in her dress pants, light blouse and beautiful wavy hair let hanging loose around her shoulders. I swallowed my bitterness and regret at not checking up on the area first and not getting the chance to also dress accordingly. And avoiding looking like a beggar accidentally let in from the streets.

My train of thought was broken by the sound of approaching footsteps, the distinctive clacking of high heel shoes on the marble floors carrying to us all the way from deep inside the house, and I found myself almost letting out a breath of relief, as I would finally be able to escape this oppressive atmosphere and disappear somewhere into a corner of a room and just quietly make notes.

With each clack getting closer to us the tension in the air grew lightly, the forms of my colleagues also straightening out, hands last minute fidgeting around their clothes to gather courage and look as composed as we could. From what I understood, from the people present here only Sunmi had the pleasure of meeting our host before, and it was only twice. Not nearly enough for the initial instinctual apprehension to wear off. Therefore we were all probably experiencing similar levels of unease. Most probably. Hard to say, I was pretty strung up.

Finally, the form of a woman rounded the corner and materialised at the other end of a very long corridor, slowly inching towards us with the elegance and prowess of a hungry lion, her form slightly shimmering. At first I thought my eyes were watering or I was straight up hallucinating, but as she came closer I realised it was because she wore a silvery dress that reflected every light and surface around her.

She was taller than me, quite a bit (not a big feat honestly, I barely grew out of looking like an 8th grader) with a small, graceful face, each inch perfect and carefully maintained. Both her make-up and dress looked very sophisticated, showing clearly that she was a member of the higher class, with her beautiful dark hair pulled into a tight intricate bun at the back of her head. She was absolutely stunning and, to be honest, for a moment I got a little starstruck. It felt like meeting a movie star or a celebrity, she had that aura around her, and for a few seconds I completely forgot why we were there and almost started asking for an autograph and a detailed explanation of her beauty routine.

That all shattered the moment she finally reached us though, as her impassive face suddenly broke into a cruel smirk, venom taking over her dark eyes and she scoffed, looking us over like we were pests about to be exterminated. Before even giving us a chance to introduce ourselves, or really say anything, her focus shifted to Sunmi, gaze burning her down intensely.

“I thought we were over this, detective,” she said in a strong voice, sounding just as annoyed as mean, “There’s no need for you to come over and ask your silly little questions. I told you everything you need to know.” I saw the moment Sunmi steeled herself, eyes hardening, readying to play her part of an unshakable detective. And damn, did she do a great job.

“Please Ms. Kim,” she retorted, her body relaxing a little as she adopted a posture to counter the other woman’s stiff elegant figure, “You know I’ll never have enough of asking you silly questions. Just let us bother you for fifteen minutes and then we don’t have to see each other again for a few months.” There was a little impish grin tugging on her lips and I could notice our hostess was starting to get a little bothered by that, her annoyance slowly running through the roof. I watched on with bated breath, both me and Minjoon just hanging back quietly, taken aback by the sudden change in the air.

Ms. Kim’s face turned into a bitter grimace, the disgust obvious in the downturn of her mouth as she stepped aside and gestured down the long hallway she herself came from.

“Fine, you got fifteen minutes, after that I’m not entertaining any other visits unless you have an arrest warrant,” she bit out almost in a bark, before she turned around without waiting and stomped her way back inside the house. We all scrambled to follow her, suddenly thrust into action after just weirdly hanging about for such a long time. Sunmi took the lead, confidently striding after her, but as she passed me I could hear her releasing a huge puff of air as she steadied herself to carry on.

I gazed after her, taking in her stoney face and confident posture, my respect towards the female detective immediately skyrocketing. If Minjoon told me I was looking at her with hearts in my eyes, I would totally believe him. I liked to pretend I looked similar while dealing with Yoongi, but Sunmi clearly perfected the pest bratty power play that just drove these types up the wall, and I hoped I would be able to learn from her before we all had to go our separate ways again. I’m sure the Min gang would infinitely appreciate it. Especially the maknae.

Miss Kim led us only halfway through the corridor before she disappeared into a room on the right, and like ducklings we all followed inside. Minjoon came through last, but immediately went for the chairs, so I took it upon myself to close the door. When I turned, I was the last one to take the room in. It was quite a standard home office space, with a dark desk dominating the space, some shelves with books and decorations, and of course, the two chairs waiting for visitors to be scrutinised from the high table.

Not wanting to pull much attention to myself, I quickly hurried into the left corner where a lone small armchair stood, sitting myself there. I was already pretty much invisible to them as they sized each other up.

Just as before, Miss Kim didn’t seem overly interested in getting our names, getting straight to business without any preamble.

“I cannot imagine what else you’d like to hear from me, Miss Lee,” her piercing voice sounded through the room, taking on a slight whining voice. I jerked slightly in my chair, head immediately flying up to look at the woman before I realised that me and Sunmi shared a surname and she was talking to her, not me. The relief that flooded me at not having to face her yet was quite mortifying, so I just focused on fiddling with my notepad and pen, waiting for something worthy of being written down.

“A multiple homicide took place on your front lawn, of course we’d be interested in getting your perspective as much as we can,” Sunmi replied to her matter-of-factly, holding her own in the intense power battle that was currently taking place between their gazes.

“On my front lawn? That’s news to me,” Miss Kim leaned back into her chair, throwing her arms into the air, “That’s not our warehouse. The Kim Enterprises don’t own it.”

“Cut the shit, that’s your turf. You want to tell me that someone was murdered on your turf, and you don’t have even the slightest idea? Not even if Mins were involved?” Sunmi snapped back immediately and even I was surprised for a split second before I schooled my expression and watched the two of them attentively.

Miss Kim seemed hardly surprised, she didn’t even blink at Sunmi’s approach, just sat there and stared at her blankly with not even a single hair out of place. Then she smirked lightly, fingers drumming a quick rhythm into the desk.

“I have no idea what Mr. Min is doing, but I can assure you he’s doing it far away from me,” she said diplomatically, “We’re not exactly the bestest of friends.” There was a tense venomous smile on her face and I fought back the scoff. That was some understatement. But she was really good at acting as if her whole clan didn’t almost lose their lives to Yoongi’s six after actively trying to sabotage him several times.

But guess they must have gotten a little mercy from him since most of the conflicts happened while the old Kim, her father, was still in power. Since he has died and his son took over, the relationship between the two powerhouses was still considerably strained, but also much calmer.

There was a moment of silence, Minjoon quietly looing to Sunmi whether she wanted to keep going and when she didn’t stop him, he cleared his throat and turned his full attention to the woman behind the desk.

“It might not be your warehouse, but we know the area is pretty much under your rule,” he said seemingly amicably, a stark difference to Sunmi’s irate approach, “We don’t care about any other stuff that’s happening there. We don’t care about drugs or smuggling right now, this is a murder case.”

To that the woman smirked and rolled her eyes. “So what? If I give you information, you’ll overlook anything else that might be going on? You want me to be a snitch?” she drawled out, clearly mocking us all, then threw her hands out into the air, “Not my warehouse, not my problem. Why would I know what’s going on in a house that doesn’t belong to me?” The answer was pretty clear, to be honest. Even as someone from a rival gang, if she knew something she wouldn’t cooperate with the police. The retaliation would be merciless if Yoongi found out. And he always did.

“Anything you say will be recorded as an anonymous tip, it will only push us in the right direction,” Minjoon told her, in what was supposed to be a comforting manner, but his voice was too hard and matter-of-fact to be friendly. The elegantly dressed woman’s eyes jumped from the two with a slyness that left a bad feeling in the pit of my stomach. In that moment she looked more like a viper about to strike than an heiress to a huge successful family. An ugly smirk curled around her lips and her face took on a certain savageness, suddenly she looked nothing like the graceful lady that greeted us in the foyer.

“Well, detective,” she started in another drawl, now her voice pitching more towards an almost playful hostility, like she was trying to make herself seem less lethal than she truly was, “all I can say is that they were drug dealers. Which is something you already know. So you probably have to ask… why did they lose their lives because of it? Hmmmm, I wonder… wonder who and where does drug deals that has the reputation of killing anyone that just looks at him bad…” She ended that whole spiel with a sharp grin, and promptly stood up and in a grand gesture flicked her wrist towards the door.

“I didn’t really expect that I would have to do the police’s job for them, should have fucking gone to the academy,” she hissed out in a snarl, “Now get the fuck out of my house and don’t bother me again about bullshit that doesn’t concern me.”

The two detectives didn’t seem to be bothered by her words or sudden turn in mood at all, instead they both stood up almost coordinated and without a single word or a glance back turned to leave the room. I scrambled to follow them, the whole thing replaying in my mind as I absent mindedly smacked about the door to catch the handle. The split second I turned to see where it was, I caught Miss Kim’s eye for the first time that evening. Hers were sharp, face a hard grimace of uncaringness and cruelty. She smirked at me in a mocking way, like she would at an insect right before she crushed in under her heel, her pride and ego clearly displayed like trophies in her arrogant stance and upturned head. I shuddered lightly and decided to leave the door be, breaking into a light jog to catch up to my colleagues much to judging looks of the servants. I didn’t care much, I just wanted to be out of there.

Once back on the street, a weighted silence stretched between us as we marinated on what we were told. Really, these interviews always felt so short and so little information would come from them, and then you’d look at the clock and find out it’s been thirty or forty minutes spend just turning in circles. This was one of them.

“Of course we know the drug deal is an important aspect of the case,” Minjoon suddenly bit out, peeved as the last comment clearly got him, “A group of drug dealers doesn’t just get murdered by accident. But Yoongi is self-sufficient, he has ties across the sea to Japan, he doesn’t do deals with small in-Seoul gangs.” We both looked at him, trying to ignore his petulant outburst, trying to be empathising because all of our emotions ran a little wild at the moment. I looked to Sunmi, studying her calm face that was in contrast to her hand tapping her thigh in a quick rhythm, her mind working fast to slot everything together and re-evaluate what we found out till now.

“Well, then the reason must be there,” I voiced out unsurely, getting nervous when their gazes turned to me, “If what she’s insinuating is that they were doing a deal with Yoongi and got killed, then we gotta find out why. If he normally doesn’t do that, then why now?” Sunmi nodded at my words, eyes squinted both against the sun and in thought, mulling over it.

“Yeah, that’s really the only way I see here too,” she stated finally, voice carrying strong, “We were working with theories that they maybe provoked him or split from him and stole some of his cargo, maybe tried to push his turf somewhere, the usual reasons for this brutal of a punishment, but maybe we should explore the option that they were actually partners. Maybe they scammed him with goods, that could get you murdered in this business.”

I pursed my lips tightly, keeping a neutral face to reign in my surprise, as most of those things she said were total news to me. I had known they were looking into their past and that they were drug dealers, that they missed one guy and maybe he got away. Nothing of what she said actually made it to me, and I had to stand there and pretend like I knew what she was talking about. I mean, I wasn’t dumb, these were the usual reasons for murder between gangs, but it would have been nice if someone actually told me we were looking into these options.

I swallowed my bitterness down and kept my eyes trained on Sunmi, nodding along. I didn’t want my negative experience with my team and unit to tamper down the respect that was quickly growing in me towards her, the detective has in the short period of time I’ve known her become something of a model for me, and I knew that it wasn’t her responsibility to keep me updated since she was from a different unit. No, this transgression was on the side of my own colleagues, so I stubbornly kept my eyes from straying towards the officer in question, who was nervously shuffling next to her.

I let out a tired sigh, the disappointment was so constant with them that I barely even found it in me to be properly annoyed, just felt resignation bleed into me slowly. I knew that I would most likely just keep getting fucked over like this, but still, I stubbornly and selfishly wasn’t prepared to give up just yet, and it hurt. But really, what other option did I have.

“We should get back to the station,” I piped in, cutting short the conversation that started up between them while I was spacing out, and I felt Minjoon’s guilty gaze on me, “Get the info to the others and re-evaluate.” Sunmi once again nodded, patting my shoulder and giving me a friendly smile.

“You’re here by car, right? We could definitely squeeze you in if you need a ride,” she offered easily, and I found myself genuinely smiling back. I thanked her and pointed towards my own vehicle, and she patted my shoulder some more, a little more awkwardly, and made her way to her own. Minjoon lingered behind a little, but whatever he wanted to tell me, we didn’t have time for it anyway, so I shot him a polite smile and went my way too.

The day went by surprisingly fast, considering I didn’t speak much for the rest of it, the earlier realisation weighing heavy on me. The briefing was pretty short, with mostly Sunmi making sure the other two detectives were caught up. They split their duties quickly too. Minjoon and Seungcheol were supposed to keep looking into the mysterious third accomplice while Sunmi and Hwang would start looking more sharply into their mob ties, hoping to somehow trace them to Yoongi if they scrutinised them hard enough. I sat there and watched them awkwardly, until Minjoon turned to me and somewhat sheepishly asked whether I wanted to share my findings. So I did.

I recapped to them everything I said to Minjoon a few days earlier before he stepped in and informed the others I agreed to go through the older cases as well and would try to build a new bigger case. I gulped down my own simmering anger, that was admittedly dwindling down with every hit I took from them, and smiled, nodded, agreed. Minjoon kept glancing towards me as if he wanted to say something more, but I ignored it for the moment. Now was not the time. He asked the other team if they would volunteer to have someone tag along with me. Seungcheol agreed. I shook his hand and thanked him. In my head I clung to the promise Minjoon made me, that this would be my own big case, and kept myself in check.

By the evening, I was finally wrapping up with the original task, a huge boulder falling off of my shoulders and then promptly building back up when I curiously checked how many files I would have to pull up come Monday. It was a lot. I did catch myself just sitting at my tiny desk kneading my face in my hands, smushing my features all together and then pulling them again, as my eyes focused and unfocused on the computer screen.

And that’s how Minjoon found me too. He walked up to me quietly, and at first I didn’t even notice him through the existential crisis I was going through, but soon his hip moved into my field of vision and I jerked back, embarrassed at my antics. Minjoon still looked just as apologetic as that morning, and I couldn’t even be annoyed with him after the day I had.

“Dinner?” he asked quietly, unsure of whether I would want to go with him or not. Maybe I shouldn’t have, but instead I just nodded tiredly, pushing the files under the desk and turning off the computer. I was done, done for the day and done with working on this, so I just wordlessly stood up and glanced around. Just like last week we were the last ones around, even Park already long gone from his office where he basically camped out.

Minjoon waited for me patiently, as I gathered my belongings and then just walked out without looking back. We ended up at the same restaurant, ordering the same thing, the lady behind the counter giving us winks and mischievous smiles while I tried my hardest to push the flustered part of myself as deep as possible. That was the last thing I needed, really.

Minjoon launched into his apology as soon as we sat down, stating how tired and overworked he was and pleaded for me to forgive him just this once for forgetting to forward the information to me. How it just slipped his mind and how Hwang just plainly refused to have to keep running to me with every new little thing and always left it to him and he was just so busy. I sat there staring blankly, not even really in the mood to pretend it was fine like I usually would for the man, and he stewed under my intense gaze, stuttering to find a way to make it up to me.

I wanted to be spiteful, wanted to tell him just how tired I was as well, how if they even invited me to these meetings in the first place, we wouldn’t have this problem, but failed to find the reason why I should bother.

“Then how about this? I have an offer to make,” Minjoon said suddenly after a few minutes of awkward small talk, a mischievous smile slowly stretching on his face. I perked up at the sudden change in mood and curiously nodded at him to continue. “I always have the time to tell you everything when we eat here and I can relax at the same time, so it’s pretty obvious you should keep coming to these dinners with me. Just for the work’s sake of course,” the man suggested slyly, eyes colouring with mirth and something else, something a little darker and sweeter. That insufferable flirt.

That time I did blush full force as soon as the meaning of those words hit me, ducking my head shyly as the negative emotions dissolved confusedly into something a little more excited and jittery deep inside my chest, the anger forgotten under the sudden attention. I found myself nodding and Minjoon rewarded me with such a blinding smile it made everything worth it, all the work and the bitterness long pushed from my mind.

That evening, there was plenty more conversation, none of it about murders or crime which was a refreshing change for both of us, and we both seized the opportunity to actually mention anything that didn’t have any tie to Yoongi, who seemed to have become a constant in my life. For a first time in a really long time I laughed freely with another person, nothing holding me back from the amusement and nothing weighing heavy on my mind.

When I made my way home that evening, the hopeful joy making itself known in my heart seemingly erased all the negativity of the day, of the week, of the month. The only thought that fought its way through was the flash of Yoongi in my mind as I passed the street that would eventually lead me to Pied Piper.

I turned my head straight and drove on.

The days quickly bled into weeks, into a month, until I was sweating my ass off in the office towards the end of May, the sudden heatwave hitting right after a week of storms and rains. The heat always seemed to get even more exaggerated inside the building, something about it just had to be cursed. And with how old and rundown the station really was, hoping for a working AC soon turned into a fruitless endeavour.

I spent the month the same way I spent the month before that, buried neck deep in old cold cases that never saw enough evidence or attention, cross-referencing every little thing down to wearing the same-coloured socks. Similarities started quickly adding up, and by the time I opened the 20th case I could confidently say whether it was truly a Min murder or not. I even had bets going on which one were Jungkook’s and which ones were Hoseok’s. There were even few that I suspected belonged to the Kims, but it wasn’t a theory I felt was strong enough to actually present to others. I had become something of an expert on violence.

Truly, throughout the cases, there were few names that kept repeating – names of companies that could be traced back to Yoongi’s umbrella corporation, names of middlemen that were known to hang about him, names from other cases. They all tied together a nice picture of shady business and in the middle of it all sat Yoongi, like the devil himself.

I was able to painstakingly trace some of the new cases to the older ones, fully incorporating them into the agenda after confirming truly that they were most likely victims of bad deals and finicky power dynamics. Then came the gut punch – the man that was linked to most of those cases, Moon Jiwoo, the middleman whose sole occupation seemed to be to link up wealthy influential men with Yoongi, has gone and turned into a cold case himself. This time a missing person.

Damn you, Jung Hoseok, ruining all my fun.

But obviously this was something worth looking into, given the fact that he was “taken care of” as well. So I started rearranging the files into different groups and sub-groups once again, making a pile that was directly connected to Moon Jiwoo, then a pile of cases that was linked to the victims in the first pile and then seemingly unconnected cases that were still most probably carried out by the Min gang. Thus I ended up with thirteen cases – seven that were connected to the middleman, the middleman case itself and five that had a link to the main seven. Ten more cases sat on the side, for now looking rather random, but maybe I would come to find out that they fell into the intricate web of murders I was currently looking at.

These lucky thirteen mostly had quite peculiar history of travelling between units until they ended up here. Some started off as missing persons cases until a body was found, death undetermined or suspicious enough to have the violent crimes look it over, some were first classified as an accident until someone from ours found it and pulled it over to organised crime. There were two cases that made it straight to us as soon as they were reported – the missing Moon Jiwoo, a known associate, and a dock worker that was employed by an affiliated company. Unfortunately, it was much easier to make a poor man working in the docks disappear than a filthy rich magnate, so those few cases that made it to us were mostly thin and under-investigated.

Stepping into this task, I have to admit that at first I was quite surprised that someone as infamously known for being a dangerous silent killer that almost never leaves any evidence as Hoseok had left this many cases for us to look into, but once I started properly going through them I realised that there was a stone wall at every turn and most of these cases went completely cold only a few weeks after happening. And considering it was a pure stroke of luck that even brought them to us, the chance that they would have been eventually completely forgotten was extremely high. I had to give it to him, he was extremely efficient, enough to make me progressively more annoyed every time I hit a dead end, cursing him in my mind four times a day. And I shuddered to think about the number of cases that never made it to us or that didn’t even get reported.

But now at least I had a firm idea of what would have to be investigated more thoroughly and which avenues I would look into. You bet that I was gathering those thirteen files to bring them home and put them on the map wall, silently sighing at the image of the macabre décor in my own bedroom. It was truly unfortunate it was the best room for it in my tiny tiny apartment, but sadly I was getting used to it by now. So much for calming relaxing mornings.

A cup of coffee landed on my desk and I jumped in fright, realising I had been just emptily staring at my computer screen as I went over everything I would have to do at home during the weekend and my plan starting Monday. I looked up with cheeks coloured by embarrassment, catching Cheol’s amused expression before he tipped an imaginary hat in my direction.

“Howdy, partner,” he drawled out and took a sip of his own coffee, leaning back onto a neighbouring desk and making himself as comfortable as he possibly could with the sharp edge digging into him. I chuckled at him and tipped my head in return.

“Howdy,” slipped out of my mouth easily, “thanks for the coffee.” He only smiled as a response and then nodded towards the computer and the mess of files everywhere.

“How’s it looking?” the detective asked. I sent him a faux annoyed looked, but there was a smile tugging on my lips. In the past few weeks Cheol made it his mission to check up on me regularly. He’d usually come with a cup of either coffee or tea and start asking about my progress. Since he had volunteered to be my partner in this, I understood his reasoning, but the first few times I found myself quite annoyed by his incessant questioning. Until I realised he was doing it on purpose and was just pulling my leg. After that I was able to relax and see the interaction for what it really was – an attempt to build some comradery, not an effort to press and humiliate me.

I found out he was actually pretty easy-going, he had a sense of stability and strength around him and yet still managed to be an absolute goofball, which helped me feel less nervous and I even started catching onto some of his jokes. I liked hanging out with him and I already trusted him as a teammate despite the fact that we hadn’t even gone out to the field together.

“Same as yesterday,” I told him finally, pretending to be annoyed with him, “Monday big briefing, then we can kick off.” My voice turned serious in the second half, conveying that it truly was an information he needed to keep in mind.

“Okay, I’ll be there,” he responded to just as seriously, only a small smile on his face as I nodded at him and then gestured to the mountains of files. “In the meantime I’ll have fun organising this for you, so you better not be ungrateful,” I joked right back at him, “I am not above abusing my power.” That got an amused chuckle out of him.

“Sure thing, rookie,” his voice turned slightly jokingly exaggerated, but I heard the genuineness in it, which pulled an honest grin out of me, “we’ll see about that on Monday.” With that he pushed himself off the table and started walking off somewhere, only waving around the cup in lieu of a goodbye.

On his way out, presumably back to his own unit, he passed Minjoon’s table, and I caught the man’s eye as I watched Cheol dramatically take his leave. Immediately I felt a blush spreading and I ducked my head back between the files quickly. There was a slight grin on his face witnessing my reaction, and I chastised myself to behave while at work. We weren’t highschoolers anymore and I could get in serious trouble sending puppy eyes to my colleague. If somebody caught wind of that, they’d disrespect me even more, it would become absolute hell here and I couldn’t afford to make the atmosphere even more hostile when I was barely making it now.

True to his word, Minjoon took me to the little restaurant by the office once or twice a week to eat and gave me the whole rundown of the other team’s plans and findings to keep me updated on everything going on. He would relay everything to me with care, making sure I wasn’t left out and that he wouldn’t have to awkwardly fill me in under Hwang’s hateful eyes. But we would always end up talking about everything and anything, and soon I started anticipating our dinners not because of the information, but because as soon as that was told, we would start chatting and laughing.

One moment I’d be asking about the next step against Yoongi and the next we were trading stories about the most embarrassing things we’ve done in high school or our favourite childhood spots to play in. Minjoon talked a lot about his family, about his older brothers and parents, and while I tried to avoid that topic as much as possible, I ended up also sharing some childhood stories without many details.

Honestly, those evenings became my favourite moments. The weeks and the work were both so hectic lately and I found myself swamped with cases, searching for the tiniest details, and more often than not I was going home totally exhausted with red raw eyes and a migraine that just wouldn’t leave no matter what I did. I almost perfected sleeping in a way that didn’t aggravate my headache to a point I almost threw up (I did throw up once, after I came home and almost passed out not realising I didn’t really eat anything the whole day).

The moments I spent with Minjoon were a beautiful escape, a few hours a week I forgot completely about my responsibilities and didn’t care about murders and gang activity, and only sat back and traded jokes and bashful flirts. We both have long since stopped pretending we weren’t interested in each other, and it made those encounters even more exhilarating as we danced around the attraction with careful teasing smiles and soft flirting. I was still very much nervous about the unit catching on and realising what’s going on, but Minjoon’s warm presence in my life slowly erased those fears and made me more open to the possibility. The last few meetings toed the line of propriety with more ways than one, flirtation straying further than before and Minjoon’s insistence he drives me home leaving us in a few tense charged moments by my door.

It was exciting and terrifying, but I liked the officer. He’d been the only one that went out of his way to actually accept me and treat me as a human, he helped me and pushed me through to give me opportunities to prove myself to others and he continuously cared about my well-being. I liked spending my evenings with him, he was charming and kind and we both seemed very compatible.

The only problem that stood between us and made us both hesitant to cross a line further than friendly dinners was the fact that we were not only coworkers, but team members. That left us awkwardly trying to navigate the sudden tension that arose between us without giving away how close we were getting. Honestly, every day I was nervous that Sunmi or Seungcheol would look at us and see, like it was written all over my face that I was starting to like Minjoon from a wholly unprofessional standpoint.

It was like there was a huge ticking clock hanging over my head just waiting for a disaster to happen, but it didn’t stop me from looking forward to the Friday evening every week. And Minjoon seemed to be in the same boat. But as long as we didn’t cross over to uncharted territory, we were fine.

Thus, we both just sat there in the office and exchanged timid grins, making sure no one saw us making eye contact, like we were two criminals fleeing from the law.

I tried to focus back onto my monitor, but I was absolutely fried. It was still noon, but the whole weight of the last two months just hit me and I was fighting to stay awake, knowing I was done with one of the most annoying boring tasks I’ve ever had to deal with and that from Monday I’ll be even more busy.

There was both panic and excitement coursing through me at what was waiting for me, all the possibilities from actually doing some real investigating and solving cold cases to finally having the chance to put my energy into something productive and not only sneak around Seoul at the ass crack of dawn hoping to catch a sight of a serial killer working for the most annoying man in the existence.

Finally I’d have a chance. And that was just as scary. It felt like I had twice as much to lose, given the fact I was barely tolerated now. I had everything to gain, but everything to lose. If I failed this, if I messed up or got us into trouble, it’d be the end of me on this precinct. Not successfully closing at least one of these cases wasn’t an option, I had to yield results.

For the nth time that day I tried blinking away the tiredness from my eyes and the early onset of another migraine, but as soon as it started being hard to focus through the pain, I decided it was time to give up on trying to achieve anything today.

Already having great experience with gathering my things to leave as fast as possible, I was ready to leave within five minutes of deciding to go home, the relief coursing through my veins like ice cream on a hot day. And it was a very hot today.

Still, I stopped by Minjoon’s desk, surprising him for a moment before he gave a confused smile, the question marks reflected in his eyes without him even having to ask anything. I grinned at him wildly, no doubt looking slightly insane from this angle of him looking up at me.

“You said that you haven’t questioned Yoongi yet, right?” I enquired out of nowhere, confusing him even more as he fully turned to me, and I could see him trying to figure me out. Then he slowly nodded.

“Yeah,” he drawled out, “we decided to go into offensive and start pushing him, so we’ll start questionings in the following weeks.” I nodded quickly, shooting him a rushed smile before I made my way out into the hot noon air and blasting sun, leaving supremely more confused Minjoon behind, not even giving him a chance to really say goodbye.

There’s been a thought playing around in my mind for a few days now. Was it finally time to go see Yoongi again? Now seemed to be the best time to make my grand return, remind them of my existence and cut the suspense. The team was already planning to go talk to him anyway, come June they’ll be hot on his tail, back to their strategy of annoying him. It would be kind of a sweet little treat to find out how much he knows, whether it already made it back to him and he was onto us or whether he was still blissfully unaware of what we were investigating. I was slightly embarrassed by the amount of excitement that flowed through me at the prospect of teasing the man again, of hearing his remarks, now that I fully had a leg up (though the last time I thought that it went spectacularly wrong).

I wanted to try to throw him off his high horse. To unnerve him, in the same way he always did to me. To return the favour of always finding a way to get under my skin and make me mad. I wanted that. I wanted him to know that I would be getting him behind those bars, just as I promised two months ago in The Rose.

Waiting until the evening seemed almost impossible, not even my own exhaustion that tried to lure me into hours long nap could distract me from the slowly ticking clock, and I was restless the whole day. Sitting around, staring off into space, always wanting to pick something up, some chore or an easy task, but unable to focus on anything except for whether it would be better to catch him still in the office or make a grand entrance to the Pied Piper, where he should be today.

And pulling up to said club twenty minutes after 7pm, I did pray that he was there, as I immediately recognised those same bouncers and desperately wished there wouldn’t be a repeat of that whole situation. Though, if I did manage to cockblock Yoongi twice, that would definitely put a smile on my face, that’s how petty we were getting here.

But that hardly mattered, not when I walked up to them and before I could even get a single word out of me, a mean glint present in my eyes to let them know I remembered them and I wasn’t amused by whatever bullshit they would try to pull, they were already opening the doors to me and gesturing for me to enter with smug smirks. My whole actor bit got thrown off and I stared at them shocked for a moment, before I hurried to scramble inside much to the distaste and grumbling of people waiting in the line right behind me. There was some disgruntled shouting, a warning growl and then the door fell shut and I was left in the dark hallway leading deeper into the heart of the club. That was entirely too easy.

From here, I could only sense the loud drums pulsing through the walls, their faint echo thrumming through my very bones, as I mechanically forced a foot in front of the other, pushing myself back into my carefree smug attitude. Stop being stupid, I thought to myself, something like this can’t throw you off. But it did mean that Yoongi was already no doubt alerted to my presence, sitting like a king in that red balcony waiting for me to get there.

Well, I couldn’t let him wait for long, could I? We had a game to play.

Somewhat nervously I shuffled with my clothes, choosing to show up in a little bit more club appropriate attire so I could sell my arrogance and triumph, and flaunt it properly in their face. I had to appear strong, this was a crucial moment between us and I couldn’t fumble here. Though, deep down I felt like this evening, just like all of my other encounters with the man, would inevitably end in disaster. Still, I made sure my skirt and crop top were in place, short heels properly strapped and hair and earrings where I wanted them to be, hoping my makeup still looked as okay as it did when I left my apartment.

This afternoon, as I desperately tried to come up with some sort of a plan, I had realised everyone around Yoongi always walked around in pristine high-end clothes, while I ended up running after them dressed in rags, basically. The encounter with Miss Kim only strengthened this idea within me. I had to step up my game. I had to learn how to play by their rules just enough to get away with it. So, I made sure to dress up a little. Only a tiny bit.

With a deep stabilising inhale and exhale, I set out down the hallway and down the stairs into the main room. I ignored the bar that opened up to my right and went straight for the VIP section entrance. I was anticipating to run into a little more trouble here, as I made my way towards the two unsmiling bouncers all jittery and trying to look more confident than I’ve ever been in my entire life; but upon seeing me, they just stepped to the side, unhooked the red rope and waited for me to walk through.

I did, though my nerves grew with every step I took up those stairs, knees and hands slightly shaking, and I clutched my little handbag until I risked damaging it. The upper floor, the VIP section, was just as intimate and infinitely more pleasant than the downstairs as the last time I was here, and my eyes quickly scanned through the seated guests, trying to make out whether there was someone I recognised, but it was too dark. I caught the barman’s eye and he winked at me cheekily, gesturing at an alcohol bottle he was just fiddling with, attempting to lure me in to buy a drink. My returning smile was apologetic, but it did stop me, and I found myself just awkwardly standing there looking towards the wall where I knew the balcony entrance was.

Trying out the same strategy as before, I loudly inhaled and exhaled, forced my body back into working order, and started moving slowly towards them. With every step I shoved a little more false confidence and condescending attitude to prepare myself, steadily growing surer in those heels and schooling my expression.

Just like downstairs, the bouncer moved out of my way and allowed me to enter the private zone, but as I caught a glimpse of his face, I did a hasty double take. A wry grin made it onto my face, watching the man up and down.

“Good evening, Mr. Choi,” I greeted the bodyguard with a sense of mocking in my tone, a sentiment he gladly returned in his patronising little bow he did towards me, eyes fighting to not roll to the back of his head. I chuckled and moved on, finally climbing those last few stairs.

Coming face to face with the men after such a long time was truly terrifying, especially as I stood there in my ditzy little outfit in front of several of the most dangerous criminals in the city and noted the shock and interest in their eyes as they fully took me in. Several different instincts warred through me – to hide away, to run, to flounder under their attention, to throw my attitude into their face, but all I could really manage was stand there in a manner I hoped that screamed carefully constructed indifference.

Yoongi was spread out on the central sofa, just like last time, comfortably seated in a way that almost made him seem half melted into the soft furnishing, but his eyes were sharp just like his smirk, thoroughly studying me. I could already see the cogs in his head turning, realising this was a beginning of a new game, even more exciting than the last one. I fought the shudder that tried to overtake me under his heavy gaze and instead turned my attention to the sofa next to him.

There was no Jungkook today, his dark sulking mass would be hard to miss, but Taehyung was here, elegantly sitting near the corner of his settee with one arm curling around the top of it and the other gently laid on his crossed legs. Everything about him screamed how comfortable and confident he felt, all the way to the playful smirk and studious eyes. I would have to be more careful around him, he was kind of a whole lot to deal with and I had no idea whether I could take that tonight.

But I couldn’t stop the surprise from displaying clearly on my face as I clocked in the last figure in the room, sitting close next to Taehyung, full body turned to me with a wide smile that had a dangerous edge to it and strangely deep dark eyes that had my fingers trembling in a tinge of fear. It was Hoseok, dressed in a nice suit and comfortably sitting there with a glass of alcohol loosely held in his hand, swirling over his expensive shoes. He was grinning at me like we were old friends, but somehow that made me even more wary of him, an unease setting into my insides that had me reconsidering whether tonight was a good idea.

But I was already here, so. No way but forward.

Gathering my wits back I plastered a smile on my face and regarded the three men with a cheery “Gentlemen” while I made my way towards the little chair sitting straight across from Yoongi. It was my place anyway, we all knew it, he clearly had all the unwelcome guests sitting on it to make them uncomfortable and unsure of themselves, so I had to own it as effortlessly as possible.

“Well, what a pleasant surprise, officer,” Yoongi started with his smooth voice that he only used when he was being intentionally an ass, “Come here to club and destress on a tough Friday night?” His eyes flicked down to my attire and then back to me, the amusement shining through alongside another strange glint to his eyes. He was interested in what my strategy was here, inviting me to set my starting pieces.

I ignored him and turned straight to Hoseok, finding his dark unsettling eyes already on me, but I forced myself to smirk lightly. “Shocked to see you here,” I said with my full voice, a cheeky undertone to my words, “Aren’t there enemies to be murdered? Bones to be buried?” His eyes narrowed slightly, smile turning a bit sharper. I’d never really spoken to him before, and our first exchanged words were a taunt from me? It was as brilliant as it was stupid, but it did throw the man off for a few seconds, his face immediately becoming a little more closed off, the happy smile still dutifully in place.

“Everybody deserves a day off here or there,” he retorted back, drawing an amused smirk to Taehyung’s face. Yoongi was watching us closely, studying the interaction before taking the control back.

“Could I interest you in a drink?” he asked, testing the waters, sharp eyes observing me. I nodded. He smirked. “Perfect,” he hummed, “Finally truly came here on a day off?” I only chuckled in response, watching him wave to someone behind me, presumably to Soobin. I squirmed a little on the tiny seat that simply must have been designed to torture the people sitting on it, always playing a balancing game on the little square with nothing to really lean on. The dark-haired man’s eyes still followed my every movement and he suddenly gestured to the space next to him.

“Of course, if it would be more comfortable for you, you’re welcome to join us on the settee,” Yoongi drawled out with a smirk, Taehyung hungrily watching our interaction with some sort of dark amusement glinting in his eyes. It made me shudder, nerves threatening to swallow me whole under their intense scrutiny, especially since Hoseok was also present. I would have never guessed I’d meet him here, casually drinking with Yoongi. Somehow I gained the idea that he just always crawled around in the dark like some kind of a mythical creature.

I pushed all of the uncomfortableness to the edges of my consciousness and quickly straightened, moving to the sofa in a few confident strides. This suddenly put me much closer to the man than I’ve ever been before, my stomach revolting and filling with lead. I quickly clasped my hands together nonchalantly to hide the slight tremor that started up again in them.

If Yoongi was surprised by my decision, he didn’t let it show and only continued to regard me with rampant curiousness and interest. I felt like a puzzle game that he desperately tried to solve just for fun, and it was increasingly more difficult to not start tensely shifting around; my eyes flitting around the room and lungs seizing until it was hard to consistently breathe.

I figured since I sat like this with Jimin in The Rose when I went there I’d be fine now, but I should have known that Yoongi himself was a completely different ballpark. He shifted around in his seated until he was half turned to me, leisurely lounging on the red velvet with one arm rested on the top and the other playing with a glass of what I assumed was whiskey. He was a picture of aloofness and power, all painted in black and red, and his aura was slowly crushing me like I had found myself at the bottom of the ocean. All I could do was try not to flounder too much and stand firmly.

I had come here to play their little game, to shock them and throw them off, to show them that I can keep up, that I’m not just a stupid little girl that’s in over her head. I needed to be bold, to play with them the same way they play with me. So, I took a few steadying breaths and ignored the way my whole body was screaming at me to leave, instead grinning self-assuredly at the man.

The silence stretched on, the other two men present sat back and watched Yoongi with amusement and something akin to respect in their eyes as he stared me down. For few long moments no one said anything, and Yoongi’s eyes just bored straight deep into my soul, picking me apart and making me squirm uncomfortably in my seat. Unlike the first time he did this to me, I fought to keep myself defiantly staring back but I couldn’t hold the eye contact, every few seconds flitting to something else before I looked at him again, shame creeping into my features. His smile grew larger and more entertained until I couldn’t take it anymore.

Just as I started considering just turning away from him in humiliation the moment was broken by a waiter coming in to serve me a cocktail and I exhaled deeply in relief just as Yoongi chuckled and nodded at the boy. I took the drink eagerly, absolutely ecstatic that I had something to put my attention to instead of those fuckers smiling smugly right next to me. The drink was something very fruity and it tasted sweet, my features immediately perking up in delight as the taste hit my tongue.

Next to me Yoongi chuckled again, and I pointedly ignored him until he spoke. “Your eyes are so genuine,” he muttered, something warmer than just plain amusement creeping into his voice, “Everything’s so clearly written all over your face.” I froze at the tone, my mind transported back into The Rose to the respect he so clearly showed towards me, and I almost fled the club in absolute panic at the reminder of why I distanced myself in the first place.

I wasn’t the only one thrown off though, Hoseok sitting right at the corner of my vision visibly tensed at Yoongi’s words and looked at him in a way that could only be described as a warning glare. Not that the man himself paid him any mind, though I was sure he certainly knew of what Hoseok was doing right to his side.

But even when all of my alarms were going off in my mind and I was so undeniably shown just how much I was losing control of the whole situation (if I even had any from the beginning) and how I got myself into real trouble fraternising with Yoongi and going along with his stupid little whims, trying to outwit him and always managing to play right into his hands, I still stubbornly refused to stop. I still stubbornly refused to back down and admit to myself this was slowly crossing lines I couldn’t afford to cross, I still tried to force myself to believe that it would mean my defeat, my surrender. And I couldn’t surrender, that’s what he wanted. It was pedal to the metal all the way, baby.

I pulled myself back together and shot him a carefully crafted smirk in return. “Don’t try to butter me up with your words, you’re not taking me home tonight,” it took everything in me not to flush at the insinuation, and I cocked my head to the side with a cheekiness I’ve seen from him many times before to sell it properly, giving him back what he always gave me (especially in The Rose with Jimin, those bastards). But the answering grin that immediately spread over Yoongi’s face had me nervous again. He looked like he won the lottery, like I just perfectly played into his cards. The man just leisurely brought his drink to his lips, before a look crossed his eyes.

“Of course I’m not, that police officer is,” he retorted nonchalantly, one eye cheekily looking to me to gauge my reaction over the rim of his whiskey glass. I froze, some spectacular mix of emotions passing through my face, and I had no idea what kind of expression was set there, but it greatly entertained my whole audience, all three of them grinning like wolfs that just stumbled upon a little girl in the middle of the woods. My heart gave a few painful jerks, and I buried my face in the glass again, hoping to regain some composure.

“Been following me too, huh?” I shot back weakly, head still spinning from this particular information coming out his lips. God damn him, god damn them all. The man laughed at that like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Of course, my favourite police officer just suddenly disappeared,” he said in a mock worried voice, “I had to make sure that you were alright. What if you needed help, officer?” Now my whole body trembled as I went over my whereabouts in the past two months. How much did he know? What did he see me do? Does he know what we’re investigating? Is he aware of what we’re trying to spin him into? Did I doom this operation right from the start without even realising it?

Yoongi was blissfully unaware of my inner turmoil and happily continued yapping. “Though I must say you have a rather boring life, somehow I expected a detective’s life to be more interesting,” he mocked some more, but really I didn’t care about what he thought about my life. I needed to know how much he knew about my work.

“Must have been at least a little interesting,” I tried to spin him to talk more, forcing my hands to calmly pick at my skirt to play up my aloofness, “had you interested in why the sudden absence, did I not?” He chuckled lightly, eyes dissecting me carefully with a cheeky look.

“I’m always up to indulging you and your little games, officer,” Yoongi half whispered back to me, leaning lightly forward, “Keeps my life more interesting. At least I have something to do over my lunch break.” I regarded him, spread there on the sofa leisurely like he owned the whole city, smirking himself half to death, and I decided to take a gamble.

“Oh, I have the most interesting game prepared for you,” I whispered too, subconsciously leaning in as well to make sure he heard me, “Trust me, you’re going to love it.” From this distance and under this lighting his eyes looked absolutely consumed in darkness and even as they crinkled in amusement, there was something predatory in them, especially as his lips curled up delightedly. I couldn’t help myself but think he looked almost like a tiger spirit that just managed to catch another poor soul unawares.

But when I searched the black irises for any signs of mockery or knowing, I only found pure interest and eagerness to see how this unfolds. With careful hope I allowed myself to believe that he somehow managed to miss me going to the crime scene or to Miss Kim’s house, for a short moment thanking the unit for not taking me with them as often as it clearly prevented from spoiling Yoongi his surprise.

He probably wasn’t expecting me to push an actual investigation against him at all, and probably also wasn’t warned by the Kims that we were asking around about those warehouse murders. That’s when a true smirk unfurled on my face, all the despicable joy I felt about paying him back surfacing freely onto my face.

There was a new kind of calculation reflected in his gaze, eyes never suspicious but always storing away every little detail about our interaction.

The atmosphere between us grew tense, I almost felt the air crackling, almost tasted the electricity on my tongue. I finally leaned back away from him, mirroring his relaxed posture and took a long sip of my drink.

My eyes flitted to the two other men that have just been silently sitting to the side watching the whole interaction, and suddenly I flushed realising they witnessed my shameless taunting of their boss. Hoping the light would hide any unusual colour on my face, I rather focused on deciphering their expressions.

Taehyung was watching me like a new toy that he couldn’t wait to figure out, like a game that he’s been dying to play and find out how the story ends. It made me shift uncomfortably under such raw curiosity, though I’ve been slowly getting used to the fact that he was just someone that would inevitably always throw me off. The man was basically 85 % deception and 15 % flirting, I’d rather keep myself amused by other means than striking up any kind of conversation with him.

Hoseok on the other hand had during our discussion leaned back into the sofa and he watched me with his face closed off and clean off any smile, only apprehension shining through in his gaze. He watched me with distrust and like I was a problem he wouldn’t hesitate to solve. That sent a wave of shivers and goosebumps down my back, finally giving me the opportunity to see the man behind the mask. This was the man people feared, this was the man the petty criminals respected, or they’d find themselves solved. This was the man that walked amongst the docks, and everybody listened. I fully believed that had Yoongi given the order, he’d be happy to get rid of me right here in the club.

Sitting here, drinking leisurely while these three men grinned at me like hungry wolves, I fully realised just how far deep into shit I shovelled myself with this personal justice route I had taken. Yoongi kept me around only because it amused him to watch me struggle and both Jungkook and Hoseok were firmly against indulging me.

As much as I enjoyed annoying Jungkook cause he was one of the members that always let his anger show, and that was very therapeutic for me, I was aware the reason why I was such a sore in his existence was because he hated how close Yoongi let me. Given the chance he’d prolly kill me even without Yoongi’s orders.

Other than that, Jimin and Namjoon were dangerous to be around and speak with, and Seokjin I haven’t even met, but Jimin insinuated he was also getting a little trigger happy when it came to my meddling. Now gloves were off and I was truly treading thin ice. One misstep and I would turn into a warning, just like any cop that got too close. Up until now it was all fun and games, what’s a little tailing and tracking between friends, but once I put this investigation to life, I’d truly be in danger of retribution.

I once again glanced at the satisfied grin on Yoongi’s face, at his hands gently clasped around a whiskey glass, at his relaxed shoulders and designer suit and shoes, pretty hair curling around a pretty face, and I saw the violence hiding underneath. He was good at masking his, and that made him so dangerous. It was so easy to forget what kind of man you were talking to. And from now on I would risk standing in the direct line of Hoseok’s ire as well.

I threw back the rest of the cocktail I had in my glass, my stomach protesting as I hadn’t eaten much the whole day, and I stood up to leave. I felt their stares on me, all three of them burning through me with those fiery eyes, each of them showing a different kind of craze. The gaze of a puppeteer, the gaze of a honeytrap and the gaze of a killer.

I shuddered and moved away from them, closer to the edge overlooking the rest of the club. Everyone was enjoying just a normal Friday night, having absolutely no idea what was going on just a few metres above them. I envied them a little bit, I envied how carefree they seemed.

“Feel free to enjoy yourself tonight,” Yoongi spoke suddenly into the silent tension, “The drinks are on me.” With his arm he gestured over the railing of the balcony, down to the pit of bodies moving together to the rhythm as one. Suddenly the spell was broken and I once again started to percieve the loud club music blaring throughout the whole space as it reverberated through my bones.

Without me noticing, Yoongi had stood up as well and moved to me, his presence and the warmth radiating off of his body abruptly crowding me in against the railing. I froze in a moment, just sensing him right behind, close enough to make me feel he was there but not enough to touch, as he leaned in close to whisper in my ear.

“You do deserve to let loose and relax once in a while,” he spoke to me in a hypnotising drawl, his voice turning into almost a purr, “So don’t be shy… indulge.” A full body shiver wracked through me, making me jerk in place with the force of it, and for a brief moment I wondered whether this is what it felt like to be sung by sirens into a sure death. Yoongi chuckled again, a low rumbly sound that made me twitch, and then he stepped away from me.

The cool air rushing in broke the spell and I collected my bearings again, throwing a disgruntled stare at him over my shoulder while my knees fought to work again, hands clenching the railing like it was the only thing currently keeping me alive. I just managed to catch a glimpse of the man’s sardonic grin before he turned completely and left.

The two other men stood up as well, both of their faces once again amused by my plight as I was very obviously flustered by Yoongi’s behaviour, before they stepped out right after their boss, leaving me completely alone in the luxurious balcony bathed in red velvet and sin.

Defeatedly I sat down onto the nearest sofa with an ‘oompf’, all bones turned into soup as I decompressed now that the oppressive atmosphere left with them, and blankly stared at a wall for a moment before I was able to process things normally again. My phone started wildly buzzing in my little handbag and I decided that ignoring whatever just happened and taking the distraction it offered me was a better choice than to dwell on it.

Fishing the phone out, I checked the neglected notifications, not much really coming in except for a text from Cheol confirming he read my email about the files and that he’d be ready Monday to go over it once more and some social media pings. And then, a very noticeable slew of messages from Minjoon. The first one was from 19:22, which was around the time I arrived here, asking whether I’d still be up for a dinner. It was currently over 8pm, but there was a few more asking minor questions with the newest one only from a few minutes ago.

I quickly opened the chat and answered an affirmative, my brain just begging for me to distract myself from tonight’s happenings. Minjoon was happy to hear from me and I finally took him up on the offer to drive me, as I couldn’t exactly sit behind a wheel right now.

On my way out I pointedly ignored the bartender’s small smirk, or the bouncer’s curiously raised eyebrows, I ignored Yoongi sitting at the downstairs bar chatting amicably with the guy manning it and sending me very unsubtle mirthful glances, I ignored Taehyung’s flirty wave as I passed him in the hall and most of all I ignored Hoseok leaning against a sleek black car outside of the club with a cigarette between his fingers, icy eyes following my figure for as long as he could.

The second I disappeared behind a corner I half expected him to run after me and grab me, the feeling of being watched slithering along my back in a way that made me shudder in disgust and fear. I hurried towards a bigger road, the Friday evening rush swallowing me and hiding me amidst drunken college kids, foreigners and working folk trying to forget their responsibilities for at least one night. I could relate to that, but no matter how much these meetings took away from me, they always gave me some sick satisfaction in return. And I couldn’t wait for the day I truly bested him.

I waited around for a few minutes, just enough to have the evening chill start setting into me, before a familiar car came into view, slowing down until I could hop in quickly. Minjoon smiled at me warmly, his eyes getting caught on my outfit and he fought for a few moments to keep his eyes on the road. I blushed deeply under his gaze and felt the relief of not having to police my reactions like I did with Yoongi, finally getting the chance to freely feel without fearing his mocking eyes.

“Where were you?” he asked incredulously, voice a little shaky as his glances kept getting caught on my short skirt and exposed legs. There was an electric current going through me at his obvious interest, a fire slowly waking to life right under my skin, and I found myself subconsciously trying to fold my legs in a way that make them look even prettier.

“Just out with some friends,” the lie slipped out of my lips so easily I didn’t even stop to think about feeling guilty about it, too preoccupied with feeling the tension between us slowly cracking, clutching the handbag like a lifeline and revelling in my rising heartbeat. I felt so free, so opposite of how nervous and jittery Yoongi made me. And I wanted.

“I see, I thought you were going home to rest, so I didn’t want to bother you at first,” Minjoon said, lips turning into another warm smile, which I returned tenfold, my whole face lighting up.

“I’m glad you did, I was getting hungry,” I told him teasingly, “It’s always nice with a personal chauffeur, you know?” He went along with my teasing happily, hands attractively flexing on the steering wheel as he shot me a look with one eyebrow raised, lips playing with as subtle smirk. The whole atmosphere shifted; the tension close to overflowing. Suddenly it became very clear to us that we’ve been dancing around the line for too long.

“So where to, your highness?” Minjoon asked, even though he was obviously already driving with some goal in his mind. I only grinned at him and responded: “Wherever you want, sir.”

The place turned out to be a cute little restaurant, the kind that is open at all times of the day and a girl in full club attire in the evening wasn’t a strange sight there. I had to laugh at Minjoon’s choice, as he clearly improvised upon seeing how I was dressed. But the man was watching me with something I could call fondness in eyes and that was all that mattered to me as he placed his hand on the small of my back and led me inside.

Once seated, I found that there wasn’t really even a need for talking about the team, and frankly I wasn’t even in the mood to be discussing Yoongi when I had just met with him and was doing my best to distract myself from that. Minjoon was still watching me with some sort of fascination, his gaze flickering between intrigued and sensual, and I was sure he also wasn’t particularly interested in work related topics.

We exchanged some more flirty grins while we ordered, but politely waited to be alone before starting up any kind of conversation.

“So… outing with friends?” Minjoon started, gaze once again slipping to my attire before jumping back to my face slightly flushed. I only nodded, too spent to come up with something and spend my evening lying. “I wasn’t really feeling it,” I added after slight deliberation. Minjoon grinned.

“Was feeling up to meeting me though,” the man retorted, flirty expression taking over his face, “Gonna make me feel special. Be careful or it might go to my head.” I chuckled at him, leaning over the table to graze our fingers lightly together. Minjoon’s eyes immediately jumped down and zeroed in on the place of contact before he looked back to me, eyes hooded.

Suddenly feeling parched, I licked my lips, rolling my tongue along them slowly and curled them into a sly smirk. “Everybody deserves to feel a little special,” it came out almost on a whisper, the tense atmosphere setting between us and freezing us into our spots with dark eyes and hungry stares.

I still felt jittery from my encounter earlier in the night and it mixed together with the anticipation of what was to come from this, throwing me into a whirlwind of emotions that made my body tremble slightly. My stomach was all knotted up, but it didn’t feel unpleasant, instead there was excitement brewing and slowly spreading through my bloodstream.

Even after the food arrived, the air kept getting tenser, even as we attempted to have regular conversation, it crackled between us like an onsetting storm. Every word, every sentence inlaid with telling mischievous smiles and expressive eyes. Sometimes during the dinner it started dawning on me that this was inevitable, we both were already too far. With all the flirting we’ve been doing this was really only a matter of time, and it just so happened that tonight the tension was going to explode into something that we probably shouldn’t be doing.

I looked over at Minjoon again, properly eyeing him and his expression, and when his gaze met mine and darkened as he sat there with his cheeks dusted with pink, hunched over like he was ready to launch himself over the table, sitting there like he would rather be anywhere else and preferably somewhere where there were no barriers between us, that’s when I realised he also wasn’t as opposed to this as he should have been.

The small talk flew all stilted between us and we mostly just stewed in our own cocktails of emotions and sensations, trying to chew through our food as fast as possible so we could leave; and even though it was already a little chilly outside, there was a heat coming from within that was enough for a thin line of sweat to bead along my hairline. I couldn’t imagine what picture I painted at that moment, if with one look it was obvious how the arousal was steadily rising in my veins with every another second spent just shyly exchanging heated stares.

Every so often my eyes slipped a little lower, eyeing the young man’s collarbones just peeking out from his dark green tee, sliding up and down his arms as he leaned on the table and ate, and I could see from the delighted sparkles glinting in Minjoon’s eyes that he was aware, and very much returned the favour.

God, this was definitely going to end in disaster. There was no way we could avoid this any longer.

And I was right.

Once done with the food, we sat around for a moment just looking at each other silently, before Minjoon finally gestured towards the door. “You wanna go? I’ll drive you home,” he offered immediately, the kind words that I was already used to by now tinged by something a little more tonight. I nodded and after some flirty arguing over who’s going to pay, I finally surrendered and went outside to wait for Minjoon to settle the bill.

The cold air rushed over me and cooled my burning skin a little and I took a few big breaths to ground myself. The night Seoul was loud and lively, I found myself surrounded by joyful groups and couples dressed in their best sitting in restaurants and eating or walking around the sidewalk laughing, clearly aiming for one of the establishments in the area. It was quite refreshing to see, and I lost myself in the rush and buzz, watching others enjoy themselves.

And that’s how Minjoon found me when he came out, sitting on a little wall by the sidewalk dreamily staring off into the distance. He came over, hand going straight to my face, gently catching a strand of my hair and slowly pushing it behind my ear. He lingered there for a moment, fingertips brushing the reddening tip as all the blood rushed to my face in a mighty blush. On instinct I ducked my head being too flustered and broke the contact, but the man just smoothly moved to my shoulder, pushing me up to stand.

He was very natural in his movements, pulling me to his side and wrapping his arm around my shoulders very lightly, and I just went with it, too shy to express it but too happy to go against it. I fought against the instinct to giggle like a schoolgirl and set out to his car, which was quite a short walk, and unfortunately to my apartment it was a quite short drive as well, even in the restless silence that stretched between us.

Our arrival at my doorstep seemed to have come sooner than I was anticipating, sooner than I was ready to end this little outing. I turned to the brown-haired man and studied his face for a moment. We steadily exchanged eye contact, the tension between us back with vengeance, my throat drying up under his dark gaze. I was fluttering on the edge of propriety, in my head still repeating all the reasons why this was such a bad idea, but it didn’t seem to matter when Minjoon watched me with the same longing and desperation. I felt my skin heating up, my insides stirring with something I haven’t properly felt in such a long time it hit me with a ferocity I wasn’t prepared for.

“Aren’t you going to go home?” he whispered so lightly I almost didn’t hear him. He sounded slightly breathless, tone curious and probing.

“Can you walk me to the door?” I shot back immediately, almost unthinking. He licked his lips, his kind face getting twisted with something akin to intense desire before he quickly nodded, and we both scrambled to get out of his car.

The walk was brief, of course it was. I lived on a second floor and my door was accessible from an outside walkway, so all we had to do was clear two stories of stairs and we suddenly found ourselves by my tiny apartment.

I turned to Minjoon, something expectant in the air between us, and each second ticking by felt like a countdown to the inevitable. I wasn’t ready to end this night here. I knew I wasn’t. And judging by Minjoon’s bottomless eyes, I could confidently gamble on his interest and hit jackpot every time.

As the tense silence stretched out a little, neither of really sure how to tackle this situation as we were caught in the ‘will we won’t we’ and ‘should we shouldn’t we’, until I decided to break the curse. Stepping a little closer and looking up at him through my lashes, my hand latching onto the sleeve of his jean jacket that he put on in the car and tugging lightly, I steeled myself and jumped over the line head first.

“Do you want a cup of coffee before you go?” the whispered question escaped my lips and hung for a few moments between us. I watched as if in slow motion as Minjoon took it in and nodded once, then twice, and then his hand caught mine.

I turned hastily towards the door, jabbing the key in and pushing inside without a single thought in my mind. It turned out, there wasn’t even a need for an awkward pretending of drinking anything, because the second the door closed behind us, we were on each other.

It was like dam broke between us and we suddenly couldn’t stop, couldn’t keep our hands off each other. Minjoon kissed me quickly and desperately and I fought to keep up, hands going around his neck immediately while his snaked around my waist. Taking off shoes long forgotten, we stumbled inside and towards the sofa.

In that moment, I didn’t have the mental capacity to think about the huge maps in my bedroom. I didn’t realise how lucky I was we didn’t make it any further, too lost in the way Minjoon’s tongue was finally sliding against mine and how his calloused hands caressing my sides felt a lot like heaven.

And when he inevitably got his hands on my skirt and I inevitably thought of Yoongi’s eyes taking me in when I arrived at the balcony, and when Minjoon pulled me closer and I thought of Yoongi’s presence caging me in with his warmth against the railing, of his lips turning into a smug smirk as Minjoon kissed me, then I just pressed my eyes closed harder and tangled my hands into his short brown hair, banishing all thoughts of curly black locks far away into the deepest corner of my mind.

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[theidiotwhowritesthings]

The Art of Failing [1]

Werewolf!Joel Miller x F!Reader, Vampire!Din Djarin x F!Reader

Series Warnings: violence and mild gore, mentions of blood and injures, reader is described as active and able to fight, eventual smut, loss of a child, angst to fluff, more warnings to come based on individual chapters

Chapter Warnings: anxiety, self doubt, mentions of blood

Word Count: 10,360

Summary: The Division of Mythological Affairs was created to protect and serve the supernatural community while keeping the knowledge of their existence a secret. You hoped to become an Agent of the DMA like your mother before you. Just as your dream begins to fall apart at the seams, you stumble across a missing persons report that could change everything. You are desperate to solve the case, to prove your ability, and you find yourself with unlikely allies⏤ a werewolf running from his pack and a vampire shunned from his coven. The stakes are high, lives are at risk, and success hinges on the three of you learning to work together.

[a/n: it's here!! i'm so excited to officially share this because it was so much fun to write and i'm even more excited to show y'all the rest]

MIDDAY MADNESS

"failure does not mean your life is over."

Every workplace had that one employee who was deemed irreplaceable. 

The employee who showed up early, went the extra mile, and made the lives of those around them easier. The one who had a passion for their work⏤ who was born to do what they do with a smile on their face. You were that employee. Without you, everything would collapse into chaos and madness. Mayhem would fill your 8-storied workplace to the brim until it was spilling out into the unsuspecting streets of Austin, Texas. Riots would break out. Fire would engulf the city. The world would never know peace. Without you⏤

“Hey, coffee girl!” The sharp, angry voice startled you and the precariously stacked drinks in your hands nearly toppled over. You readjusted your hold on the carriers with a breathy sigh. “Where the hell is my cappuccino?” 

Perhaps calling yourself the most irreplaceable employee here was a bit of a stretch. You were important though. Your job was vital. If it weren’t for you then your co-workers would be caffeine deprived which would lead to headaches which would then lead to mistakes and errors in paperwork which would, eventually and inevitably, lead to worldwide destruction somewhere down the line. You were needed here. You were vital and a necessity. At least, that’s what you told yourself over and over in the form of a mental mantra. It was either that or get caught in the abysmal, black hole your life seemed to be right now.

“Here you go, sir.” You angled the carrier so he could scoop up the cup on the far left. The man yanked his cup away hastily, nearly knocking over the other drinks again, and rushed away without even so much as a ‘thank you’. You pressed your lips together in annoyance.

You were vital. You were vital. You were vital.

With a brief pause to piece your patience back together, you pasted on a broad smile and began to continue your morning deliveries. For two years, you had been taking coffee and lunch orders, scheduling meetings, running errands, and doing basically every other busy work task put on your plate. It was exhausting, both mentally and emotionally, but it was the price to pay. You wouldn't take this kind of treatment anywhere else and the only reason you still put up with it was because it was just a stepping stone.

Today you were a glorified assistant.

Tomorrow you would be an Agent.

An Agent of the Division of Mythological Affairs.

It was a title not many held and was exclusive for a number of reasons. The DMA was established decades ago to police and protect the supernatural community. It was the responsibility and duty of the DMA to keep the peace amongst the community while also keeping said community secret from the rest of humanity. Knowing that the monsters of myth and legend were real was privileged information. The only reason you were clued in was because of your mother. She had been an Agent herself years ago and you grew up surrounded by supernatural forces. Hell, your childhood best friend was a forest nymph. 

As you grew older, you grew more passionate about the world you were blessed to know and the dream to walk in your mother’s footsteps took root. You trained and you studied, desperate to make the world a better place, and thus far all you had succeeded in was mastering the skill of carrying four drink carriers without dropping them.

After delivering the final cup of coffee, you made your way up to the eighth floor. There was about fifteen minutes before you had to get down to the lobby for your next task of the day, and you planned to spend it begging. You greeted familiar faces as you passed them. The separation of labor could be seen in the change of clothes as you got to the higher floors. Everyone you passed now were dressed in nice and expensive suits. It was the upper levels that housed the policy makers⏤ more politician than soldier. 

The eighth floor was the nicest of them all with open windows that let in natural light. There were no ugly cubicles littering the bulk of it. Instead, modern and sleek furniture sat around the space and private offices were housed here. 

“Hey, have you seen Captain Roberts?” You asked Stacey, one of the secretaries you saw in meetings every once in a while, and she didn’t even lift her eyes up from the magazine she was flipping through. She just pointed to the right towards a hall of offices. You mumbled a thanks and continued on. There were a few different Captains who worked in this sector of the DMA, but Captain Roberts was in charge of the Agents and Analysts you worked with most often.

You were halfway down the hall when an unfamiliar, armored figure stepped out of the conference room to leave. Mandalorian. Your pace stuttered in shock as you stared wide eyed at the intimidating man stalking toward you. There were too many vampire covens to count, but a few were infamous enough to merit memorizing.

The Mandalorians were one of them.

Their signature being the impenetrable armor they wore at all times⏤ faces they never revealed to anyone. It wasn’t unusual to see a Mandalorian or two wandering around the building. They occasionally worked contracts with the DMA picking up on bounties. Not all DMA sanctioned bounty hunters were Mandalorian, but the best undoubtedly were. You didn’t recognize this one though.

His all silver armor was haunting and his gait spoke to strength and skill. He was close enough now that you could see your wide, staring eyes in the reflection of his visor, and you forced yourself to snap your gaze to the floor as you passed. The air was tense around him, it followed him like a dark cloud, and his heavy boots stormed past you without pause. You couldn’t help but glance over your shoulder to watch him a second more. His worn out cloak whipped around him at the pace he marched out with and a few suited men practically leapt out of his way to avoid being in his path. 

You let out a low whistle and turned back towards the conference room he had just left. Being on the radar of a Mandalorian had to be a fate worse than death, and you pitied whoever had pissed off that one. Outside the conference room door, you adjusted your work blazer and took a steadying breath. You were vital, this organization was lucky to have you, and you would be an Agent if it were the last thing you did. You rapped your knuckles against the door and waited until a deep voice called out for you to enter. 

Inside the room were three others. They sat at an elongated conference table centered in the room with their backs to Austin street views out the floor to ceiling windows. On the wall across from the windows were large screens designed for calls and it looked like one had just ended. Of the three people in the room, you only recognized one. Captain Roberts, a gruff man in his late sixties, stood at the head of the table with a few folders and papers spread out in front of him. He was built like a grizzly bear and had the temperament of one as well. The red of his beard was graying and you still hadn’t gotten used to his bald head quite yet.  He used to have hair thick and long enough to braid, but when his hair started to recede he chose instead to just lose it all.

“If that’s all, I have other matters to attend to.” Captain Roberts cleared his throat and motioned toward you. It was a dismissal on his part, and you stepped closer while the two other suited individuals packed up their belongings to leave. The second they were out of sight, Roberts groaned. “Perfect timing, kid. I hate dealing with Olympus representatives.”

Your jaw fell open and you pointed to the door, “Those were…” You had never met the souls responsible for carrying the messages and words of the gods and goddesses back down to Earth. “Really?”

“Try not to look so excited. The gods are dicks and they live to make my job more difficult.”

“You say that about everybody.” You replied and wandered over to stand by him. Your eyes darted down to the papers scattered on the table. It looked like a missing person report. “I saw a Mandalorian in here earlier.” The report looked like it was talking about a child. You narrowed your eyes and pulled it closer. The Mandalorian was reporting his own missing child. A young boy who had disappeared overnight. “Why were you meeting with a Mandalorian and Olympus representatives over a missing kid?”

Roberts snatched away the reports to tuck them into a folder with a chastising glare. “I didn’t. I was meeting with the representatives when the Mandalorian burst in. Kind of like you did.”

“You were happy with my interruption a few seconds ago.” You argued. Roberts gave you a tired glare, and you nodded toward the folders in his hands. “You know I was talking to Hannah downstairs a few days ago and she was telling me that the number of missing kids has skyrocketed this last month in comparison to previous months.”

Roberts grunted, “What have I told you about being nosy?”

“Maybe I could help.” You offered. “I could⏤” Roberts scoffed out your name with a shake of his head and made a beeline for the door. You scrambled after him. “Roberts, come on. Please.” 

“You came all this way up to beg me about a missing persons case?”

“Well, I actually came to beg you about applying for the Agent qualifications exam, but I’m not picky about what I beg for. I’ll take what I can get.”

“No.”

“Roberts⏤”

“I said, no.”

You locked your jaw in annoyance as you both climbed into the elevator. In order to sign up for the qualifications exam you needed the approval of a Captain. It seemed no matter how many times you begged Roberts to write you the letter of recommendation allowing you to sit for the test, he always had some excuse to say no. Any Captain’s letter would do the job and you could technically find another to badger about this, but you were the stubborn kind. Captain Roberts had been the one to qualify your mother, and you wanted him to be the one to qualify you too. 

“If you just gave me a chance,” You snapped, “I could do it.”

“We’re not getting into this again.”

“Give me a real reason then!”

Roberts glared at you with a look that would have anyone else cowering or running for the hills. You could see beyond the anger and frustration. Beyond the huff and glowering. Underneath all the rough Captain bravado was someone who cared, but right now it was infuriating. Roberts rubbed his bald head and shook it with disdain, “Your mother wouldn’t want you risking your life like she did.” It felt like your heart had stopped in your chest. Of all the excuses he had plied you with in the past this was the first time he used your mother as one. “She would want better for you.”

“Don’t.” You whispered.

“You’re a bright girl. You say the word and I can get you a job in research. You would be a hell of an Analyst⏤”

“I don’t want to be an Analyst! I want to be⏤” 

The elevator doors dinged open and you both grew silent. A small group shuffled onto the elevator making small talk. You stood stiff and straight, arms crossed over your chest, while Roberts pouted on his side of the elevator as well. Three floors down and the group dispersed leaving you alone with the Captain once more.

“You can do better than this, kid.” Roberts said firmly. “You have your whole life ahead of you.”

“This. This is what I want for my life.” You couldn’t bring yourself to meet his gaze again. You just stared at the numbers at the top of the elevator door, each lighting up as you got closer and closer to the ground floor. “I just wanna help people like mom did.”

“There are other ways to do that.”

The elevator reached the bottom floor and you finally turned to Roberts, “Are you going to approve me for the exam or not?”

Roberts held your gaze for a moment, sadness seeping into his blue eyes, and he sighed, “No. No, I’m not.”

You bobbed your head once, biting back the burning threat of tears prickling at your eyes, and you hurried out of the elevator. Roberts called out after you, making others near the elevator doors glance in your direction, but you didn’t pause in your stride. 

There was a small cubicle, amongst a sea of others, down a hall connected from the lobby that you called your own. It was tiny, just big enough to house a computer and a bit of desk space for you to stack busy work all over, but it was yours. The cubicle wall was decorated with pictures of friends, family, and a spattering of Halloween decorations you had put up for the upcoming holiday.

You dropped into the seat, Roberts’ denial ringing in your ears, and your eyes landed on one photo in particular. It was your high school graduation and your mother had her arms wrapped around you proudly as you both beamed at the camera. The sight of it made your stomach turn and without thought you tugged it off the wall where it hung to stick in a drawer. Your mother was a hero who changed so many lives, and you could only wonder what she would think if you now⏤ sitting at a cubicle buried in busy work and covered in coffee stains.

You had buried yourself in errands and paperwork to distract from the bitter rejection of Captain Roberts. The small voice at the back of your mind whispered that all you had to do was seek out a separate Captain for your letter of recommendation. You knew for a fact that the Captain who worked the neighboring district handed out letters like candy. They had the mindset that the test would weed out the ones who didn’t deserve to be there, and you were confident you could pass. It was a quick and easy solution, but it felt too much like cheating in your eyes. 

A part of you wished you could kick your pride to the curb. A dream was a dream, right? It didn’t matter how you got there as long as you got there. You blew out an irritated breath of air and leaned back in your seat to stretch your spine. No matter how many times you repeated those words in your head they didn’t seem to stick. 

“Hey, pumpkin.” A voice drawled from behind you, and the condescending tone of it immediately made your blood pressure rise. Slowly, you turned in your seat to face the bane of your existence. Agent Miles Jackson was average in height but constantly acted as if he were compensating for something or another. You assumed it was his lack of a bearable personality. The weight of his stare gave his brown eyes a beady quality and his thin lipped smile could only be described as smarmy. He winked at you and the urge to gouge his eyes out washed over you. “What’re you doing here?”

You furrowed your brow, “Working. I know that’s an unfamiliar concept to you.”

“Ha ha. Funny.” Miles snorted. “I meant, why the hell are you still here and not picking up my lunch?” You opened your mouth to complain, but he cut in. “I want my usual from that sandwich place right down the road. The faster the better.”

“Miles⏤”

The man turned on his heel and began to march away before letting you say another word. You glared at his back where his light blue, wrinkled button up shirt was untucked from his one size too small dress pants. You just wanted to throw something at the back of his head. With a huff, you pushed to stand and grabbed your purse from the drawer under your desk. Between the morning you had and dealing with Miles, you were seriously going to need a drink tonight.

It took no time at all to pick up the food. You called ahead on your walk, and the workers there knew you fairly well as a regular. When you got back to the building there was a commotion in the lobby. More people than normal were milling about and a steady flow of people were streaming out of the first floor bullpen⏤ the exact place you were heading. You slipped through the crowd and as you got closer and closer to where Miles’ desk was the noise began to increase.

“⏤'nd you’re not fuckin’ listenin’ to me!” 

The words reverberated into the hall stopping you dead in your tracks. Calling it a yell would be underselling the wall of sound that slammed into you. It was a roar⏤ earth shattering, enraged, and excruciating. You rushed into the bullpen, hand clutched tight to the to-go bag of food, and gazed over a sea of desks. The bullpen was where most Agents worked day to day. Usually, the routine tasks involved speaking to concerned citizens or interviewing suspects. A good bulk of the work involved filing reports when not out on the streets working on a case. However, the room was nearly empty and continued to get even emptier as people rushed past you. At the center, with the agent you were looking for, was a man you didn’t recognize. 

He was gruff with broad shoulders covered in a worn out flannel. A peppering of gray littered the thick, dark hair atop his head and even spilled into the scruff on his face. The clear details that could be seen from a mile away was the redness in his face, the vein protruding along his neck as he yelled, and the rage simmering in his dark eyes. His anger was volatile and palpable. Your focus seemed to zoom in on the flash of pain, and once you saw it… it was all you could see. This was a man suffering. Amongst all that rage was heart wrenching fear and agony.

“Sir⏤”

“Don’ you fuckin’ ‘sir’ me.” The man snapped and shoved at Agent Jackson. “You son of a bitch, listen⏤”

Miles pointed in his face and the man snarled in response. “Don’t you take a tone with me. Do you know who I am?!” You got closer and you could see the man’s canines lengthen and his brown eyes flickered in shades of a burning gold. Wolf. He was a werewolf. Genetically speaking, there were hundreds of lineages from the initial werewolf. Unlike vampires, who were similar regardless of the coven, wolves differed. Based on what you could see here, this guy was probably from a local pack. The ones around here didn’t necessarily need the full moon and their emotions controlled a lot of their abilities. Miles ran a hand through his hair with a huff, “Now, Mr. Miller, we have your statement. If you’ll be patient with us⏤”

“Are you fuckin' kiddin' me right now with this bullshit!?”

You weren’t sure how this guy got stuck talking to the least empathetic and least helpful Agent in the entire building, but your heart went out to him. While Miles rattled off a long winded excuse, you crept forward to set the food on his desk and your eyes landed on an open report. The wolf’s name was Joel Miller, and as your eyes scanned the page you understood his rage.

“Your daughter is missing?” You gasped. Both men snapped their gazes at you. Miles glared at your intrusion, but Joel’s narrowed eyes held more questioning than rage toward you. You picked up the report to read the details, but all you could think of were the other missing children cases⏤ the Mandalorian this morning and his missing child. The report in your hand was poorly written which you expected of Miles. “When did you last see⏤”

“I already took his statement.” Miles snapped at you.

Joel, on the other hand, pointed his finger at the file with a glare, “Does it not say it in there??” Sensing the tension, you were hesitant to nod your head. Joel filled in the blanks though and snarled at Miles. “You fuckin' bastard. Are you not takin' this seriously!? She's a kid! She's only fourteen! I swear to the Gods, I’ll⏤”

“I assure you that we have what we need.” Miles snatched the report from your hands. “You’ll have to excuse my assistant. She isn’t trained." You sucked in a sharp breath, your own rage beginning to bubble up, at his words. As if you needed extensive training to read a piece of paper. “Pumpkin, you’re excused.”

“I’m not your assistant.” You spat at him. “Have you considered the other missing kids?”

Joel’s eyes widened, “'Scuse me?”

Miles scoffed and shook his head to glare at you, “That has nothing to do with⏤”

“And there was a Mandalorian here this morning whose kid disappeared overnight.”

Miles chuckled and the sound pissed you off further. It had the same effect on Joel Miller who looked close to shifting into his wolf form to leap across the desk and maul the man. Miles motioned toward you, “Well, that’s it then. Mandalorian.” You furrowed your brow. “I would bet my money on this being a blood feud. Wolves vs fangs.”

You shook your head, “That doesn’t make any sense.”

“The wolves took the vampire kid, and in retaliation the vampires took the wolf’s kid.” Miles argued confidently. He turned to Joel and gave a slight shrug while scooping up the bag of food you had brought for him. “We will look into the matters, and we will call you with further information.”

“That’s it? You’ll call me?” Joel yelled. The wolf slapped the bag of food out of Miles’ hand and to the ground. “My daughter is fuckin' missin' 'nd that’s all you’re gonna give me right now!?”

Miles slammed his hand against his desk while staring at his lost meal. His glare toward the wolf deepened, a move you found to be hilarious considering Miles was far from intimidating, but you watched as his hand went to his hip where his service weapon rested. Your eyes widened and you set a hand on Miles’ chest to draw his attention to you.

“Stop.” You warned. “That’s a bad idea.” Miles locked his jaw and you tried to defuse the situation. “This isn’t right. Your theory is wrong. A wolf pack would never use a kid as a bargaining token in some rivalry.” You scoffed. “And the Mandalorians are the only vampire coven to allow children in their ranks. They literally adopt kids off the street to raise and care for. But you think they kidnapped a wolf’s child?”

Miles suddenly grabbed you by the arm roughly and squeezed hard enough to make you wince. The sound of a low warning growl filled the air, but all your attention was focused on the loathing rage in Miles’ eyes. He seemed… unhinged, somehow. With his other hand, Miles pointed a finger in your face. “Listen to me, pumpkin.” He snapped. “You need to stop playing ‘Agent’. You’re a bookish errand girl who has no idea what she’s talking about or trying to get involved in.” His words stung even more with Captain’s Roberts’ rejection still ringing fresh in your mind. “It’s pathetic how desperate you are to be an agent like your mommy. Especially considering, you’ll never be what she was. You’ll never be more than the useless, desperate⏤” 

Your hand curled into a fist and lashed out before you had even a second to think. Miles’ nose crunched under your now throbbing knuckles and blood splattered down his blue shirt. He cried out in pain and you stiffened in realization at what you had done. “You bitch! I’ll get you fired for this!”

Angry, embarrassed, and frustrated, you spun on your heel to rush away. Miles was still hollering behind you in a rage and before leaving the room you gave one last glance over your shoulder. The goal was to glare at Miles or admire the new shape of his nose, but as if pulled by an unseen force your gaze landed directly on Joel. Once you made eye contact with the wolf, there was no looking away. There was a haunting power in the way he stared back and it seemed to singe a hole through your very being, and you could feel his agony⏤ his devastation and desperation. The embarrassment you felt grew as you realized you were useless to him. Just like Miles said. You mouthed a quick apology and left in a hurry.

Downtown Austin had a district for the supernatural. Not that any human knew that it was for the supernatural specifically. With the right words, a person could find themselves in underground Austin where a market and community lay hidden. As you saw no reason to sit around and wait for the consequences of your actions to find you, you climbed into your car to drive across the city to see a friend. Once parked, it took no time at all to find your favorite bar. It was one owned by a witch and open to any and all who were interested.

Despite being underground, ‘Lucille's’ did not feel closed off or stuffy. The ceiling was high, a spell cast to mimic the natural lighting for the time of day, and the walls and furniture were decorated in greenery making the room feel like a clearing in a forest. Usually when you were here it was late evening or night time so the bar would be lit accordingly, but as it was literally 2 in the afternoon it was pure midday sunlight that shone down on you.

The bar wasn’t empty. A number of patrons sat around enjoying a casual lunch or drink, but you weaved through the tables to make your way to the actual bar. It was made of thick mahogany wood and glass. Behind the bar, the shelf was lined with liquors and raw materials. Jars filled with dragon scales, phoenix feathers, wormwood, and any other ingredient that could be used for spells or drinks. There was a glow from behind the shelf itself that shifted in a swirling of soft colors. 

As you sat down on a cushioned bar stool, you saw a familiar forest nymph walking out of the back carrying a box. Her pale green skin was accented by a darker, vine like pattern that encircled her limbs and torso⏤ made even more clear to see due to the loose, white tank top she wore. Her vibrant pink hair was pulled back into two buns atop her head and littered with yellow and blue flowers. She dropped the box with a grunt and her brown eyes landed on you in shock.

“Whoa! What’re you doing here??” 

“Hey, Nima.” 

“You here for lunch?”

“Not exactly.” You gave her a tight lipped smile as she bounced over with a bright grin. She stood close enough that you could see the slight movements of the vine-like pattern on her skin and it must have been close enough for her to see the misery in your features. Before she could begin her interrogation, you lifted your dominant hand to nod toward your bruised knuckles. “Can I have an ice pack?”

Nima wrapped a handful of ice in a rag for you to set on your hand and listened quietly as you told her about your day from start to finish.

“First off, I’m making you a stiff drink.” Nima grabbed a glass and she knew your preferences enough that you didn’t need to say a word. “Secondly, after you down this we’re getting in my car and we’re gonna go kill Agent ‘Shit for Brains’.” Your lips twitched up in amusement. “Thirdly⏤”

“How many bullet points are in this pep talk?” You asked. “Just so I can keep track.”

“You would make a gods damn brilliant Agent.” Nima paused in drink making to point at you. “I don’t care what anyone else says.” She shook the metal tumbler three times before pouring the drink in the martini glass. The light pink liquid bubbled and fizzed. She set it in front of you and you raised an eyebrow at the glittering light that shimmered from the bubbles that popped in it. Nima shrugged, “So, I added a joy charm to your drink. Sue me.”

The corner of your lip twitched up and you didn’t hesitate to bring the drink to your lips. The fizzing bubbles of the joy charm tickled your mouth and it reminded you of eating pop rocks as a kid. Unlike the pop rocks, it left an immediate light hearted buzz in your brain that made the glow of the lights around you seem a little bit brighter. Coming here had been the right decision. Between the drinks and Nima’s threats against Miles’ life you were feeling a bit better.

Nima stayed with you chatting for a while longer, but when a group of elves noisily wandered in she had to veer away to serve them. You finished the last of your drink, pushed the glass aside, and then folded your arms to lean on the bar with a hum. The joy charm left your brain with the happy buzz, but your heart still felt heavy. All you wanted to do in life was help others, like your mom had, and now you were going to get fired. You couldn’t even provide support for the people who were helping others.

So much for being vital.

You absentmindedly began to count the bottles on the expansive shelf in hopes to keep your mind occupied until Nima could come back and distract you. It was around 116 that you felt somebody sit on the stool right beside you. Any annoyance you felt at a stranger picking a seat so close to you when there were so many other open stools was muted by the effects of the joy charm. You continued to count and at 200 the stranger said your name.

Eyes wide, you turn your head and the sight of Joel Miller’s glare you jumped in surprise, “Gods!” You were sitting up now, half hanging off your stool, while gripping the edge of the bartop. “What are you… How do you know my name??”

“I asked 'round.” Joel replied gruffly. Unsure of what to say, you bobbed your head awkwardly. He had his arm resting on the bar as he faced you, and his hand was balled up in a tight fist. The wolf was wound up tight⏤ ready to snap at the slightest provocation. “Now tell me more 'bout the Mandalorian.”

You scrunched your nose, still in disbelief that this wolf followed you in the first place, “Um, DMA restricts me from giving out the information of someone else. I’m not really supposed to do it without going through the proper channels.”

“Yeah, well, you don’ really got a job anymore, far as I can tell.”

“I still have a job. I haven’t been fired.” You countered with a nod then mumbled. “Yet.”

Joel leaned in closer and you stiffened at his growl, “You think my Ellie missin' has somethin' to do with the Mandalorian?”

You assumed that was the name of his daughter. “I can’t say anything for certain. I mean, I don’t know anything⏤”

“You knew more than that bonehead Agent.”

“That’s not hard.” You mumbled with a quiet snort. Joel did not seem amused and continued to burn through you with his gaze. You cleared your throat and nodded. “All I know is the number of missing persons cases involving children has been higher this last month than usual, and some Mandalorian is missing his own kid.” Joel gave a slight nod and you could see the wheels turning in his head. You shrugged, “But I don’t think it’s the feud between wolves and vampires doing this. I know that’s what Miles assumed but… I just have this weird feeling that⏤ that something else is going on.”

Joel clenched his jaw before speaking, “Why?”

“I don’t know.” You sighed, defeated. “I don’t have evidence or a good reason. It’s just a... gut instinct.”

You squirmed under Joel’s continued gaze until he finally looked away. He turned in his seat to face forward and now you were the one staring. With how tense the wolf was, he looked to be made of stone. A handsome statue wearing a scowl that could fill even the gods with a chill. 

Nima bounced back over and gave Joel a skeptical glance. She raised an eyebrow at you in question and you waved your hand in front of your neck to signal her to leave him alone. Nima scooped up your empty glass and carried it away. 

“Where is he?”

Your head snapped back to Joel, eyes wide, “Sorry?”

“Where is the Mandalorian?” Joel demanded slowly. “I wanna talk to 'im.”

“I⏤I have no idea, man.” A laugh of disbelief left your lips. “The local Mandalorian coven is a mystery. They’re more tight lipped than any other coven I’ve heard about. Only a few people even know where they hide.”

Joel narrowed his eyes at you. “That’s all you got for me?”

You scoffed, “I’m sorry. If I had known you were going to stalk me out of the building⏤” Joel rolled his eyes with a huff. “⏤then I would’ve prepared accordingly. My bad.” 

Joel hissed a curse under his breath. His eyes closed and a hand rubbed his jawline before resting over his mouth⏤ attempting to settle himself, you assumed. You glanced over at Nima who was staring at you in concern and you gave her a quick nod and pointed to the wolf beside you. A few moments later, Nima came over and placed a glass of dark liquor in front of you. She mouthed the words, ‘You good?’, and you gave her a tight lipped smile. She shot Joel another wary glance before moving over to her other customers. 

You cleared your throat and pushed the drink in Joel’s direction. He opened his eyes and stared down at the drink. Joel sniffed the air then furrowed his brow, “That’s Lavagulin.” You shrugged. That sounded right, but you didn’t know the dark liquor types well enough to confirm it. His gaze turned skeptical and paranoid, “How do you know my drink of choice?”

“Oh, I don’t.” You held your hands in surrender. “Nima does.” You pointed to the forest nymph who was flipped a tumbler with a broad grin. “I don’t know how she does it, but she can guess anybody’s drink of choice. I’ve never seen her fail.” Joel stared for a second more before picking up the drink and taking a long sip of it. You rubbed the back of your neck nervously. “Listen, I’m sorry. I can’t even begin to imagine what you’re going through. I wish I could help.”

Joel didn’t respond to your comfort and just continued to drink. You briefly considered calling Captain Roberts. Miles had probably already gone to the man to snitch on you for breaking his nose. There was no way you wouldn’t get canned for the attack, even the Captain couldn’t protect you from that, but somebody should know that Miles was out of line with a citizen. Joel Miller needed real help to find his daughter, and gods knew that Agent Miles Jackson wasn’t going to be of any use. As the thought crossed your mind, you tilted your head. Help. Joel needed help.

“I could help.” You blurted out loud.

“What?” Joel was nearly finished with his drink.

“I could help!” You repeated. Why hadn’t you thought about this before? Joel needed help, and you needed to prove that this was a job you were more than capable of. “My mom was an Agent⏤ one of the best. She had all these connections and…” Joel was now facing you entirely as he had turned in his seat. For the first time since you met him, you saw more than just anger, panic, and pain in his eyes. There was a flicker of hope. You shot him a smile. “I think I can find out where the Mandalorian coven is.”

Joel leaned forward on his seat, “Where?”

“We need to go to my apartment. There’s a journal with a map.” You jumped up and began to root through your bag for your wallet. 

“What’s going on?” Nima came back over. “You leaving?”

“Yeah, it’s a⏤ it’s a long story.” 

“Everything alright though?”

You huffed when you couldn’t find your wallet, “What? Yeah, no. It’s fine. Just give me a second. I think my wallet is buried under here somewhere.”

Nima shook her head with a frown, “I’m not taking your money.”

“What’re you talking about?” You demanded.

“You don’t have a job. I’m not taking your money, babe.” You winced at her half true comment. The DMA didn’t pay you all that great anyways considering your position wasn’t super high on the career ladder. But then again, if you solved this case and proved your worth then you could be the Agent you knew you were capable of being. Suddenly, Joel held out a few folded bills. Your eyes widened, but Nima snatched the money from his hands with a smirk. “You on the other hand, I can very much take money from.”

Joel ushered you out of the bar as Nima waved after you and demanded you call her later. The wolf said he’d follow behind you in his own truck which you figured he wouldn’t have a problem with considering he had done it once before. You just prayed the plan you had in mind was actually going to pan out.

If you had known you’d have a near feral werewolf sitting in your living room this afternoon, you would’ve cleaned up a little better before leaving in the morning. You scrambled through your room searching for the journal that you knew was somewhere around here.

“You got it, yet?” Joel barked from the other room.

“Almost! Just⏤ Just hang on!”

Finally, you found the journal buried under a stack of papers on your desk. You mumbled your relief and immediately began to flip through the journal pages searching for something that could point you in the direction of the Mandalorians. You knew for a fact that your mother had a connection⏤ either directly or indirectly. You managed to find the vague map scribbled out midway through the journal. It wasn’t much, but it was more than you had ten minutes ago. You took a quick picture of it with your phone and began to leave your room only to pause. Frozen in place, your eyes darted over to your bedside drawer. After a second of contemplation, you hurried over and pulled out the handgun tucked away for safekeeping. The only ammunition you had was regular bullets and silver ones. Neither would help against a vampire, especially a Mandalorian vampire decked out in ceremonial armor, but the idea of having it on you brought some semblance of comfort. You tugged on your shoulder holster and triple checked the weapon before safely tucking it in place. The last two things you grabbed before leaving your room was a jacket to wear over the holster, keeping it mostly hidden, and your mother’s old badge.

When you stepped out into the living room, Joel was standing and staring at a few pictures on your wall. His eyebrows were drawn together, deep in thought, as his attention was focused in on a picture of you and your mother from when you were a child.

You cleared your throat and his eyes snapped back to you. You opened your mouth to explain the picture, but Joel closed the space between the two of you back on target, “Where is it? The coven?”

“Here.” You opened your phone to point to the picture you had taken.

Joel narrowed his eyes, “That’s all you got? You don’ got an address or somethin'?”

“An address?” You scoffed. “They live underground in the middle of nowhere. Sorry I don’t have a PO box to type into google for you. We can find it with this. Let’s go⏤”

“We??”

You set your hands on your hips with narrowed eyes, “Yeah, we.”

“You’re not goin'.”

“I’m not letting you and your pack stampede into a vampire coven!”

“I don’ have a pack.” Joel shook his head, and you tried to hide your surprise. “I work better alone. Now give me the map.”

“Fine,” You corrected, “I’m not letting a lone werewolf storm a vampire coven.”

“And how is addin' a human to the mix gonna tip the odds in my favor, sweetheart?” Joel scoffed and motioned to you.

“For one, they won’t kill me on sight for being a werewolf.” You argued. “And two,” You pulled the badge out of your pocket and flashed it to him, “I’m an impartial party. A peacekeeper.”

Joel snarled, “If they do have my kid for some reason, I don’ plan on keepin' the peace.”

“Yeah, see, that sentence proved my point. You need me.”

Joel opened his mouth to argue more, and you were fully prepared to counter anything he threw your way, but then he surprised you by locking his jaw and giving you a stiff nod. You hadn’t actually expected that to work. Joel turned to leave your apartment with a grunt and you hurried after him.

“Also, we’re taking my car.”

After another short lived argument, you managed to wrestle Joel into your vehicle. According to the map, the coven was just outside Austin city limits, truly in the middle of nowhere, and it would take at least an hour to get in the vicinity. Then you’d have to search for it further. The drive was just as awkward as you would’ve guessed it to be. Joel didn't seem like the type of man who enjoyed small talk even on a good day let alone right now. Unfortunately, the more nervous you got the more you seemed to want to talk.

“So, can I ask you something?” You blurted.

“No.”

“Oh.”

An even more tense silence filled the air between the two of you as you focused on the road ahead. Joel sighed and shook his head, “What?”

“You said you don’t have a pack.” You continued on with your line of questioning despite the lackluster permission he gave.

“Is there a question somewhere in there?”

“Is it true?” You asked. “I don’t think I’ve ever met a werewolf without a pack.”

“Well, now you have. Congrats.” Joel replied dryly. 

Your cellphone began to vibrate and the name ‘Captain Roberts’ flashed on the screen. You ignored the call, “So, it’s just you and your family then?”

“It’s me 'nd Ellie. That’s it.” Joel grunted. He shrugged after a beat, “Got a brother too but he’s still in the pack. Tried to leave when I did, but I convinced him not to.”

“Oh, so you left on your own.” You voiced the thought aloud. Your phone began to vibrate again. ‘Captain Roberts’. Ignore. “Why…” You were very, very curious as to why a werewolf would willingly leave his pack to be on his own⏤ or on his own with his daughter, you should say. But, it seemed too personal for you to pry into. “What’s Ellie like?”

Joel paused in thought. “She’s smart, but she’s also trouble. Bit of a little shit.” There was a small smile on his face as he said the words. “Obsessed with these stupid jokes 'nd puns.”

“She sounds fun.” You chuckled. “You said she was fourteen?” Joel nodded once. For the third time, your phone began to vibrate and you hit the ignore button with more force than needed. “What⏤”

“You ain't gonna answer that?” Joel questioned.

“No.” You shook your head. “It’s just gonna be a long conversation about disappointment and it’ll probably end in my termination. Roberts, the Captain, likes me, but Miles⏤ the Agent whose nose I broke⏤ he’s kind of a big deal.”

Joel scoffed, “He’s a big deal?”

“Not in a ‘good at his job’ way. More in a ‘my daddy owns you’ kind of way.”

“Got it.”

“Yeah, when he said he was gonna get me fired he meant it.” You sighed. “It’s all about knowing the right people, and he’s related to the right people so it’s even worse.”

��That’s fucked up.”

“You’re telling me.” You mumbled with a sigh. This time there was a notification about a voicemail being left along with the missed calls. That was not a message you were eager to listen to. The rest of the drive passed in silence, but it wasn’t as tense as the start of the trip. You drove your car off road where the map suggested. The map had a shaded portion where the coven supposedly was, and you prayed they hadn’t recently moved. You drove, scanning for some kind of the symbol drawn on the map, and when Joel spotted it carved into a tree you parked the car. “So, you’re not going to like what I’m going to say…”

“Then don’ say it.”

“I think you should stay with the car.” You said it anyways.

Joel stared at you as if you had grown a second head, “Are you outta your gods damned mind? I’m not sittin' here 'nd waitin'⏤”

“If it’s me alone I can talk to them as an Agent of the DMA and question⏤”

“You’re not an Agent.”

“I’m also not a werewolf.” You snapped. Joel had his jaw locked so tight that you could hear him grinding his teeth against one another. You held a hand out towards him to plead your case. “I’m not gonna say that I get it because I don’t have a kid. I could never fully understand how you feel right now, but… Joel, I’m going to do everything in my power to help you find Ellie. If we go in together it’ll stir them up, but maybe if I’m alone they’ll stay calm enough to answer some questions. I’m not a threat to them. I’m just a dumb human, after all.”

Joel turned away and rubbed his face. The exhaustion and frustration were clear to see. He sighed, “Fine. You have twenty minutes. Twenty minutes 'nd then I’m goin' after you whether you like it or not.”

“Deal.” You agreed.

You reached over him, he stiffened at the closeness, but you mumbled an apology and rooted through your glove compartment. There was a small, travel bottle of perfume that Nima had tucked away for you. It was one you never used, a bit too strong for your liking, but she was adamant about keeping it around in case of emergent night outs when you needed to get ready on the go. There was a collection of hair products and makeup tucked somewhere in your back seat too.

After finding it, you opened the car door and began to spray it all over yourself. It took only two squirts of the bottle when Joel began to cough. He rubbed his nose with a deep frown, “What the fuck are you doin'?”

“I’m trying to get the smell of wolf off of me.”

“You’re ruinin' your scent.” Joel grumbled with no further elaboration. You sprayed yourself three more times just to be sure, and ended up hacking up a long yourself as the strong floral scent hit you like a truck. Joel chuckled, “See?”

“Here’s to hoping the Mandalorians hate how I smell too. I’ll be right back.”

You closed the driver’s side door and marched out to walk past the tree with the carving. Joel called out after you, and when you glanced over your shoulder you saw he had rolled the window down. Joel nodded once, “Careful, sweetheart.”

With a reassuring smile, you gave him a thumbs up that he shook his head at before rolling the window back up. Your reassuring smile falter once you faced away from him and you steeled your nerves as you pressed into the thick of the trees. You could do this. You could handle this. You were vital.

The goal was to follow the trail of carved symbols in the trees. It drove you deeper into the forest and after finding four more you noticed that the path had looped you into a circle so you were back in front of symbol three. Worry briefly flooded your senses as you thought you may have taken a wrong turn and time was ticking down. Joel would be kicking down your car door to come find you and gods knew with the amount of perfume you wore it wouldn’t be hard. 

You blew out an annoyed breath and kept on, but you only got a few feet further when a figure suddenly loomed in front of you. 

“Gods!” You cried and scrambled back a few steps. The Mandalorian in front of you was towering in height and immensely broad. He wore navy pieces of armor, and you couldn’t fathom how someone so large and dressed in so much metal could be so loud. He stood still, like a statue, and his blank helmet stared down at you. Quickly, you readjusted your stance and cleared your throat. With as much confidence as you could muster, you pulled out the badge and flashed it at him⏤ introducing yourself as an Agent with your last name. “I’m with the DMA, and I’d like you to take me to your leader.” You winced as the words came out awkward. “I mean, I’d like to speak with someone on a missing persons case. I believe it would be in the benefit of your coven. Is there someone in charge I can speak to?”

The Mandalorian said nothing and you tucked your badge back into your pocket. You weighed the pros and cons of opening your mouth again, but before you could come to a conclusion he held his hand out toward you. Hesitantly, you reached out and the second your fingers brushed against his the Mandalorian tugged you toward himself and threw you over his shoulder. A cry of disdain left your lips but the world became a sudden blur of color and sound as wind whipped past you and with a few blinks you were no longer in the forest. He dropped you with no announcement and you grunted as you hit the cold, stone floor. 

“Thanks for the warning.” You scoffed and tried to get your bearings. Nausea rolled through you and the room felt like it was spinning. When your brain finally caught up to what had happened, you glanced around to see he had carried you into a cavern. Light spilled from overhead, like a spotlight, and with a glance up you realized he had dropped down into this cave system.

“Come.” The Mandalorian grunted and you struggled to your feet to follow him.

As he led you deeper into the cave, the walls were lit with torches. Doorways into other halls and rooms were carved into the wall, but this Mandalorian led you straight down the center. Other Mandalorians like him began to gather and peer out of the spaces to stare at you and it took all of your might to keep your shoulders straight and your chin held high.

At the end of the cavern, was a circular room that was taller than it was wide. A stone structure was built in the center of the room and the shape and fire burning at it’s center reminded you of an old timey forge where weapons used to be made. The navy Mandalorian you had been following barked out in a different language⏤ Mando’a if you remembered correctly⏤ and a different Mandalorian with a helmet of gold stepped out from a back doorway into the room. The shape of her armor seemed more feminine and around her waist hung a thick metal hammer.

“You are not the Agent described to me.” She said in a smooth and calm voice.

“Sorry?” You replied confused.

She repeated your last name. “You are not her.”

Your eyes widened, “Oh. Oh! Right, no. Um, you’re thinking of my mother. You knew her?”

“Very well.” The Mandalorian confirmed. Two other Mandalorians stepped into the circular room just to stand against the wall with the large navy one, and it made your skin crawl nervously. It seemed like overkill. Just one Mandalorian could demolish you. You didn’t understand why they needed a total of four with you. “Why are you here, young one?”

You nodded, back to business, “This morning I saw a Mandalorian at the DMA headquarters. He was filing a report on a missing child. He was⏤ His armor was all silver. Like a shiny silver, and his under suit looked brown?” You tried to recall any details you remembered of him, but it was really the bright shine to his armor that stayed in your mind. “Anyways, we’ve had a string of missing children and I wanted to speak to this Mandalorian⏤”

The three Mandalorians behind you barked out a word you didn’t recognize and you jumped in place. The leader hummed, “He is no Mandalorian.”

“Uh,” You squinted with a twist of your lips, “He looked very Mandalorian⏤”

They barked the same word again. She spoke once more, “Din Djarin.”

“What?”

“That is the man you seek.” She said. “He has broken his creed. He is Mandalorian no longer. We do not associate with him.” You scrunched your nose in disbelief. Of all the rotten luck. You manage to actually find the mysterious Mandalorian coven only to find out that the one Mandalorian you sought out was excommunicated from his coven. Great. “Is that all you have come for?”

“Technically, yes.” You replied slowly. “Unless, do you know anything about his kid? Or where I can find him?”

“No.” She answered simply and bluntly. Fantastic. Outside the room, you could hear hissed whispers and low growls. Two sounds you never considered good news. “Are you prepared to pay your price?”

You focused back on her, “The price for what?”

“For your life.”

At those three words, you felt your blood run cold. Nowhere in your mom’s journal did it mention any sort of price. The noises outside grew louder and one of the angry growls was unfortunately familiar. You cursed under your breath and turned just in time for two Mandalorians to drag in a thrashing Joel. They forced him to his knees with a hiss. One gloved hand clamped around the back of his neck and you saw Joel’s teeth lengthen as the color of his eyes began to flicker in shade.

“Joel.” You blurted and his eyes lifted to meet yours. You gave a discreet shake of your head, and the burning gold of his eyes returned to a warm brown.

“Your twenty minutes was up.” He grunted.

“Young one.” You spun in place and the leader of the Mandalorians was dangerously close. You tried to take a step back, but her hand wrapped around your throat. Joel snarled for her to let you go, and you held up a hand behind you in hopes to reassure him. Her hand wasn’t restricting your air. It just rested there. A vague threat. “Will you pay your price?”

You swallowed, unable to see a situation where denying her ended well for either of you, “Yes?”

The leader used the hand around your throat to tilt your head up and to the side, exposing your neck, and then she moved quicker than you could see. Her other arm was a blur and you felt a sting of pain against your neck. The room’s air seemed to thicken with tension as she held up a blade smeared with your blood. She released you and began to stalk toward the forge. You rubbed at your neck nervously. You weren’t bleeding out, but it shook you to your core all the same. The leader whispered in Mando’a before flicking beads of your bright red blood into the fire at the forge’s center. The blue flames flashed white before returning to their natural state.

She turned and tucked the knife away. “You have paid your price. Paz will take you above ground.” She nodded to the navy Mandalorian that had brought you in. “The wolf stays.”

“Wait, no⏤” You began.

“He will die for trespassing.”

“Hang on!” You scooted away from Paz. “Can’t he pay the price? Or can I pay for him?” Somehow, through a helmet, the leader managed to shoot you a dry look. That’s how you interpreted it, at least. Paz was stalking toward you as Joel thrashed in the arms of the Mandalorians and your mind raced for a plan. Just as he reached out to grab you, you blurted, “Riddur!”

The room froze and even Joel paused in his rage to stare at you. The leader titled her head. You pointed back to Joel, “He is my riddur.”

“You know what that word means?” She questioned.

“Yes.” You nodded. The Mandalorians were the most family oriented of the vampire covens. The bond between lovers was sacred. ‘Riddur’ was translated to spouse, but it carried a heavier weight than the english word. They may have hated wolves, but you prayed to the gods that they respected the bond enough to let it carry over outside the coven. “Please. Don’t do this.”

There was an agonizing pause where you could feel your heart trying to beat out of your chest. The leader gave a curt nod and you breathed a sigh of relief. “You may take your riddur and leave.” The Mandalorians released Joel and stepped back. You hurried over to his side to loop an arm through his. “But, young one?” You stared at the leader and the gaze she cast your way was nerve wracking. “Do not come here again. The price to pay next time will be steep.”

You nodded and mumbled a thanks before dragging Joel out the way you had come in. All the Mandalorians in the cave continued to stare. Joel kept pace with you and whispered, “Ellie? Did you find the Mandalorian we were lookin' for?”

“No. He’s not here. He was kicked out of his coven.” You replied. “We have to look elsewhere.”

Joel spat a curse out under his breath, but thankfully he continued to rush out with you rather than turn back. As you reached the spot where you entered you suddenly remembered that it hadn’t been you who came in. You stared up at the hole in the ground and sighed, “Joel⏤”

“Hold on.” Joel scooped you up and jumped. You yelped in surprise at the height he managed. It cleared the hold and he landed on the ground by the edge. At the landing, you heard his knees crack and Joel grumbled in annoyance before setting you down. “Let’s go.”

“You don’t have to tell me twice.” You replied.

The two of you sped through the forest and didn’t slow your pace until your car was in sight. Joel glanced your way, “Riddur.” He repeated the word. “What does that mean?”

“Oh, uh, it means spouse?” You offered. “In the werewolf setting I suppose the closer term would be ‘mate’? It’s a bond between lovers.” Joel raised an eyebrow and you felt your cheeks grow warm. “I just knew that Mandalorians took that kind of thing seriously. It was the only idea I had to get us out of there.”

He stared for a long moment, long enough to make you nervously rub the back of your neck, and then he nodded, “Thanks for that. I… I appreciate your help.” Joel grunted uncomfortably. Your lips twitched up into a smile. The two of you reached the car and climbed in. Before you could start it up, Joel cleared his throat. “It was 'cause of Ellie.”

“What?”

“Earlier. I know you wanted to ask why I left my pack. It was for Ellie.” Joel responded. “She… We’re not related by blood. She’s actually… Ellie is only half wolf.” Your eyes widened in surprise, but you stayed silent so he could continue. “My pack didn’ want half breeds. That’s where they drew the line.” Joel sunk in his seat and rubbed his jaw⏤ a nervous tick of his you were realizing. “But she’s my daughter. They didn’ get that so I left.”

You pressed your lips together and started to reach out to touch his shoulder, but at last minute you dropped your hand and shot him a smile. “Thank you for telling me. We are going to find her.” You shrugged. “We need some other way to find the ex-Mandalorian, but we have a name now and I… I‘ll think of something. I swear it, Joel. I’m not gonna rest until we find her, okay?”

“Yeah, alright, sweetheart.” He replied. You started the car and began to turn it around when Joel let out a cough. “You smell awful, by the way.”

“Thank you for that. Appreciate it very much.” 

Come hell or high water, you were going to find Din Djarin. As you drove, a few ideas came to mind. Terrible, terrible ideas, but beggars can’t be choosers at the end of the day. You shot Joel another glance out of the corner of your eye and your resolve steeled. This was more than just about redeeming yourself and getting your job back. You were going to find Ellie for Joel even if it killed you.

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[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

𝐍𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐌𝐢𝐧𝐞

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as gore, blood, violence, mentions of bullying, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You live a simple life with a simple job; find fresh meat. (Part of the Illuminate AU)

Characters: Steve Kemp

Note: Writing Steve was fun in this one and I like the reader. Hope you enjoy it just as much.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

The only bar in the small town is predictably busy that Friday night. The furor of the crowd tamps out the music and the warmth of bodies swathes around the tables. You sit in your usual spot. You don’t often get out during the day, maybe once a week, but you’re there almost nightly.

Watching.

You’ve always been good at blending into the wall. In your solitary corner, you’re close to invisible. It’s astounding how easy it was to fade out of this place. To evade the whispers in the grocery store aisle or the gossip of scandalised old women on the pew. You used to think your unremarkability was a curse, until you made it your talent.

Funny to think you know them all. That you have a name to every face. That your ears prick at the echoes of secrets all around, of the underhanded comments, and the jealous rumours. It makes it all the more easier. You know how to use them all. You’ve made a weapon of what was once your bane.

You sip from your glass of ginger ale and whiskey. You nurse the single drink throughout the night. The moon is waxing but not yet full. You still have time. 

You twirl the straw with your fingers and watch the table of men hollering in their jerseys. It’s amusing to see how serious they take their games. And there’s the next table, two older couples straining to hear past the jeers of their neighbours. You drag a finger through the condensation as you suspect a confrontation to boil over.

You sit back as you sense the approach of shadows, bodies weaving free of the web of bodies. You look up at the two women, one with spiraling locks of bleach blonde and the other with an ombre of browns down her strands. Your chest plucks in recognition. There are not just names to the faces, there is that twinge deep in your chest.

The blonde bumps her hip into your table, an obvious ploy. She looks over her shoulder and gives a dripping smile as she touches her cheek. Her green eyes meet yours, beautiful despite the lack of thought behind them.

“Oh, sorry, hun,” she squeals, “it’s so crowded in here. We can’t find a table,” she gives that pretty smile, the one that gets her a free coffee from the same man who expects a healthy tip from you, the one that contrasts the venom of her soul, “you waiting for friends?”

She eyes the empty seats around your table. You shrug and sit back, shaking your head. You measure your expression and keep your gaze dull.

“No, you’re free to sit if you don’t mind me,” you call above the crowd.

You don’t expect her to accept the offer, but you didn’t expect the run-in at all. You feel slightly unprepared for it. The woman sitting alone with her whiskey is not the same girl who used to cower at the sight of bleach blond hair.

“Thanks, sweetie,” she proclaims victoriously and tugs on her friend's arm; you know her too. “Here.”

The woman with the layers of caramel and coffee streaked into her hair turns and gives a similarly fawning smile. That instinctual pandering which overrides most constraints of society. That privilege that only lasts so long and leaves the vessel empty and bitter. A shallow bowl can’t sate the hungry forever.

“I’m Lexi,” the bleach blonde introduces herself as she drops onto the wooden seat. You raise your eyebrows, repressing your disappointment. She really doesn’t remember you. Usually, that wouldn’t be so bad, but how could she forget? “This is Carmen.”

You offer your name in return, thinking that might spark her memories. She doesn’t flinch. Nope, those sleepless nights were not the same for her. You were just the troll under the bridge in her high school fairy tale.

“Don’t know how we ended up here,” Carmen rolls her eyes.

“Fucking Mandy and that idiot she calls a boyfriend. Tonight was supposed to be lit,” Lexi whines.

You’re amused. A whole decade and so little change. Like the rest of the town, it all just stays the same.

“Oh, sorry, hun,” Lexi turns her jade eyes on you, the speckle of amber in them cruelly beautiful, “we don’t mean to just ignore you. We had a party but the host locked us out in the cold. This town is so boring, isn’t it?”

You nod placidly, agreeing without a word. You watch her, waiting for anything, for just a sliver of remorse. She’s too much of a coward to admit it if she does remember, but you want to see it. You want to see the epiphany in those vapid eyes.

“Are you new?” Carmen asks, “I don’t recognize you.”

You shake your head, “I work nights. Don’t get out in the day.”

“Ah,” Carmen nods, “makes sense. Honestly, we need new friends,” she points between her and Lexi, “what are you drinking?”

“Whiskey,” you answer.

“Oh, whiskey knocks me on my ass,” Lexi whines.

“Pfft, you mean it has you knocking others on their asses,” Carmen rolls her eyes, “she’s an angry drunk.”

“Hey,” Lexi elbows her companion, “shut up. At least it doesn’t have me doing splits on the nearest guy–”

Carmen laughs, unbothered by the accusation, “look at us. You must think we’re crazy.”

You tilt your head, “not really.”’

Carmen seems deflated by your non-reaction. The two of them preen with the same expectation. That they will be praised and admired, as if they are worthy of your attention.

“I like her,” Lexi slides her manicured finger along the brim of her glass, “she’s so quiet.”

You look at her half-finished cocktail, then Carmen’s. Your eyes flick back up to their faces. It can’t be their first drink of the night. One more might be enough.

“Let me get the next round,” you offer.

“Oh, and she’s nice,” Lexi squeals. “Hon, you don’t have to–”

“No problem, I know the bartender,” you stand, “what did you want?”

You wait for their orders then duck through the crowd. You smirk as you approach the bar and join the crush of people around it. You found the one and with a few nights to spare.

🌔

Two drinks. Barely worth money but you see little value in that. The girls walk on either side of you, stumbling down the pavement as their vodka-laced breath fogs in front of them. They aren’t dressed for the weather, their short skirts expose them to the nip of the creeping winter. Stupid girls.

You get to the bridge as Carmen sways and stops to lean against the edge of the rail. She grips her hip and bends at the waist slightly, spitting onto the pavement. She burps and pushes her chin up to the glare of silver moonlight.

“Fuck, I think I’m gonna hurl,” she gurgles.

“God, Carm, you’re such a loser,” Lexi babbles as her heels clack dangerously under her and she hugs herself with a shiver, “it’s not even one o’clock.”

“Whatever,” Carmen holds her stomach, “I didn’t have dinner.”

“Or lunch, you fucking toothpick,” Lexi shoots back.

“Fuck off!” Carmen stands and stumbles, “you’re always such a fucking bitch.”

You stand back, forgotten in the background of their argument. You want to laugh. So simple that they turn to animals over the smallest things.

“Why don’t you go fucking home then? I don’t want you pissing on my couch again,” Lexi snaps.

“Wha– I told you, that was Gemma.”

“Bull fucking shit,” Lexi shoves the other girl, “you owe me a new fucking couch.”

“Don’t touch me,” Carmen pushes her bag, “go fuck yourself.”

“You’re so dramatic,” Lexi pouts.

“Whatever,” Carmen spins, nearly dropping her purse as she swings her arms out to catch her balance, “have a good fucking night, you whore.”

Lexi cackles as she watches the other girl’s shadow disappear down the street with treacherous steps, heels catching in each crack, as she mutters to herself. You look at the blonde, she’s not even worried about her so-called friend. No, she’s not even clever enough to worry about herself. She’s perfect, just not in the way she thinks.

“Hey,” you say softly. Her eyes round and she bats her fake lashes at you. She’s surprised by your lingering presence but giggles away the reminder, “I know a place.”

“A place?”

“Friday night, there’s a crew down at the industrial park… I really shouldn’t tell you,” you look at your boots, the scuff on the toes, the shorter lace on the left side. “It’s not too late.”

“Oh? A party?” She asks devilishly.

You give her a look and drag your eyes away, “if I take you, you can’t tell anyone.”

“Oh my god, I knew there was something about you,” she claps her hands, “totally down. My lips are sealed.”

“I mean it,” you warn her, “not even Carmen can know.”

“Fuck that bitch,” she scoffs and grabs your hand, “show me the way, hon.”

🌔

“Are you sure this is the right way?” Lexi asks as she clings to your arm. You have to keep yourself from elbowing her away. Not that much further.

Your footsteps echo across the empty lot, the shadows of the boxy industrial buildings rising to the east and the west. Most of them are abandoned, as lifeless as the rest of this decrepit town. You lead her on, set on the dingy steel doors of the one that used to be the meat processing plant.

It’s dark but for the scant sliver of light leaking through into the night. You shrug away from Lexi as she releases a brrrr through her chattering teeth. You approach the large door and grab the metal crank handle, wrenching it back and rolling it loudly in the quiet din of late autumn.

She steps forward hesitantly. You sense her look back and you turn, knowing she’s come too far to leave now. She rubs her arms as she follows you, poking her head forward as she peaks into the dim space.

There’s a single light shining, a bulb beneath a tin shade hung from a chain. It lends a sinister tint to the pieces of mismatched furniture.

You stand by the door, your elbow against it. She looks confused and disappointed. It must’ve been the same expression you wore that made her guffaw so loudly at your expense all those years ago.

“I thought you said…”

“Yeah, looks like they wrapped up early,” you sigh, “sorry, I can see if anyone’s still around…” you watch her hover at the threshold, “might as well come in. You’re freezing cold.”

“Yeah, thanks,” she breathes as touches her raw cheek, “you’re right.”

The frigid air is starting to sober her up. That’s no good. She enters and you slide the door on the tracks, twisting the lever until it catches. Her heels click over the concrete floor to the edge of the thin carpet.

“There’s some drinks around,” you offer, “sit.”

“Um, maybe I should call the taxi,” she says nervously.

“Why? More for us,” you go to the mini fridge in the corner. The bottles inside clink as you pull open the door, “vodka… oh, you like grape soda? Maybe cream soda?”

“Er,” you hear her sit heavily on the cushion, “sure…” she chatters again, “It is fucking cold.”

You fill a glass with pink soda and vodka. A double but you doubt she’ll taste it through the sugar. You bring it around the couch and place it on the round table by the armrest. You rub your hands together and blow into them.

“I’ll get the heater going,” you say.

You go to the metal radiator near the wall and turn the dial. You hover your hand over it, pretending to gauge the heat as you consider your next steps. You almost want to draw it out and enjoy it but you can’t risk that. No, you have to stick to the plan.

You do wonder what happened to everyone else. Usually there’s at least one straggler. You were counting on the distraction. Oh well.

“I’m just going to get a drink for myself,” you near her again and pull down the fleece blanket from the back of the couch, “here.”

She accepts it gratefully, pulling it around her shoulders before reaching for her drink. You go back to the fridge and open the door. You flip open the small compartment on the door and quickly pluck out a vial.

“What do you do for work?” You ask as you open a drawer in the wooden cabinet against the wall.

“Boring shit,” she nearly chokes on her vodka, “reception at the massage therapist downtown? You know, the only one…” she never had any issue talking about herself, “I make some money on the side doing OF.”

“OF?” You repeat as you pull the plunger of the syringe, “what’s that?”

“You serious?” She slurps between words as you face her, “Only Fans.”

“Oh, of course,” you keep your soles light and flat, trying not to let her hear, “makes sense.”

“Men are stupid. You don’t even have to show ass,” she laughs and takes another gulp. 

She drinks down the vodka soda, leaning her head back as you come up right behind her. Her eyes are closed as she tilts her chin up. You easily slip your hand around to jab the syringe into her throat.

Her eyes pop open and she releases the glass. You retract your hand as she coughs and claps her palm to her neck. She sputters and chokes, spitting out a mouthful onto the blanket as she slides forward on the couch.

“What the fuck was that?” She snarls, “you fucking freak!”

“It’s what you deserve,” you toss the syringe and hear it shatter, “you bitch.”

She slumps over and falls onto the floor. She struggles to stay on her hands and knees as she shakes her head, trying to free herself of the rising haze. It’s your turn to laugh as she slaps her hands on the floor desperately.

“Why…” she gurgles.

“I remember,” you declare as you stride to the front of the couch, “I fucking remember.”

You kick her ass and send her face first to the floor. She collapses into a heap, her body going limp. You stare down at her and take a deep breath. Time to clean up this mess.

🌔

You dream of the night before. The long walk to the warehouse, the echoing steps of your guest beside yours, the road winding ahead of you as if it is endless. The building remains distant and unreachable, seeming further the closer you get.

You wake with a start, the digital numbers on the clock glaring back at you. You roll onto your back and rub your crusty eyes. Laying there in the dark, the window bellowing against the thin walls, you wonder if it was real. Not the nightmare, but what came before. It’s like a dream come true.

You hit the button on the alarm clock to disable your alarm. You sit up and push yourself to the edge of the bed. You go through your morning routine; shit, show, primp, dress. Basic. No make-up, no scents, but you're clean and presentable. Insignificant and forgettable.

You pull on your denim jacket and the fingerless gloves you wear even when inside. The place is eternally cold and you don’t have the hide meant for it. Your fingers wander to the silver crescent hanging around your neck, a protectant.

You go out into the hall, quietly shutting your door behind you. You descend the metal stairs, one at a time, the curved structure wobbling slightly.

You see Lexi first. Her blonde hair is tangled and hangs around her drooping head. She’s still out. They usually wake up by now… if they’re alive. You hear the click of the kettle and your attention is drawn to the other figure in the room.

Steve’s dark blue shirt strains across his shoulders as he lifts the stainless steel kettle and pours steaming water into a burgundy mug. You near without a word, not voicing your surprise to see him awake before you. Instead, you pull down a cup of your own from the shelves and fumble through the basket of packets, taking a French Vanilla for yourself and dumping the instant grounds into the porcelain.

“If I couldn’t hear her heartbeat, I’d think she was dead already,” he comments as he stirs with a spoon. “You know I don’t like old meat.”

You roll your eyes and he hands you the spoon to mix your own. You blend until there’s a froth over the mixture. Not milk, you like the bitterness. He turns to lean on the cabinet and considers the blond tied to the steel chair.

“I may have gotten a bit… heavy handed,” you shrug as you blow steam away from your cup, “how did you know it wasn’t my heartbeat?”

“I know yours,” he says coolly, “it skips.”

You don’t comment on his last remark. Instead, you test the temperature of the coffee, the flavour awakening your heavy mind. You stare at Lexi as she hangs forward, arms bound behind the chair. You grin as you swallow your mouthful.

“You’re in a good mood,” he says.

“Not really,” you rebuff, “where are the others?”

He scoffs and crosses one foot in front of the other, “as if I know what those assholes get up to. You know how they are.”

“I haven’t seen Kraven since the last moon.”

“Thank god,” Steve chuckles, “you gotta admit, he’s the worst of us.”

You don’t know about that. Again, you know silence is valuable. Your thoughts, more so. Besides, they don’t keep you around for your opinions. It’s a skill to be okay going unheard.

“Adam… he’s being… Adam. The others, like I said, who knows.”

You nod and take another swig of coffee. Steve stands straight and paces around the room. There is not a sickle goosebump on his skin, he doesn’t shiver, even in only the button-up and his dark slacks. Your jaw aches as it wants to chatter.

You look down at the dark brew. There you are, just the same as you’ve always been, wanting to be a part of a crowd you’ll never fit in with. So you accept the grunt work, you accept being peripheral. You would rather be tolerated than excluded.

He nears Lexi and looks her up and down. “Maybe it’s better they stay sparse, she doesn’t have much on her.”

You roll your tongue and suck your teeth. You stare at the back of her head and your lip curls without thinking. Let him feast. Your disgust turns to content and you let yourself smile.

“What is it?” He asks, the angles of his face catching the early morning light in just the right way. The sun peers in through the square pains set high into the wall. The sight of him almost takes your breath away as his pupils seem to flash silver.

“Nothing,” you lie.

Your eyes wander to the round ornament hung centre on the back wall. Like a clock but without numbers. Instead, the phases of the moon tracked by the ticking gears and iron hands.

“I know when you’re not telling me the truth,” he says.

Does he know? If he did, he would know how you envy him, and at times, even want him. But you know better. You are not like him and it’s clear he won’t let you be like him. That isn’t part of your pact.

You touch the necklace beneath your collar. Your heart flutters as you think of telling him the truth. He squints at you, drinking deep, only to show his tongue in a gesture of revulsion.

“The fucking moon,” he growls, “everything tastes like shit this time of the month… except for fresh meat.”

“Tomorrow night,” you say.

“You know, same as me,” he eyes you narrowly, “come on, pet, stop fucking around and tell me what’s got you so… chipper.”

You put your coffee down and cross your arms. It’s damn cold here. You’ve done your work. You get to go to your room, turn on the heater, and wait out the moon. Just like always. They never cared as long as you brought them a good meal.

“I want to watch,” you whisper.

His brows flick up. That’s the most emotion you’ve seen in him. Genuine emotion. He’s surprised.

“I don’t know about that,” he says, “I don’t know if you can handle that.”

“I can,” you raise your voice, “I want to.”

His nose flairs and his eyes go up to the ceiling, “I’d have to check with the others–”

“But if it’s just you–”

“Pet,” he says tersely and your ears whistle, “you don’t know what you’re asking for. It’s not just about what you’ll see. It’s dangerous. That night, you’ve never felt the way the moonlight fills your veins.”

You look away. Of course you haven’t, they won’t let you feel that. You are just their little minion. A thrall sworn to serve them.

“It’s not a no,” he says to your lack of response, “alright?”

You turn and grab your mug, “alright.”

You take the coffee and head back to the stairs. He’s watching you. You can always feel when he does that. You long for that sensation but at the moment, it only irks you. You deserve to see it happen.

You’ve been waiting years to see Alexis Clover get what’s coming.

🌕

The confusion is expected. They often awake slowly, bleary-eyed, and dazed. Some of them never reach clarity between moonfall. Lexi is silent, eyes open, staring at the wall. She should scream soon. Maybe when she notices you.

You grow impatient. You look up at the windows. It’s a bit early but you’re overeager. You’re not just waiting on the moon, you’re waiting for word from Steve. You haven’t seen him since the morning.

You pull the pocket knife out of your pocket and emerge from the shadows. Her green eyes dart over to you as you unfold the blade. Her gaze falls to the knife, silver gleaming back at her dangerously. The fear in her face contorts to spite.

“I always knew you were a freak,” she sneers.

You stand a foot away as you shift your posture. Your lips twitch and your brow arches without meaning to. You put your chin down as you watch her. She does remember. You knew it.

“Rat girl,” she barks those words that haunted the high school hallways every time you walked down them; the ones she coined herself. “So what is it? You’re going to murder me? You fucking weirdo?”

You don’t answer her. She taught you that. They only ever want a reaction. It doesn’t matter what you say, they’re too narcissistic to hear you. 

You grab the sleeve of her shirt as she winces. She tries to wiggle away but the robes keep her in place. Kraven taught you how to tie those knots. You slip the blade beneath the fabric and slowly slice along the seam.

“What are you doing?” She hisses, trying to jolt the chair but she can’t get any leverage. “Please, don’t hurt me,” her tone softens at once as the back of the silver blade grazes her skin, “please, you can untie me and let me go. I won’t tell anyone.”

You ignore her pleas. Those are expected too. Usually they mention a spouse or children or a job. They beg and they beg. It doesn’t affect you. No one ever cared what you had. No one ever loved you so why should they get to have what you don’t.

“Carmen,” she gasps, “please, Carmen knows I went with you. She’ll tell someone.”

You laugh and shake your head. You continue your intent task, cutting away her clothing a piece at a time. Some things don’t change, you think sourly. You’re still a plain little mouse compared to her. You hate that even now you’re jealous of her.

“Don’t you care? Don’t you care that people will know you’re a monster? They’ll find out.”

You keep your composure though you want to laugh in her face with glee. You’re not as low as her. You have a sense of grace she could never know. You remember her smug smirk as she dumped her latte on your uniform and called you trash. You mimic it as you rip away the layers of fabric.

“You’ll find out,” you back up, the remnants of her clothing heaped in your arm, “soon.”

You turn and dump her clothes in the rolling bin of scraps meant for the weekly bonfire. It’ll be burned after the moon, along with what’s left of her. You leave her shivering through her fruitless threats and name calling. You climb the stairs, slowing as you come down the walkway to your door.

Steve waits for you, hands in his pockets as he leans on the frame. You meet his eye, only for a second before focusing on the wall behind him. Another symptom of your former teenage angst, your inability to interact like a normal fucking human. Good thing he’s not quite that.

“You know her,” he doesn’t ask, it’s a statement. You’re not surprised he was listening. Even if he wasn’t out there, he probably could’ve heard it all. “That’s… bold.”

“I don’t know her. I remember her,” you correct him.

He hums and brings a hand up to his chin. He taps along his cheek as he thinks. He peers up and down the hallway, then back at you.

“Can’t find the others. Not enough time to go out searching,” he says, “so it looks like it’s just you and me.”

You nod, “oh?”

“The other’s can handle themselves,” he scoffs, “I’m not worried.” He steps forward and you have to fight not to back away. That’s always your instinct, to keep distance, not just from him, from everyone. “So why don’t you keep me company?”

You look at him, eyes blazing as your forehead furrows. You don’t want to say it aloud. You still fear hearing the answer.

“Keep your silver on,” he hovers his hand before the crescent necklace by your collar, retracting his hand quickly, “tuck some wolfsbane in your sock and don’t make a noise…” he instead caress your cheek, “my hunger can get the best of me.”

He pulls away and passes you, brushing closely. You stay as you are, standing stiffly as you listen to his retreat, smiling to yourself. You don’t look back until you hear his door open and shut. He gets a bit more touchy feely during this time. Until the bloodlust is sated.

🌕

Steve goes over the plan. He can’t see you. That’s his one rule. You have the wolfsbane in both socks and your silver necklace on your neck. He tells you to hide and not tell him where. You’re nervous, but more excited than afraid.

You’ve been imprinted. They aren’t supposed to hurt you but there’s an unpredictability laced into the moonlight. You stay above, on the second floor, climbing across one of the thick steel beams to watch from there. It should be safest there, and you’ll have a full view of the scene.

You sit shrouded in shadows, a blanket around you, watching Lexi’s shaking form. It’s colder than even the day before. Her pale skin is turning blue. She shivers and lets out a sob. She quit her screaming much earlier, quickly losing her energy.

“Please…” she pleads before calling out your name, “please let me–”

A shrill howl rises up in the night air. From somewhere outside, distance but close enough to hear. It frightens even you. You brace yourself against the upright shaft that holds the beam as she quivers in a fit of tears.

There’s something else. A scratching and scuffing. A bang and clang, followed by the creak of hinges. Heavy and hot breaths, slickened with slobber as they build in tempo. Shallow and frantic, as if unable to get enough air.

You see Steve lurk along the walkway, just a contorted silhouette as he lumbers to the top of the staircase. He lets out a thick growl and hack, falling against the railing, gripping it as he makes his descent, and collapsing at the bottom. 

Lexi sits up and turns her head. She can't see him as his hands hit the floor, as his fingers grow and his nails turn to long shanks. As the fur sprouts from him, thickening as his shoulders broaden and his spine curls. He sets his haunches and pushes himself to his feet, no paws, his snout rising with a soulwrenching howl.

You hug the beam and hold your breath. You pull a hand back to clutch your necklace. Steve sniffs at the air, hot puffs of steam clouding before his snout. Even in this form, you admire him. Dark, silky fur and shining silver eyes. He is forged in power.

Lexi whimpers as she can only hear him. She whines and cries out your name, begging still. Steve pants, huffing into rumbling growls as he circles her. She shrieks as she sees him and his snarls almost sound like laughter. He continues to walk around her, taunting her as he sniffs her bare skin.

He stops before her. You make yourself take a breath. Your mouth is dry and your ears are fuzzy. You feel dizzy at the moment turns surreal. It’s different seeing it. 

He leans in, pressing his nose to her stomach until she squirms and sobs. He drags it up to her chest, nuzzling her in a way that sparks a surge of envy. No, he is going to get rid of her. You are thankful for that.

He brings his paws up to her thighs. She whimpers, pushing her head back as she gulps loudly. He sinks his claws into her soft flesh and she screams. He runs his nose along her collar bone and brushes along her throat.

You see the outline of his fangs as he opens up and you suck in your cheeks, squeezing the silver crescent as his jaw snaps shut. The sudden gush of blood has you hypnotised. You blink, salivating as if you can taste her yourself.

The noise of his gnawing, of his beastly hunger, of the shredding of his claws in her flesh, mulches together in your mind. You cannot look away as the ropes fall away beneath the sharpness of teeth and claw alike. As he drags her from the chair and devours her throat until she can gasp and gurgle no more.

You raise your clutched fist to your mouth and press it to your lips, swallowing a scream of your own. Not quite fear, more adrenaline, you suppress the threatening eruption back into your stomach. You grin, you don’t know who deserves this more; you or her.

Steve licks his chops and throws his head up, letting out another blood-curdling cry. For a moment, you think he sees you as his eyes linger. You freeze and wiggle your foot, feeling the scratch of the wolfsbane in your sock. 

He moves away from her, tugging what’s left of her carcass to splay across the floor. He watches the shadows in the rafters as if presenting you the kill. He knows you, even when he doesn’t know himself. Or so you would like to believe. So you tell yourself so you don’t panic and fall to your doom.

🌕

Dawn approaches before you dare to come down from your perch. Steve is still down there, somewhere, but the moon is gone. You put your foot on the railing along the walkway and lower yourself onto even ground. You go down to the staircase and descend the spiral.

The smell of blood wafts in the air still. As you step onto the first floor, it permeates your nose. You nearly choke on the pungent flavour.

You hear a groan as you look around. Steve sits behind the couch, naked with only a shorn cushion in his lap. He’s a man again though a wolfish glint remains in his irises. You go to the sink and run the water, wetting a cloth before you go to him.

“Happy?” He asks, giving a scarlet smirk as you hold out the wet cloth.

“Sure,” you answer.

He’s watching you again. You don’t meet his eyes. He reaches up but does not take the cloth. He brings both hands to cradle your cheeks.

“You didn’t like it?” He asks.

“I didn’t say that.”

“You don’t say much,” he insists, “look at me.” Your eyes meet his in a heartbeat. By your pact, you cannot disobey him, “tell me… how you feel.”

You swallow and raise the cloth. You wipe away the blood crusting around his hairline. You clear your throat.

“Like you said, happy,” you answer. He drops his hands and lets you continue. You mop away the streaks along his upper face, into the endless red stain from nose down.

“Just happy?” He prompts.

You look him in the eye again. He can hear how your heart pounds. He must know.

“You’re real fucking sick,” he snickers, “you know that?”

“Yep,” you force out dryly. You know you’re not a good person but what other choice did life give you?

He’s quiet as you clean him. He puts his head back as you wipe down his neck, the tendons tensing and his throat bobbing. You feel a tickle along your knee.

“So fucking sick it’s hot,” he slithers, “stop.” He grabs your hand and moves it away from his neck. There are still patches of red all over his face, almost stained brown. “I want you to smell her one me when I fuck you.”

You squeeze the cloth and pause. You lean back on your heels and look him in the face. He smirks as he moves the pillow away from his lap.

“And I know you want it just like that,” he purrs as your heart flips. He’s definitely heard that.

He keeps a hold of your hand and tugs you closer. He pulls on you until you're right in front of him. He reaches and touches the front of your corduroys. 

“Take these off,” he commands and lets you go.

You wince as the demand zips up your spine. Your desire mingles with that eerie compulsion to serve. You drop the cloth and get to your feet. As you stand, you see Lexi’s barren ribcage. You feel a flood of heat inside of you.

You push down your pants, your panties twisting in the thick fabric. You step out of them and kick them across the floor. As you step closer to Steve, he groans.

“Socks, silver,” he mutters.

You retreat and undo the chain around your neck. You toss it to land on your pants and you strip off your boots and socks, hurling them away from you. You go to him again as he reaches up to guide you. He eases you down into his lap, rigid and twitching for you. The sight enlivens you.

He grabs himself, angling himself along your cunt. As his tip touches your folds, you let out an unwitting squeak. You grip his shoulders as he rubs himself against you, your desire slickening him. He prods at your entrance, framing your cunt with two fingers as he spreads your lips wide.

You hold your breath, temples pulsing, ears pounding. You let yourself down onto him, biting your lip as you ignore the scalding strain of his intrusion. You sink your nails into his muscles as he pushes on your hip. He grunts as he feels the brief moment of resistance and you cry out as you sink down completely.

You pant as you hang your head back. You see silver stars as your head thrums and your body shakes. You’re lost in the storm of pain and pleasure. It’s like an electric shock, both agonizing but awakening.

He drags his other hand up your stomach, thumb hooking under your sweater as he urges it up your torso. He reveals your chest and leans in, taking a nipple in his mouth. His tongue swirls around cloyingly.

His fingers glide back to your clit and rolls it firmly. You gasp and tilt your hips, letting out a yelp as zing rises from his touch. You rock again, encouraged by his groans as the rumble into your chest. You squeak as you take him, over and over, riding him slowly as you try to adjust to the feeling of him. Just to the idea of being filled with something.

His nips at your chest, your nipple hard as he suckles and teethes. He switches, taking the other in with a hungry hum. He keeps his fingers working against your bud as his other hand hooks around your back. He reaches to your neck and urges you closer. He lifts his head and nuzzles your neck.

You smell the blood on him. It enthralls you. His heat, his scent, his voice. It all roils around you as you feel ready to bubble over. That building pressure guides your motion. You’re desperate for the promise in his touch.

“You lied,” he snarls into the crook of your neck as you clasp the back of his head and buck against him.

“About what?” You breathe as your fingers weave through his thick locks.

You yelp as the world shifts and you’re suddenly floating over the floor. He puts you on your back as he gets to his knees, lowering himself over you, staying buried in you. He slides back to his tip and presses his nose to yours. His blue eyes bore down into you. Your gaze flits away instinctively.

“No, look at me,” he orders and your eyes snap back to his. He ruts, jolting you against the rug, “you didn’t tell me you’re a virgin.”

You gasp and suck in your lip. You curl your fingers into his shoulder as your other hand crawls up his stomach. You let your eyes wander down to watch his muscles constrict as he fucks you. You moan and tear your gaze back to his face.

“Not anymore,” you murmur.

He chuckles and leans down, puffing a hot breath along your cheek, “I know, pet, you were never innocent.”

[sugarplumxx]

strangers - toji f.

inspired by strangers by ethel cain/bones and all!! basically a tokyo ghoul au because cannibalism as a metaphor for love >> 

cw: nfsw, blood + gore, violence, cannibalism 

You meet Toji in the spring.

It’s a beautiful day. 

One of those days right after a rainstorm, where the ground is damp but the sky is dry: cool and crisp and ebbing into March. Residual raindrops trickle from the leaves, splattering to the ground every so often, occasionally landing in your hair. Not worth an umbrella.

It’s a beautiful day, and you’re being followed.

Late afternoon, after you’ve run all of your errands, picked up a drink at your favorite café, and are ready to walk home. Except you can't, because a man in a black hoodie and navy beanie has been following after you for the past fifteen minutes.

You try and shake him, walking around a few corners, even taking enough left turns to get full circle, and he’s still tailing you. You check behind yourself, and when you look back, he’s close enough for you to see the hunger in his eyes.

Not sure if it’s ghoulish hunger, or just the kind that men so often bear. Not sure if it’s the kind that eats at the flesh or at the soul.

Either way, it’s not safe. 

You try and head back towards the crowded part of town. With more people, it’ll be easier to shake him. Better yet, find a public bathroom or somewhere with other women. Still, that’s ten minutes out, and you start to walk a little quicker. Of course, this is the day you forgot your pepper spray. Not that it would help if he truly is a ghoul. 

Ghouls, you’ve learned, have appetites unlike any others.

You don’t fully notice the man leaning against the building until you’re close enough to smell his scent: deep and musky, like Marlboro reds and hard liquor. He’s tall, at least six foot two, and despite his jacket you can tell he’s well-built. Against your better judgment, you slide next to him, far enough to be appropriate but close enough that he looks down at you with his piercing dark green eyes.

“Please, help me…” You whisper, almost too soft to hear. “I-I’m being followed, and I don’t know what to—” He cuts you off with a scoff, running a big, veiny hand through his dark hair. You panic, worrying that you’ve fallen out of the frying pan and into the fire, but before you can decide what to do next the beanie creep has gotten close. He watches you with a dumb smirk, but his eyes settle on the mountain of a man beside you and he swallows heavily.

“Got something to say?” The man asks, tilting his head a little. Beanie gulps again, shaking his head. 

“Didn’t think so. Scram, freak.”

With a last look at you, the man scurries off, and the guy beside you sighs heavily. You’re ready to leave now, to get home and lock your door and shower both of their gazes off of you. 

“I-I—” “Shouldn't be out alone. S’not safe. Pretty little thing like you…” He adjusts, looking down at you again. 

“I-I was just running errands…” “M’sure you were. But you should run along now, too.” His hand ghosts over your shoulder before he gives you a soft shove. “Better that no freaks get their hands on you.” You do as he says, the place where he touched you tingling all the way home.

___

Toji sees you again in a few days’ time. He’s not sure what cosmic force has brought you two together again, but he wants it to fuck off and leave him be. It’s bad enough that he hasn’t had a good meal in a few weeks, but you’re just too pretty, smell too good, too soft and sweet and shy for his self control. 

It’s out at a café, of all the cliché places to see a pretty girl. You’re dressed in a cute little sweater and denim skirt, typing away at a laptop with a coffee and pastry in front of you, both untouched. As the little bell rings, your eyes flutter up to the door and then widen when you see him. Shit. Before he can back away from you, you’re already standing and walking up to him.

“H-Hi again.” “You need me to get rid of another douchebag, or can I get a drink?” He’s an asshole, and he knows it, he wants to rip himself apart for the way your face falls a little (but not as much as he wants to rip you apart, to tear into your flesh and lick your bones clean—)

“I never got a chance to thank you. I didn’t even really say it, I-I’m sorry, I was overwhelmed and I didn’t know what to say—” He grunts, cutting you off with a shrug, but you seem to be insistent.

“Let me pay for your drink, at least.” He can’t refuse free shit. But he should refuse sitting at your booth with you. Perhaps he would if he could, but regardless of shoulds, woulds, and coulds, he does, and he takes a swig of his steaming black coffee as his eyes pierce into you again.

You’re just so…you. The little twitch of your nose, almost like a bunny, whenever you sniffle. The soft way you speak, you tell him about how grateful you still are and how you were just so scared, scared for your life if the man was a ghoul—

His stomach curls at the way you say it. Not like it’s a dirty word, or like it’s something wrong. Simply that it’s something that would have put you in even more danger than if he was a mere human. 

Something that is putting you in danger right now, with the man in front of you, making permanent indents in his palms with how hard he’s clenching his hands.

He’s dangerous, and he knows that. The day you first came up to him, he had considered tearing into your pretty throat. If he hadn’t made you run along so fast, he probably would have. 

But you’re dangerous. The way you look at him, smile, the way you offer to share your pastry with him and the soft pout when he refuses. 

“Do you want your own?”

“Nah. M’not hungry.”

You’re just good. Not nice out of courtesy, not because you’re trying to repay him, but because you’re genuinely good and don’t want him to go hungry. But he is going hungry, and you’re not helping, if anything you’re making it worse because he wants to, needs to devour you.

“What’s your name, mister?” “Toji.” He’s not sure why he tells you. “You got one?” You do, and it’s beautiful, as sweet on your lips as he knows your flesh would be on his. 

You’re good, and you’re dangerous because of that. 

Toji knows this, but he still saves your contact in his phone. He knows this, but he still sees you the next Saturday afternoon, waiting outside of the craft place. 

He’s lied to you a lot to get to this point. Originally you thought about going to dinner, but he said that he had too many dietary restrictions (you believed him, because why else would he be drinking black coffee?) and preferred to eat at home. You’d wondered about a movie, but he’d said that he’d prefer to go somewhere that you could really talk, and not that he was worried that anywhere with you and him together in the dark would send him over the edge. You’d even suggested a museum, but he said that he wanted to look at you, not art. 

Toji imagined the way you’d blush when he sent that text. He couldn’t stop himself from flirting, no matter how much it tore him up, because he knew it’d make you happy. 

He’d rather break himself than break your heart. Your stupid, little, fragile heart. 

Your heart, that would be so easy to rip out, to suck clean as it tries desperately to keep beating—

Ceramic painting. Safe enough. Even kind of cute, although he’s no romantic. He meets you there, trying to ignore how adorable you look in your sundress and cardigan, and for the next two hours or so, the two of you talk over painting pottery.

He wasn’t sure about it going into it, but he’s enjoying it now, maybe even a little too much. He’s never painted before, not the type, but it’s satisfying how the colors blend together as he swirls dark and light blues together—

“Oh, ouch—” You let out a soft whine, immediately putting your finger into your mouth. You’d cut it on a raw edge of a mug, and he grips the table, the smell of your blood syrupy sweet and sickeningly mouthwatering. You grab a bandaid from your bag, focused on covering up the wound, and by the time you look up, Toji’s gone.

“Toji?” You call out, before standing. “Toji?” You step outside of the building, seeing him walking away, and a stab of fear rips through your chest. Did you say something wrong? Do something? Did he get mad at you, upset? “Wait!” He turns, his jaw hardened and gaze not meeting yours. You catch up to him, panting a little, your eyes starting to tear up. Sometimes you hate how sensitive you are. 

“W-Where are you going?” “I can’t…be around you,” he says, after a pause. “You…it’s not safe. It’s for your own good.” “What do you mean? Did I do something wrong—” “No, fuck, no! No, that’s the problem. You’re too…perfect. You smell good, your skin looks so soft, and I—godamnit. Look, I’m glad we talked, but I’m sorry. I can’t do this to myself any longer, or to you—” “Do what?” You’re about to cry, and he wants to scream. He doesn’t want you to cry. “I don’t want to hurt you!” It comes out too loud, and he looks around before stepping forward. “But I put you in danger by being around you.” You seem to be processing it a little more now. The blood on the mug being what set him off. The lack of eating, the hunger in his eyes that you’d mistaken for romantic interest.

“Oh…o-oh.” You look down at the ground. “Okay.” He feels his heart breaking, and he wants to scream again. Why? Why does it hurt so badly to see the way you stare at your shoes, the way you’re clearly trying to hold it together? He’s known you for less than two weeks, seen you twice before this, it shouldn’t matter. 

“I like you…” he says after a while. “You’re a cute kid. Should have a guy your age, who won’t want to eat you, not a monster.”

“M’not a kid,” you say softly. “And you’re not a monster. You helped me, remember?” He does remember. 

“Toji, you saved me. I don’t…a monster wouldn’t do that.”

“Doesn’t mean anything.” It does, fuck, it does, it means so much, too much. “Just…just forget about all of this okay?” “I don’t want to forget.” You’re going to cry again. “I..I-I know it was fast, but I…I thought we were…” You trail off, feeling stupid. He knows how you feel, though, and in another life if he was just a regular man, he’d let himself admit that he feels the same way. 

“I like you.” He repeats. “But I don’t want to hurt you.” You nod, but your eyes are still watery. He knows he’s breaking your heart.

“S’for your own good, kid.”

___

Toji eats the next day. Eats to fill the void that you left in him, to fill the space in his stomach that he knows you should occupy. Some random creep hitting on girls at the bar with pills up his sleeve that Toji invites out to “share a catch with.” 

The fucker believes him, and is shocked to find that there’s no drugged up girl in the alley next to the bar, but in fact a six-foot-four ghoul who tears his throat out before he can even scream. 

The meal is good. Enough to take some home for later. He packages it well, throwing it into the fridge and washing off the blood from his boots. He showers, the scalding water on his back enough to ground him again. No longer starving, he thinks a little clearer.

Once he’s in bed, he stares at the ceiling, a different kind of hunger panging in his stomach. 

He sees you, your stupid teary face and stupid ditsy smile. He hates you for how much he’s thought about you, but what’s worse is that he’s thought about more than eating you.

He wishes all he wanted to do was eat you. Things wouldn’t be so painful then.

He could have meant it when he said it was for your own good.

Toji texts you the next day.

Can we talk? 

You meet by the waterfront that night. It’s still chilly, the breeze enough to ruffle your hair, and you huddle into yourself a little. Toji keeps a safe distance, not too close. It takes a little bit for you to talk.

“What did you…want to talk about?” He swallows before he responds. 

“About you. I just want you to understand, kid, I didn’t want to hurt you.” “I know that.” You look up at him. “But…it still hurts. Either way, I think it would.”

After another long pause, you speak again.

“Are you going……to eat me?”

“Don’t think I can, kid.”

You turn to look up at him. He’s so much bigger than you, not just height-wise, but overall mass. You know that you wouldn’t stand a chance against him. What you don’t know is why you aren’t more afraid.

“It’s the easiest part, isn’t it? To kill? Easier than the chase, than the begging and pleading.”

“It’s the hardest part. To know that…that something’s gone because of you. Something you can’t have anymore.”

“Oh, that’s awfully philosophical, old man.” You elbow him playfully. “Finally acting your age?” “Yeah, killing you might be easier than I thought.” His chuckles are light, dancing up into the night sky, and you lean your head against his shoulder. He takes a deep breath in, you feel his whole body move as he does, as he accepts this.

“I don’t think you’ll kill me, Toji. I feel…I feel safer with you than I do alone.” He nods. 

“Maybe…we can figure something out, kid.”

___ Toji fucks you for the first time after a month of you two actually being together.

He takes you to restaurants, ghoul-run restaurants underground that you have no business going to, but with him beside you, he knows no one will give you trouble. You bring your own food, takeout he pays for on the way there, and you sit together in the back corner. He takes you to the movies, to go painting and hiking and watches you eat ice cream at the park. 

He doesn’t touch you, though, and that makes you crazy.

You’ve never been a needy person. You’ve always preferred to help others, to people-please, to deny yourself in favor of indulging others. The only sex you’ve ever had was purely for your partners, to make them happy. 

The last guy you had sex with took advantage of that. He was handsome enough that you were with him for about four months, and during that time you learned quickly to hold yourself back. The guy took you when he wanted you, where he wanted you, how he wanted you: quiet and complacent.

Toji doesn’t seem to want you at all.

You work up the courage to ask him one night, relaxing at his house after a dinner date.

“Am I…am I not your type? As far as…sex goes?” He looks over at you from across the couch. He won’t even hold you.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” “You don’t touch me…I mean, we’re watching a movie and you don’t even hold me…we never hold hands or anything.” “I don’t touch you so that I don’t kill you.” You nod, swallowing a little. You like being with Toji, but he can be so blunt. It hurts a little, sometimes.

He sighs, his gaze softening, and reaches over to brush his hand against your cheek.

“Look at me.” You do.

“I…I want you. In all of the good ways. But also in all of the ways that should scare you.” “It doesn’t scare me, Toji. You don’t scare me like that. I trust you.” His eyes widen a little, like he’s never heard that before.

“Fuck, kid. You’re gonna be the death of me.” He says the same thing later on, as he slowly and gently thrusts into you. You let out a whimper, your head falling forward and quick gasps leaving your mouth.

“Squeezing around me like this. Didn’t know you were this needy.” His dirty talk is unlike anything you’ve ever experienced before. It’s about more than just himself, more than just your body, but about both of you and how you’re connected. He’s also big, so big inside you that you can’t help but tear up with each controlled movement of his hips.

“God, m’gonna lose my fucking mind. She’s so wet for me, hm? So tight.” You nod, letting out another little whimper. You’ve always been the type to get less vocal when you’re overwhelmed, and if there’s anything that overwhelms you it’s the drag of his cock against your walls, the slap of his hand against your skin, the way he groans into your neck when he gets close. You flop forward after he guides you to orgasm, talking you through it the whole way and then chuckling when he sees you go limp.

“M’not done, kid. You wanted me to touch you, to take you…so I’ll take what’s mine, yeah?”

___

You move into Toji’s house in late summer. 

It’s humid the day he comes to your old apartment in his truck, loading the boxes into the bed and wiping his sweaty face with his white tee. His hand grips yours as he drives you home for the first time.

After unloading everything, you sit together on the floor by the fan. He’s watching a soccer game, leaned against the couch and nursing a beer, and you put your head in his lap as you nap in the sunlight. 

You drift in and out of sleep, lulled by the feeling of him stroking up and down your spine, his hand slipped beneath the cotton of your tank top. 

After a few hours of dozing, you get up to find something to eat. He stays, his own eyes starting to grow heavy, but he’s snapped out of it by the little noise you make when you open the fridge.

“Oh yeah, forgot to tell you. There’s meat in there…” “I can see that.” You cringe a little, trying to look past the wrapped and sealed hunks of still-raw flesh inside.

“I can freeze ‘em. But there should be—” “Food?” He can hear the way you scrunch up your nose at the word. “Toji, did you buy food for me?” He blushes, shaking his head.

“No idea what you’re talking about, kid.” “There are apples in here. Apples, pomegranates…oh, and a few premade things as well!”

He’s silent, not responding, and you smile, heart swelling.

“Thank you.” “Figured…you’d need something to fill you up.” “Mh, I have that already.” 

___

He comes home covered in blood.

“Not mine,” he tells you, his hand fluttering against your cheek. “Don’t furrow those brows at me, I’m fine.” “You’re covered in blood,” you say softly, shaking your head. “That’s…you’re not fine.”

He looks down at you, his eyes soft with some kind of gaze that almost mocks your concern. 

“Just said it wasn’t mine.” “That’s worse.” You look up at him, your eyes hard with a look that tells him he’ll never understand. “Come on. I’ll wash you off.” You’re cryptic sometimes. Toji doesn’t like that. He prefers people to be more blunt, the way he is. Or maybe he feels like he’s missing something, and that’s not something he’s used to. 

He sits in the water, water that has long turned pink, and he asks.

“Why is it worse?” “Hm?” You pause running the warm washcloth over his back. “What’s that?” “You said it was worse that the blood wasn’t mine. I don’t…why is it worse?” He hears you sigh, feels the soft breath against his shoulder blades as the puff leaves your lips. 

“…I saw a dog kill a bunny yesterday.” “What?”

There’s a soft, warm feeling, a press of your cheek against his skin as you rest your head on his damp flesh. 

“When I was walking in the woods. I saw them…it loved that bunny. I knew it.”

“How’s that?” “It ripped its throat out. And then it licked it, kissed it with all the passion you could imagine.”

He frowns, feeling you wrap your arms around his body, now scrubbed clean. “It takes a lot to die. But it also takes a lot to kill.”

He takes you that night, again. Again, and again, and again. You can barely keep your eyes open as he ruts himself into you, deep into that place that makes you jolt and punches soft little whines from the back of your throat.

His lips graze over your neck, right over your pulse, and you feel him press kisses to the vein.

He could tear you open right now. You would bleed out in his arms. But he’s not doing it, and if he’s led you to believe anything, it’s that it takes him an immense amount of control not to do so every second he’s around you.

“Something made you clench, baby?”

You whimper in response, your hands fluttering against his broad shoulders. You can feel him in your cervix, so close and deep that if it weren’t for the little pill you take every morning, he’d have gotten you pregnant already. Creating life with you, when his greatest fear is taking it away from you.

“I love you, Toji,” you whisper after he’s collapsed on top of you and pulled you into his chest. 

You’re not sure if he’s awake to hear it, but you feel how he stiffens ever-so-slightly.

“Don’t have to say it back. Not if it’s not…right. I just want you to know.” “Shh. I love you too, kid.” ___

He’s always known that being around you puts you in danger. He thought it was due to his own inhibitions, his own desires, his own twisted hunger. 

Not his own past catching up with him. 

He gets a text one afternoon while he’s at work. It’s from you, and he smiles, preparing himself for a daily post-lunch check-in.

All it is is a location. 

Immediately, he stands, trying to call you, but it goes straight to voicemail. Shit. He feels hot panic pooling in his stomach, as he gets close to the place. 

Some alleyway. Not far from home. Not safe. 

He can hear soft whimpers, pained and terrified, and he sprints down the alley, his eyes landing on the beanie fucker from before who has you pinned to the wall. Your phone lays shattered nearby, along with your jacket, and you’re letting out cries as he digs his hands into your stomach and devours what he finds there.

Toji snaps the man’s neck before he understands what’s happening. He throws the man against the other side of the wall, his hands tearing into his cracked neck and pulling it apart. 

The man doesn’t matter anymore.

You lay at the base of the wall, a sickeningly sweet red smeared on the brick above you. Legs having failed to keep you held up, too weak to support you, now crumpled uselessly underneath your broken form. There’s more liquid pooling beneath you, coming from your stomach, your nose, the corner of your mouth, too much to be healthy, and Toji’s beside you, pulling you into his lap.

“Hey, look at me. Keep those eyes on me.”

You cough, a deep red sputtering past your lips as you try to say something. He shushes you again, trying to assess where the blood is coming from. He finds the giant hole in your abdomen, the place the stains are forming, and a whimper comes from the back of his throat.

“N-no.”

He presses his hands to the wound, trying to stop the blood. It’s all over his hands, syrupy and mouthwatering in a way that makes his stomach turn.

There’s a gasp, a horribly pained gasp, followed by too quick breaths and wheezy begs for him to stop, to let up, not to press there, it hurts—

“I know, I-I know, fuck! I’m sorry, baby girl…” “D-don’t…don’t be…sor…” you trail off, your big eyes watching him intently. “S’okay.” “No, it’s not,” he sobs, his voice breaking. “You have to stay with me. I-I need you…” “H-hurts,” you whisper. “I-I…I need it to…to go a-away…” “What to go away? What do you need? Talk to me.” “The…the p-p…” You drift off again. “Hurts…” 

“I know it hurts. But I need you to stay awake so I can figure out how to make you feel better.” “M-make it stop…” your voice is small. “Please, Toji…”

“I don’t know how.” His voice cracks again. “I don’t know what to do…” “It’s the e-easiest thing, Toji, to eat…”

“No. No, I can’t. I-I can’t do that.” “Y-yes…” 

He sobs, shaking his head. He needs you. He doesn’t want to live without you. 

“I can’t be the reason y-you go.”

“M’not…going…a-any—” you cough up some more blood. “I’ll wait for y-you…at home, yeah?”

“Y-Y…yeah…” “I’ll keep the bed warm.”

You let out a soft, pained whimper, barely audible, as his teeth find your neck. He sobs into it, the taste so sweet but so bitter, burning on his tongue. Your last breath is gentle, peaceful, and wants to imagine you that way forever. Not like this. 

You’re all over his mouth, dripping onto the cobblestones of the alleyway. He lets out another sob. Your taste is all he’s ever craved, your flesh all he’s ever needed. All he needs is to eat. To love you and eat.

[samsno1]

Liberty or Life

Billy Butcher x Gn!POC!Reader

hello i fucking suck at titles? anyway, i wrote this at the beach while i was getting tanned because i never found a butcher fic with this exact vibe so i said "yk what, imma write ts"

ill maybe do a part 2 if i feel like it

Sumary: The reader finds something about Liberty and wants to check it out. Butcher thinks it's just too easy to be true.

Warnings: SPOILERS THE BOYS S2, english isn't my first language, kinda mean butcher but he means it well, poc!reader (wrote it with latinos in mind but i didn't mention us especifically so dig in), use of y/n, HURT/COMFORT, blood, violence, gore (?), cursing (i mean its the boys), hom*lander mentioned (yes he gets a fucking warning), i didn't make the reader speak neither spanish nor portuguese, up to ya, i had no idea how to transcribe his british accent but i did my best. NOT PROOF READ

WC: 3.3k

You can learn how to change the "Y/N" for your actual name here

if you enjoy it please lmk!

Of course it was a trap. A fucking trap.

While confined in your apartment, searching more and more about Stormfront - AKA Liberty - after the encounter with the poor woman that ended up losing her brother to her hands right in front of her eyes you found a clue, something that could help take her down.

According to the document you spent the whole night reading with several cups of coffee and a killing migraine, there was a file hidden in a building close to Vought's that gave away all the racist behavior of Liberty's past (and present). It would be more than enough to make the people mad.

Hell, it made you mad. An immigrant trying to bring down an incredibly popular Supe, who would definetly get rid of any of your people out of North American territory? Definitely a perfect situation for your ass, not dangerous at all.

But still, if not you and The Boys, who? Even if Butcher's focus wasn't her it was for you, as a personal offense.

You knew racism wasn't foreign in the Superhero industry (or in the United States as a whole, you lived it constantly) but executing people of color is borderline a genocide and it was happening right under the peoples noses. God, praised even.

You scoffed at the screen of your computer and picked up your phone to call either Butcher or MM about what you found, to see if they could back you up on the mission.

You dialed Butcher first, putting your cell to your ear as you got up from the chair, your legs needing a stretch, as you walked to the kitchen and opened the fridge to get a beer. It is 6pm somewhere you thought.

As you popped open the can the familiar british accent hit your ears and you subconsciously smiled to yourself.

“Wha’ d'ya want, luv?” He asked, voice gruff, clearly woken up by your call. You imagined his tousled hair. Maybe he was shirtless.

“Did I wake you?” You asked, taking a sip of the bitter drink on your hand, the alcohol much appreciated in your stomach.

“Maybe” He said and you could hear the teasing smile on his face.

“I'm sorry, I just called to say I found something on Liberty…Stormfront…whatever her fucking name is” You clarified as you mindlessly play with the seal of the beer can with your index finger “There's a building nearby that hides some documents about her, y'know, the shady stuff. I wanted to go there tonight, see if I find it”

You hear shuffling in the other line with a grunt, assuming he was getting up from the bed – or wherever he was sleeping.

He didn't speak for some moments letting you hear his bare feet walking around his apartment.

“I don’ know abou’ it Y/N, how'd ya even find those?” He asked, his voice hesitant.

“Butcher, I'm a hacker and Vought's system sucks ass compared to what I've already done” You explained “I just got in, easy”

You can't see it but he bites his bottom lip on the other line. He was still skeptical, would it really be that easy to find stuff on a Supe like Liberty? He knew your abilities, hell, he admired it but he was always extra careful when it came to you.

“Really?” He asked and you could feel the way his eyebrow raised and you scoffed “Okay, I'm jus’ doubtful, Liberty hasn’ been talked abou’ in ages an’ ya find stuff…easy?”

“What, lost faith in my abilities?” You teased. You finished your beer and threw the can in the thrash, it hitting the bottom of the thrash with a loud thud “C'mon, it will be easy. In and out”

“I'm not sure it's a good idea, luv” He said and you frowned, sitting on your island in the kitchen, your feet dangling off the edge.

“Y'know I called to warn you I was going, not to ask permission, you ain't my father” You mumbled with the intention to let him hear it, the tone in your voice serious “Just wanted to know if you wanted to come with”

“Nah” He replied, his voice loud and clear over the phone and you make a shocked confused face to yourself. Did he not want to keep you company? “Ya ain't going, it's risky. It looks too easy. Nothin’ with these cunts’ easy” He said firmly and you scoffed in disbelief.

“Uh, yeah, I am, alone or with you, I'm busting into that building” You said just as firmly as he did “You know how I feel about that racist cunt” You cursed. The more time you spent with Butcher, the more you started using his British vocabulary. Cunt was the most common but Bullocks also came with from time to time.

“Of course I know but still, we have to be smart abou’ it” A tip of anger laced his voice. He often got pissed at how stubborn you could be and this was one of those times.

“I'll be in there tonight. Goodbye Butcher” You said and turned off the call, not wanting to hear him going on and on about your ‘recklessness’ as he called it, scoffing and smashing your phone down on the island beside you, running a hand through your head.

You liked when Butcher was caring towards you, it was what made you start catching feelings for the man in the first place, but sometimes he just treated you like a kid, as if you could do nothing without him lecturing you beforehand.

On the other side, Butcher groans angrily as he notices you turned the call off and he throws his phone on the bed. “Fucking ‘ell” He curses to himself as he rubs his temples with his thumb and index fingers.

He knew you wouldn't drop it. You were a force of nature, but impulsive. Sometimes he loved it, sometimes he hated it.

This was time he wished you just listened.

The feeling in his gut that something wasn't right remained for the whole day, his head barely able to focus on anything else as he was too worried. Worried about you.

At about 8pm he was nervously biting on the side of his thumbnail trying to ignore his phone besides him as he told himself over and over he should call you to see if you were fine. The other (minor) side of him telling himself he should drop it. You were strong, you could pull it off and he didn't want to bruise his ego giving in to your stupid idea.

Fuck it.

He checked his phone to see a message from you. The address to said building. He smiled to himself and shook his head. Maybe you weren't so stupid after all.

He grabbed his keys and put on his black trench coat and a gun in the waistband of his jeans.

As he closed the door behind him he rushed to his car, wondering if you were okay or if something happened.

At the thought of you hurt he hurried his feet on the pavement to get faster to his car. To get faster to you.

He drove above the speed limit after he tried calling you 3 times, all going to voicemail. He cursed to himself as he arrived at the building and took in the sight in front of him.

The windows were busted and, as he got in, he could clearly see bullet holes on the walls and his heart started beating faster in his chest. Please be okay, please be alive, I can't lose you too.

He moves through crumbles and remains of the walls, taking his gun in his hand and moving slowly, aware of any danger.

The more he walked without any sight of you, the more worried he got.

As he went down the stairs to the basement he heard a low groan and his eyes widened and his whole body turned towards the noise.

The basement was a complete wreck. Shelves down on the ground, glass and books everywhere.

Then he saw you and his heart sank to his stomach. You were sitting down against the wall, a huge stab wound in your side where your hand was trying to keep pressure, which clearly wasn't enough as he took sight of the amount of blood beneath you and in your hands.

He took a quick look around and rushed to you, kneeling in front of you. He took notice of how pale you looked but still, at least, half conscious.

He held your shoulder with one hand and pressed the other over your wound making you wince in pain. His face was serious, angry. He didn't know if it was at you or at whoever did this to you but he was livid.

“What the fuck did ya do?” He asked through gritted teeth, not expecting an answer but you put your hand over his forearm, the blood staining his coat and smiled. You fucking smiled, that beatiful smile that could make Butcher melt from miles away.

“You came” You said, your voice low and hoarse and then you went into a coughing fit and Butcher held you to his chest.

“Easy, easy Kid” He said as he took a deep breath so as to not get emotional. He took your hand and pressed it over the bloody wound “I'm gonna need ya to keep pressure in this while I get ya out, c'mon”

You nodded weakly and pressed it as hard as you could while his other arm wrapped below your knees and lifted you up, the movement making you hiss.

He carried you out as quickly as possible as he placed you in the backseat of his car as he went to the driver's, turning the vehicle on and sprinting back to his place.

At the feeling of being safe, the adrenaline started wearing down and you were suddenly very tired. Your eyes closed as you felt your consciousness slip away and then you didn't feel anything anymore.

When you woke up again you were laying on a bed that wasn't yours, in a room that wasn't yours. Your head was pounding and breathing hurt and you let out a groan.

As your vision focused, you looked around and took in the place until your eyes caught a glimpse at someone on a chair besides you. Sleeping, with his arms crossed over his chest, was Butcher and you started remembering what happened.

You mindlessly put your hand over the neatly done bandaging in your stomach and looked at Butcher again.

“Butcher” You said, your voice low and weak. The man besides you stirs awake, his eyes opening slowly.

As he notices you're awake he gets up and places a hand on your forehead hurriedly, breathing deeply as if it was a relief seeing your eyes staring back at him.

“You're awake” He said, looking between your eyes.

As you looked back up at him guilt started pooling in your heart and you looked away, you smiled sadly.

“You were right” You mumbled and he pulled his hand away from your face and sighed angrily. He brushed a hand trough his face, his nostrils flaring up.

He didn't say anything, just stared at your bandaged wound, lost in thought, so you continued talking.

“They jumped me, some people that worked for Vought. I knocked some down but one of them caught me. Thay ran away after that, leaving me to die, apparently” You explained, still refusing to look at him “I'm sorry.”

At that, he looked at you again and you looked at him. He was angry and sad, his face gave it all away and you felt small under his stare. Maybe because you were laying down but still, you felt helpless.

“Why didn't ya fuckin’ listen to me” He said, his voice low, apparently calm and that was the most scary of it all. You preferred that he yelled at you, screamed in anger and never looked at you again then to act like this.

“You– I fuckin’ told ya” He said squinting his eyes as a hand goes to nudge at the wound and you grunt as he aplies pressure to it “Look at where your stupidity gotcha”

Tears prickle at the corner of your closed eyes as you grab at his wrist to pull it away from your skin, your own hand covering the bandage protectively as you glare at him. You knew you fucked up but what was going on with him?

“What the fuck Butcher!” You exclaim through your teeth as the pain eases away “I know I should've listened to you, I already said I'm sorry!”

“Sorry don’ cut it!” He finally yells at you, making you shrink as he points a finger at your face. “When I arrived the color on your face was gone! You were basically dead as I carried ya out! There was blood everywhere, Y/N”

He turned his back to you, and sighed loudly. If it was possible, smoke would be coming out of his ears.

You felt your eyes water. He seemed more than angry and you hated that you were the reason that he felt like this.

“How long was I out?” You asked lowly as you forced yourself to sit with your back against the headboard, making a face at the sting in your belly.

“About 52 hours” He replies, his back still turned to you and your eyes widen in shock and look at his back.

His head was down and his hands were both on his own waist.

You nodded even if he couldn't see you, more so to acknowledge it to yourself. As you let the information sink in, Butcher leaves the room, slamming the door behind him.

He couldn't let you see the tears forming in his eyes as all his thoughts went back to your limp body on his arms and the hours he spent beside the bed, holding your hand and talking to you while you were in your coma. He wanted to hug you, hold you and he couldn't bear the idea of losing you. Not when he hadn't told you anything about what he wanted from you.

How everytime you looked at him with those bright eyes he felt like he could drown in them, how your smile was the reason he got out of bed every morning, how your voice was like a beautiful tune that was hypnotizing. How your lips always provoked his deepest desires to emerge.

Seeing you bleeding broke him apart further then it should've and that scared him. He had sworn to never care for someone this much since the last time he felt this his heart got torn to pieces by Becca.

He shouldn't. He couldn't.

But he also couldn't help that every time you touched him he felt his skin warm up and his heart accelerate.

He pressed his forehead to the shut door and mentally cursed himself over and over again, he didn't know what to do until he saw the handle turn and the door slowly open.

You opened the door, a hand on your waist to ease the pain as you looked at him teary eyed.

He made a confused face with slight worry but then you choked out a sob and threw both of your arms around his neck and started to cry against his shoulder.

Butcher was shocked until his arms eased themselves around your lower back. One hand rubbed up and down as he felt your tears wet his shirt.

“I was– so scared” You admitted, shaking with your sobs and gripping his shirt tightly under your fingers to make sure he wasn't going anywhere. “It was so cold. The only thing that kept me breathing was when…when I looked at my phone and you– you were calling” You sobbed harder after each word, your body trembling.

“When you left voicemails…I was happy because if I…” You swallowed “If I died I would at least hear your voice one last time”

His grip around you tightened and one of his hands went into your hair as he adjusted your head into his chest, his jaw above you as he closed his eyes. He felt a tingle in his heart at your words, a spark of love lighting itself up in bad weather.

“Shh, you're fine now, you're ‘ere, alive, I'm 'ere” He whispered comfortably as you kept crying and he thought of all the things he wanted to tell you.

“And I know I was stupid. That I– That I should've listened but I want her dead, I want Homelander dead and I just–” You choked “I just wanted to have control over something, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry”

He gently swayed both your bodies side to side, a comforting hand rubbing at your scalp. Butcher didn't say anything, just letting you get it all out until your breathing calmed down.

The tears had stopped flowing and now you were just sniffing, your cheeks puffy and your eyes red. He grabbed both sides of your face and pulled you back to look into your eyes, a hint of a smile on his face.

“Feel betta’?” He asked and you nodded slightly and he sighed, closing his eyes for a moment before looking into your beautiful orbs again. “I'm sorry too, luv, I really am”

You opened your mouth to protest but he silenced you before you could speak.

“I shouldn’ have said those things t'ya, I was just– Angry, but not at you” He gently brushed his thumb over your cheek, drying a stubborn tear rolling down your face. “I was angry at myself”

Apparently you made a face at him because he gave you a thin-lipped smile.

“I was angry because I knew you were going anyway an’ I let'ya go alone. If I was there, this wouldn’ have happened”

He took a deep breath before continuing.

“I was scared that I'd neva see ya smile again, see your beautiful eyes look into mine, hear your stunnin' voice” He hugged you again, his hands wrapping you in a warm embrace. He didn't want to let you go in fear this was a dream and he buried his face in the crook of your neck before finishing.

“I was scared I would neva be able to tell ya tha’ I love ya” He mumbles in your neck as his arms tighten around you and a shiver runs through you.

William Butcher loved you.

Your hands grabbed at his shoulders and pushed him back lightly as you looked into his eyes.

Your expression doesn’t give anything away and Butcher starts to feel sick as he thinks he's going to be rejected. He prepares for impact.

Then you smile.

Your smile wide because you feel warm. Warmed by his love. Diferently then the cold night at the building.

Your hands travel up to both sides of his face as you pull him in. You go slowly, waiting to see if he'd pull back but he surprises you with a strong, passionate kiss, making you gasp in surprise.

The world feels small around you as his hands grab at your waist, careful not to hurt you as you pour out every feeling you bottled up through the years in that kiss.

And Butcher was consumed by you, by every single inch of you, by every part of your being. Your voice was a melodic chorus to his ears, your lips a river to which he was drowning in, your body the perfect fit for his.

When you pull away from each other with rushed breaths you're still smiling, your hand caressing his beard covered cheek.

“I love you too” You whisper and Butcher smashes his lips against yours again, making you giggle in surprise.

Now that they had each other it was them against the world. Nothing could tear them apart because they were made for one another, the flames of their souls dancing together in a single rhythm.

They didn't know or didn't feel it but ever since the first time they had locked eyes the destiny made their paths merge into a single one at one point in both their lives. And this was it. Two souls bound, forever.

☆

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A/N: Notes and reblogs encourage me to keep writing. Feedback makes those writings better. Thank you very much for reading. Xoxo

[thevegandarkelf]

Finding Myself, Finding You: Chapter Eleven

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Story is 18+ for mature content/themes, minors do not interact please

TW/CWs for this story--implied/referenced past rape, canonical violence, non-canonical violence, blood, gore, referenced past suicide, swearing, surgery, excessive drinking, nightmares, panic attacks, mention of scars, vomiting, amputation, medical procedures, non-con medical procedures, referenced past medical torture, referenced past drugging, attempted sexual assault, panic attacks, mental health struggles, referenced sibling death, referenced parent death

Each chapter will have its own TW/CWs listed

This story, Lydia Vector, her family & bestie (c) me, TheVeganDarkElf

TWD & its characters (c) AMC & Robert Kirkman, the writer of the comic series

Sleeping Beauty (c) Disney, Wednesday Addams (c) Charles Addams

TW/CWs for this chapter--swearing, mention of scars, canonical violence (walker killings), a sex toy is used as a weapon

Word count: 2.7k

It was bright and early the following morning when Daryl came knocking on my bedroom door, insisting that we get moving early to make sure we got back before his afternoon watch. “Ok, gimme five minutes,” I croaked, my throat dry from mouth-breathing in my sleep. I grabbed some clothes out of one of my drawers and tossed them on my bed. There was a fitted jacket, one that would likely be used as workout attire, that I decided to wear as a shirt, another pair of black workout shorts, and my leg holsters for my weapons. I grabbed my backpack and packed my remaining weapons, my notebook, my water bottle, and some medical supplies.

I fluffed my hair a little and tied it up into a high ponytail. Even tied up, my hair still reached down to my mid-back. Having long hair gave me more confidence and made me feel more feminine, but since the world fell, it was more of a nuisance than anything. And it was cumbersome when it was wet. I often debated on just chopping it off, but I liked it far too much to do that.

“Mornin’ sunshine,” I said as I came down the stairs. Daryl was putting his boots on by the front door, his crossbow slung over his shoulder and a tumbler on the floor next to him. I went over and joined him, and he picked the tumbler up off the floor and handed it to me.

“This yours,” he said, holding the tumbler of what I presumed to be coffee out to me. I reached out and grabbed it, our fingers lightly touching as I placed my hand below his on the cup. I let my fingers linger there for just a moment and made sure to brush his as I pulled away. I felt electricity shoot through my body as my fingers graced his.

“You’re sweet. Thank you.” This time, I know I saw a very faint shade of pink appear on his cheeks. I set the cup down long enough to put my boots on and follow him outside.

The air was crisp, cool, and I was thankful I had worn long sleeves. The path was damp, like it had rained the night before or this morning. And one of my favorite things—the dew that clung to the grass nearby—sparkled in the sun like glitter. Rosita was walking up the dirt path, carrying a basket of food from the garden in her arms.

“Good morning guys,” she said as Daryl walked past her. He just gave her a nod and a small “hey” and kept making his way to the front gate. She reached her arm out and grabbed mine to stop me. “Vector, can I talk to you for a second?”

“Uh, yeah, real quick 'cause I gotta skedaddle. What’s up?” She looked over my shoulder to make sure Daryl was far enough away and dropped her voice to a whisper.

“What’s going on here?” she asked, beaming. I rolled my eyes and huffed at her.

“I guess Rick wants us to go out on a run. At least that’s what Daryl told me. Also gonna try to find a prosthetic foot for Aaron for when he needs it,” I explained, also dropping my voice to a whisper.

“Sounds like you two have a long day ahead of you,” she replied, “are you excited?”

I looked down at my feet and smiled, a faint blush of pink gracing my cheeks. “I am. I just hope being stuck with me all day won’t annoy him, y’know?”

“Well if it does, you’ll know. So if it’s not obvious, you’re fine. Now go, you have a handsome archer waiting for you.” She started to turn away, then turned back. “Be sure to tell me all about it once you’re back.” I nodded and jogged off to catch up with Daryl, who was already at the front waiting on me.

“So what did Rick want us to go out for?” I asked as I buckled myself into the car.

“Said there’s some big ass grocery store nearby. Wants us to get what we can,” Daryl explained as he drove us out the front gates, “stock up ‘fore winter sets in and we can’t grow nothin’.”

“Ah, groshrees and a prosthetic foot. How exciting.” I could see him make a face in my peripheral.

“The hell’s “groshrees?” Ya don’t sound like no east coaster.” I stifled a chuckle and pulled down the sun visor in front of me, shifting it to the side window to keep the rising sun out of my eyes.

“That would be my Midwestern accent. I grew up in Ohio, close to the Michigan border. I say groceries like “groshrees” and wintertime like “winnertime.” Med school took me to the east coast.” I thought this would be a good segway into trying to get to know Daryl a little better. “What about you, Daryl? You sound like you’re from deeper south than Virginia.”

“Georgia,” he said, then quickly changing the subject back to me, like he already had his next question lined up, “what’s Doctors Without Borders?”

“Hmm?”

“When ya got here, ya told Rick somethin’ ‘bout wantin’ to join Doctors Without Borders, an’ he seemed impressed.” Of course, I was happy to answer just about any question he had, and I liked that he seemed to take a genuine interest in me and my life. But damn, he couldn’t even keep the subject on himself for two seconds, and it was starting to get a little frustrating.

“Oh, yeah, it was a non-profit that sent doctors around the world to provide medical care in areas where people needed it. Places with rampant diseases they couldn’t keep under control, war-torn countries, places where people had experienced natural disasters and such.”

I looked over at him and studied his features as I kept talking. He had his eyes focused ahead of him on the road, but I could picture them perfectly, those gorgeous pools of cerulean blue. Even though he was paying attention to the road, as he should, I could tell he was actively listening, genuinely curious and taking in every single word I said. He always did. “I wanted to get a few years of practice in after residency before joining. But instead, the world fell. Guess I was destined to end up in a war zone regardless.”

“Selfless as hell. Not somethin’ most people’d do,” Daryl replied, this time turning to me for just a second, gracing my face with his beautiful eyes, followed by a very, very tiny smile that tugged at one of the corners of his mouth. Our eyes locked for just a moment, and in just that one moment, my knees became weak and my heart rate increased. He truly was beautiful.

“Thank you.” This time, I was determined to get something out of him. “Alright, enough about me. You gotta give me some more info about you,” I said, propping my right foot up on my seat and wrapping my arms around my leg.

“Why?”

“Because you have asked me a million questions about myself in the last few days, and I’m gettin’ real sick and tired of hearing my own voice,” I explained, offering him a soft smile, “you are one mysterious human being, and I want to get to know you. We’re friends, right?” I scratched at the side of my thumb with my index finger. “I hope. Plus, I don’t wanna be a nuisance by just going on and on and on.”

“If I thought ya’s annoyin’, I wouldn’ta kept talkin’ to ya or brought ya along,” he said in an attempt to offer some reassurance.

“But still, I would like to know more about you. So let me do the asking, and you do the talking. Please.” To my surprise, the car slowly rolled to a stop, and he turned once again to meet my gaze, this time for longer. New butterflies in my stomach were starting to break out of their chrysalids. “I won’t get too personal I promise. Unless you want me to.” I gave him a flirtatious smirk, and I saw that small smile pull at the corner of his mouth again.

“Fine,” Daryl said, breaking eye contact and starting down the road again, “only cause ya asked so nicely.”

I had to take a second before I started speaking again. What had just happened? Was there tension in the air there? Did I imagine it? Was he being flirtatious back? Or was I imagining that as well? My head was spinning, and I had to take a couple of deep, but quiet, breaths to slow my heart rate down.

“What did you do before all of this?” I asked, then remembering that I had asked that question on our first run and he didn’t seem very receptive to it, “oh shit, I asked you that before. If it’s a touchy subject, you don’t have to answer it.” My rough-and-tumble redneck companion was quiet for a moment, and I was trying to come up with my next question when he answered.

“Nah, you’re good.” He pondered for a moment, choosing his words carefully to perfectly craft his answer. “I was just existin’. Floatin’ through life. Wake up every mornin’, and whatever Merle said we was doin's what we did.”

He mentioned someone’s name. Progress.

“Who’s Merle?” I asked. I continued scratching at the side of my thumb with my index finger in an attempt to quell my anxiety. It was never painful, never enough to break skin, but it was enough to be a distraction from my feelings of unease.

“He’s mah brother.” I didn’t know whether the “he’s” was supposed to be he is or he was, but I decided not to prod further on that.

“Is he like you?”

“Whadaya mean?” I hadn’t quite thought this far ahead.

“Y’know, like…easy to talk to, pleasant to be around, things like that,” I said. He scoffed at my remark.

“Guy was a jackass. Righteous prick. Bit of a creep. You wouldn’ta liked ‘im.” The “was” clarified for me that he was either dead, or Daryl didn’t know where he was.

“Do you think he would've liked me?" I bit the inside of my bottom lip. Jesus Vec, why’d you ask that? What does it matter?

"Merle? Yeah, he'da liked ya. Probably a lil' too much,” Daryl replied. I felt my body fight to physically recoil at the thought of what that could’ve meant, but I kept still.

"I could've taken him,” I said rather confidently. Daryl scoffed at me again.

"That's a lotta big talk comin' from someone so tiny,” he teased. I stuck my tongue out at him.

"Oh please. I've taken on people bigger than me before,” I elaborated, digging through the recesses of my brain for one of the stories where a man tried to fuck around with me and found out. I stretched my legs out and put my feet up on the dash, crossing one ankle over the other. “I once caught a man spiking my drink at a bar."

"What'dya do to ‘im?"

"I broke his nose...and his jaw...and his collarbone. Poor bastard didn't know whose drink he was messing with. Mama didn’t raise no bitch,” I said. Even though I could only see his side profile, I saw Daryl’s eyes widen just a little, and he had the tiniest smile on his face, like a proud parent.

"Nice. Didn't get arrested or nothin'?"

“Well, if he went to the cops to press charges on me, they’d eventually see the bar footage of him trying to drug me. Guess he didn’t want any smoke.” He took a turn down a random road, and I could see a building off in the distance with a tall sign in front of it, like the ones you see for gas stations on the side of highway exits. "Plus, he had like half a foot on me. I don’t think he wanted to admit that he got his ass beat by a woman much smaller than him.”

“Jackass had it comin’. Glad nothin’ happened to ya,” he said. I pulled the sleeves of my jacket up just a little and subtly rubbed at the scars on my right wrist.

“Me too,” I said, biting the inside of my lip. Nothing happened that time, sure, but what would he think if he found out about the time that something did? “But we’re going back to talking about you now. Your crossbow’s really cool. How did that become your weapon of choice?”

“Learned it when I was young. 's quiet, deadly, bolts easy ‘nough to come by."

“Did Merle teach you? Or your parents?” I saw his arms flex slightly, like he squeezed harder on the steering wheel for just a second, then stopped. Ok, no more bringing up Merle or his family. Got it, I said to myself, making a mental note of it.

“Taught m’self,” Daryl said, pulling into the tiny parking lot of the abandoned store that we’d be scavenging, “had to learn to hunt, quietest weapon I could find. Saved my ass more than once.”

“Well, it’s sick. Makes you look like a bonafide badass,” I complimented, swinging the car door open and letting myself out, “my brothers taught me how to fight, but that was it. Guess they figured it’d be the only skill I needed when the world was…normal.”

“I could teach ya,” Daryl responded, rather quickly, “I mean, if ya wanted. Should know how, just in case.” I folded my arms on the car's roof and rested my chin on them.

“Yeah, that…that would be cool. Thanks.” He was hunched over in the car, reaching for what I presumed to be his crossbow. I slung my bag over my shoulders. “Don’t think we’re finished here. I have more questions for you.” I shut my door, and he lifted his head back up and rolled his eyes at me. I gave him a smirk in response.

“Whatever,” he said, shutting his door and locking the car, shoving the keys in his back pocket. I swung my backpack around to my side, rummaging in it for a second. I could finally put my most unique weapon to use.

“Here we go,” I said, pulling the black vibrator out of my bag, “I can finally show you how I kill walkers with this thing.” He scoffed and pried the sliding glass doors open, stepping in first in front of me, crossbow ready to fire.

We tiptoed in slowly, waiting for the shuffling sounds of any walkers or people. At first, there was nothing, but after some more tiptoes from us, there were some walker moans and groans echoing from somewhere inside the store. We carefully scanned each aisle, rounding each corner with extreme caution. Daryl got one walker as we came around a corner towards the far end of the store, hitting it right between the eyes.

Even when he was doing something as grisly as killing walkers, he was still the most beautiful human I’d ever laid my eyes on.

We hit the opposite end of the store after cutting through the back area to check for people and make sure we were completely alone. There was one more walker, stumbling around in the back corner of the store, chomping its teeth at us as it sauntered closer. It was wearing a priest's collar.

“Well go on,” Daryl said, stepping out from in front of me to my side, “go get the Father.” I let out a small chuckle and approached the creature, vibrator in hand, the top piece fixated to smack it in the temple.

“‘Sup Daddy?” I joked, swinging the vibrator like a bat and smacking the thing upside the head before it could even try to reach for me. The side of its head was caved in. I leaned over next to it and gave it a few more good whacks in the skull until the moaning and groaning stopped. I wiped my weapon off on its pants and slipped it into the holster on my leg for my knife before looking back up at Daryl, crossing my arms over my chest.

“Told you it’s a good weapon.”

[thegalaxysedge22]

After Ever - Chapter 4

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pair: sylus/MC tags/tw: nightmare/lowkey PTSD, descriptive violence/gore (like multiple deaths) swearing word count: 5.3k song rec: nightmare by halsey (both bc of the nightmare but also the theme a/n: i cried while writing this if that is any indication of how messed up it is. if you don't think you can handle it you can see this post for the chapter with teh violence as removed as it can be. i did find this scene important to include so we can understand the character better but i totally get it if its not something that you are willing to put yourself through. also don't drink this much coffee important: if you want to follow this fic and updates but don't want to follow me bc im annoying (understandable) check out the tag #after ever fanfiction also if anyone wants i can start a tag list

IMPORTANT!!!!! if you don't want to read the graphic nightmare, you can scroll past the italics OR read it here

Screams and cries circled the area around her. She was standing in the rubble of a crumbling city. Smoke from nearby fires clouded the air and made it hard to breathe. She was cowering behind a large chunk of rubble, near a wall. but curiosity got the best of her and she peered out to see what was happening.

In her line of sight she could see multiple creatures that would come to be known as wanderers, each had their focus on a different target. They were hideous beasts, no two alike. Some ran on all fours and had mouths the size of dogs. Others were bipedal, using sharp claws and large teeth to trap their prey. Their most terrifying aspect, however, was that they seemed to have almost cosmic powers. From being able to teleport to play with people's minds, luring them into their deaths. Nearly every power that one could think of there was a wanderer that had it.

The closest victim was a businessman stumbling backwards in a hopeless attempt to maintain some distance from the creature as it closed on him.

“P-Please, you don't want to do this. I-I have money, I can give you so much money, just please let me live,” it was the man’s vain attempt to stop the inevitable, but the wanderer had no need for earthly possessions nor could it comprehend human language.

The wanderer lunged forward and the man fell backwards, hitting a wall. It was then he knew that his time had come. Sitting in the fetal position he waited to receive his fate. And soon it came. The wanderer grabbed hold of the man and threw him against the wall. The sound of his bones shattering would forever remain in her mind.

Then it moved on and shifted its focus to a young mother and her child who were practically right next to her. The wanderer vanished from sight just to reappear right in front of the young family. The woman held her infant, pulling it closer to her chest, pleading with the monster to spare them. Of course it didn’t understand her, why would it.

In an act of untold depravity that it wouldn't be able to comprehend, the wanderer’s long claws grabbed the baby by its skull, plucking it from the grasp of its mother’s arms. The woman was hysterical, powerless to stop the monster whose kind had caused all of this destruction. She was desperately reaching out for her baby, but the wanderer took the small child between its hands and pulled.

In a horror like no other, the wanderer tore off the baby’s head like it was plucking petals from a flower, an arc of blood following the monster’s motions. The child’s mother let out a heart shattering wail, the kind that would stick with you for the rest of your life. The woman’s anguished cries were cut short when the wanderer used its claws to slash through the mother’s chest. In her last moment the woman made eye contact with her, and mouthed, “Run.”

Like before, blood was flung in the direction of its attack, but this time it splattered across her face, briefly blinding her. Then the worst thing happened. The wanderer set its sights on her. It was inevitable, she knew that, but that didn’t make her any more prepared. She was unable to fight back, paralyzed in fear, she stared up at the thing she knew was going to kill her.

Suddenly, a figure appeared out of nowhere, it jumped in front of her, directly in harm’s way. There were intense flashes of light, it seemed that her rescuer had a light evol, and slashes of a large sword. It all happened so fast she wasn’t sure how to process it. She only knew that it was over when something viscous but not quite blood sprayed across her face as the mystery person sliced the monster in half.

Just then her savior turned around and asked if she was alright . The face of Xavier looked back at her with concern. 

Wait… Xavier?

Kore jolted awake in a cold sweat that had plastered her hair to her face. The nightmare had been so vivid, the repressed memory coming back to life. She hadn’t thought so graphically about that moment in years. She had spent ages in therapy trying to cope with what she had seen, and stop her from reliving it all everytime she closed her eyes. Why did it suddenly come back to her? Why now? And why the actual fuck was Xaiver in it?

She had never recovered enough of that memory to get to know who her savior was, but she had always wondered. It had happened on the day of the Chronorift Catastrophe fourteen years ago and now that she had learned about Lumiere, the first Hunter, she couldn’t help but think that it might’ve been them all along. 

I might just be making shit up, I mean I don’t even know if this Lumiere has an evol to begin with, she thought to herself. She decided it was as good of time as any to learn more about the legend.

Shaking her mouse to wake her computer, the clock read 2:38AM, she had been alone in the building for a while now. She did, however, sleep longer than she had intended.

Like an obsessed teenager, Kore started learning everything she possibly could about Lumiere. She went through blog after blog and forum after forum – she was pretty sure that she had stumbled upon Nero’s blog too, it looked just like what she had caught him so intently focused on. His dedication to Lumiere was clear as this was the most extensive and concise resource she could find, the scale .

The basics of Lumiere were what Nero had already told her, almost to a verbatim. However, she found out that Lumiere did, in fact, have a light evol. I knew it, she thought to herself. She can’t help but wonder if Xavier is a big fan of Lumiere as well.

The amount of knowledge Nero had accumulated about Lumiere was impressive to say the least. On the blog was an imprecise timeline of Lumiere’s heroics during the Chronorift Catastrophe. The blog made note of how the timeline should be taken with a grain of salt as it was primarily based off of eyewitness reports and that some of these reports seemed to overlap or place them at places too far apart to make sense. 

Along with the timeline there was an interactive map. Kore was blown away by its accuracy. Somehow a majority of the locations had pictures of the immediate aftermath, the carnage, of course, was blurred out or covered up outright. Nero must’ve gotten his hands on the official 360 images, she was unsure if they were ever officially released to the public.

Not entirely sure of where her attack took place, Kore scoured the map looking for any places that matched her memory. She did this by clicking on random locations, without rhyme or reason, sometimes clicking on the same location more than once. The final location, in the middle of the map, was one that brought the fear back into her soul. She stared at the image of the place where she nearly lost her life fourteen years ago, the same place that housed her nightmare.

Impressively, there was even information about the wanderers behind each attack, the details there were especially sparse but it was shocking that there were any to begin with.

On the blog there was an “About” page, interested in what Nero had to say for himself, Kore clicked the tab.

Hello Lumites, my name is N. When the Chronorift Catastrophe happened I was 5 years old, playing outside at the park when the Wanderers first came. I watched helplessly as they attacked my mother and baby sister. Just when I was sure I was about to be killed, a savior swooped in. It was Lumiere. They saved my life that day and I have never forgotten them.  I will spare you the details because they are both gruesome and could lead someone to my identity (there are many accounts of children like me being saved by Lumiere, so I am not worried about that being public). Since that day, I have devoted all of my free time into learning more about Lumiere and preserving their legacy. I will not let what they did for me and many others be forgotten.  Let the legacy of Lumiere be a light for us all.

Kore’s eyes were starting to become strained from all of the reading, she rubbed her temples in hope that it would relieve some of the tension. Alas, that was not meant to be and her head was still throbbing. Her stomach grumbled and so did she. 

If she correctly recalled Zayne’s ever changing schedule, he should be getting off his shift about now. Knowing how bad he is at taking care of his own basic needs and the rumbling in her stomach pushed her to ask him to meet up for food. Besides, she had a lot to tell him. He said okay.

Kore and Zane definitely had a weird doctor/patient dynamic, one that would be questionable under other circumstances. The two had known each other their entire lives despite having had lost contact for a few years; they were basically life-long friends. He was also one of the very few people who were qualified to care for Kore’s condition, a condition which now made sense that it was so rare after finding out about the aether core.

The pair of them were sitting in a booth in the back corner of a 24-hour diner she used to frequent. The middle aged waitress had already come and gone, making Zayne squirm a little when she had called him “Sugar” before asking for his order. Surprisingly, Zayne had followed in Kore’s footsteps and ordered a large plate of waffles. Kore had raised her eyebrow at this and he had just shrugged and said something about when in Rome.

When their food came to their table Kore was busy pouring the last bits of the carafe into her mug. Zayne had already advised her that it was not wise to drink that much caffeine that quickly, especially with her heart. Kore had waved his worries off and it wasn’t like he could force her to do anything, so he had no choice but to accept her actions, but he did give her a disappointed stare everytime her hand went for the carafe. 

“My oh my, you two sure got quite the taste for coffee now dontcha,” the waitress said, placing their food down. Kore practically had the carafe upside down trying to drain it of any coffee lingering. The waitress saw her struggle and plucked the container from her grasp saying, “Here, let me get some more for you, Sugar.”

“I know I said I would drop it, but it really isn’t good for you to be having that much caffeine,” Zanye said, “Have you been sleeping alright? I noticed the bags under your eyes and got worried about your sleep schedule. Have you tried-”

“Oh no, Zanye,” Kore interrupted, shaking her head, “we are not at the hospital. You are not going to go all clinical on me. I brought you here to talk more about the aether core.”

Zayne stopped cutting his waffles, lowered his head and sighed. With a fork in one hand and a knife in the other, he rested the backs of the utensils on the table. He looked back up at Kore, meeting her gaze and said, “And here I was hoping for a pleasant meal between two friends.”

She couldn’t tell if he was upset or not. He could be hard to read at times, but the flicker of humor in his eyes was all she needed to know he wasn’t offended. A smile blossomed across her face.

“Was that a joke I heard, Zayne,” she teased him.

He gave a smile back with a hint of mischievousness, although he was definitely still shy, he was far removed from the reserved child she knew growing up. She couldn’t help but wonder if that change happened during the few years that they had lost contact.

“You know how you mentioned that my health was on the decline?” Kore asked changing topics, to which Zayne nodded almost solemnly. 

“Hypothetically,” Kore posited, not really wanting to give her plan away just yet, “if you were to be able to get ahold of an aether core, would that help with understanding my disease?”

“Yes it would,” Zayne said after a moment's pause, “but I don't see how you would be able to get one considering how rare they are.” It was clear that he wasn’t picking up what she was putting down. “However, if we were able to get ahold of an aether core it could aid in discovering more about your condition and why it is so unique.”

His response was cut short when their waitress came back with another pot of coffee. “Here you go sweetheart,” she said, refilling Kore’s cup, before setting it down. Kore greedily accepted the coffee, downing the cup before refilling it

“Thank you so much, you are my hero,” Kore said, singing the women’s praises. 

“Oh bless your heart,” their waitress said with a laugh, hand over her heart, before leaving their table. Once she left, Kore turned back to Zayne and the conversation at hand.

“Well…” Kore started, “what if I told you that I could get my hands on one.”

Zayne sat up a bit straighter in his seat, leaning towards her. “Then I would be impressed. Right now they are purely theoretical, as we don’t have any confirmed specimens. But with all of the evidence we currently have along with Dr. Noah’s testimony, I would be inclined to believe in their existence. But I have to reiterate how ”

“Zayne, have you heard of the N109 Zone?” Kore asked, leaning in. Zayne faintly nodded, his quizzical eyebrows made clear that he was unsure of where this was going. “It’s important to know that the whole zone is well known for trafficking just in general.” Kore stopped, scanning their surroundings and leaned in even further, practically hovering over her food.

“Okay, so there’s this organization named Onychinus,” her voice dropped as she spoke, but her pace picked up the more she talked, “I have a lot of issues with them, but that’s a whole other thing. But they have been tagged as the largest trafficker of protocores – Oh, and one more thing you need to know, they are like this massive organization and have a lot of power in the N109 Zone – and so if anyone is going to have knowledge of illicit protocore modifications, it would be those fuckers. And if we’re lucky, they might even have an aether core in their possession. 

“So, if I were to go to the N109 Zone and start mentioning aether cores, with the extent of their power it is likely that news of some random woman talking about an extremely rare, and by default, extremely valuable item would trickle back to whoever is in charge, right? It would likely be some person at the top of Onychinus, which would be useful, basically it would be like killing two birds with one stone! I could find out more about aether cores and even get my hands on one, and I would be able to confront Onychinus and make them pay for what they did to my family.

“Then I can bring the aether core back to you and you can study it and then hopefully we can better figure out what is wrong with me,” Kore finished her tirade with a manic look in her eyes. Zayne had been growing concerned about her well being as their interactions continued and this was just the icing on the cake.

“I thought you said that this was all hypothetical,”  he said cautiously.

“It is,” Kore was quick to reassure the doctor. 

Zayne was unable to determine how serious she was being; he had never been good at reading people’s intentions. He was well aware that sleep deprivation, which Kore was showing clear signs of, can make people become irrational, and add that to the intense grief she was experiencing, it really was unclear if she would do something so stupid. Deciding to err on the side of caution, Zayne concluded that it would be best for them both if he were to warn her about the multiple flaws in her plan.

“I hope that you are being serious Kore, this should all just be hypothetical,” Zayne started, “Going into a dangerous area that you lack local knowledge of with the intent of goading an organization that is known to be violent into finding you is a very bad idea. Announcing that you have a highly valuable item like that in a place you are unfamiliar with would make you a target and could get you seriously injured, or worse, killed.

“I know you know this but it bears repeating. Your life is not worth the possibility of finding an aether core to study when it still isn’t clear if it is indeed an aether core that is causing your condition, and even if it is you heard Dr. Noah say that there are other patients like that, so there would be other avenues for us to gain more insight into your condition.

“So while this is all hypothetical, I really want you to keep this all in mind, as not only your doctor, but also as your friend, your safety is important to me. I don’t want to see you get hurt,” Zayne concluded, hoping that she would understand the dangers of this idea and that it would stick to being strictly hypothetical.

Kore offered him the most convincing reassuring smile she could give knowing her mind was already made up, and that seemed to be enough to pacify Zayne’s worry. The two spent the rest of their meal laughing and chatting about unimportant recent events until it was time for them to both go home and get some much needed rest.

Kore spent most of the day lost inside her head, sleep largely eluding her. The gears in there had been working overtime as she had debated on Zayne’s words from the day before. She had made a run to the store for more sources of caffeine - at this point it was virtually the only thing keeping her going. And just her luck, by the time she had checked out it was downpouring outside. Fully unprepared for the rain, Kore cursed and pulled up the hood of her sweatshirt. Luckily, her apartment was nearby. Kore started the journey back to the safety of her home.

She saw the canopy of her apartment building up ahead. Knowing she was in the homestretch, she put her head down and sprinted towards the shelter. Unfortunately, as soon as she stopped being hit by the rain, she ran into and hit someone else.

“Oh shit, I am so sorry,” Kore said, lifting her head, “Wait Xavier?”

Xavier looked just as surprised to see Kore there, shaking like a stray kitten in the rain. 

“What are you doing here?” she asked him quizzically.

“I live here,” he said.

“Well I guess it is a small world afterall,” Kore said, a wave of sadness washing over her when she remembered how often she had heard her grandmother say that. Brushing that pain off, she continued, “I live here too.”

“Oh,” Xavier said. 

“How was work? Was it terribly boring without me?” Kore joked, bumping his shoulder as the pair made their way inside.

“It was a slow day,” Xavier said with a faint laugh. He hits the up arrow for the elevator and the two wait in relative silence.

“How-” “I-” 

The two spoke at the same time, they both offered to let the other speak first. The dance continued for a little bit longer before they gave up.

The elevator doors opened and they both got in pressing their floors, Kore pressed 6 and Xavier 7.

“Oh wow, it looks like you live right above me,” Kore commented. Xavier hummed in response, causing her to huff in frustration before regaining her composure. 

“I wanted to thank you for sharing your access with me, and I was wondering if you would be able to extend it to me for a bit longer?” Kore questioned with pleading eyes. 

“I’m afraid that I can’t do that,” Xavier said, turning towards her “I wasn’t even supposed to do it the first time and if I do it again I fear that somebody might notice.” Kore’s demeanor deflated with that, clearly feeling dejected by his response.

“But I can tell you more if you come with me,” he continued.

“I would love to but I gotta put all of this stuff away,” Kore said gesturing to the bags of groceries in her hands. It was then that the elevator opened on her floor, but she hesitated before countering, “Why don’t you come with me?”

Xavier nodded at her request and they both departed from the elevator. They made their way down the hallways stopping at apartment number 634.

“Wow, I literally live directly above you,” Xavier commented. 

Kore was struggling to get her keys out and nodded automatically before pausing once she got them in the lock, “Really? That’s crazy.”

She unlocked the door but stopped shy of opening it, “Wait, are you allergic to cats?”

Xavier shook his head, eyebrows furrowed ever so slightly.

“Okay, good I was just checking,” Kore said, finally opening the door. Almost as if on cue a small calico cat came prancing to the entryway, rubbing up against its owners legs as a greeting.

“I told you I’d be back, Harrold,” Kore said, her fondness for the older kitten making its way into her voice. She placed the bags of groceries down on the floor and scratched under the cat’s chin, “Xavier, this is Harrold, my cat.”

Once Xavier stepped further through the doorway, shutting the door behind him, the curious cat came over to him. After a thorough inspection, Harrold seemed to decide that Xavier was alright and brushed up against the guest as well.

“I actually found him a few months ago- I think maybe four – he was out in the alleyway out back eating out of a trash can, and it was pouring rain. The poor guy was soaked to the bone and stick thin, poor man looked almost pathetic” Kore scooped up the cat, kissing his face as she talked. Xavier let out a little chuckle, thinking about how earlier he had likened Kore’s appearance to that of a soaked stray cat when he ran into her outside.

“Obviously I took little Harrold in. The vet told me that he was practically on death’s door when I brought him in for a checkup,” Kore continued, “Also, he’s a male calico cat, which apparently is like super rare. The vet had said that she had never seen or even heard of one in her thirtyish years of experience. I think she said that they make up one out of every three thousand or something insane.”

Kore continued the story of how she had nursed the stray back to health and Xavier internally remarked on how much of a chatter box she was being, in fact, he cannot recall if she had ever been this relaxed and this talkative in his presence. 

Upon finishing her story, Kore put the cat down, who was starting to squirm in her arms, and kicked off her shoes in the vague direction of the door. Xavier followed in her suit, placing his shoes neatly by the door. 

Groceries in hand, Kore made her way deeper into the apartment, Xavier trailing behind her. She made quick work of putting everything away before she turned back to her guest, “So you said that you had some more information that you could share?”

“Let’s start with what you found out so far and I can try to fill in the gaps,” Xavier said. Kore guided them both to the table and they sat down.

“Basically I was able to gain a bit more information on the N109 Zone, including a little bit about it before the Catastrophe,” Kore started, Xavier’s eyebrow raised in curiosity. “There was also significantly more information about Onychinus, like how they seem to be connected to a lot of unexplained deaths of Ever researchers. 

“There was also a bunch of information about Onychinus’ role in the protocore trade, which leads me to believe that they would definitely have knowledge of aether cores and likely have or have had them in their possession.” Xavier nodded along as Kore talked.

“They also seem to have had a role in the deaths of my grandma and Caleb,” Kore said solemnly before shaking off the negative emotions. She clapped her hands on the table, standing up, “Would you like anything to drink? I got tea, water, beer, and I’m about to make some coffee.”

Xavier accepted her offer for a cup of water, taking a small sip upon receiving it. Kore made her way back to the kitchen and started making coffee with the fresh beans she had picked up earlier. Once the noise of the grinder stopped, Xavier started talking.

“You’re on the right track with the aether core thing. From what I know Onychinus does deal with them, but primarily under-the-table. Aether cores are something that you really would have to be in the know to be able to get your hands on. It’s not like you could just waltz on in, ask for one, and be able to get it - you need to have an established relationship with Onychinus before they would let you in on something so valuable.

“I am not quite sure but I think that the knowledge of aether cores existence isn’t something that is kept hidden from people, but it's not like it is something that people would know a lot about. Because it is so widely sought after, many people try and manufacture them themselves, but it is such a dangerous process that very few succeed at it, and many die trying.”

Kore was surprised, she had no idea that aether cores could be manufactured, but if that truly was the case then it would make sense that the one in her heart was made as well. Following that line of logic, Kore convinced herself that if Onychinus could make them, then they were likely the people behind the one that she had. It was possible that the group just had strong ties to those responsible, but it was likely the doing of Onychinus themselves.

“I think I need to go after them, Xavier,” Kore said. “They can’t keep getting away with things like this. How many more innocent people have to die before they are stopped? How many more people need to be hurt?”

After a moment of silence, Xavier lets out a sigh, “I was worried you were going to say that.”

“Kore,” he said, looking her dead in the eyes, “you need to understand how dangerous this idea is. You have virtually no knowledge of this place, do you even have a plan on what to do when you get there? I don’t think that you are in the right state of mind to be making such rash decisions. You’re going to get yourself killed if you keep going down this route. Do you even have a plan? Have you thought about this at all?” Although his voice remained calm, there was worry in his eyes.

“I am not here to tell you that you can’t but you need to really think this through before you dive in head first or else something bad is going to happen,” Xavier concluded.

“Okay then what do you think I should do then,” Kore pushes back.

“I don’t think you should go at all,” he said in an uncharacteristic outburst of emotion.

“If I go I might die, but if I don’t go I will die,” Kore screamed back.

“What?” Xavier questioned stunned. Kore pours herself some coffee while he responds and rounds the counter sitting down at the table.

“Over the long weekend I went up to the Arctic and saw my old doctor. He told me about how other cases like mine typically have their patients experience a sharp and sudden decline in their health and then die within a year or two. Then he ran some tests on me and was shocked to find that my condition was deteriorating. He tried to brush it off like it was grief making me like this but there was something in his eyes that screamed that he wasn’t telling me the whole story.” Tears were welling up in her eyes when she met his gaze again, “I’m scared and I don’t know what else to do. With my whole family dead, what do I have to lose?”

Xavier suddenly understands what she meant, as he had felt it too, the haunting emptiness of losing everything that you hold dear. His gaze softened and he nodded softly. “If you are going to do it anyways, despite what I say, come up with a plan at least, please.”

“I do have a plan, I told you, go to the N109 Zone, find Onychinus to get an aether core and kill their leader, then come back home.” Kore said it like it would be simple, like she would be assembling furniture, not risking her life, which irked Xavier, it was clear she wasn’t understanding the gravity of the situation.

“That is not a plan, that’s an unrealistic outline,” Xavier said sternly.

“I did the research, I know what I am getting into, the details aren’t that important,” Kore said, squeezing her mug tight enough that her knuckles turned white.

“You know a lot of the information that you found is going to be outdated, right?” Xavier asked, frustrated “The government is slow at collecting intelligence, it isn’t going to be safe for you to assume that nothing has changed. Do you even know where you are going once you get there?”

Kore, suddenly grateful that she printed out that brochure, went over to her bag and plucked it out, along with a pencil. She slammed the paper in front of Xavier with a smug look, tossing the pencil on the table. Xavier reached for the pencil and immediately started altering the map, ignoring Kore’s objections. He crossed out roads and marked buildings

“I can’t tell you everything, but I can give you some updated information,” He said, going on to explain the lay of the land, including prominent hangouts for Onychinus members and important locations.”

“How do you know all of this, Xavier,” Kore asked once he was done talking.

“That is irrelevant,” he responded in a heartbeat, “also it is helping you so why does it matter how I know it.”

His answer raised Kore’s suspicions. The recollection of her nightmare earlier, the one where Lumiere’s face was replaced with Xavier’s, flashed before her eyes, and she remembered Nero saying how Lumiere was recently spotted in the N109 Zone. She was quick to dismiss that line of thinking, it didn’t make sense anyways.

Together, they hammered out a more concrete plan, determining the best places for her to go to as well as where she should avoid. Xavier still felt uneasy about the whole ordeal but Kore managed to convince him it would be alright. She also managed to get him to agree to cat sitting Harrold while she was away.

After Xavier left for the night, Kore quickly packed her bag with everything she could possibly need while she tried to figure out the best order of operations like she promised she would.

a/n 2.0: guess who we meet next chapter 🤭

Next >

[ashrillvenheim]

Awakening Past

Chapter 19

NOTE I want to make an annotation for this chapter. This is a fic that, as you can see, is very long and I have realized that there are chapters that get out of hand to the point of having to make two parts. I have been writing another 7-chapter fic in which I condense the story and the way of narrating it, so I wanted to implement a personal limitation for the length of the chapters that will come after this one. I would like to know your opinion about this chapter. I would like to know what you think about the transition of time, the events and the pace at which it takes place. I would appreciate if you could leave a comment to know your opinion about it! :3

pairing: Ashley Graham x Leon S Kennedy.

Content: (+18) romance, angst, gore, erotic/suggestive themes at some point, slow burn, violence, action, self-harm, death talk,

If you're a MINOR DON'T keep reading, thank you.

Archive of our own / WORK LIST / Awakening Past Masterlist

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Everything was spinning horribly.

It felt like she had a goblin stuck in her head hammering against her skull.

Ashley grunted for the umpteenth time trying to focus on the papers. The dogs had laid down in the corner and were playing with a worn rope.

The call she got from Victor to see how her injuries were going was like a punch in the face and she was about to say something outrageous to him, but managed to control herself.

It was a brief call, she would probably give it to Leon as well and she was grateful that Victor was concerned about her strange cases. It put her mind at ease.

She took a second coffee, but the goblin was still pummeling her brain and she could only drop her head against the table.

Everything was a blur.

From a moment during dinner she no longer had clear images of what happened.

She just hoped she hadn't done anything foolish.

The door opened to let in Jill, Chris and Leon, who were chatting over a cup of coffee and stood still when they saw Ashley with her head against the table.

“Should we be worried?” Redfield said with an arched eyebrow.

Ashley grunted.

“ Don't expect much from me today.” she mumbled with her forehead pressed against the metal table.

That answer seemed to calm the three of them down and Jill walked over to the dogs.

“What a show you gave us yesterday.” smiled Valentine scratching Mint's belly.

Leon glanced sideways at Ashley who snapped her head up.

“ Tell me I didn't do something stupid.” his voice was alarmed.

Chris laughed sitting down on a stool.

“ It depends, if you consider it stupid to sing an "exciting" song.” he emphasized the word with a mocking air.

The three of them could see the blonde's face gradually turn red and then she slammed back down on the table.

“ Oh God... it was not a dream…”

Jill and Chris laughed, but Leon couldn't get out his trademark laugh. Too focused on not thinking about what happened the night before for Ashley not to smell his nerves. So he tried to deflect it onto someone else.

“ You don't know how you were sticking it to Chris.” Kennedy joked, taking a seat on the other side of the room.

Ashley tried to sink her head deeper into the table, holding her hands to the crown of her head.

“ For God's sake, stop it. You're never taking me out to party again and I'm never drinking again, I'm done.” she said, red up to her ears. Leon could hear her heart beating wildly.

“ Oh come on, the song was great, people would pay to see you perform.”

Ashley almost gagged as she imagined doing that whole show for an audience and the embarrassment made her groan under her breath.

“ Chris…” she whimpered in embarrassment.

Chris, Jill and Leon laughed, but the latter still remembered that dark look he gave her during the deep words of the song. He was under the influence of alcohol, but he wondered to what extent the things Ashley had done the day before had been unintentional.

The two ex-Stars teased him for a while longer until Narsson and Maria arrived an hour later.

Vazquez turned to Ashley and the blonde pointed at her in warning.

“ Don't. Start.” she stressed every word. “ Not a word of this to my father or James, is that clear?”

Maria pretended to be offended.

“ Me? I would never do that to you.”

Ashley closed her eyes.

“ You recorded me and sent it to James the first time, I'm still saving it for you.”

Vazquez rolled her eyes and sighed.

“ What a poor sense of humor you have Ashley.”

“ I want to keep my dignity.” she argued.

From Leon's point of view, even if Ashley had been drunk, at no point did she lose her dignity. Quite the contrary. She captured the attention and the hearts of those who saw her sing that night like a femme fatale.

Narsson noticed the way Leon watched Ashley as she argued with Maria. Enma scratched her chin and began to feel her curiosity demon emerge from the bed and poke its head out.

She approached Leon cautiously and tapped him on the shoulder to get his attention.

“ Hey did something happen yesterday?” she whispered in a playful tone.

Leon knew instantly what she was talking about, but played dumb.

“ What do you mean?”

“ Oh come on. Yesterday Ashley was over the top and the same way she clung to Chris she could cling to you. Did something happen last night?” Enma hinted with an arched eyebrow.

Leon kept firm eye contact, until a sudden image of Ashley on top of him came to his mind, making him blink and blush subtly.

“ Nothing happened.”

"Little liar" thought Enma even more eager to know what had happened and continued to press in.

“ Wow, I think someone's going to grow a nose.”

Leon looked at her in surprise.

“ I'm not lying, nothing happened.”

“ Mmm…”

Like lightning he turned to Ashley.

“Ashley what-”

Leon quickly covered her mouth with his heart in his fist and with a smile dragged her out of the room like a sack. He closed the door on his way out.

Ashley blinked not quite understanding what was going on, but it struck her as odd that Leon was acting so...close to Narsson.

Her heart skipped a beat as her mind processed the information.

Did something happen between them last night?

*

“You're supposed to be an adult, dammit," Leon growled down the corridor, away from prying ears.

“Well then tell me what happened.” Enma crossed her arms.

Leon rolled his eyes.

“Why the fuck do you want to meddle in Ashley's personal life?”

She glared at him.

“I want to make sure that the team I'm working with isn't suffering from problems that could affect the performance of the investigation.”

Leon threw back his head with a "Ha!" and looked at her coldly again.

“ And I am Julius Caesar. Now tell me you're not going to ask her.”

Narsson drummed his fingers against his arm.

“ She doesn't remember?”

Leon sighed.

“It doesn't look like it, and I'm not going to ask her to confirm it.”

This time it was Narsson who rolled her eyes.

“ Have you had unprotected sex?”

Leon hissed, covering her mouth with his red face.

“No, damn it. We haven't had any of that.”

Enma pressed.

“Unprotected and you finished inside.”

Leon clenched his jaw wanting to strangle her.

“Your FUCK- She pinned me to the floor, touched my lips and painted them with what she was wearing on hers, happy?”

Enma blinked at the sudden confession that was not at all what she had expected.

“Did she kiss you?”

“No. She smeared her fingers with her lipstick and then painted them on me.”

Narsson was speechless for a few seconds.

“Are you kidding me?”

Leon turned red up to his ears and approached her menacingly.

“Do I look like I want to joke about a situation like this with the president's daughter?”

She thought that argument was solid enough, but that didn't stop her from doubling over in laughter and trying to hold back a laugh.

“My God...it's not like you guys are Mormons, are you really in such worry about that?”

“Yes, is there a problem?”

Leon's flat voice made Narsson stop laughing. He stared at her and saw the seriousness in his expression.

“Aren't you going to tell her?”

“It's stupid and I don't want her to feel any worse about it than she already does.” Leon said decisively, really aware that knowing something like that wouldn't help Ashley at all. “ And I hope you don't either.”

His voice was a clear warning and Narsson held up his hands.

“ Let's make a deal.”

The agent arched his eyebrows.

“Enma, don't fuck with me.”

“I want the special homemade croissants from the bakery across the street from the Museum as my breakfast in exchange for my silence.”

Leon pinched the bridge of his nose, not understanding this woman.

“How many..." he sighed.

“I want you to buy me one in the morning for a month.”

He grunted heavily and utterly defeated. He really was persistent.

“All right, it's a deal.”

Enma held out her hand with a broad smile that Leon reluctantly took.

“Perfect. You can go for the first one today.”

Narsson spun on her heel and headed back toward the lab. Leon wanted to slam his head against the wall, but he took a deep breath and went after her, thinking about that darn croissant. 

Ashley turned when she heard them enter the lab. Narsson was smiling broadly and Leon followed her with his hands in his pockets and then grabbed the dogs and announced their departure.

“Can I get you anything?” he asked in a slightly more... defeated tone.

“You know mine.” Enma said like a teenager, turning back to her notes and oblivious to Ashley's gaze.

The blonde didn't understand what was going on.

“Bring me another coffee.” Maria said and Leon nodded before leaving with the dogs.

Ashley stared at the door for a few seconds and then turned back to Narsson. Her former teacher was glancing at her notes calmly and Ashley felt a small thorn begin to lodge in her chest.

Something had to have happened between them, right? She could ask Chris or Jill about it, but... it made her feel bad to pry into other people's private lives.

So she decided to focus on her notes.

Half an hour later Leon returned with Maria's coffee and another bag that he handed to Narsson.

He didn't want to think about it. She really didn't want to think about it, but it was enough that she didn't remember the events after last night's dinner very well to make her feel uncomfortable.

She tried to focus on work, finally receiving the box with the fossil samples and carbon results.

Ashley focused on applying her studies alongside Enma without thinking too much about other things. but every time she looked at her former tutor and her former bodyguard, her mind decided to throw her a little party.

Had they kissed? Had they had sex? Had they had...?

"Ashley, stop it. Enough." she said to herself over and over again, feeling bad for thinking those things. They were adults, they could do whatever they wanted.

It was their lives, not his.  So she swallowed her thoughts .

*

For the next two days, Ashley and Narsson spent the next two days sorting through all the fragments and elements of the fossils that Graham, Leon, Chris and Jill found in Spain. They located on the world map and in the areas where more types of these bivalves had been found, trying to look for a pattern of origin. But so far with no luck.

In those two days Ashley saw how Leon brought Narsson the same bag from the bakery across the street from the Museum and Enma always smiled at him with a thank you. 

She didn't like that feeling. She didn't like that tiny demon that had started to wander around in her head.

She didn't ask any questions. She didn't want to know and it was none of her business, but one of those days she had to take a break.

She saw Leon watching Narsson too much, as if he was watching her. Was it about what Leon stopped her from saying a few days ago?

Whatever it was, she needed to strangle that horrible demon whispering in her ear.

“I'm going out for a while.” She announced getting up from her seat and not waiting for anyone to offer to accompany her.

Leon watched her go and for a moment thought about following her on impulse. After being her escort for three months he had become accustomed to going wherever she went.

But he had a feeling that this was not the time.

*

Ashley walked down the hallway toward the museum library. One of the benefits of being doing research in the lab was that they were given access to other worker-only areas.

She needed to disconnect. To stop smelling her scents. 

She opened the door showing her badge and lost herself among the shelves of the place. She read the spines of the old volumes that adorned the shelves and inhaled the faint scent of the dust that accumulated on the less used books. Her amber eyes reached the other side of the aisle, where she perceived another figure, but to which she paid no attention.

She continued to snoop around, glancing at some document that might bring her something, but finding nothing new that they didn't have in the lab. She remained engrossed until she perceived someone approaching her.

“ Excuse me," said the man. 

Ashley turned to him. A dark-haired boy with a grayish eye was looking at her with a curious air.

“ Yes?” she replied, not recognizing him at all. Even his scent didn't ring a bell.

The boy seemed to watch her for a couple of seconds, as if he were confirming something.

“ Forgive me for being so blunt, but did you sing at the river bar three days ago?”

Ashley's face turned hopelessly red.

“ No... I think you're confused.” she tried to evade the question, because all she needed was for someone to spread the word that the president's daughter had gotten drunk in public and then put on a show.

“I'm sure it's you, it was unbelievable. I never would have expected to run into you in this place. I'm Dylan, by the way.” He held out his hand, which she took, still a little confused.

“ Ashley, are you sure you're not confusing me?” she insisted, but somewhat surprised that he didn't know who she was.

“Of course, you can't forget a show like that.” he winked teasingly, making Ashley blush hopelessly.

“Oh, please, I was drunk.” she covered her face and heard him laugh softly.

“Well, you didn't look it.”

“Well, I was.”

Dylan laughed again and looked at the shelves Ashley had been browsing.

“How long have you been working here? I've never seen you.”

She looked at him. He definitely didn't know who she was and that... relieved her.

“I started this week.” She smiled at him, finding the man's scent very pleasant.

Dylan nodded and scratched the back of his neck gently.

“I've been here for a year, if you want... I could show you some departments of the museum.”

Ashley was quiet for a moment.

Was he hitting on her?

 Her brain stopped processing.

“Only if you want of course, but I'd love to show you around.” Dylan finished with a soft smile.

He was definitely hitting on her.

Ashley was stumped not knowing what to do for a moment. She didn't realize she had been silent for too long.

“Ashley?” he called out to her, looking for a response from her.

She blinked finally and a shy smile tugged at her lips.

“Sure, I'd love to.”

Dylan's eyes widened with delight and his irises sparkled.

“Great. I'm kind of busy today, are you working tomorrow?”

Ashley couldn't help but feel infected by that smile.

“Yeah, do you want to meet up for break?”

“Sure, I'll see you tomorrow.” He said goodbye to her with a gentle caress on her shoulder and left.

Ashley stood in place for a few more seconds, still processing what had just happened.

She tried to be logical. To think clearly. She didn't know him and didn't know what his intentions were. She might discover some side of him she didn't like. She tried to think that he had only offered to give her a tour of the museum, nothing more.

And yet she clenched her fist and whispered a low "Yes!" of victory. 

*

Ashley re-entered the lab with a totally different expression than the one she had left with and Leon noticed. The agent was surprised at the sudden change, but didn't think much of it, perhaps he had just needed some fresh air.

Thanks to the small encounter, Ashley managed to focus much better that day. Her mind stopped paying attention to the little gestures between Narsson and Leon, or at least she could not give them too much relevance.

She kept that horrible demon in the back of her skull at bay, but was unaware of the way she avoided interacting with Leon Enma at the same time.

The rest of the day was uneventful. This time they didn't stay so late and Ashley was, surprisingly, the first to leave mid-afternoon. Though not exactly of her own free will, but because Jill forced her to.

" With a hangover you don't work well." she had told her as an argument, something that made Leon turn to them and simply added a " Take her word for it, trust me."

Ashley didn't ask, but knew it was something that happened a long time ago.

So after she finished labeling the fossil samples, she decided to call it a day. She took the dogs and said goodbye to Leon quickly as she felt his intrusive thoughts creeping back into her head.

When she returned home she decided to make dinner early and take a nice bath. She wanted to look her best for tomorrow, something she hadn't given much thought to in a while.

But he was looking forward to it.

The fact that Dylan didn't know she was the president's daughter and that he had approached her because he liked hearing her sing...it felt good.

So she gave herself a little treat in the bathtub.

She wanted to have a normal opportunity. Interact with a guy interested in her as a girl her age. Sometimes she'd been told she was too narrow-minded or too strict. Not swoony and loose enough like a normal college girl.

Ashley leaned back in the tub with a long sigh.

She wanted some of that... everyday life back, but she had to rein in her mind as she started to ramble on about possible situations or conversations that hadn't happened.

" Ash, calm down. tomorrow you have a date with him and you can chat and see what he's like." she said to herself in an attempt to calm her paranoid thoughts.

*

The package Leon left on top of Narsson's desk was the same as the day before.

And the one before that.

And the one from three days ago.

He sighed heavily, planting himself in front of the clipboard Ashley and Enma had been filling in.

No luck so far. The evidence was still the same, and it was somewhat difficult to investigate with caution lest he mention the plaga or the bug that was storing them. Everything they saw on that expedition to the Spanish mines was confidential to Narsson. At least the part about the biological weapons, the rest they had told him roughly.

Leon glanced at Ashley's desk shortly before Narsson arrived and greeted the rest of the team.

Even if he had made a deal with Enma, he didn't have a hair's breadth of confidence that he wouldn't inadvertently slip his tongue. So he kept an eye on the woman at all times.

What he had noticed were the long breaks Ashley had been taking these past few days.

“The sheets have stuck to your face Narsson?. - Jill joked with the teacher, who held her fingers to her face.

“You have to get your beauty sleep.”

Maria scoffed.

“And the extra hours? To rejuvenate to ten?”

Narson rolled her eyes at Vázquez's taunts.

“The extra hours of sleep are to recharge my batteries to support you.” Emma reproached her.

“I love you too.”

They laughed and the teacher walked over to her former student to compare the latest notes.

Leon sipped his coffee.

Yes. He had noticed Ashley's slight change in mood and... in her image.

She was putting on mascara.

Anyone would think it was bullshit, but he knew her and in the time he'd spent with her, she never wore makeup to class. Only on the day of the presentation.

So the fact that she was slathering on a lightly scented body cream and mascara was enough to make him wonder what was going on. 

Was it a bet with Casey? he wondered, but quickly dismissed it when he knew his friend wouldn't ask such a thing.

“These are the last labels.” and Ashley reported, holding out the papers to Narsson.

“It's been a long time since I've felt so blocked in an investigation. You've brought me a tough nut to crack.” sighed Enma, sitting down at the clipboard.

Ashley leaned back in her seat with a grunt.

“So much for that. It's neither mammal, bivalve, nor bird. Being a fossil we can't extract anything to tell us what its genetic code is, so we're just left to look for possible places it's been.”

Narsson stared at the fossilized specimen on the table.

“I still don't understand how this got to Spain. We said another bug seemed to have transported it, but we don't know where this creature came from either.”

Graham waved the pen in his hand.

“I don't know why I get the feeling there's something terribly obvious we're missing.”

Leon heard them sigh heavily as Chris, Jill and Maria discussed another extraneous topic.

“I've seen a Thai restaurant across the river, maybe we could go there sometime after work.” “Jill said, looking up the place on her cell phone.”

“Ugh, I don't know if that's a good idea.” Maria wrinkled her nose, unconvinced by the proposal. Chris arched his eyebrows and looked at her.

“What's the matter, any bad experiences? Did they serve you cat?” Redfiel scoffed with a laugh.

Maria tapped him on the shoulder.

“No, you idiot. I just don't tolerate very spicy things very well. I went to a Korean once and almost wanted to die. It was like opening Pandora's box.”

“PANGEA!!!”

Ashley and Narsson's scream made Leon spit out his half-swallowed coffee. He coughed loudly watching the blonde open one of the many encyclopedias and spread it out with a thud on the table.

“How had we not noticed this before?” Enma said turning the pages.

“I told you it was right under our noses.” Ashley told her with a big smile.

“And sometimes the most obvious thing is the thing you see the least yourself.” Narsson's eyes lifted for a moment to Leon and he tensed like a wire.

It was a second and then he went back to the map, but Ashley noticed. She saw the fleeting glance and felt something shrink in her.

This was already so much more. She couldn't be misreading things. It was impossible.

Her mind wandered for a moment, but she swatted the thoughts away. 

"No. Not now."

Narsson found the world map he was looking for. A depiction of the supercontinent of Pangea. Ashley refocused and frowned slightly.

“ The specimen I found is from the Cenozoic.” Ashley thought aloud and Emma listened intently.

“Yes, and Pangea formed in the middle of the Paleozoic. From that point to the Cenozoic, we have the entire Mesozoic in between.”

“It could come from anywhere…” Ashley started to say, sensing that they were back to square one.

“Think a little." said Narsson.

Ashley took her old teacher's advice and looked carefully at the map. The other four agents approached them curiously.

“The bug is from the Cenozoic and we found it in Spain, probably transported by another bug that hunted the fossil we have in an area that is now Norway. That puts us one route north.”

Narsson smiled at her former student's witty remark and she added

“Northward it could have gone through England and Ireland, but seeing how the continents split, the north was the last to split, so we can rule out the southern hemisphere for now.”

“True, we still have no evidence that it came from a single specimen indigenous to the other continents.” nodded to Ashley.

“We can narrow the search to Europe and North America.” Enma pointed out, but Ashley pointed to the map.

“We can't rule out Asia or northern Russia. Siberia could also be their place of origin.”

“It could be, you're right. For now we could get in touch with some English and Norwegian museums. Maybe the ideal would be to visit the museum where I discovered the fossil and start connecting dots from there?”

Ashley thought for a few seconds and then slowly nodded in affirmation.

“Yes. Now that we have a possible pattern we can start looking.”

Leon sensed the enthusiasm in Ashley's voice and was glad that after almost a week they had been able to find a new clue.

“I'm going to ask for the visit request as soon as possible," said Narsson with a smile. Ashley looked at her watch and quickly added.

“Since it's time for a break, I'm going to go to the library to get a better map, maybe I'll have more information.” she said putting down her books and stretching out her arms.

Leon seemed somewhat surprised by Ashley's haste to take the break. Just like the previous days. He watched her take off her lab coat and leave the lab. The rest had their coffee break there, but Leon... he was curious.

Too curious. So he poured some turpentine on his hands so Ashley couldn't catch his scent and went out into the hallway.

She had already gone ahead of him and he had to hurry after her.

Ashley was acting a little different lately, especially with him and Narsson. As if she was avoiding them.

That week they hadn't had dinner or lunch together even one day, when, from time to time, they used to go out training together and then eat at someone's apartment. But since the party... they had barely interacted outside of work. Maybe it was the fact that now he was no longer her escort. He used to have to accompany her everywhere and maybe that was the reason, or so he had been telling himself all week.

Leon turned down the hallway and saw Ashley's figure heading for the cafeteria, not the library as he had originally said .Where was she going?

He didn't follow her any further. He walked up the stairs and watched from a distance. He saw her enter the cafeteria and walk to a table where another person was seated.

A person he did not know.

He watched as she took a seat next to the boy and as she smiled like a teenager. They chatted and laughed side by side and Leon began to perceive small gestures between them that gave away the relationship. He watched as the boy stretched his arm over the back of Ashley's seat as she leaned closer to him to see whatever he was showing her. 

They were flirting.

When Leon realized what was going on, he felt dirty. He looked away and walked in the opposite direction down the hallway.

That boy was the one who had changed Ashley's mood these past few days how had he not noticed?

"Think Leon, Ashley's personal life is none of your business either." he said to himself, but for some reason... he felt a strange feeling in his chest. A subtle discomfort that made his thoughts revolve around that boy.

She had to have met him there. Would he be nice? Who was he? Was he nice to her? Was he trustworthy? Would he be approaching her out of interest? Was-

He stopped his thoughts in their tracks as he stopped at the other end of the hallway. He was no one to question Ashley's choices. She was her friend, and she was getting a little sick to her stomach about the discomfort coursing through her body.

“Hey, Leon.”

The agent looked up at the source of the voice and saw Chris and Jill approaching.

“Are you guys leaving for the day?” he asked, pushing his intrusive thoughts aside.

“Yes, we have to call the base to report what Narsson and Graham are going to do.”

Maria was going to call the president later.

“ Hmm, good.” was all the man said, still lost in thought.

“Is something wrong, Kennedy?” It was as if Jill was reading his mind.

Leon blinked.

“Me? No, why?”

“You seem distracted.” Chris continued, crossing his arms. “Did something happen with Narsson? You bring him breakfast every day.”

Leon wanted to tear his eyes out and sighed.

“I made that deal with her so she wouldn'tAshley was peppered with questions about the night we all went out.”

Redfield arched his eyebrows.

“Did something happen or what?”

Leon waved his hand reminiscing about the incident.

“Nothing serious, Ashley got a little silly to a drunk, nothing more, but I don't want Narsson to start interrogating her. You saw how worried Ash got when you started telling her what she did when she was drunk.”

Jill and Chris looked at each other for a second as they analyzed Leon's words.

“Yeah, maybe you're right. Like Maria said, it's very personal for her..." added Valentine.

Leon was grateful for the understanding and put his hands in his pockets.

“I'm fine," he finally told them with a smile. 

Chris made the same gesture and gave him a gentle touch on the chest.

“Let's go out for a drink one day, you and me. No girls.”

Jill turned to her partner.

“Hey, it's not like we're the pest.”

 Chris put his arm around his partner's shoulders.

“Every once in a while two men share a bottle of whiskey in silence.”

Jill rolled her eyes and started walking toward the exit.

“Well, if you get drunk, don't call me or Ashley.”

Chris laughed and said goodbye to Leon and then followed his partner. The agent watched them leave and stood there, lost in thought again.

*

“I have to get back to the lab Dylan, were you able to find the world map I asked for?” said Ashley finishing her coffee with a smile.

“Yes, I got your message, here.” He held out a cardboard cylinder containing the rolled up map. Ashley smiled with a blush on her cheeks and took it.

“Thank you very much Dylan, by the way, I'll probably have to go away for a few days to another museum to do the research.”

Dylan looked at her in surprise and thought for a second.

“When are you leaving?”

“I don't know yet. Maybe in a couple of days or three. Shall we meet tomorrow at the same time?” she said enthusiastically, really looking forward to spending time with him on breaks. 

“Of course, I'll see you tomorrow.” he leaned over and gave her a soft kiss on the cheek.” So you won't forget about me on the way.”

Ashley stiffened for a second and then her whole face turned scarlet. She smiled shyly and got up with her package.

“See you tomorrow.” she said goodbye.

“See you tomorrow.”

Ashley left the cafeteria with her heart pounding and walked back towards the lab. She was so engrossed and excited that she didn't notice that familiar smell and almost bumped into it.

“Hey princess, look straight ahead.”

Leon's voice brought her out of her thoughts.

“Oh yeah, sorry, I was... distracted.”

“I hope he's at least funny.”

Ashley blinked and got a little more serious all of a sudden.

“What are you talking about?”

Leon's logic told him to shut up, but that damn goblin in his head kicked in his reason and the words weren't the brightest.

“About that boy you're dating.”

Her amber eyes widened like saucers.

“You spied on me?”

“I wanted to go to the cafeteria, but seeing you there with him I didn't want to disturb. Now I understand why you were taking so long on breaks.” he lied.

Ashley frowned and smelled the smell of turpentine still on Leon's hands.

“You don't have to follow me, you're not my escort anymore, besides, what do you care who I'm seen with, it's none of your business.”

“I'm just worrying, Ash.”

“Worry? Or don't you like the fact that I get attention too?”

Leon just stared at her in bewilderment.

“What? Don't talk nonsense.”

Ashley frowned and shut herself off.

“Why don't you go with Narsson? It seems you can't take your eyes off her.”

Kennedy stood in place as Ashley stepped around him, bumping her shoulder into his.

“Ashley, it's not what you think .” He tried to defend himself, but unable to tell her the truth. Because she was right, he had followed her.

“Save your saliva for Narsson, you'll need it.”

It was like a punch that made him stunned.

Ashley hurried down the stairs, feeling an unpleasant pressure in her chest, like a prick.

He had followed her and spied on her while she was with Dylan.

She felt betrayed, but... it was confusing. There was a horrible mix of emotions that did nothing but choke her.

That feeling became more pronounced as she approached the lab. In the distance she saw Maria on the phone, probably talking to her father. She entered the lab and frowned even more. She set the cylinder with the map down with a thump on the table and Narsson turned around startled.

“You scared me, Ashley, by the way, have you seen Leon?”

Graham gritted her teeth and picked up her backpack with restrained fury.

“Don't worry, I'll leave you two alone so you can get laid. Just clean up when you're done.”

She slung her backpack over her shoulder and called off the dogs turning her back to her. Narsson watched her leave without another word and didn't know what to do. What she had said to her had been so abrupt, all her thoughts had ceased.

Definitely the deal with Leon had been a horrible idea.

*

Ashley barely managed to sleep. Her mind had mixed thoughts that she tried to push away at all costs, but ended up creating images between Leon and Narsson.

She hated it. I hated that stupid feeling. Why? Why did I feel that unpleasant pressure in my chest?

She let out a long sigh in the library. She hadn't been through the lab yet. I didn't want to. She didn't have the courage.

She leaned back in a seat hidden among the bookshelves. The dogs rested at her feet in silence, while their owner ate her head off by the second.

They had waited for her to graduate so they could have a free pass...were they in a relationship? Why the fuck was she still thinking about them?

She growled in fury, shaking her head in despair and earning a hiss from another worker for the noise.

Ashley pulled her knees up to her chest and sighed wearily.

She'd barely slept a wink and didn't have the head to sit in that lab right now. She exhaled heavily again and stared at the floor.

What she didn't understand was why it bothered her so much and why she couldn't get it out of her brain.

Mint lifted his head towards her and gently touched his nose to Ashley's foot. She looked up at him and the dog stuck his tongue out as if smiling.

“Sometimes I wish I had the worries you have and not the melodramas we humans have.” she said in an absent tone.

“Should I be worried about you conversing with the dog?”

The voice startled her. She hadn't smelled Dylan's scent approaching her.

“Dylan, I'm sorry, I didn't hear you.” Ashley said getting up from her seat with a smile. Mint and Pepper sat next to her, staring at the boy.

“What about these?” he asked pointing to the canines.

“Oh, these are my dogs, Pepper and Mint.” she introduced them.

“I see, hi guys.” Dylan reached out his hand to Pepper, who sniffed his fingers and turned his head away suspiciously. Ashley was surprised by the dog's behavior, as he tended to let himself be touched after sniffing new people.

“A bit wary, I see.” Dylan said, pulling his hand away from the animal, who stared at him. “You haven't been by the lab?”

“No, I wanted to... take a walk around the Library first, you know, refresh my ideas.” Ashley lied naturally.

Dylan didn't suspect and nodded with a smile and then put his hand to his head.

“Em... look, since I found you here I want to tell you something.”

Ashley tensed when she caught the scent of adrenaline on him, who seemed much more nervous than usual.

“Yes? - she replied feeling her own heart start to race.”

“Do you want to go out to dinner with me tonight?”

Ashley took a while to process his words. Then she analyzed what they meant and after her mind blocked for a second, she answered.

“O-o-of course, I'd love to.” Her voice wavered exaggeratedly and for a moment she wanted to punch herself. How could she behave like that? Was she stupid or what?

Dylan smiled in relief and his cheeks reddened subtly.

“Oh thank you, I was afraid you'd turn me down. I'll see you today at eight o'clock? I'll send you the address of the restaurant.”

Ashley nodded as she couldn't get a word in edgewise and said goodbye to Dylan after telling him she would go ahead and get some work done so she could leave early for dinner.

She stood there with the dogs for a few more minutes.

" Relax Ashley, it's dinner, just dinner." she repeated to herself trying to calm her growing excitement for the night to arrive.

" The first normal date you've been asked on in four years YES!!!" she squealed inwardly and unable to contain herself she pranced on the spot, causing her dogs to look at her in confusion. She held back her excited giggles and decided it was time to go down to the lab.

At least now she wouldn't be thinking so much about Leon and Narsson.

When she opened the lab door she saw Chris dialing a number on his cell phone.

“Wow, you finally showed up, I was just about to call you.”

Ashley smiled at him and left the dogs in their usual corner. She looked at her watch and laughed helplessly. 

“Hey, I wasn't that late either.”

“Where have you been? You were out early.” Leon said from across the table.

Ashley glared at him discreetly and smiled.

“I've been out for a walk with the dogs, it's nice out today.”

Leon averted his eyes quickly and added no more. Chris became quieter and looked at the rest.

“Well, now that we're all here I'm going to tell you that our bosses are going to provide us with the trip to Norway.”

Everyone, except Narsson, knew what Chris meant by "our bosses". Enma did not know that they belonged to the BSAA and that was to be kept secret.

“Really? I'm going to start working with you guys more if it's going to be like this.” joked Narsson and Jill laughed. 

“It's a joint investigation and being a small team they were able to organize the trip for us.”

Ashley turned to Narsson.

“Enma-”

“Don't even think of telling me that I can't go. There is already too much secrecy in this project to leave me out of visiting the museum that made my name. Besides, you will need a guide out there and I am your best option.” Narsson sentenced without leaving many alternatives.

Chris and Jill looked at Ashley and she sighed. She didn't like to expose her teacher to possible dangers, but she was right. Her presence there would make the job of getting information in the museum easier.

“All right, but you're not going to be a tour guide, okay?” she warned him knowing his habit of doing a historical tour in any situation and more so in his homeland.

Enma put her hand on her chest.

“I promise.”

Maria grunted leaning back in the seat.

“So I'm staying on as a dog sitter?”

Mint and Pepper trotted over to Vazquez, laying their big heads on the woman's thighs.

“Oh come on, you love them.” Ashley said teasingly.

Maria stroked their heads energetically.

“Don't complain if they pick up a couple of pounds, Aunt Maria likes to spoil her children.” Graham's former escort teased, but the blonde knew her dogs were in the best of hands.

But her mind couldn't help thinking that now, that awkward situation she had been feeling around Leon and Narsson, would be more continuous.

She took a deep breath. She was having dinner with Dylan today and... Maybe with some luck, she could find someone to occupy her thoughts even during the trip.

“Ashley, let's organize the material for the trip.” Narsson told her, oblivious to her former student's inner debate. She raised her amber eyes to her and for a moment remembered what she had told her the day before. Her thoughts betrayed her and she looked at Enma's table as if searching for some trace of " that".

But there was no smell either.

“Yes, I'm coming.” replied the blonde putting down her bag and organizing all the notes the two of them had developed.

"Focus on the investigation Ash, nothing else." she said to herself as she made the list.

It was a fairly quiet morning, as they only had to organize the points of the trip they would make and the material they would bring. When they finished they saw that it was still early and decided to all go out for lunch somewhere nearby.

Narsson and Leon noticed that Ashley was talking to them just enough so as not to make them think she was ignoring them. But she was avoiding them.

At one point as she was chatting with Chris, Narsson approached Leon, who was walking behind everyone.

“I think she's angry.”

“Don't tell me.” the man rolled his eyes. 

“She thinks we're having sex.” sighed Narsson.

Leon turned around in surprise.

“Really? But if-”

“He said to clean up after we got laid in the lab.”

Leon suddenly fell silent and sighed heavily as Narsson told him.

“ I think you should tell her the truth.”

The agent grunted.

“And you think that's going to make anything better at this point?”

“Definitely. If you won't do it, I will.”

 Leon grabbed her arm.

“Don't even think about it, I'll... I'll figure out a way to tell her, I'll do it.”

Enma looked at the man who was massaging the bridge of his nose. Why was he making something so simple complicated? I really didn't understand sometimes what kind of relationship he and Ashley had to set up these scenarios.

“Hey lovebirds, let's go inside.”

They both turned to the front at the sound of Ashley's voice calling them that way. She looked at them casually, but Leon could sense a slight quickening in the rumbling of Ashley's heart as they approached.

Graham walked back into the restaurant, leaving Leon and Narsson outside.

“She definitely needs to be told," Enma said.

“Says the one who got me into this mess out of curiosity.”

Narsson went to argue, but bit her tongue as she realized that Leon was right.

 All because of her bloody curiosity.

*

Leon never thought an elevator ride could take so long. As bad luck would have it, all the neighbors seemed to have agreed to use the elevator at the same time. The time it used to take them to get to their penthouses increased fourfold, and Leon was convinced that Ashley could sense their growing nerves, as he could sense their erratic heartbeats.

But neither said anything.

Not even when they finally reached their floor and pulled out the keys to their respective apartments. When they closed the doors and were alone in their homes, they sighed. Ashley lay face down on the kitchen counter and Leon dropped onto the couch with a grunt.

The agent stared at the ceiling in thought. How the hell was he going to tell her that she made a suggestive entrance while drunk and he didn't stop her? How was he going to tell her that he practically didn't resist when he almost thought she would kiss him? He put his hands to his face and a deep growl reverberated in his chest.

Hopefully she'd hit him with a smack. With no luck... he didn't even want to think about it.

Now there was no use thinking that he should have told her from the beginning.

She thought he was sleeping with her old teacher. God, how complicated everything had become.

After spending half an hour on the couch cursing himself in every way he knew how, he decided to take a shower. Something that would make enough noise that he couldn't hear Ashley's every move on the other floor.

In the meantime, Ashley focused on her date. She managed to calm her earlier discomfort and focus on herself. She didn't want any more worries, she had enough, but she wanted to enjoy herself for once. To have fun with someone who was interested in her and not her name or social status.

She wanted to feel a little... normal.

So she decided to go for it. She took a long salt bath, washed her hair, filed her short nails into a rounded shape and even got her toenails done, something Casey always told her but never did.

But for their first date after four years she definitely would. 

Time passed. It was almost seven-thirty in the evening. Leon had laid down on the couch and was looking at his cell phone without paying much attention to it. He was sliding his finger down his YouTube shorts and waiting for dinner time to come. 

Then he started to hear footsteps and they weren't Ashley's house slippers. His finger stopped moving and stayed in place, listening to the coming and going of the footsteps. He heard the jingle of keys and arched his eyebrows, was he going somewhere?

Suddenly there was a knock on his door and he almost dropped his cell phone. He boiled on his elbows just before he saw Ashley open his door and Leon's heart stopped.

“Hey Leon, would you mind keeping the dogs?”

She was wearing the same satin dress. The outfit Casey had given her drew her figure back, as did the wedge and rope heels. She had done her makeup to perfection, subtly enhancing her natural beauty and had even curled her hair.

She looked beautiful.

“Leon.”

The man blinked, coming down to earth.

“What?” was all he could articulate.

“Could you keep the dogs?” she repeated with a subtle blush on her cheeks.

Leon got up from the couch, dressed in a simple tracksuit and feeling like a stray dog next to her.

“Em, yes, but where are you going?”

Ashley stepped aside and called Pepper and Mint, who scampered over to Leon's apartment with glee.

“I'm meeting Dylan for dinner.”

Dylan. That must have been the name of the boy she'd been meeting. They were going to dinner. This was a date. With a man he didn't know, about whom he had no information or-

"Leon, stop. Stop the fuck up."

“Oh, yes, Dylan, um... are you going to... come back too late?” he paused for a moment, aware of how controlling he sounded and added.- In case I have to go get the dog beds. 

Ashley looked at him for a second and adjusted the end of her dress.

“Uh... I don't know. I guess I'll be late, yeah.” She tried to stay calm as the silence between them started to become uncomfortable. “I should go, thank you.”

Leon's mind didn't think. His impulse was stronger.

“Ashley.”

The blonde turned and looked at him with those bright golden eyes.

“Yes?”

Leon stalled. What did he want to have told her, the truth? Now he was going to tell her that she'd almost kissed him drunk that night and then painted his lips? Was he really going to tell her?

She had prepared a lot for that dinner, he could see it. She was really looking forward to that date, he had to be a fool not to appreciate the effort she had put in. And he thought... was he really going to ruin one of the most important nights in the last four years of her romantic life?

“Have a good time, princess.”

No. He smiled at her and watched her leave after giving him some of the most dazzling smiles she had ever given him.

He closed the door and turned back to the dogs. 

He sighed leaning back against the doorway and dropping down to sit on the floor. Pepper approached cautiously and touched his dangling hand.

Leon stroked the animal's snout with a faint smile.

“Why are we humans so complicated, Pepper?”

The dog cocked his head to one side, not understanding what he was saying, but wagged his tail as if he did. Leon couldn't help but let out a weak laugh and sighed again.

“At least you're going to keep me company enough to keep my thoughts from eating my head.”

Pepper gave him a soft bark and Mint decided to join Leon in demanding petting. The agent laughed, grateful to at least have the dogs with him, even if his mind was still looping Ashley's figure.

Time passed and with the dogs he managed to distract himself enough. He prepared dinner for them and played with them and then made his own food. As he cooked, he missed the little get-togethers he'd had with Ashley since he'd lived in the same building. Sometimes she had invited him over for lunch or dinner after training or running errands, and sometimes he had done it himself.

His thoughts began to gather momentum as he ate alone, wondering if that date would end in something more...intimate. Would Ashley come back tomorrow morning? If she did the outcome of the evening would be clear. Part of him was happy for her. That she had found someone who seemed to treat her well and if that led to finally being able to have sex in bed...he could only be happy for her. But at the same time there was a little voice, like a cricket behind his ear, whispering the opposite. The part of him that didn't want those casual lunches and dinners together to end.

It hadn't even been two hours and his mind was already asking for answers. She would probably come tomorrow. They'd have a romantic dinner, go for a walk and then...probably go to his house. He knew Ashley wouldn't feel comfortable bringing a guy to her apartment when she knew Leon could hear them.

Yes, he should go get the dogs' bedding and their bowls to eat and set an alarm to take them out the next day for a walk and....

The door burst open and Ashley walked in.

Leon was stunned. Why had she come back so soon?

He turned to her as he sensed her heart thundering, as if she had come running back or... she was terribly furious. For a second he thought he saw her eyes water. 

“Ashl-”

He fell silent as she suddenly began to undress. Leon's chest almost burst out and his face turned scarlet.

“Ash, what are you doing?” he managed to react by looking away out of sheer embarrassment.

Ashley threw the dress to the floor, remaining in her lacy underwear. Her breathing was rapid and her brow was furrowed. She almost looked...desperate.

“Is there something wrong with me? In this?”

Her voice was shaky, but at the same time tinged with an anger and frustration that made Leon swallow saliva.

The man looked at her again and his cheeks flushed hopelessly as he looked at the pink and black lace lingerie. It looked great on her and looking at the garments he also noticed the fine scars on her side, the one from the Colmillo that bit her.

He noticed some older climbing marks and all the moles and creases that made up her beautiful body.

He didn't know how long he looked at her, absorbed like a fool, enraptured by the beauty and strength she conveyed with just her figure in front of him.

He raised his blue eyes to her amber ones, surrounded by a strong blush. He didn't understand what was going on, nor why she was behaving like that, but after restraining the urge to kneel down in front of her to make her tell him everything, he answered.

“No Ash, it's... you look beautiful and fit, why?”

“Good.” was all she said before grabbing her things and turning back to her apartment.

Leon blinked, perhaps more confused than before. He thought about following her and asking her what had happened, but he had a hunch that she wanted to be alone at that moment.

He turned back to the dogs, still sitting in the kitchen and just as confused as he was. He sighed, dropping his shoulders.

“You know what? You're sleeping with me today.”

They went wild and ran to Leon's room. The man looked at the door one last time and saw one of Ashley's heels. He picked it up and stared at it for a moment.

Tomorrow he would take it to her and maybe ... he could ask her about dinner and ... talk to her about the misunderstanding.

But that would be tomorrow.

[pls-hold-me-im-justa-weeb]

Hey i saw your requests are open and i wanted to ask if you can make a law x reader with a devil fruit that makes them have the powers blue diamond had in Steven universe, if you haven’t watch it basically she can causes other people to cry when she cries out of sadness, and could also include how reader was forced to eat the fruit when she was young that was orders form doflamingo after her mom was kill right in front of her brutally and that only making the devil fruit more powerful and maybe this can be around the dressrosa arc with the straw hats (know thats a lot so its ok if you leave some stuff out )

Many thanks 💜💜

Hi hello! This is a challenge but I shall accept. I’ve never watched Stevens Universe, so I did a little research about the character. HOWEVER. This is my attempt, and I don't really like how it turned out, and it's really short. But I hope you enjoy!

☠ WC: 1079

Warnings: Flashbacks, trauma, reader hates Doflamingo, gore (body, torture, medical- the worst of it is in the first paragraph, which you can skip. Otherwise it's just a threat, and a medical learning experience (holding a brain)).

Coming back to Dressrosa was hard. Really hard. Even just walking through the streets where everything was poisoned with rose-colored lenses. Happiness and prosperity? It was a vile plague of fake memories. People would be disgusted like you if they knew the real Doflamingo. The bastard that forced you to eat that damned devil fruit, shoving it into your mouth as you screamed. You closed your eyes, an image of your mothers mutilated body gasping and gagging as she convulsed- jaw forced open by the wire muzzle that choked her with a protruding bar. Her back arched until you were sure it would snap. Again. Her fingers twisted into unnatural shapes, as if she couldn’t decide to cling to life or crawl to hell. Her skin was ashen-

“Hey” a light touch on your fingers yanked you violently back to the present. You flinched at the touch.

“Stay in the present” Law murmured gently. You grunted.

“Hard to do when we’re here because of the past” you muttered. Law had nothing to say to that, only entwining a pinky with yours. You relished the touch.

“Remember, the people are innocent. It’s Doflamingo we’re after” he said after a few minutes. You took a deep breath, easing your nerves. You nodded resolutely. You focused on your companions- the click of Robins shoes, the quiet rattling of Ceasar’s sea prism stone chains, and Usopp’s bag that held his ammunition that clicked with his movements.

You let yourself order a calming cup of tea the group stopped at, focusing on your goal- to get across the bridge without being eaten or impaled by the monstrous fish that swarmed the area. Law put a hand on your thigh, squeezing your knee while you spent time sipping your drinks. You tried not to giggle at his dumb moustache he put on as a disguise.

“So” Robin started conversationally. You looked at her. She took a sip of coffee before continuing, “You mentioned you had a devil fruit power?”

“Ah. Right. I ate the sad-sad fruit. Or really, was forced to eat it by Doflamingo. Basically, I have a range of people that I can make so sad that they cry. It’s useful in battle, bringing enemies down to their knees, so I can either escape or knock them out. If I send out a strong enough wave, it can send people into paralyzing grief. Of course, it doesn't really work on people who have depression. But generally, it's pretty useful. Ah! But don't worry,” you added on, looking at Usopp's rather fearful expression, "I've learned to control who's affected by it. You can kinda think of it like Law's 'room'."

Usopp and Ceasar looked immensely relieved. Robin hummed, cocking her head.

“Any cost to you? Since it’s not a logia type” she asked. You shrugged.

“If I use it too much, it’ll give me a pounding headache.”

It felt good talking about something different. It distracted you from your own mind, and Law seemed to pick up on this. He wrapped an arm around the back of your chair.

"How long have you two known each other?" Usopp asked, eyeing Law's possessive arm. You turned to smile shyly at your boyfriend, but he let you answer, simply sipping his coffee with a grunt.

"A very long time" you answered.

"Cesar" Law muttered dangerously. The man stiffened, slowly looking over at the ravenette, fear evident on his face.

"Remember, I have your heart. If I even think you're going to say a word about us dating, I will kill you. Painfully." Law kept his expression neutral and his voice low. To anyone out of earshot, he could've been talking about the weather. Robin giggled. Cesar was sweating, and would've been pale had his face not already been paper-white. Usopp blanched at the threat, even though it wasn't directed at him.

"If he even starts, I hope you'll remember to remove his brain for me so I can join in the fun" you played off Law's casual threat. Cesar looked like he was about to piss himself. Usopp looked like he wanted to hide, and Robin only smiled. You returned the woman's smile with an innocent one of your own.

"You two are terrifying" Usopp muttered into his drink. Law's hand moved to your shoulder, sliding to the nape of your neck possessively. You knew without looking he was smirking at the long-nosed man playfully.

"You have no idea" you purred, leaning forward. Your mind was much more focused now in the present now with this banter.

"Now, now, we can't have the sniper shaking too much" Robin chided with a sip of her coffee. You hummed.

"You're right. I'm only messing with you, Usopp. I've only held a human brain once" you teased, leaning into Law's easy hold, flicking your gaze over to Cesar's. He gulped, terror in his eyes. Of course, this was true, but it was only when you asked Law about the anatomy of the human brain. He couldn't find a diagram that he felt did the actual thing justice, so he let you study one, courtesy of an unconscious marine. The marine had no idea what had happened when he was unconscious, and probably figured the splitting headache he woke up was due to the solid punch you landed on his temple.

"Fascinating. What was it like?" Robin questioned with a tilt of her head. You opened your mouth to answer, but Usopp and Cesar started screeching for the two of you to stop at the same time.

"DON'T ANSWER HER!" "AAAHHHH LALALALALA I CAN'T HEAR YOU"

You laughed heartily at their reactions. Law even smiled, despite their loud protests drawing a few stares. Luckily, their disturbance was dismissed without suspicion with your laughter and Robin's chuckle. Once the laughter died down, Law brought the attention back to the issue at hand.

"We need a plan to get through the bridge"

You tensed, but Law tightened his hand on your shoulder, grounding you. You breathed in and out. In. Out. Again. The basic plan was put in place, and you listened as you gazed towards the sectioned off entrance.

You twined your fingers with Law's under the table, squeezing his hand two times in quick succession. I love you.

His hand returned the squeezes, two in quick succession. I love you too. You smiled to yourself, and threw back the rest of your now cold tea.

It was time to begin.

[honeybeezgobzzzzz]

𓅨 Fortuna: Chapter Five

Fortuna: Born with what seemed to be the worst luck in the world, you have managed to get into, and out of, life-threatening situations all your life. That is until the plague of 1514. You had escaped Mother Death countless times before, but not this time. Mother Death has taken a liking to you, and with your kindling relationship, you become that which historians whisper about. You are the great Fortuna, Goddess Incarnate of luck, and ruler over fortune and fate. No one could have anticipated what your ties with Death would bring you: Pain. Torture. Death. Love.

Warnings: Emotional Breakdown, That Scene, Blood, Murder, Gore, Death. 

To Note: Morpheus/Dream x ImmortalSpanish!Reader, Reader’s nickname is Fortuna. Fortuna is the Roman Goddess of personified luck and ruler over fortune and fate.

Word Count: ~2.0k

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1926

You were picking wildflowers in the field just past your village, placing them in the basket you had brought with you upon departing from your cottage. You had tulips, gladiolus, and lavender… at the moment you were picking honeysuckle. It smelled heavenly and brought a smile to your lips from the memories of your mother filling the cottage with bunches of sweet-smelling flowers. You placed the honeysuckle in your basket and rose to your feet, basket in hand. As you turned back towards the village, one of the little girls in the village ran up to you. Her face was dirty and her dress ripped, but the smile on her face shone so brightly it rivaled that light of the sun. Peering down at her, you raised your eyebrow. 

“Please tell me you weren’t roughhousing with the boys again, Sofía,” You chided her, eyeing the rips on her dress more closely. “You know your mother can’t keep sewing your kirtle back together, she struggles enough with your brothers outgrowing their clothing.” Sofía kicked out her barefoot and didn’t look the least apologetic. You took that as a yes, she had been roughhousing with the boys again, but the stubborn little girl was not going to apologize for it. She reminded you of yourself. 

“Alejandro and Javier said I couldn’t play with them because I wouldn’t be able to keep up… so I proved them wrong.” Ah, yes, that would do it. Sofía, when told she couldn’t do something, tended to do it anyways just to prove that she could. You set the basket of flowers down and tried to neaten Sofía’s hair a little so her mother wouldn’t be as cross… but there wasn’t much you could do about her ripped dress. You looked up into Sofía’s brown eyes with your eyebrows raised. 

“I think your brothers were taunting you, Sofía,” She scowled at you and you chuckled. Then your eyes caught sight of someone leaning against one of the buildings in the village, watching you. You looked back to Sofía and held her hands. “Why don’t you run home before you get into any more trouble and give your mother even more grey hairs, yes?” Sofía huffed, but agreed and darted off. You picked up your basket of flowers and walked over to where Morpheus was leaning. “You know you could say hello, she doesn’t bite… that much.” Morpheus chuckled at your words and raised a dark eyebrow. 

“I could, but I enjoy watching you with the little ones.” He slowly drew out, his lips twitching and his voice, once again, making you shiver in delight. That was a secret of yours you were bound and determined to keep: you loved his voice. It was his secret vice to just watch you putter around your dream in happiness. Your smile was blinding and he had long since fallen in love with it. Well, he had long since fallen in love with you. You gave Morpheus a frank snort and tapped your basket absentmindedly. 

“Alright then, stay in your shadows, Dream Lord,” You teased him. “I would offer you coffee to drink but seeing as you never actually drink any…” Morpheus smirked at your jab. 

“I do not need sustenance, Fortuna,” You rolled your eyes and mumbled under your breath about his rather unadventurous lifestyle. Your muttered words only amused Morpheus further as he followed you back to your cottage, in stride with yours. Entering the cottage, you set the basket of flowers on the kitchen table and started gathering a bunch to put into a glass. They would be a nice addition to your simple kitchen. As you did so, Morpheus watched you carefully, noting that ever so often your face would scrunch in slight pain and you would shift your weight. He dropped his eyes to your hidden ankle. Even in dreams the old wound still gave you grief. “Fortuna,” He broached. You paused what you were doing and looked at him in curiosity. 

“Is something wrong, Morpheus?” Morpheus tilted his head to the side and eyed the lone chair in the room. 

“I should like you to sit down.” He spoke. You didn’t need to question why he asked you such a question. There wasn’t anything you could hide from him. So setting the flowers down, you made a spectacle of sitting down as asked, exaggerating your movement. Morpheus raised an eyebrow at you, amused by your response. Once seated, you tilted your head to the side and smiled innocently. 

“Is there anything else you should like me to do, my lord?” Morpheus chuckled at your facetious comment. 

“I fear you have been on your ankle far too long,” Morpheus spoke, lowering himself to one knee and reaching for your aching limb. He pulled your foot free of your skirts and lightly ran his fingers over your scarred flesh. His touch eased the ache and you sighed. “You should be taking more breaks, do not cause yourself pain you do not need to suffer,” Morpheus said, his star-like eyes peering into yours. You chewed on the edge of your lip and looked back down at the ankle he held. 

“Well I’m not doing it on purpos—“ You were jarred from your dream, jerking slightly in Morpheus’s arms. Your head, which had been resting on his shoulder as you slept, lifted as you blinked in confusion. What caused you to wake up? You had slept like a rock in the past decade thanks to Morpheus. Not only did he cradle you gently within his arms day and night, but he kept you from turning to ice with his body heat. You had no idea how he stayed so warm in the cold basement, never seeming to be affected by the environment you both were stuck in. Morpheus had also long since adopted a grasp on your body to give you the best chance of modesty from the guards that constantly watched you both. 

In the ten years, you had been trapped with Morpheus, your ankle had healed, leaving you with an unsightly scar wrapping around the circumference of your skin, and your relationship with the Endless had been kindled to one strong enough that he had asked you to call him Morpheus. You did, and it was perhaps one of the few things that brought a smile to his lips during your dreams. In fact, you were the only thing that 

gave the Endless any type of positive feeling. Your burning refusal to bow to Roderick Burgess was inspiring and commendable, but the longer you remained trapped, the less your eyes glowed with fire. Morpheus could see the flames of fight in you slowly dying. The confines of the glass cage were taking their toll. 

You looked around in confusion, wondering what had disturbed you from your sleep, but then you realized that Morpheus was staring at something. At the metal gates across the moat, perched on forged iron, was a black bird with a swatch of white. No, this was no blackbird, this was a raven. Morpheus’s raven, Jessamy. You scrambled out of Morpheus’s arms and stood up, your hands pressing against the glass as Jessamy swooped through the grates in the gate. Then Jessamy fluttered up to the top of the glass cage and started viciously banging against it with her beak. Morpheus rose to his feet behind you, the heat from his skin pressing into your back. Hope bloomed in your chest for the first time since your capture and you pressed your palm over the place the raven repeatedly pecked at. 

“Pajarito, me alegra verte,” (Little bird, I'm glad to see you.) You whispered against the glass, little black eyes staring into yours as Jessamy hit the glass harder. Over and over and over again. You felt Morpheus place a hand on your hip, you could even feel his hope radiating from his body. But just as suddenly as your hope had come, it was taken away from your most violently. A gunshot rang out and Jessamy exploded, painting the glass in front of you with crimson and onyx. You jerked back with a choked gasp, violently colliding into Morpheus, who caught and supported your shaking body. For a few moments you felt like you couldn’t breathe, then your eyes burned viciously and the first of many tears to come started to fall. Jessamy, little beautiful Jessamy, now lay dead on the binding circle. You thought you might throw up and twist around, flinging yourself into Morpheus’s chest and holding onto him for dear life as you tried to stifle the sobs emerging from your mouth. 

Morpheus’s grip on your body tightened as he felt your hot tears drip onto his skin, he could feel his own as he stared down at all that remained of his beloved raven, Jessamy. He wished he could feel something at this moment, even if it was upset or distress like you, anything but this taxing and void feeling of nothingness. Shock. He was definitely feeling shocked to the point of nearly not understanding what had just happened. 

“You idiot! You could have shattered the glass!” The voice of Roderick Burgess was explosive in the deathly quiet of the room. You flinched at his voice, digging your fingers into Morpheus’s back and holding him that much tighter. The pain you felt had to be a thousand times worse for Morpheus. Morpheus sank back down to the base of the cage, carefully collecting your shaking body. Your trembles, shakes, and hiccups continued as Morpheus pressed his face into your hair. Your tears were endless against his skin, and it was only when you had cried yourself to sleep that your body finally relaxed. Morpheus was quick to join you in your dreams, needing your comfort just as much as you needed his. It became obvious that you were nowhere near your usual spots. 

The fields were empty, the church as well, the village square with its foundation was devoid of life… Morpheus could only surmise that you had holed yourself up in your cottage. Pushing the door to your cottage open, Morpheus stepped inside to see your chair lying on its side and the glass of flowers spilled on the floor, you were nowhere in the main living area. You could only be in one place: your bedroom. Morpheus pushed the door open quietly and found you curled up in a ball on your bed, your fingers digging into your scalp in a white-knuckled grip. You were sobbing in despair and utter devastation. He could feel the rippling waves of guilt that burned in your veins and the pain you currently felt in your heart was worse than anything you had felt before. He called your name, and you shriveled in a tighter circle. 

“Fortuna,” Morpheus called again, his hands begging to wrap around your body for an ounce of the comfort you carried. 

“Traigo la muerte,” (I bring death.) You whispered out, fully believing your words. Morpheus walked forwards and wrapped his arms around your curled body, his hands searching for yours. He found them and wove his fingers with yours. 

“You do not bring death, Y/N,” He said softly, his face burying into the back of your neck. It was rare that he called you by your birth name. Actually, you couldn’t even remember the last time someone had called you by it. You were Fortuna now, the Goddess Incarnate, your mortal life, and name long since dead. Your hands trembled violently around his and you shook your head furiously. 

“How do you think I became friends with Mother Death!?” You exclaimed, more tears leaking from your eyes and dribbling down your already tear-streaked face. “I am a harbinger of death, Morpheus.” Morpheus breathed in the scent of your perfumed skin, determined not to let you fall into despair.

“A harbinger of death does not possess a smile as radiant as yours, nor is it as compassionate as you are. You are exactly as you appear to be,” Morpheus murmured, holding you tighter and soaking in the comfort of your soft body. 

“And what is that?” 

“A Goddess,” He gently whispered to you. That night you spent wrapped around each other, endless tears falling from your eyes.

Date Published: 11/27/22

Last Edit: 11/27/22

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[keepsdeathhiscourt]

Pairing: Elijah Mikaelson x Original Female Character

Rating: Mature (18+ Only)

Story Summary: It's been ten years since Lucie LeMarche last set foot in New Orleans. But when she's forced to return to bury the woman who raised her, she finds herself pulled into the midst of rising supernatural tensions in the city. Entangled in a web of intrigue and seeking answers, Lucie must learn to navigate a powder keg of warring factions, family secrets, and old wounds if she hopes to survive.

Warnings: Canon Typical Violence, Language, Death, Mourning, Mental Health Issues, Family Drama, Gore, Depictions of Violence, Death

Series Masterlist

Read on AO3

Chapter 12: Emerald and Pearl

It’s still early morning when Lucie steals into the study. The sun is only an hour or so past the golden dawn hours, gaining intensity with every inch towards midday. 

Despite the trappings of modern convenience, the manor home is built to hold heat in, clinging with a tenacity that has Lucie swiping at her damp forehead. And as she rifles through the antique desk, she silently curses the unseasonable warmth that makes the room feel more like a greenhouse than a study. 

The hoodie she’d slept in lies abandoned over the back of an armchair, leaving her in a tank top and shorts. The hardwood digs into her bare knees, pressing against the bruise from last night’s spill. She barely notices, slamming a drawer shut with little respect for its age. 

Papers litter the floor, corners fluttering beneath the breeze from the window she’d wrenched open in a fruitless attempt to alleviate the heat. She can hear murmuring from down the hall. She’d passed by Hayley’s door on the way down, caught snippets of an exchange with Klaus, hovering just long enough to make sure there wasn’t a repeat of last night’s fiasco. 

They’ve been cloistered away for a while now, unaware of the rummaging downstairs.

The journal has been eating at her thoughts since she woke up, driven by an overwhelming need to open it again—no, to hide it. But when she’d stuffed her hand into the pile of papers to recover it, it had come away empty. 

Eventually, she’s forced to admit the journal is gone with nothing but a stashed bottle of bourbon and a few dust bunnies to show for her efforts. 

Defeated, she makes for the underutilized kitchen, determined to try again with caffeine in her system. With Klaus and Hayley still somewhere upstairs, the room is empty, sunlight plucking out the sheen in the immaculate granite countertops.

She relies on muscle memory to guide her groggy, agitated body through the motions, scooping out the grounds and filling the water on autopilot. 

The coffee percolates in the pot, filling it with a steady drip. Leaning against the counter to wait, she closes her eyes in anticipation, drinking in the rich, bitter smell. 

The machine beeps, the water trickles to nothing. A groan catches in the back of her throat as she drinks in the first sips with relish. It’ll be the only one she gets because at that moment, Rebekah bursts through the front door, frazzled and on a mission. 

She should leave it, mind her business, and enjoy her coffee.

Lucie follows her blazing trail, using the cover to slip unnoticed back into the study. 

Within seconds, the sounds of raised voices find her. She does her best to tune them out, to stay out of it all for once. All she wants is to find Elijah’s journal, to put it somewhere safe where his privacy is spared from prying eyes. She owes him that much. 

But it’s not to be.

“What the devil are you doing in here?” 

Lucie nearly jumps out of her skin, rounding to meet Rebekah’s inquisitive stare as coffee sloshes over the edge of her mug and splats onto the floor. 

Oh, just trying to find your missing brother’s journal that contains his most intimate thoughts and feelings.

“Uh…research?”

Rebekah’s eyes narrow, skeptical from her spot in the doorway. Then, all at once, she eases. “Whatever. Get dressed, you’re coming with me.”

“Leaving?” Lucie repeats. “Where?”

It earns her an irritated sigh in response like the answer is glaringly obvious. 

“To town. I have a lead on Elijah and you’re going to help me look for him.” 

It’s enough to give Lucie pause, coffee forgotten as suspicion replaces confusion. 

“Don’t get me wrong,” she starts, careful. “I’m grateful to see something built in the last century, but why me?” 

The unspoken question stretches out between them: Why not Hayley or Klaus? 

“Elijah is being kept in a church somewhere in the Quarter by a witch and I think it would be useful—”

“To bring in another witch,” she finishes for her. Rebekah nods her head, almost apologetic. 

She sighs. “Let me get changed.”

Fifteen minutes later, Lucie descends the stairs in a pair of jeans, a fresh shirt, and her worn boots, towards where Rebekah is already waiting by the front door. 

She’s halfway there when Klaus, appearing from nowhere, steps into her path. 

“Where do you think you’re going?”

“Out,” she says, arms crossed. 

His brow raises, glancing from her to Rebekah, comprehension dawning. “I don’t recall giving you permission to take my resident witch gallivanting about town.”

“And I don’t recall giving you permission to barter Elijah to the enemy, but here we are. You said ‘whatever it takes’, well, this is part of it. Now, are you going to let us find him, or are you going to stand in the way?”

Lucie holds her breath, waiting for the fresh wave of contention the jab is about to ignite. 

Klaus says nothing, only diverts his gaze beneath the force of Rebekah’s stare. 

If Lucie didn’t know any better, she might think he almost looks…ashamed?

Whatever they’d argued about earlier, it’s still weighing on him because he steps aside, allowing her to pass. 

“Come on, we’re wasting daylight.”

____

The woods pass by in a blur. Flashes of deep yellow greens, golden browns, and fiery oranges, the colors of autumn thin, replaced with asphalt and brick as the road leads them steadily back to New Orleans. 

Lucie watches them from the passenger seat of the flashy red convertible. Rebekah insisted that she wouldn’t be caught dead in Lucie’s humble sedan.

She doesn’t mind, not really. The breeze that cuts over the windshield is cool, running gentle fingers across her scalp. Her hair will be a tangled mess later, but she’s committed to enjoying her first venture beyond the orchard since her ill-fated encounter with Klaus. 

“Where to first?” she asks when they’re only a few miles out from the French Quarter. 

Her good mood sours the second Rebekah says, “The Jardin Gris.”

She imagines running into Arabella or Vivienne there, or worse, Agnes. Her blood chills at the thought of a dramatic confrontation, hurts laid bare while Rebekah watches on. 

“Would you mind dropping me by my house?” 

“I’m not a chauffeur service,” Rebekah replies, adjusting her sunglasses in the rearview. 

“I want to pick some things up,” Lucie says, unwilling to get into all the grisly details about why the Jardin Gris is the last place she should be. “I’m dying to sleep in my own pajamas. Please.”

Rebekah shoots her a sideways glance as the light turns red and they come to a stop.

“Alright, but don’t think this gets you out of helping,” she concedes. And then adds, “I thought you’d be excited at the prospect of visiting your old stomping grounds.”

Lucie does her best to resist the urge to pick at her cuticles, keeping her demeanor nonchalant. 

“I’m part of the Garden District coven, or was. So technically, they’re not my old stomping grounds,” she says. “Besides, I get the feeling my presence might ruin whatever top-secret business you’re up to.”

“Fine. More fun for me.”

They lapse into silence broken only by Lucie’s occasional directions until they stop in front of the little house in the Lower Garden District.

“How quaint,” Rebekah says, eyeing the wide porch and chipped green door. There’s no bite, just a vague wistfulness. 

Lucie steps out onto the sidewalk, careful not to let the car door slam. 

“Thanks.”

“Yes, well, don’t get too cozy. I’ll be back soon.”

“Got it. And Rebekah,” she calls out. The blonde quirks a brow over her sunglasses. “Try not to kill anyone.”

____

Rebekah leans back, pressing her back against the cool brick, using the shade of an awning to escape the worst of the sun's glare. 

It had taken her longer than she’d have liked to get here from the Lower Garden District and most of that had to do with her decision to drive instead of run. Road construction meant a detour that added an extra twenty minutes to the journey, but it was worth it to sit in the convertible with the top down and bask in the sun on her arms, the breeze through her hair. 

Not that it made much of a difference in the end. She’s been waiting for ten minutes, enough time to loop the block and touch up her makeup, with no sign of her contact. 

Some people have no manners, she thinks just as Sophie Deveraux rounds the corner and makes her way up the street. 

Her dark hair slips loose from its confinement behind her ear. Unaware she’s been noticed, she worries at her lower lip with her teeth, eyes darting nervously to and fro. 

Rebekah steps forward, intercepting her before she can pass by. It’s worth it to see the alarm cross Sophie’s delicate features as she avoids a collision. 

“Rebekah!”

“Oh, so glad you could make it. Elijah only lies daggered and rotting whilst you dilly-dally.”

Sophie’s demeanor shifts, anxiety fading as irritation takes its place. “You’re lucky I came at all,” she bites out. “What do you want?”

“Hayley was attacked last night by Marcel’s crew because somebody told him there was a werewolf in the Quarter. She only made one stop. Whoever saw her here ratted her out,” she says. “Watch and learn.”

With that, she turns and ducks into the nearest shop, not bothering to see if the witch is following. 

The bell chimes, the sharp scent of incense mixed with something distinctly herbal overwhelms her the second she crosses the threshold. 

The shop is dim, especially compared to the blinding midday sunlight. Baubles glint in the light. Clusters of beads and charms hang from every surface. Shelving and mismatched end tables create narrow walkways between wares. All of it culminates in one big sensory nightmare.

“Hey, Soph,” a sweet voice greets to her left. Her head whips around to where a willowy, tawny-skinned woman leans against the counter, tying the ribbon on a cluster of fresh-cut herbs. 

“Hey, Katie,” Sophie replies, arms crossed and looking distinctly uncomfortable as she casts a side-eye in Rebekah’s direction.

 Katie follows the glance with wide, dark eyes while Rebekah inspects a yellow flower on a glass pendant. 

“That’s filled with marigold — great for attracting the opposite sex. It would look awesome on you.”

She snorts, snatching her hand away from the necklace. “I very seriously doubt that. Do you have any others, one with, say, I don’t know.... wolfsbane, perhaps?”

“Wolfsbane?” Her brow furrows, little nose wrinkling. “Why would you want that?”

Rebekah crosses the room with supernatural speed, seizing her by the throat. The effort is worth it to watch the simpering sweetness disappear from her features.

“Please do not play dumb with me,” she says, wrenching the girl off her feet. The bundle of herbs rolls to the floor as she slams her against the countertop. 

“Rebekah!” Sophie’s horrified voice calls out behind her, but she doesn’t care. She’s here for answers and there’s no time to waste, not with Hayley's and Elijah’s lives on the line. 

A garbled sound escapes Katie’s mouth. Rebekah eases her grip just enough to allow her to speak. “I…just sold a werewolf some herbs. That’s… all.”

Her fingers clamp down once more, eyes narrowing to let her know she means business. “Are you lying to me, Katie? I suggest you answer my question honestly.”

Katie wheezes. “Sophie—”

Rebekah glances to the side. Sophie shifts her weight from foot to foot. “Just answer the question, Katie. Please.”

Katie’s posture shifts. “I told someone, but you don’t understand. I—I love him.”

Idiot girl. 

She has her on the floor in an instant, stiletto pressed against Katie’s pulse point.  

“And tell me, who is this vampire Romeo of yours? Shall I count to three?”

She fights down her mounting frustration when the girl balks. It’s to be expected. Fancying herself in love, of course, she’s reluctant to sell him out. 

No matter, all that’s needed is some extra pressure. Literally.

“One.”

She digs the heel deeper. 

“Two.”

“Katie,” Sophie warns, anxious. 

“Three—”

“Thierry!” Katie cries out, tears escaping the corners of her eyes. “I told Thierry. Please, don’t hurt him. Please.”

The stiletto retracts. Rebekah plants her foot back on the floor. The atmosphere shifts immediately, relief rolling off of both witches as Katie shifts into a sitting position, fingers gingerly inspecting her neck. 

“There. That wasn’t so hard was it?” she huffs, brushing her palms against her jeans and ignoring the curdled milk look from Sophie. “Right, no time to waste.”

As she turns to the exit, she catches movement out of the corner of her eye and realizes for the first time that Katie hadn’t been the Jardin Gris’ only occupant.

“You, freckles,” she barks and the woman freezes, staring at her like a deer in the headlights, green eyes round with shock. “If you fancy keeping your head on your shoulders, you’re not going to tell anyone about this. Got it?” 

The girl swallows hard and nods, ruddy curls bouncing with the movement. 

“Good,” she says, resuming her march out the front door. 

“Shit, Katie. Are you alright?”

It’s the last thing she hears as the door swings behind her. Rebekah tosses her head, trying to shake the sensation that she’d seen her somewhere. 

____

Everything in the house looks exactly as she left it the night she went to meet “Elijah” at Rousseau’s. The realization shouldn’t surprise her. It’s only been a few weeks. What had she been expecting? A leveled lot with a hole where the foundation should be? She isn’t sure, only knows that so much has happened in that time that it feels like something should be different—if only to match her inner turmoil. 

She doesn’t waste time reacquainting herself with the space. If she did, she would have noticed the conspicuous lack of dust, the teacup resting on the coffee table, and the unfamiliar coat hung up near the front door. Instead, she makes a beeline for her bedroom, digging into her closet with the zeal of someone who’s been alternating between the same three shirts for weeks. 

The rummaging only stops when she has a sizable pile of clothes on her bed. She’s halfway through stuffing them into an old JazzFest tote bag when she hears footsteps behind her. 

“You going on a cruise or something?”

Lucie nearly jumps a foot in the air. Why does everyone always sneak up on her?

She reels around, coming face to face with the narrowed eyes of her cousin. 

“Vivienne!” she gasps, hand pressed over her chest to soothe her racing heart. “How did you get in here?”

“You’re not the only one with a key, you know,” she shrugs, and Lucie can’t help a sudden rush of guilt. How many times had she used it to come to check up on Violette?  “Came to pick up some paperwork. Didn’t see your car out front. I figured you were long gone by now.”

“Yeah, well, that was the plan,” she shakes her head. “But it’s a long story.”

Vivienne snorts, using her thumbnail to pull up an old piece of tape on the wall. “Isn’t it always?”

Lucie’s arms cross over her chest. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Honest to a fault and never one to spare feelings, especially Lucie’s, Vivienne doesn’t miss a beat. “Even when we were kids, you couldn’t touch anything without making a mess.”

The statement hangs in the air. Delivered without any particular inflection, it stings all the more for the truth of it.

 “Well, I’m just picking some stuff. I’ll be out of your hair before I can ruin anything.”

“Doubt it,” is all Vivienne says, eyeing the overstuffed tote back. There’s an air of finality, one that has her waiting for Vivienne to turn and leave. 

But she doesn’t, just continues to hover in the doorway and they fall into a loaded silence. 

It’s growing unbearable. Then, “You really hurt her, you know.”

Lucie stops stuffing a pair of socks into a side pocket to look up at her, bemused. “Who?”

“Arabella.”

She fully freezes then. The addition has Lucie bristling before the words are fully formed. 

“I hurt her?” she asks, incredulous. “Do you even hear yourself right now?”

“She hasn’t seen you in years. She spent weeks smoothing over you coming back with the covens. And then you show up, accuse her of God knows what, and then disappear again. Sounds pretty justified to me.”

“‘God knows what’,” she scoffs. “Is that what she’s calling it?”

“She isn’t calling it anything. She won’t even talk about the funeral. But it’s clear to anyone with eyes that something happened.”

Lucie opens her mouth to argue back and shuts it just as quickly, hefting the tote over her shoulder. “I’m not doing this.”

But when she moves towards the door, Vivienne blocks her path.

“Too bad, because I am,” she says. “What the fuck happened, Lucie?”

She isn’t sure why she relents then. Maybe it’s the rollercoaster of the last month. Or maybe, tired of holding the weight of the truth all by herself, she wants someone-anyone-to share some of the burden. 

Either way, the words spill from her lips, take on a life of their own as she relays the hellish events of the consecration. To Vivienne’s credit, she watches with furrowed brows, not interrupting even as she recounts Violette’s murder. 

When she reaches the end of the story with no harsh commentary, she thinks that maybe, maybe, she’s been heard. That she’ll be believed and they can figure this out together. 

Then Vivienne scoffs, shaking her head. And all hopes are dashed to pieces. 

“See, this is exactly why I didn’t want to have this conversation,” Lucie snaps, defenses snapping back into place. 

“Come on, Lucie,” she shifts, an auburn curl slipping free from her ponytail to settle near her ear. “She used to cry when she couldn’t save the worms in the garden. And now you’re trying to tell me she murdered our aunt in cold blood?”

“I know what I saw.”

“You saw Arabella pour some tea and give it to our sick aunt. You’re many things, but stupid isn’t one of them. Use your head.” 

“What am I supposed to think?”

Something flashes across Vivienne’s doll-like features. And for the first time since they entered this god-awful conversation, Lucie spots cracks in her veneer. Barely perceptible, but Lucie’s known Vivienne her whole life. “I…I don’t know, okay?”

She recognizes a flicker of doubt, understands the life-shattering reality of what she’s trying to make her believe, and something softens. 

“What exactly are you asking for, Viv?”

Vivienne steps back, an aggressive stance easing into a natural guardedness, and she sighs. 

“Arabella’s been absolutely beside herself since the funeral,” she says, pausing to find her next words. “She’s never given up on you, not once. I just think you owe it to her to at least hear her out.” 

They lock eyes then, emerald on brown. Transforming back into little girls rarely ever apart from one another. 

She pushes off the door frame and heads back into the hall. Lucie takes a few moments to collect herself. Then, pulled by some invisible force, follows to where she’s stopped in front of a hanging frame. 

“I remember this day,” Vivienne says with a wryly half-smile as Lucie stops just behind her. Over her shoulder, she spots a familiar photo. A six-year-old Arabella grins at the camera with missing teeth, clutching an unhappy-looking gray cat to her chest. 

“This is when Bella brought home that stray cat, isn’t it?” she asks softly, with a smile of her own. When Vivienne nods, she laughs and adds, “Remember when she made us help her sneak it into the house to give it a bath?”

“It clawed the absolute shit out of us. She really thought she could hide it.” Vivienne chuckles. “God, she cried so hard when Auntie told her she had to put it back.”

A blossoming warmth rises into Lucie’s chest, a sense of the chasm between them narrowing.

“She wailed all night. You remember how allergic Peter was? His eyes would swell shut and—”

The shift is palpable, all the air is sucked out of the room at once. Her stomach drops, her eyes drift to the discolored scar tissue creeping above Vivienne’s neckline. 

“Vivienne, about what happened at the Farrell place—”

She watches her harden back into porcelain before her eyes. 

“No. We’re not going there,” she says, voice clipped. “Not now, maybe not ever. I came here for Arabella and said everything I needed to. Now I’m leaving.”

“Viv—”

The door slams shut behind her. Lucie feels the gulf widen once more.

____

The engine hums, a slight breeze plucking up the ends of her hair as she waits, the car idling by the curb. 

Somewhere inside, Lucie is taking her own sweet time. She whips out her phone, typing a rapid-fire text to the recently acquired phone number. 

Where are you?

A minute passes before her phone buzzes.

Be out in a second. 

She sighs, settling into her seat before dialing Klaus. 

He doesn’t answer on the first ring or the fourth. It’s not until she loses count, waiting for his voicemail to kick in, that he finally picks up. 

“Nik?” she ventures, hearing nothing but scuffling on the other end. 

“Be quick about it. I have an army to build, and one compelled minion does not an army make—” Her brother barks orders to someone on the other end before leveling her with a less than patient: “Well?”

She elects to let it go. Just this once. “You were right about the traitor. Luckily, she’s just a kid, and she doesn’t know anything about us and what we’re up to. Do you want to hear the part that’s gonna please you the most?”

That must cheer him considerably, because she practically hears him grinning on the other end as he says, “Oh, do tell!”

She flips the sun visor up and down absently. “She’s in love with someone in Marcel’s inner circle. Guess who it is?”

Klaus only pauses for a moment. “Right-hand man type favors silly caps?”

She eases a little, relieved not to have to spell it out. Her brother may be many things, but dull is not one of them. 

“Two points for you. Thierry is fraternizing with the enemy.”

“Well, that means he just unwittingly became the key to our entire plan.”

“I told you you’d be pleased,” she says, ignoring the sudden pit in her stomach. Just then, Lucie steps out onto the porch, fiddling with her keys to lock up. 

Klaus chuckles on the line. “Oh, to be young and in love in a city where witches and vampires are at war. How very tragic—”

She’s only half-listening now. The witch is off the porch and crossing the lawn with a markedly unhappy expression. 

“Lucie’s here,” she says, cutting him off. “I have to go.” 

She hangs up before Klaus can say another word, phone landing in the cupholder just as Lucie wrenches open the door and sinks into the passenger’s seat, bag deposited in the backseat. 

“How’d it go?” Lucie asks, clicking her seatbelt into place and staring into the side mirror. 

She grins. “Swimmingly.”

“Do I want to know?” 

“Probably not,” she admits, turning the key in the ignition. The car roars to life. “I saw another car leaving when I pulled up.”

“My cousin,” is all the witch says. 

It shouldn’t bother her. Usually, Rebekah is content to mind her own business, and whatever has the girl looking so glum certainly has nothing to do with her. “Did something happen?” 

“Nope.”

Rebekah resists the urge to roll her eyes. “You’re a terrible liar, you know.”

“You can add it to the list,” she says flatly, staring out the window as they pull onto the main road. 

She frowns at that. While the witch has several irritating qualities, self-pity isn’t usually one of them. “What’s your deal with them, anyway?”

She doesn’t specify. They both know who she’s talking about.

The blinker clicks, the only sound between them. She’s sure that Lucie heard her and has elected not to answer—

“I made a mistake and people I loved got hurt. As if that wasn’t bad enough, I broke one of my coven’s biggest tenets.”

“Which one?” she asks, unable to resist her curiosity.

“Does it matter now?”

“I suppose not. Continue.”

“A tribunal was called so they could decide what to do with me. An elder was called from each coven to represent their faction. My great-aunt Violette was one of them.” Her voice is without inflection. The detachment tells Rebekah that whatever is coming next isn’t pleasant. “I was terrified out of my mind, listening to them speak, waiting for them to decide my fate. The only thing that kept me together was knowing that Violette was there, that she’d come to my defense.”

They merge onto the highway. Out of the corner of her eye, she watches Lucie swallow hard. When she continues, her breath is shaky. “But when it was her turn, she stood up in front of the entire tribunal and not only pushed for the shunning but insisted on performing the rite herself.” 

No stranger to familial betrayal, Rebekah winces. Lucie continues, “I’m sure you know New Orleans witches are a little different from other witches. We derive our magic from an ancestral well, drawing power from those passed on with the agreement that when we die, we're consecrated, and our magic fuels the well for future generations.”

“The rite cuts you off from the well,” Rebekah nods, catching the thread of conversation and following along. She’d known it to have been done once or twice during their rule over the city but never witnessed it firsthand. Then something occurs to her. “But I’ve seen you do magic.”

Lucie nods, looking over at her as she explains, “My father was born into ancestral magic. But my mother wasn’t from here. All her magic came from nature. It’s why I can still do some, even if it’s less reliable now.” 

“But something obviously brought you back.” 

“She died, my great aunt,” she states, with that detachment that Rebekah is rapidly growing to dislike. “I came back for the funeral only to find out they murdered her and tried to kill me, too.”

She can’t help the whistle that escapes at that. “And I thought my family took the cake for dysfunction.” Something else clicks. “So your deal with Elijah—”

“He wanted information on the witches, and I needed someone to watch my back.” 

It all makes sense now, she supposes, now that she can see the full picture. There isn’t anything left to say. This should be the part where they fall into uncomfortable silence and then pretend this conversation never happened. 

Rebekah surprises even herself when she says, “I know what it’s like to feel betrayed by those who are supposed to love you most.” Her hands grip the wheel, eyes fixed ahead. “I’m truly sorry, for what it’s worth.”

“I…uh…thanks,” Lucie stammers, eyes wide. Her cheeks flush, her head dips away so she can look out the window. “Weren’t we supposed to be looking for Elijah?”

“Change of plans. I have a ball to get ready for.” An idea that’s been forming since she saw her dejected face leaving the little house comes to fruition.

“Why do I get the feeling that I’m not going to like where this is going?”

“You didn’t think I was going to shop for a dress by myself.” 

____

Ultimately, they decide on a black dress, a strapless floor-length number with a satin belt that highlights Rebekah’s long legs and offsets her fair features. She’s a vision of elegance as she slips into it, adding raven feathers to her updo to accent.

Lucie should feel satisfaction, or at least relief as she watches Rebekah leave with Klaus in the gown that had taken them hours to pick out. 

Instead, as they step into the car, masks in hand, it feels like salt in a wound. 

When they’d arrived home only hours before, it was to Klaus in the parlor with Sophie Deveraux in tow. It was then that he’d highlighted the extent of his plans. Plans that involved using leverage to manipulate some Quarter witch — whose name only kind of rings a bell—so Sophie could do a locator spell to find some other witch, who Lucie knows nothing about besides the fact that she’s powerful and has Elijah. 

All the while, it fell to Lucie to stay home and look after a pregnant werewolf who absolutely did not need her protection. 

She certainly isn’t hurt at not being involved in whatever diabolical plot Klaus has concocted. Rather, it’s the rejection that stings, the confirmation of her own inadequacy. Klaus had plucked her away from her life, whisking her to the middle of nowhere to wait on standby like a magical vending machine, only to be sidelined when it really counts. 

A grievance that was met with dismissal by Klaus when she voiced it. It wasn’t until Rebekah had refused to meet her eyes that she knew she’d told him of their first disastrous attempt at a locator spell. 

She’d left the room then, angry and unwilling to let them bear witness to the hurt. She had nothing to prove, especially not to Original vampires. Opting instead to sit by the window of her borrowed room and watch the golden hours fade into a starry evening. 

The property is quiet, blanked in a velvety blue that she’d find charming if she weren’t so wound up. 

And normally she’d be thrilled at a night undisturbed. But as things stand, the peace rankles, intensifying the bitter pill in her throat.

A gust of wind rips through the orchard, divesting trees of their dying leaves with a sound unique to autumn and she finds wondering what part of the plan is being executed now.

 She feels a shimmer of concern. Though murky on the details, she knows enough about Marcel and Klaus to doubt the other witches—the decoy or the weapon—will survive the night. 

It shouldn’t bother her as much as it does. Aligned with the coven in one case and a vampire in the other, they’ve made their beds. But she can’t help but wonder if they, like her, had much say in the matter. Young witches tossed about in a game of magical politics because of the power they were born with and had no say over.

She shakes it off, refusing to let herself be carried away. And that’s when she sees it. 

There, beyond the back porch, beneath the shadows of sleeping apple trees, is a figure; lean and tall. A shadow specter amongst the fallen leaves.

And though she can’t see their face, can’t make out any distinguishable features, she knows when their eyes meet hers there’s a pull. Like a magnetic field pulling her into their orbit, urging her forwards.

Maybe that’s why when they turn away to edge towards the treeline, she doesn’t give a second thought. In an instant, she’s up and moving with no thought beyond the overwhelming desire not to let them slip away this time. 

Because she knows somehow, without any doubt, that this figure is the same one she’d seen in the mirror and then again in the glass of the backdoor at Violette’s.

She takes the steps two at a time, cursing the impractical spiral staircase before bounding the length of the house and spilling out onto the back porch. 

She passes Hayley by the pool. Deep in thought, but otherwise unharmed, Lucie leaves her uninterrupted. 

It only takes seconds for her to descend the porch steps and pad across the damp grass to reach the middle orchard, the place where she’d last seen the figure. 

But there’s no shadowy shape, no human form. Only Lucie standing alone amongst the trees, heart pounding. 

When she thinks she’s lost then, she catches movement out of the corner of her eye. Wheeling around, she sees a silhouette slip past the treeline, deep into the woods. She doesn’t think, just follows, ignoring the way roots and rocks bite into the soles of her bare feet and the night air chilling her exposed skin. 

She keeps them in her sights, barely. Like each step she closes between them, they add five more, determined to stay only at the very edges of her vision. 

Then they stops. Her pace increases, the distance closing. She’s within reach. All she needs to do is extend a hand, convince them to turn around and—

The figure is gone like they had vanished to vapor and joined the breeze.  

She’s alone, her ragged panting the only sign of life to be found. She nearly screams when a hand grasps her shoulder. 

“What in the bloody hell are you doing out here?”

She turns, following the hand on her shoulder up to an irritated Rebekah, still clad in her ballgown. 

Defensively, she reaches for an explanation to throw back at her, only to find she doesn’t have one. “I…”

Rebekah rolls her eyes. “Nevermind. Let's go.” 

She doesn’t wait for a response, snatching Lucie’s wrist and making a beeline for the house before she can even form half a protest. Anger at Rebekah momentarily forgotten as she tries to wrap her head around whatever had just happened. 

____

The most bitter part of taking a dagger to the chest is the inability to gauge the passage of time. Dreaming on end with no idea if a week has passed or a decade. Then those first hazy moments of wakefulness followed by the gut-twisting panic over determining how far the world has gone on with you. 

He’d felt for Rebekah, when she’d awoken after ninety years of forced slumber, held her as she wept bitter tears into his chest, grieving the years of her life stolen from her. 

He feels the same dread, even as the dream starts anew. It starts as it always does with Klaus and Kol grappling in the sun. He watches on, though it’s hardly necessary. By now, he can narrate the events down to the second. Knows the exact moment Henrik laughs, when Rebekah will weave the final stem into her flower crown, and that soon the stag will appear to lure him into the woods. 

Except this time, it never comes. 

Instead, he turns just in time to glimpse dark hair as a slight form dips into the trees.

“Tatia, wait!” he calls, long strides carrying him across the meadow to follow. The woods are quiet, despite the liveliness of the spring day. He tracks her shadow, the flick of her skirts as she weaves around the trunks of ancient trees. Their branches, thick with leaves and fighting for space, blot out the sun. Light slips in the sparse spaces between, dappled slivers of yellow guiding his way. 

Then, he reaches the edge of a clearing, the one where he’s killed the stag—killed Tatia—over and over.

In the center, painted in golden sunlight, he sees her. No longer racing ahead, she stands tall, unmoving. Like the small carven statue of Frigg that mother keeps by the hearth. 

A breeze sweeps through the meadow, batting at the long strands of her hair, the hem of her white dress, shattering the illusion. 

He calls her name, soft and uncertain, though he cannot guess why. Maybe it’s the wrongness of her height, too short for her long-legged form. Or perhaps the unfamiliar coils of her hair. 

Slowly, slowly, she turns, and he finds himself staring into an unexpected pair of eyes. 

His brows knit. “Lucretia?” 

Bewilderment courses through him, thoughts racing at a breakneck pace that he cannot hope to make sense of. 

If the girl notices his confusion, she makes no mention, simply watches him with a placid, dreamy expression.

“Why are you so frightened, Elijah?”

Her arm extends out to him, too thin and so pale he can see the blue crisscrosses of her veins in the light. Her fingers are trembling. 

He wants to reach back out. Though the clearing is still and tranquil, he cannot shake the overwhelming urge to go to her, to shield against an unseen danger that crackles like an approaching thunderstorm in the surrounding air. 

But his legs are leaden and his arms remain pinned resolutely at his sides, trapping him in the shade inches from the sunlit grass. 

Her lips pull into a frown, though her eyes remain glassy. And as if tired of waiting, her arm drifts back to her side, fingers folding into the gauzy fabric of her skirts. 

Something glints in the light. Two sets of eyes follow its trail. A serpent with emerald scales weaves through the grass, winding its way toward her bare ankles. 

The words stick in his throat as he tries to call out to her, to warn her. His panic only grows as she dips into the grass, allowing the snake to wind around her arm. 

She rises, expression calm, drawing the creature to eye level. Inspecting it with reverence, she does not look away as she asks, “Isn’t this what you wanted?” 

Her voice floats to him, clear as if she was standing at his side. Somehow, he knows it was meant for him, not the serpent. 

Her head cocks to the left, the light plucking out the red in her hair as it spills over her shoulder, exposing the long column of her neck. 

He knows what is coming next. Yet, rooted to the ground, he’s helpless to stop it as the serpent rears its head back, maw curling to free pearlescent fangs. The foreknowledge does nothing to curb the fear, the unabashed horror as it darts out in the blink of an eye. 

Lucie gasps, body rigid, and Elijah can only watch on as it buries its teeth in the delicate flesh of her throat, scales gleaming in the dappled light. 

Venom drips into the grass, turning green to black, eroding the scene. 

Once more, he leans against the tree, standing silent vigil over his siblings. The air is thick with smoke, angry reds and oranges make the shadows stretch and retract. 

A crumpled form clad in white rests at his feet, blood and venom spilling from her wounds. Blank glassy eyes stare up at him in accusation. 

He wipes at his mouth. The back of his hand comes away streaked with red. All the while, the forest burns. 

Though he cannot move, he sees it all—the carnage of an old life laid out before him.

Henrik’s little body, ravaged by wolves. Klaus, screaming for him even as strips of birch in his father’s hand tear apart the exposed flesh of his back. Kol lost to the darkness. 

The flames consume all until there’s no one left but him and Rebekah. 

The flower crown dips precariously off to one side, the front of her dress soaked in blood as she stands amongst the bodies of her fallen friends. Their eyes meet and she laughs madly, reveling in the destruction as blood pours from her mouth, cascading down her neck, blue eyes wild, hungry, and utterly devoid of innocence. 

“You can help her. You can help them all,” a man’s voice says over his shoulder. 

“How?” His voice cracks, choked and bitterly desperate. “How?” 

“All you have to do is reach out. Go on, Elijah, just lift your hand.”

He tries, gods above, he tries. His arms are useless, his legs unable to carry him even an inch forward. Forced to watch as his life burns around him, unable to lift even a finger to save it.

When he cries out, pain halts any noise. Unexpected warmth blossoms within, a ball of heat that radiates out from a single point at the center of his chest. Empty brown eyes are the last thing he sees as the scene melts away. 

This time, Elijah wakes.