#emotionally i was bracing for child death

[saccharii]

Excellent use of music in Alba: A Wildlife Adventure. During the scene at the end with the grandpa I felt a serious sense of foreboding even though I knew nothing bad was going to happen.

[lurkingshan]

Japanese QL Corner

We are heading into a bit of a quieter period for QL corner, with two shows ending now and another next week. At least we still have a true banger airing to sustain us through the drought. Smells Like Green Spirit is also now airing in Japan but has not yet been picked up for international distribution (pray for it to get to us soon). These shows are available for weekly streaming on Gaga unless otherwise noted.

Happy of the End

CWs: Blood and gore, child abandonment, child molestation, childhood sexual slavery, death, family rejection, heavy scarring, human trafficking, rape, sexual coercion and exploitation, suicidal ideation, suicide mention

This week was relatively lighter compared to last week's very rough episodes, but still so laced with sadness even in its happy moments. Haoren mourned his mother, and finally admitted to himself, and to Chihiro, that she was never protecting him. The show dug deeper into how this bond between them is giving them both a reason to shake off their apathy about survival, though that is definitely touch and go for both of them. The way Haoren experienced a few moments of happiness and immediately jumped to the conclusion that he would like to die now because he'll never top this feeling was telling, as was Chihiro casually laying down in the street and not moving until Haoren dragged him away. They don't have any real hope for a better life, but they each seem more invested in the other's survival than their own, and that is giving them something to cling to. It was nice to see them have some moments of trust and connection between them, and for Haoren to finally feel safe enough to strip himself bare, physically and emotionally. I'm bracing for a rough final week, with Haoren's former enslaver coming after Chihiro in a bid to destroy the source of Haoren's new happiness. I don't really know what to hope for in terms of an ending for these characters; I just hope the show can leave us with the sense that their relationship mattered and gave them something they can each hold onto.

Love is Like a Poison

This episode had me screaming with laughter and delight. Haruto can read his Ryo-kun like a book, and Shiba can't seem to figure out which way is up. I don't even want to describe all the hilarious gags and sexy tension and extremely unsubtle metaphors in this episode; I don't want to ruin it for anyone. Go watch!

Chaser Game W 2

Of all the great JQL we've gotten in the last year, why this one got picked up for a second season I could not tell you. I was less than impressed with season 1, and I don't have high hopes this next go round will be any better. Especially after watching the first ep of this new season, in which they unceremoniously undid the ending of the last in a laughably silly way only to introduce a new, more annoying conflict. They could have made something of a story about Fuyu trying to work out a way to manage her family life to be with Itsuki, but they'd rather hand wave that away via gay penguins in favor of a new love triangle. Whatever, show. Here we go again, I guess! I’ll be watching this one mostly to support the ratings.

Tagging @bengiyo to do our last anime update for the next little while, as Twilight Out of Focus has officially ended its run and there is no new animated ql on the horizon.

[sichlitt]

So we all know this panel, right? Super iconic. When Griffith gets word of the assassination of Julius and Adonis, he makes this big evil grin that leads many to assume that Griffith is glad that Adonis is dead, enough to feel giddy at the revelation. Surely this is irrefutable evidence of Griffith's cold-hearted sociopathy and unforgivable evil, right?

Wrong.

For one, there is ZERO evidence that Griffith was smiling at the dead boy in particular. It's much more likely that he was simply ignoring the boy and focusing on Julius' death alone, doing so through COMPARTMENTALISATION and EMOTIONAL REPRESSION. 

We have lots of contextual evidence that this is what Griffith does when confronted with dead children. When the child soldier in Griffith's army is killed, he is emotionally distraught, but in the lake scene with Casca he assures her that he doesn't actually care. He justifies sleeping with Gennon as a purely logical move absent of emotion. We know that this apathetic persona is a lie because when Casca brings up this boy, Griffith immediately starts shaking and resorting to self harm to quell his deep-seated emotional anguish. His persona then breaks entirely and he goes on an unhinged rant about how he must atone for the sake of the dead and that he won't allow his men to needlessly die for him. 

There's no absence of care, it's just well-hidden. 

He then successfully represses this vulnerability by insisting to Casca that he is okay. We know from his previous behaviour and Casca's response that it's a lie. He isn't fine, but his expression does a good job of HIDING that pain.

This added context recontextualises the smile at the Primrose Hall by calling into question the reliability of his outward expression in revealing his inner thoughts and feelings, while showing how fucked up his coping mechanisms are with regards to dead children. 

Some people may claim that as the two scenes are years apart, he likely grew to genuinely become more apathetic over time as he became numb to so many of his soldiers' deaths, but this can't be true because the God Hand in the ECLIPSE show him visions of the dead child soldier from over half a decade ago to play on his empathetic guilt. This draws an emotional through-line throughout the entire arc proving that he has always cared about people that die for his dream. It's not at all unreasonable to apply it to the smile. The dream speech and the lake scene are 2 chapters apart for a reason. 

What's more, if you want to apply sociopathy to Griffith through the smile, you must do the same to Guts.

These next panels might shock you, so brace yourselves.

Yep, that's right. Guts also smiles at the death of a child he indirectly killed. Shocking, I know. This scene is conveniently forgotten by Guts stans whenever they try and fail to condemn Griffith. 

This isn't all, though. He even LAUGHS about her death when Puck asks him about it.

Now of course we know from context that Guts doesn't actually believe the words he's saying here and is merely using this philosophy as a coping mechanism to emotionally distance himself from the people who die around him, just as Griffith does in the dream speech.

Guts and Griffith do the EXACT SAME THING, so if you want to condemn one, you must also equally condemn the other.

[sugoi-and-spice]

Chapter Twelve - Return to Previous Save Point?

Pairing: Tomura Shigaraki x Fem!Reader, (3rd Person)

Rating: Explicit - Minors DNI

Summary: Tomura Shigaraki was her dad's boss's son. He was the creep that stole girls' underwear and tried to grope her in his room. But it's not like he could get her Dad fired just because she wouldn't sleep with him, right? ...right?

CW: Quirkless!AU, Explicit Smut, Dub-Con, Coercion, Blackmail, Cheating, Sexual Guilt, Humiliation, Unhealthy Relationships, Virginity Kink, Groping, Power Play, Hate to Love, Emotional Manipulation, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Animal Death

Read Full Chapter on AO3

[excerpt]

The calm she’d achieved through her revelation at the diner was very short-lived. As soon as she saw her house on the walk home, her anxiety and dread came back in full force. She didn’t want to go inside. She knew what was waiting for her there — the same thing that had been waiting for her the last time she’d called Shigaraki’s bluff, if not worse. Honestly, the brutal scolding she’d received from her Dad that day would be the best case scenario.

The worst was that he was already out of a job.

Mirio squeezed her hand, “Hey? Are you sure you’re okay now?”

She looked up at him. He wasn’t nearly as concerned as he had been earlier — didn’t have the reason to be— but he could obviously tell that everything wasn’t quite back to normal yet.

Should she tell him? She should, right? She didn’t even need to give the full details, just something like “I’m worried my Dad’s going to lose his job”. If she was really going to try to invest herself in this relationship again, she should be confiding that stuff in him.

She squeezed his hand back and smiled, “Yeah. Just kind of emotionally drained, you know?”

Baby steps. There was no need to worry him unnecessarily. She’d confide in him about this when there was actually something to confide about. She wasn’t lying at least, she really was overwhelmed.

“Of course,” he brushed her hair back over her ear, hand lingering to hold her cheek. She stared up at him, captured for a moment by the way he looked at her. The love in his eyes. She knew that whoever could reciprocate that one day would be one lucky person.

He leaned down and pressed his lips sweetly to her own. They were full and gentle, warm and still subtly sweet from the slice of cheesecake they’d shared at the diner. Free of roughness and scarring, undemanding, and not a hint of energy drink on them.

Mirio pulled away just a little bit, the tip of his nose still brushing her own, “Is there anything I can do to help?”

“More than that?” she grinned, “I don’t think so.”

He chuckled and leaned down to kiss her again, this one just as sweet as the last.

They didn’t linger much longer than that. Mirio Togata was a gentleman that would never think of copping a feel or even slipping her a little tongue in her parents’ driveway. Instead, he stood fast on the sidewalk and waved her off, not turning to leave until she was closing the front door behind her. She had no reason to complain, he was just being a good boyfriend and making sure she got home safe. But it did make it impossible to let her guard down and brace herself before she was actually in the lion’s den.

So, she didn’t announce when she was home — easing the door open and closed and slipping off her shoes as quietly as possible. She glued herself to the wall of the engawa, listening for any hint to her family’s fate. Crying, yelling, hopeless silence. She was not expecting:

“Three sixes.”

“Bluff!”

“...you sure about that?”

“YOU’RE KIDDING ME!!”

She walked into the living room to see the scene for herself, moved forward by confusion alone. Confusion that only skyrocketed when she saw her family at the dining table, her little brother grumpily pulling a center pile of cards into his hand.

“You know, it’s wrong to lie to your kids!” her brother whined.

“But it’s so fun though,” her Dad laughed, bopping him on the nose with his own two-carded hand.

“Hey sweetie,” her Mom greeted her, “Have a nice date?”

“Y-Yeah…” she answered cautiously, scanning for any sign of distress from the trio, “Lots of fun.”

“Not too much fun though, right?” her Dad joke-warned, earning a playful swat from her Mom.

“PG Rated fun only, sir,” she ‘joked’.

He shot her a playful salute and laughed, “Come on over, Peanut. I’ll deal you in.”

“I-I’m okay, Dad,” she said, “I should actually try and get some studying in today before it gets too late.”

He smiled at her, “Atta girl. Holler if you need anything.”

She nodded and swung by to give both her parents a kiss on the cheek and her brother a hair ruffle before slipping down the hall. She snuck another inquiring look back at the table as they resumed their game in earnest.

It was obvious that her Dad at least still had a job for now. She knew that she couldn’t get too comfortable though. The other shoe would certainly drop soon.

Continue on AO3

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[novantinuum]

There are so many tempting things here….but no light, no light

(Re: WIP game)

_

Ahah this one is another chapter from the fic I mentioned in my last post- and probably the bit I'm most excited to flesh out from my notes.

The chapter title is a shameless lyric steal from an emo song I like that I listened to endlessly while sketching this out- functionally, the whole song as it is isn't Super relevant but I really liked this one bit of lyric and the words surrounding it and felt they were relevant to the big emotions experienced in this sequence so chapter title it is.

This... is definitely a spoiler chapter, but given I've already MENTIONED the spoiler in other posts gushing about how excited I am to share this fic, I don't think it matters any more.

This is the one where Link learns that his father has died in the field. On an everyday, boring mission. A mission that he was supposed to go on himself (if he hadn't sprained his ankle horribly in training the day before), so you have like... a bit of survivor's guilt with him over this. Not only survivor's guilt, but like... a few days before the "lesson" in training was that he has to learn to get back up and fight through the pain because their enemies will have no qualms in senselessly slaughtering soldiers where they lay- but then the bad sprain happened, and his mother and father had a huge fight about it, and his father ultimately decided for him that he wouldn't be going on this escort mission, and Link believes (unhelpfully) if he was just able to suck it up and walk on his injured ankle without any evidence of pain and prove to him that he could've handled it, he would've been there, and that maybe if he was THERE he could've proved that he's actually the hero everyone wants him to be, and...

And then the rest of this is hugely inspired by my own unique experience of mourning- I am autistic, and don't experience grief in the same way others do. First and foremost, I find it nearly impossible to cry about the death of family. I've tried to force myself- the tears simply aren't there. This simply isn't how I mourn. For many, many years I thought this was unnatural, and that I was broken for not having any tears to shed over my beloved family members, but like. Not everyone DOES cry, and that's chill.

Link in this story is much the same, except he's young, and is not emotionally mature enough to come to the same realization I did. So he berates himself for his lack of what he sees as "true" mourning.

Anyways, have some of my notes from this scene.

__

-Entirely numb, the room spinning around him like a kaleidoscope, Link turns tail and runs out of there, his head pounding… his heart slamming against his ribs. He doesn’t stop when he hears people shout his name. He doesn’t stop when he knocks into one of the handmaidens in the hallway. He doesn’t stop when he nearly knocks into Princess Zelda herself, walking merely a few paces behind her. He sprints until he reaches the training yard, and edges through a secluded passageway into the core of one of the outer wall’s turrets that barely anyone passes through.

-He doubles over, bracing himself with hands on knees. He then slowly sinks to the ground, his breath erratic. Hastily grabs at his baldric’s buckle, his fingers shaking. The buckle is unfastened, and he tugs the baldric off of his shoulder, pushing both it and the Master Sword as far away as he can. He tugs his legs to his chest like he’s a pathetic child again, rocking back and forth.

-He cannot find it within himself to cry, and it disturbs him. What’s wrong with him? What’s WRONG with him, that he cannot manage to summon such an emotional release in a time like this?? His father is dead. His father is dead.

[sunlit-gully]

Hello! This is your friendly inquiry to answer this ask with whatever you'd like to talk about right now! Whether that be a story you're working on, something you're excited or worried about, or just something random you happen to know.

All the love,

~ toribookworm ❤️

Well I suppose I can spare some time to ramble about Lev, my first Jewish OC. literal bby boy

Brace yourself, it'll be one long long ramble.

Lev was born to Ilse Goldberg and Yitzhak Adler, a singer and a songwriter respectively, in Warsaw. This musical background means that Lev has an extensive knowledge of musicology, particularly of the violin. However, the family was rather dysfunctional despite their facade, so he grew up with deep-seated anger issues. As a child he loved gears, chocolate milk, balloons, and teasing his 2 little siblings (he was the Adler's second eldest kid).

Then the Holocaust happened, and Lev’s childhood came to a grisly end. His family, like most other Jewish families in 1939 Warsaw, was detained in the infamous ghetto. Extreme overcrowding, negligible rations and nonexistent sanitation killed his siblings, Ida and Henrik. The Ghetto Uprising killed his father, Aron. The Ravensbruck camp killed his mother, Ilse. The Warsaw Uprising was what drove his elder brother Jan away (who disappeared to the Aryan side of Warsaw after the uprising). Lev himself was supposed to be deported to Treblinka but managed to hide within the train station's sewage system and evade capture.

After the daring escape, he tagged alongside a nearby Soviet division as their unofficial scout, much to the chagrin of the commander and the commissar (the official title is not that but I don't care), Mykola. He often took on a no-nonsense attitude in the battlefield, readily resorting to violence should the need arise. As his Soviet comrades advanced and fought the last battles in Berlin, Lev bumped into Medea, who was working alongside the underground KPD, and gradually bonded with her over their shared horrors. During a clandestine meeting the Jewish boy arranged, Medea and Mykola saw each other and - surprise! - Mykola was reunited with his lover and saviour. Fortunately, all three lived to see Victory Day and Medea adopted him, officially turning the Jewish boy into a Soviet citizen.

In his second homeland, Lev threw himself into a new life - learning Russian, making friends, immersing himself in the day-to-day life in postwar USSR. As Mykola stepped into his life, Lev gradually gained a new father figure, one who genuinely thought of him as a son rather than a burden. The birth of Viktor, Rusudan, Lasha and Mykyta made him extremely protective of his little siblings - he had already known the pain once. But all in all, things seemed to be looking up…

…until Medea died from a mountain flood. The untimely death of his mother figure plunged Lev into an existential crisis. He often suffered from intense paranoia and incessant insomnia, occasionally flying into rages and always remaining emotionally constipated. All the while, he had to step into the role of de facto caretaker of his younger siblings. Of course, that did wonders to his mental health.

Lev ended up majoring in nuclear physics and had postgraduate training in Rosendorf. This was where he had a summer fling with Greta Fischer, daughter of his mentor, and unbeknownst to him, she became pregnant and kept the child. During her pregnancy, Greta defected to West Germany, changed her name to Klara Silberwald, and severed all ties to her old homeland - that's why Lev only knows about his daughter Ursula and her family in his 70s.

Some years later, Lev reconnected with his childhood sweetheart Ksenija Kavalyova, daughter of a comrade of Mykola. And by 'reconnected', I mean Lev almost got himself killed while attending an international physics conference by the hands of his long-lost older brother Jan, who was trying to murder Ksenija, operate a spy ring, and leak classified Soviet nuclear secrets to the Americans. They married, and third time's a charm: they had a daughter, Zoya, and a son, Avel. Kseniya passed away in peaceful old age, Avel passed away during the fight against Israeli occupiers in Palestine, and Zoya is happily married to a Cuban fellow doctor, Arturo. Lev, who is also living in Cuba with Zoya, spoils his grandson Miguel rotten. After the 2017 reunion, Lev also takes it upon himself to spoil Béla, Ilona, and Tivadar, his newfound grandchildren, just as rotten. He's got his priorities straight, and to be honest who am I to judge him?

Really, it's the least thing Fate can do to give this man a happy old age.

[imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl]

Part 02 of 03

Pairing: Negan x Reader

Word count: 1.8 K

Summary: You were running from death for too long, and when you stumbled upon a wooden cabin in the woods, you found more than just a safe place to hide.

<- Previous part (01)

Next part (03) ->

{The Walking Dead Masterlist}

×

“She's got a smile that it seems to me, reminds me of childhood memories. Where everything was as fresh as the bright blue sky.” Both you and Negan sing along to the music, in a tone of voice that will make him check the surrounding areas. But it feels good. And you're happy you feel safe enough to do this after so long stuck in silence. “Now and then when I see her face, she takes me away to that special place, and if I stare too long, I'd probably break down and cry.” With a bright smile on your face, you brace yourself for the chorus. It's always powerful, and it brings a nostalgic feeling. From the life before, when you used to dance to this very song in your bedroom.

“Whoa, oh, oh, sweet child o' mine.” Negan, as usual, sings the first part. You have your legs on his lap, as you both sit on the living room couch, sharing a blanket.

“OH!, oh, oh, oh, sweet love of mine.” You finish up, throwing your head back with a smile.

It took two weeks for you and Negan to break through each other. Seventeen days to be exact. At first, it was weird, mostly at night when you were sharing the bed. But now, it's actually nice. And fun. You love his sense of humor.

“Good music never gets old.” He comments when the song is over.

“You're one hundred percent right.” With a giggle, you run a hand through your hair. “It just sucks that you have to go charge it at the community.”

“Yeah, it was pretty hard to explain the first time.”

“Why don't you live with them? Was it your decision or theirs?”

Negan goes silent for a while, a sigh leaving his lips. “I wasn't much of a nice guy before. Did some ugly shit, they rather have me away.”

“Well, we all did some ugly shit at some point. I had to kill people and... I'm not proud of it.”

“You? Tiny, little you? I don't believe it.” Under the blanket, Negan tickles your sides, making you break into laughter, slapping his hands.

“Stop it! Stop it!” You're still giggling when he does. “Well, I'm not as helpless as I look, Mister. I can defend myself when I need to.”

“Well..., you won't need to anymore.”

“Oh, yeah? And why's that?” There's this unspoken thing between you. It gets clear these times when the conversation goes some unexpected way. It feels like something floating in the air, close enough to grab, but you don't know why neither of you take it.

“Because from now on you have me.”

“And why the hell do you think my stay is permanent?” Squinting your eyes, you stare at him.

“Because if you go, sweetheart, you won't be taking my iPod.”

“I can always steal it.”

“You wouldn't dare.”

“Is that a challenge?”

Negan raises an eyebrow, and when you think he will say something, he suddenly grabs your legs, and pulls, making you slide on the cough, closer to him. “If you're leaving I have to–” And he's tickling you again, on the ribs, making you laugh out loud, trying to push him away. “–make sure you don't forget me, little one.”

“NO!” You scream, trying to get him off you. “I'm not going anywhere! Stop it.”

“Oh, good. Very good.” He raises his voice to make himself heard above your laughs. And when he finally stops, he's close.

A little too close.

“You really want me to stay?” You ask now that you managed to catch your breath. He nods. “Why? And no funny answer, I really wanna know.”

“It's just good to have someone who doesn't hate me.”

“Why would I hate you?” As usual, Negan starts to move away. And not only physically, but also emotionally. It happens every time you get closer to asking about whatever happened before. But this time, you hold him by the collar of his shirt, forcing him into this half lying, half sitting position you got yourselves into. “Negan, please. Whatever you tell me... It's ok. We all did bad things in the past.”

“That's it. I did bad things. No need to get into details.”

“Ne–”

You're suddenly cut off by his lips, crashing on yours. It's so unexpected that for a moment you're frozen, unsure why he did that. And your lack of response makes him pull away, an awkward expression on his face. “I screwed up. I thought it would be romantic, you know? But I get it, being kissed by an old man like it must be–”

“Shut up and kiss me again so I can kiss you back, you idiot.”

And so he does. A couple of times, actually.

And then, way too many times, never enough.

Love is different these days. Before, it would take more time. And maybe your world wouldn't even get in touch with his.

But now, it happens fast. And it doesn't make it weak. Maybe, it makes it stronger.

You and Negan bounded quickly. And it also escalated quickly. From the first awkwardness of living under the same roof with someone after so long alone, you grew to enjoy his company. To want his company. To love his company.

•••

“It's so cold today.” You complain, coming from the bathroom and sliding under the blankets, curling up next to him. “Winter will be tough.”

“It will.” He takes you in with open arms, rubbing your back as you put your head on his chest. “I'll get us more blankets.”

“In Alexandria?”

“Mhmm.”

“Can I come with you?” You ask, lifting your head to look at him. “I'm curious about it.”

“Thought you were suspicious of them.”

“I am.” Raising your head, you look at him with a smile. “So I wanna go to keep you safe.”

“Oh, thank you. I always get so scared out there, I'll feel so much better with you.”

The sarcastic tone makes you roll your eyes. “Keep talking like that and I'll bite you.”

“Mmm... I might not complain.”

“Oh, shut up.” Lying on his chest again, you pull the blankets closer. “Also... I wanna go out. I have been inside this cabin since I got here. I'm ready to face the outside world again.”

“I'll be right there with you.” Listening to this soft, sweet promise, you fall asleep in his arms, warm and comfortable.

•••

The morning comes fast, and it's around nine when you and Negan leave the cabin. Being outside again feels weird, but good. Now that you don't need to run for your life, you can see the beauty of it. The trees, tall and strong, the sunlight coming through, painting the atmosphere with a golden shine.

“You're alright?” He asks after a while, taking your hand in his. “Anxiety kicking in?”

You simply shake your head, giving him a look and a smile. “It's silent here. I like it.”

“Yeah, it is.”

“Thank you for walking there. I needed to... Face it. The fear of being out here.”

“Not a problem. It's not a hard walk.” Negan has your hand secure in his, all the way.

The gates of the city come into your sight suddenly. It's open, with a couple of people by it, working. You feel Negan tensing up, so you caress the back of his hand with your thumb. “What's wrong?”

“Nothing.” He quickly says.

Furrowing your eyebrows, you look ahead. As you get closer, the staring begins. Nobody stops you, but nobody talks to you either. Not until a woman with white hair comes, with a very weird smile on her lips. “Hello. Do you need anything?”

“Blankets. The nights are getting colder.” Negan says, and the woman looks at you.

“Hi...” You mutter, unsure what to say. “Could I charge my iPod while Negan gets the blankets?” Deciding to ask, you offer the woman a smile.

Which she retributes. “Sure. Come.” The woman tilts her head to the side, and you look at Negan, only following her when he nods.

The woman guides you into a house, showing you a power plug. “You can use this one.”

“Thank you.” You mutter, plugging it and sitting on the armchair next to it.

The woman stays there, and you raise your eyes to look at her. “So it's true.” She says after a while, curiously. “There is a girl with Negan after all. Unless you're being forced to be here, putting on an act.”

“An act?” Squinting, you shrug your shoulders. “Why would I do that? Why would Negan force me–”

“Well, in his defense, he was always against any kind of abuse to women. Never allowing his men to force women into any kind of sexual interactions, going as far as killing those who did or tried.”

Her words get to you slowly, as you try to process all this. His men? Was he some kind of leader before? Before, as in before the world broke? No, probably after. Before probably mean before you. “Mmm... I was alone for a long time. I got hurt and stumbled upon the cabin. Didn't know he was in there. He took me in and we've been... Together ever since.”

“Together as in together? Or just together?”

Why does she care? Why is she asking so many questions? “We're together.” You're careful not to put any kind of intonation on it. She's free to understand it however she likes.

“Then he told you who he was. What he did.” She steps closer, a hard expression on her face as she looks down at you. “Why nobody wants him here.”

Standing back up, you face her. Even though she's taller. “I don't know what you're trying to do here. If you're into Negan or if–”

“Negan had an army.” She cuts you off, raising her voice. It feels like she's your mother, that warning tone that makes you want to sit down and listen to the lecture with your mouth shut. “He terrorized us, other communities as well. He killed many of our people. He took our things, the things we worked hard to get, just to burn them on the side of the road. He almost made one of ours cut off his own son's arm.”

“What..?” It comes out a shallow breath, as you step back, falling on the armchair. There are tears in your eyes, and the man you love turns into a monster, made up by this woman's words. You know he did bad things... but not this. This is too much. “H-he couldn't.”

“Yeah... Guess he didn't tell you that part of his story.”

×

@kxylx996 @sugarcoateddreamer

[the-insomniac-emporium]

Serenade (Daniela Dimitrescu/Reader) Pt. 6

Fandom: Resident Evil: Village Rating: T for language, brief violence, and a line that hints at past physical abuse (depending on how you choose to interpret it) Warnings: Mild TW for implied/referenced abuse Notes: Okay so this was supposed to be somewhat therapeutic? But it ended up taking longer to get to that part than I intended, so... Don't worry though, next chapter will be fluffy and also involve more, like, actual Daniela scenes. Previous Chapters: Pt. 1: Nocturne, Pt. 2 Overture, Pt. 3: Accelerando, Pt. 4: Toccata, Pt. 5: Poco a Poco

Chapter 6: Elegy

(Elegy: A piece of music in the form of a lament)

When you dream, you do not dream of being locked in a tower, awaiting a kindly knight to come save you. When you dream… you dream of your old home, infested with monsters, nearly unrecognizable. Of being forced to flee, leaving everything you loved behind. Of escaping to a remote, quaint little village, only to end up trapped once again, as friendly faces morph into gaping maws and fangs dripping red. When you dream, it is less a nightmare, more memories retouched, covered in a fresh coat of paint.

Waking up is but a brief source of comfort. One hand goes to your head, rubbing gently, as if you could wipe away all traces of your past. A quick glance around your shared room leaves you confused, but serves as a welcome distraction. Though there are six beds in the room, yours is the only occupied one, the others having all been vacated and made presentable. The only explanation that fit with what you knew was that everyone had gotten up, and gotten to work, without waking you. Panic filled you as you connected the dots, knowing that missing work was a death sentence.

Rushing, you rise to your feet, throwing your dresser open to search for fresh clothes. While the castle’s staff was almost entirely female, the Dimitrescu family didn’t enforce traditional gender presentation, allowing maidens to choose whether to wear a dress or a button-up and trousers. Remembering the wound on your neck, you pause, glancing in the dorm’s singular mirror to inspect your injury. Most of the blood had rubbed off in your sleep (and would likely be a nightmare to clean from the sheets). There were, however, a few spots where dried blood mingled with the protective scab. Considering how late you already were, you didn’t believe you would have time to clean up.

As much as you hated the thought, the best you could do was go for a button-up, hoping the collar would hide the worst of your disastrous appearance. Your hair was another matter entirely, far messier than it normally was, and you struggled to brush/comb it enough to be mildly presentable. Good thing Daniela won’t see me today, you think, remembering her insistence on skipping today’s lesson.

Then you remember the rest of your conversation with her; the yelling, being dragged to your feet, and the pain in her eyes. For a moment you feel woozy, pausing in the middle of buttoning your shirt. Your eyes focus on a spot on the now-closed dresser… and suddenly you wish you had paid more attention when you first woke up. There’s a note stuck to the furniture, clearly addressed to you.

Heard you had some trouble yesterday. We’re just glad you’re alive! A certain someone has been a lot nicer since you started playing the piano, and we’re grateful. To show that, we decided to split your morning duties among ourselves, so you can sleep in. If you’re reading this, then it’s still before 4 AM. Feel free to just relax for a while, or even get some more sleep! We’ll be by to make sure you’re up eventually.

Sincerely,

Daphne, Rosalia, Ygritte, Alexandra, Juniper, and Riley

“I… have… freetime?” You mumbled, still a little drowsy, but now also shocked. This was a complete first for you. Maybe even a first among the servants! Sure, you had been given breaks before, but having a couple hours to do whatever you wanted? No one had ever pulled strings like this for you before. It made your chest feel warm, and you just about forgot the whole mess with Daniela. “I’ll have to find a way to pay them back, even if they think they’re paying me back.” With that said you relaxed a little, no longer rushing getting dressed, though still leaving your neck the way it was. You figured you’d stop by one of the maidens’ restrooms before you officially started your shift.

In the meantime, you knew exactly what you’d be using this time for: finding those damn piano books you had been promised!

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

“Let’s see… dust, more dust, a dead spider, even more dust, and- oh shit, the spider is not dead,” you said, barely holding in a yelp as the arachnid scurries away from you. If you had known the attic would be so unclean, you might not have bothered to come up here. So far your targets had alluded you without giving so much as a hint towards their location. The library had seemed a likely location, but you had heard Daniela’s voice within, and anxiety had sent you dashing away. Up here, in an area clearly used for storage above all else, was the next best guess, as far as you were concerned. Still, you hadn’t seen anything worth your time yet.

Just insects, really. Not even terribly interesting ones. Well, there had been a shiny beetle of some sort, but it had crawled into a crack in the wall mere seconds after you saw it. Other than that, though, nothing but creepy crawlies. Creepy flyers?... Both, for sure. One fly in particular kept buzzing around you, weirdly interested in what you were doing.

Somehow you didn’t understand what that meant until a firm hand had wrapped itself around your neck. The grip was tight, putting more than enough pressure to make your vision blur. Thankfully, or perhaps unfortunately, the culprit didn’t intend to just choke you out. Instead they lift you and toss you aside- casually, at that. You hit the wall with a terrible crashing sound, certain to leave bruises, and narrowly avoid toppling into a stack of heavy crates. So much for enjoying some free time, you think. Stunned for several seconds, you find yourself left helpless as your attacker approaches.

“You’re not allowed to be up here,” a voice snarled, familiar enough to leave you terrified. Of course you had to run into the most violent of the Dimitrescu sisters. “Looking for a way out, hmm? Or are you stupid enough to think we’d leave a weapon where a wretched thing like you could find it?” Cassandra asked, pausing only to send a swift kick your way. A grunt escapes you, leaves you coughing, but it doesn’t hurt as bad as hitting the wall. Despite wanting to curl up and give in, you tried to drag yourself to your feet. Surprisingly, Cassandra makes no move to stop you, perhaps enjoying the sight of you struggling.

“Lady… Daniela… gave me permission,” you said between painful breaths. By the time you’re back on your feet, the vampire before you is watching you with narrowed, albeit curious, eyes. Normally it would take a lot of courage to face her. But you’re exhausted, in pain, and you’ve taken nearly as much hurt from someone who called themselves your lover. It’s not brave to stare down Cassandra, it’s foolhardy. It’s idiotic, really, and yet you find yourself unable to care. “I’m just looking for a couple piano books I’ve been told about, so I can use them to help teach Lady Daniela.”

“Oh? You’re her instructor?” Cassandra asked, a strange smile overtaking her expression. Something in the atmosphere has shifted, dangerously, but you can’t figure out why. Clueless to your self-betrayal, you nod in response. Instantly Cassandra’s smile turns into an open-lipped snarl, and she reaches out to grab you by the shirt, this time slamming you into the wall with her own hands. “Then you’re the reason she kept me up yesterday, crying non stop! I’m going to rip you apart, you vermin.”

The look in her eyes is, most definitely, the scariest thing you had ever seen. It’s feral, inhuman, and unstoppably determined. But when tears fall from your eyes, it’s not because you know you’re about to die. No, it’s because the last thing you think you’ll ever hear is the news that your partner had been sobbing for hours… and that you were the reason why. Your heart aches, both physically and emotionally, as you brace yourself for the bloody end.

Instead, the grip on your clothes loosens. You don’t dare open your eyes to see why.

“What the fuck do you want, sis?” Cassandra asked, sounding like she had turned her head away from you. Before you know it you’ve been let go, and you slide to the ground, too surprised to hold yourself steady. When you look up, you see an irritated Bela pulling Cassandra away from you, whispering something you can’t quite hear. They argue for a minute, under their breath, keen on keeping you out of the loop. Eventually the younger of the two storms away, but not before making a dent in the wall with her fist.

“What a child,” Bela said, rolling her eyes at the display. Then she’s walking back towards you, extending a hand in an offer of assistance (one you gladly accept). “That girl has the foresight of a magic eight ball, I swear. If she had actually killed you… ugh, I can hardly stand to imagine how inconsolable Daniela would become. Then I’d have two insufferable sisters. Regardless, do tell me why you thought it would be a good idea to come up here unaccompanied? It is normally off limits for servants, after all.”

“I-I, well… I mean, firstly thank you for saving me, I had no idea-” Bela holds a finger up in a ‘shut up’ motion, then puts it away as soon as you pause- “right, you don’t care. Look, I was just trying to find the piano books that Lady Dimitrescu mentioned, but I’ve looked all over and I can’t find them, so I should really just go,” you explain, eager to get out of the attic. To your surprise, Bela gives you an odd look before turning away. Then she takes no more than five steps, shifts to the side, and opens an old cabinet. Inside you can see a dozen books of sheet music, notably from several different decades, all worn but still in decent condition. “How did-?... I thought I checked there.”

“Well, you must have been distracted. Nonetheless, you know where they are now, and you owe me twice over. With that in mind… come with me. We have things to discuss,” Bela commanded, walking away before you could protest. All you can do is grab the sheet music, tuck it under one arm, and follow her to who-knows-where.

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

“I’ll have to have you make my tea more often,” Bela mused, letting the mug keep her hands warm. The two of you were sitting in some sort of study, a room that you had never been inside before. From what you could tell it belonged solely to the eldest Dimitrescu daughter. Inside were several shelves, each filled with well bookmarked collections, a desk next to a massive window, a couple simple chairs, and a few instrument cases. All in all it was an aesthetically pleasing room, organized but not exactly neat. You could certainly imagine Bela spending entire days in this chamber. “Now, why do you think I brought you here?” Her voice brings your focus back into the present moment, as well as sends a spike of anxiety through you.

“Based on what nearly got me killed earlier… Does it have to do with Daniela crying?” You asked, doing your best to indicate just how bad you felt about the subject. No matter how cruel she could be, you did honestly care about Daniela, and even wanted a real, healthy relationship with her. Desire, or willingness, wasn’t the root of the problem by any means. Something told you that Bela understood this, maybe even respected you for it.

“Guess there’s more in that pretty head of yours than air and symphonies, hmm?” Bela replied, laughing a little as she did. It was a far nicer sound than Cassandra’s maniacal giggling, for sure. “Now, I don’t know all the details about what happened- just that there was an argument, clearly a bad one, and Daniela barely made it through dinner before locking herself in her room. Luckily for you, our mother doesn’t seem to know about your little ‘fight’. She’s not sure what upset Dani, and I doubt my sister would tell her, so your secret is safe. Assuming that I blackmailed Cassandra well enough, that is. Anyway, I can’t help you, and by extension my sister, if I don’t know the full story. In case it wasn’t clear, that’s your cue to start talking.”

You’re surprised, admittedly, by a number of things. But Bela seems impatient, so you go over the details of the previous night with her, occasionally pausing to let her ask questions. The whole time her focus is on you, unwavering. There’s also a noticeable lack of judgement in her expression, even when you voice your regret about how you handled the situation, and what is there seems directed more towards Daniela than yourself. Once you finish, Bela releases a deep sigh. One of her hands goes to rub her forehead as if warding off a migraine.

“Well, I can’t say I’m terribly surprised, as much as I wish I could. Daniela’s always had her head in the clouds, and it’s left her tripping over her own feet more than once. Still, this is certainly one of her bigger messes…” Bela said, shaking her head in disbelief. “I’m going to have to talk to her about this, aren’t I? There’s no way she’s going to process this correctly on her own.” This time she seemed to be talking to herself, gaze locked on her tea as if it might suddenly offer to speak to Daniela in her place. When the tea stayed silent, understandably, she returned her focus to you. “You seemed upset, earlier, about this ridiculous situation. I am going to assume, from that, you are genuinely interested in my dear sister. Normally, this would be the part where I drain you of all blood, and possibly keep your skull as a memento... mori. Yours would look lovely on a window sill, I think.”

She pauses, head tilting a little to the side, clearly evaluating your artistic value.

“However, Daniela appears to care about you, far more than her usual fleeting infatuations. So, for now, I have decided not to eviscerate you, you’re welcome,” Bela cooed, teasingly, enjoying the way you shifted uncomfortably in your seat. Still, you were glad that you would apparently be surviving the day. “So I’m going to give you some advice, which you will take, and you won’t even owe me anything extra for this. Daniela is in love with the mere concept of love- and she has been for as long as I can remember. Romance novels are practically the only books she reads. It’s… embarrassing, truly. More than that, I get the impression that she couldn’t even begin to describe what love actually feels like. She’s digested so much of that written drivel that it warped her senses. Of course, the, ahem, situation we find ourselves in, here at the castle, has undoubtedly added to this effect.

“To get to the point, Daniela’s terribly, hopelessly clueless when it comes to things like what she wants from you. And so I take it upon myself, as her older sibling, to ensure that you understand. Moreso, that you are not dissuaded. If this is an actual chance for her to experience real romance, then it could make her happier than I’ve ever seen her,” Bela explained. The look in her eyes was incredibly soft, to the point where it made you realize just how much this odd little family cared for each other. “Don’t give up, don’t let her occasional infuriating antics push you away. Given enough time… I think the two of you could, I suppose, compliment each other quite nicely. But if you break her heart? I will pull yours from your chest and eat it raw. Understood?” Gulping, you nodded quickly, ignoring the feeling of heat rushing to your cheeks. It was one thing for Bela to want her sister to be happy, but another thing entirely for her to acknowledge your “suitability” for the position. “Good. Now return to whatever it is you maidens normally do. I have a sister to talk sense into.”

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

Hours later, you stand alone in a display room, dusting various relics from bygone times. A trophy here, a bizarre art piece there, strange, unlabeled tools you can’t quite imagine are for wine-making. It’s a fascinating collection, really. But your mind is focused on other, far softer things. All you can think about is what Bela had told you, about how Daniela really is interested in you, and how she thought the two of you could make it work. After the chaos earlier in the day, this was exactly what you needed. Just some time to yourself, working quietly, thoughts all to yourself. Even your bruises bother you less, the pain fading out into the background. Considering where you are, though, it is not at all surprising that your peace cannot last. As soon as you finish your task you move towards the exit.

The door swings open, outwards, at your touch, only to reveal a familiar figure reaching for the doorknob. Both of you gasp, taken by surprise, before your gazes meet. Of course it’s Daniela. Who else would you bump into right now?

“I thought about what you said,” she blurts, suddenly, eyes wide and hands shaking. “We need to talk, yeah?”

[latte-fairytaekwoon]

𝓐𝓾𝓻𝓸𝓻𝓪 𝓐𝓼𝔂𝓵𝓾𝓶: 𝓙𝓮𝓸𝓷𝓰 𝓨𝓾𝓷𝓱𝓸

𝚆𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜: 𝙼𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚘𝚡𝚒𝚌 𝚛𝚎𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚙, 𝚢𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚋𝚎𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚒𝚘𝚛, 𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚞𝚜𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚏 𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚖, 𝚜𝚞𝚒𝚌𝚒𝚍𝚊𝚕 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚒𝚎𝚜, 𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚜𝚞𝚒𝚌𝚒𝚍𝚎, 𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚏 𝚍𝚎𝚐𝚛𝚊𝚍𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚛𝚒𝚐𝚐𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚘𝚙𝚒𝚌𝚜. 𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍 𝚊𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚘𝚠𝚗 𝚍𝚒𝚜𝚌𝚛𝚎𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗.

𝙿𝚊𝚒𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐: 𝚈𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚎! 𝙹𝚎𝚘𝚗𝚐 𝚈𝚞𝚗𝚑𝚘 × 𝙿𝚜𝚢𝚌𝚑𝚘𝚕𝚘𝚐𝚒𝚜𝚝 𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛 (𝙵𝚎𝚖𝚊𝚕𝚎)

𝚆𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝙲𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝: 𝟹𝙺

𝙶𝚎𝚗𝚛𝚎: 𝙰𝚗𝚐𝚜𝚝, 𝚂𝚕𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝙵𝚕𝚞𝚏𝚏, 𝚈𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝙰𝚄

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I breathed out an airy and desolate sigh through my nose, obviously I unconsciously did it a little too loud as the raven haired male sitting across from me looked down at the floor.

"It was all my fault.....wasn't it?"

I looked up, the glasses sitting on my nose bridge tilting slightly that I had to push them back up so I could study his features, or should I say, his expressions. His eyelids never blinked once, his eyes were trained on the pattern of the carpet underneath him, but I knew his mind was elsewhere. I looked with pity at the bandages wrapped around his wrists, some of the edges stained with fresh blood. I gulped slightly, my stomach threatening to spill out my meager lunch of an apple and avocado toast slice from earlier. I could handle hearing patients tell and retell me about how they stabbed their parents to death, cut off their significant other's genitals because they were unloyal to them, even tackled a deranged lunatic that once tried to...... seduce me to put mildly.......

But to this day, I can't help but get dizzy when I treat or deal with patients who are self harming victims, because yes, they are victims. Victims of their own self loathing, guilt, and depressive state that isn't their fault. It just pains me so much to see them resort to such drastic measures...

But I'm also not stupid and know some, if not most only do it for attention or to manipulate others, and Yunho is a case not far from it. Which is why I was the one sent to deal with him. All the other psychologists would have fallen for his sad puppy eyes, good looks, well built physique and would have released him too early into the world. Not that he's dangerous and a threat to society, but he's not emotionally nor mentally stable to go deal with daily life yet. And I'm not a softie by any means even if I'm patient and meek doctor when necessary. But I'm objective and I seek deeper into the true person hiding behind the front they put in front of me.

"Do you believe it was your fault Yunho?" Usually one would get scolded for answering a question with a question, but I prefer this method in order to get my patients to reason and draw out their own conclusions......

And makes them pour out their true answers.

I watch Yunho ponder for a moment.

"It has to be- otherwise she wouldn't have...wouldn't have-"

He bites back a choked sob, teeth tightening and gritting against themselves as he fails to contain his tears. His hands cover his face as he begins to cry uncontrollably, desperate and heartwrenching wails resonating throughout the 4 walls keeping us company. Reaching for the purple plaid box on the coffee table between us, I take out a few tissues and stand up from my seat. Lightly tapping on his shoulder, I whisper a 'here' to him. He thanks me, but since he's crying too hard no sound comes out his throat. For the next few minutes, he's blowing out his runny nose, all red just like his eyes from crying too hard. He's sniffling while trying to control his previous hyperventilating session. I want to hug him or at least give him a pat in the back. But I can't, I can only sit back and try to imagine the agony he's probably going through, try to put myself in his shoes as I dive deep into the event that got him here in the first place:

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Coming back from a trip to the store, Yunho momentarily looks around confused when he heard his baby daughter crying. Quickly putting the bags on the kitchen counter, he makes his way over to the nursery that adjoined the main bedroom. Calling out for his wife, he receives no response as he walks down the hallway. He calls once more for her but stops midway as he opens the slightly ajar door. His heart stops beating and his veins run cold as he stares into the lifeless body of his beloved wife hanging in the room, feeling as if the oxygen is being ripped out from his lungs, suffocating slowly.

As if sensing his agitation, his daughter's cries from the other room grow louder, so much that they raise concern from their next door neighbor, a kind and sweet old lady who more than once has offered her help in watching over the child or help them out in any way she could. Typing in the passcode, she makes it there just in time to stop the tall male from inflicting more harm upon himself as he holds onto his wife's body in agony. Having been left with no choice, she immediately calls for an ambulance, who arrive there shortly and take him to a nearby hospital.

He was monitored 24/7 as he had a history of attempted suicide before. The nurses and doctors didn't want another episode to happen again, not wanting to leave a barely 1 year old fatherless as well as motherless. As an investigation went, police found a journal hidden deep between the mattresses on the bed. When they poured over the first pages, they knew there was much more to the story than just a doting husband who couldn't live without his wife, hence why he was relocated to the infamous asylum......

And a specialized woman was tasked to not only unmask the truth, but hopefully help a poor broken mind be put back together again.

❃❃❃❃❃❃❃❃❃❃❃❃❃❃❃❃❃❃❃❃❃❃❃❃

Hence why I'm here now, the folder I had read over and over again still on my lap. It honestly amazed me that I'd actually get to work on a case like this, and of course I took up the challenge of digging into a mind like Yunho's, not just to help him, but to leave a precedent for any other situations like this that came after.

"A precedent?" I remember the officer asking me.

"Yes. You'd be surprised just how common these types of toxic relationships there are in an everyday basis yet no one ever looks deeper because they're too focused treating a depressed person who's trying to kill themselves and don't focus on what they really are...."

Shutting the folder, I tucked it under my arm before turning on my heel.

"A manipulative individual who'll do anything to keep someone tied to them forever."

That's how I viewed Yunho, it's how I should be viewing him. At least until I could hopefully get him to change.

"How's......is my daughter ok?"

I let out a soft hum and nod as I scribbled something down on the notepad.

"She's fine. We're having someone take care of her in the meantime, don't worry."

Yunho let out a sigh of relief, fingers fidgeting against his thighs as he mustered up the courage to say something.

"Could I.....could I please see her?"

From the sad look in my eyes he could already tell the answer was negative.

"I'm sorry Yunho....I'm afraid until we see some improvement, we can't allow you to be reunited with her just yet."

I tried to keep my voice steady as I said that, bracing myself to possibly see him breakdown once more. He had already lost his wife and now learning that his only child was forced away from him could possibly send him spiraling down into another episode.

But Yunho instead took a deep breath and seemed calm.

"I understand.....it's ok..." I knew he was saying those last two words more to himself than to me.

Lifting his face up, he suddenly shocked me by looking so bright and rather happy.

"So I guess it's best if we begin right?"

Even to this day, I don't know whether I should have been delighted to have such a compliant patient.....

Or terrified.

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"Tell me Yunho, what was your first reaction when you saw your wife?"

A subtle hint of a smile curled at the corners of his lips.

"I thought she was the kindest and most caring person in the world, very pretty too. She just walked in and the room instantly lit up."

He was reminiscing about those times, I could tell. That fond look on his face was unmistakable.

"Do you believe you fell in love at first sight with her?"

His smile suddenly dissipated, eyebrows scrunching together as if recollecting memories from so long ago.

"I think.......I felt attracted to her.....but.....I don't think it was love?"

I could tell he felt conflicted with himself, but that's exactly what I wanted. I want him to question every feeling and sensation he felt at the moment so he could decide for himself if it was real or just a mere illusion he held. If he starts to second guess or question what he felt then he'd start reasoning and come to the conclusion that what he felt was wrong and mistaken. He'd see that his actions weren't justified.

"So when do you truly believe you fell in love with her?"

I stopped writing on my notepad and watched him close his eyes as he tried to pinpoint the exact time he felt whatever he thought was love.

"One night....one of our friends was feeling down in spirits. I witnessed how caring she was towards them...kindly reassuring them that they were loved, that they mattered. I vividly remember her kind eyes and loving smile as she comforted them. Then it hit me that she was that kind of person. Selfless, caring, doting, would sacrifice anything for her friends and family...... it was hard for anyone not to fall in love with her."

He turned his hand over, studying the wedding ring that he still wore to this day, the engravings of their initials being his prime interest.

"And at that moment I knew I had to have her. I couldn't let anyone else have her. I wanted her.... that love, compassion, empathy..her confidence and strong nature, I wanted-"

He stopped mid sentence and his eyes wizened in horror as he came to the realization I had foreseen long ago. He looked up at me, meeting my unwavering eyes that held no emotion at that moment.

"She had all the qualities I had always lacked in."

I took my glasses off and nodded.

"And I unconsciously wanted them for myself.... but the only way I could have them was...through her?" He seemed sickened with himself.

"Not exactly Yunho. You could have learnt to love yourself and raise your self esteem." I quickly scribbled my observation down.

"But I didn't. Instead I caged her up and slowly tore her down."

I couldn't help but let out an involuntary smile as he drew out that conclusion.

"Glad to know you've accepted that fact, even if it took several months for you to understand."

Shutting the notepad, I lifted myself up from my chair, straightening my blouse. Yunho followed suit.

"Is our session over?" He was always so polite, always escorting me out and holding the door open for me, which other doctors would have adamantly refused, too scared to come close to their patients. But not me. I let them have certain liberties at times.

"Not yet Yunho. As you've made remarkable progress, I got permission for you to see someone."

He was momentarily confused for a split second. Poor thing probably thought it was one of the nurses coming in to give him some new medication to take, which he hated with a passion. Stepping outside for a brief moment, I happily took the young baby in my arms, the little girl already used to seeing me as I always went to go see her after being with Yunho for a few hours. When I came back inside he had his back turned to me, once again staring off into nowhere. The light gurgled babbles the baby emitted caught his attention immediately. He whipped his head around so fast I thought he'd break his neck for a second. He teared up as the child began squealing in excitement as she recognized her father right away.

"Oh my-" He choked up with tears that he couldn't finish his sentence.

I calmly walked over to him, lightly bouncing the baby in my arms. Yunho hesitantly reached his hands out.

"Can I..?" He had such a hopeful glint in his eyes.

I didn't answer, I merely held his daughter out to him. As soon as she felt his embrace, she latched onto him as if he was one of the teddy bears she often slept with. Perhaps he was one.

No....he is one.

In my time of spending time with Yunho, I've come to strongly believe he is a sweet and tender individual. And judging by the way the little girl feels safe in his arms, I do believe he is capable of being truly loved.....

If he learns how to properly love not just someone else, but himself too.

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Stepping out of my car, I quickly grab the small pink bag on the passenger seat before locking it. Treading through the small patch of green grass, I ring the doorbell and wait for one of the occupants to open up for me. No surprise, I'm greeted by the same raven haired male I met nearly 3 years ago. He looks delighted to see me.

"Y/N. Hi!"

I wave at him, a small but genuine smile on my features.

"Hi Yunho. Did I come at a bad time?" I notice the apron covered in flour and leftover egg on it.

"Oh no not at all. Please come in."

Moving aside to let me pass, my nose catches the scent of baked goods filling the air. I can distinctly recognize the hints of lavender and french vanilla, an odd but surprisingly tasty combination. I spot out of the corner of my eye a little head peeking out from the kitchen, curious to know who had come to pay them a visit. Letting out a squeal, she quickly ran over to attach herself on my leg.

"Y/N!"

I chuckled and lightly run my fingers through her hair which was longer than the last time I saw it.

"Hi Jina, I see you've been baking something." We both chuckle as I scraped off some cake batter that had gotten on the tip of her button nose.

"Me and dad are making cupcakes for my friend's birthday party tomorrow." She explained.

"Wow that's a really nice gesture. I bet they'll turn out delicious."

Remembering that I was short on time and that I had one last task to carry out, I pull out the bag I had hidden behind my back and hand it to her.

"It's for you."

Her eyes began to sparkle so much they could rival all the stars in the galaxy. After thanking me like 20 thousand times, she plopped her tiny body on the couch to tear into the contents inside it. I shake my head before taking out a small paper from inside my trench coat.

"And this is for you."

Taking the slip from my fingers, Yunho opens it up and scans what it says. He seems confused for a moment, not fully understanding what it means. He looks to me once more, probably for the last time, asking for an explanation.

"It's your official release from the institution. No more drop in visits, no more eyes on you 24/7, and soon you won't have to continue with the prescribed medication, although when that happens they will send someone once in a while to check up and make sure you're ok without them."

Yunho nods but it is a rather sad and pained nod.

"So this means you won't be seeing us any longer?"

I inhale deeply and nod.

"This was a temporary thing until you got better Yunho. After all....I was only the doctor assigned to you."

It hurt me to say that as much as it probably hurt him, as much as it'd hurt Jina to know I wouldn't be coming back anymore.

"Can't we at least be friends?"

I hated seeing those puppy eyes of him practically beg me, signature trait he passed on to his daughter.

"That would be completely unprofessional of my part Yunho. I deeply cherish and treasure all the time we spent together and I'm beyond happy and satisfied that you've come so far since the start of our journey..."

I sighed deeply.

"But every journey has an end." He finished my sentence.

Extending his hand out to me, I took it and gave it a firm shake.

"I'm really going to miss you." He admitted.

"Me too. Me too."

Going over to the momentarily forgotten 4 year old, she let out an 'oof' when she suddenly found herself cooped up in my embrace.

"Take care of yourself and of your dad ok?"

I kissed the top of her head, her grinning face not registering that this might be the last time she ever saw me. Yunho walked me out the door and even escorted me all the way to my car. Always the gentleman, he held the door open for me. Before I could even get one foot inside, I felt a large hand grip my wrist. Turning to him, I was flustered when he suddenly pulled me close to him.

"Please don't leave. I need you....I..."

He looked conflicted with himself as he tried to finish his words. Taking a deep breath, he confessed:

"I love you."

My heart sank. He said the 3 words I hoped he'd never direct at me. Mainly because I was scared as he was. Don't get me wrong, Yunho is a wonderful man, and he truly deserves to be loved....

But am I certain that he has finally learned to love? Or is it because he feels he needs me?........

Only one way to find out.

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[argylemnwrites]

Why Are We Still Waiting? - Chapter 10

Pairing: Drake Walker x MC (Riley Liu)

Book: The Royal Romance (It Couldn’t Wait Another Moment universe)

Word Count: ~4200

Rating: R (language, mature themes)

Summary: An unexpected discussion or two as Riley prepares to head back to NYC

Author’s Note: Umm, lots of potentially triggering content in this one, including mentions of neglect, child abuse, drug addiction, parental death. It’s Riley talking about her childhood, so proceed with caution.

To catch up on this series, you can check out the It Couldn’t Wait Another Moment masterlist (link in bio).

Riley sighed as she knocked on the door of Liam and Iris’s suite. She really just wanted to stay curled up in bed with juice and painkillers, napping until this headache wasn’t so mad awful, but Drake had mentioned that Liam and Iris were heading back to the capital soon. Not only did she want to say goodbye, since she wouldn’t see them again before she flew out tomorrow, but she wanted to return Iris’s earrings. Liam’s suit jacket was in no condition to be returned at this point, but she knew he wouldn’t miss it as much as Iris would probably miss her earrings. Drake would just have to see if the jacket could be salvaged at the cleaners, but in the meantime, she knew she needed to return the belongings she had to the person who didn’t essentially have an unlimited bank account. So she’d brushed her teeth again, run a brush and some dry shampoo through her hair, and thrown on some jeans and a shirt before making her way towards the largest suite in the public wings as Drake laid down to try and get some actual sleep.

After a few seconds, the door swung open, Liam standing on the other side. His eyebrows shot up when he saw her before quickly transitioning to a look of pure sympathy, his face softening as he reached out and gave her shoulder a squeeze.

“Riley, how are you feeling?” he asked, his dark eyes wide with concern.

Riley forced a smile, shaking her head. “Oh, you know how the morning after is. Or maybe you don’t, actually.”

“I’ve been hungover, Riley.”

She shrugged. “I wasn’t sure. It’s not very regal after all.” She tried to keep her tone light and playful, wanting to just hand over the earrings and say her goodbyes without getting into the disaster he’d witnessed last night.

Liam did smile at her little quip, dropping his hand back to his side as he tilted his head. “No, it isn’t. But I was the spare, and my brother certainly tried to teach me that you never needed to let a title stop you from having a good time. Drake could tell you plenty of stories from our youth, I’m sure.”

He tilted his head slightly, and Riley braced herself. Not that Liam would purposefully say something invasive or anything. He was far too diplomatic for that. But, she knew that he had to be unsettled by the state he and Iris had found her in last night. And the truth was that she wasn’t a foreign dignitary or diplomat. She was his best friend’s fiancee and they’d been good friends for years at this point. It would probably be weirder if he didn’t want to check on her after watching her have a drunken breakdown. But she was emotionally fried, hungover, and tired, and she didn’t know how to even begin to explain what she was going through to him.

“Riley, I hope you know that you-”

“Liam, please. I… I just…” she gave a little shrug, hoping Liam would get what she couldn’t put into words. He frowned slightly, but nodded. She was pretty sure he just could read her discomfort enough not to push her, as he stood aside, allowing her to enter the room.

“At least tell me this; did anyone hurt you?” he asked, gesturing to the arm chairs by the fireplace.

She shook her head as she sat down. “No, it wasn’t anything like that.” She forced a smile as he sat down across from her, hoping that provided at least a bit of reassurance. The mess that was her mind was not something a king needed to worry about. 

The silence that settled over the room was tense, something she hadn’t experienced with Liam for a very long time. Thankfully, Iris stepped out of the en suite only a few moments later, a toiletry bag clutched in her hand. “Riley, I thought I heard your voice. How are you feeling?” she asked, pausing behind Liam’s chair, her brow furrowed and her gaze soft and gentle.

“A little less like I got run over by a truck than I did when I first woke up.” Her little quip brought a tiny smile to Liam’s face, but mostly, they both still looked mad concerned, like she might burst into tears again. Lighthearted self-deprecation did not seem to be convincing the two of them that they didn’t need to worry about her.

“Here,” she said, thrusting her hand forward, “I wanted to make sure you got your earrings back.”

Iris hesitated for just a second, then leaned forward, stretching out her free hand. “Thank you.”

“Liam, I’m sorry, but your jacket is not exactly ready to bring back.”

He just nodded as he held up a hand. “That’s fine, Riley. I’m not anxious about that at all. My only concern is you.”

Riley bit her cheek. He was being a good friend. Just not in a way she could handle today. As she tried to gather her thoughts into something coherent, Iris spoke first.

“Liam, would you mind grabbing me another cup of coffee?”

Riley watched as Liam twisted around to look at Iris, who just nodded. “Of course, love,” he said as he pushed himself out of his chair, dropping a kiss on Iris’s cheek as he headed towards the door. As soon as he was out of the room and the door was closed, Iris stepped over and sat down, her hands still clutching her earrings and her bag of bathroom supplies.

“Look, I know we barely know each other, and I get it if you don’t want to talk to me. Really, it makes total sense. But, I know sometimes it can be easier to talk to someone you don’t know as well, so I thought maybe…” She trailed off with a little shrug of her shoulders.

Riley nodded. “Thanks. I… well, I guess that’s pretty true. That’s kind of half the benefit of my therapist in all honesty.”

“Oh, you have a therapist?” Riley could almost hear the relief pouring out of Iris, and she couldn’t help but chuckle.

“I do, in spite of what last night probably led you to believe! I promise, as big of a mess as I appeared, I used to be even more of a walking disaster!”

Iris’s cheeks darkened. “Sorry! I didn’t mean to imply-”

“Relax, I’m not offended.”

Iris sighed as her shoulders visibly relaxed. “I think it’s great - not just for you, I promise! I have a therapist, too. I actually think most people could probably benefit from therapy.”

Riley was tempted to take the out that had been tossed to her. She could agree, insist that both the men they loved were probably top of that list, say it was great meeting her this trip, hug her goodbye and be on her way. But, that seemed avoidant and like a step in the wrong direction. She knew she needed to start being more open to actually talking about her past. She fucking knew it in her soul, and no matter how much her instincts were screaming at her to keep her damn mouth shut and not fucking go there, well, those were the same instincts that had caused her to get blackout drunk because her best friend was trying to become a mother with her wife. Those were the same instincts that were hurting Drake and expecting him to carry her emotional baggage around, something that wasn’t fair to him, even if he wasn’t saying anything about it. So, maybe those instincts were fucking wrong.

“Yeah, well therapy was kind of a necessity for me. Like, it used to be mandatory for me, back when I was in the system.”

Iris stayed very still, almost like she didn’t want to spook her now that she was talking. Riley felt like it was almost the same strategy she would have used if a student started to open up to her, wanting to appear like a trusted ally, not wanting to push.

“Yeah, my dad was never really a dad and my mom was an addict and so I was in and out of foster care a lot.” Riley stared down at her lap, sliding her hands across her knees in an effort to ground herself. “I’m guessing I don’t have to tell a teacher that messes a kid up, do I?”

The room was silent for just a second before Iris said, “No, you don’t.”

Riley nodded, watching her knee bounce under her hand. “Yeah, well. Even as an adult, I still was kind of fucked up. Mad impulsive, terrified of abandonment, that sort of thing. I came really close to messing up…” she trailed off and forced herself to make eye contact with Iris. She probably should avoid throwing a bomb into her relationship with Liam. “How much did Liam tell you about his social season?”

“Everything,” she said, not hesitating for a second.

“Everything everything?”

Iris nodded. “I know you two were not fully intimate, but that you did more than kiss politely. I know you were his top choice. I know he told you he would be proposing before you were the victim of a smear campaign.”

Alright, well maybe Liam had actually told her all the details. Riley took a deep breath before continuing. “Yeah, so… I was never in love with Liam or anything, but I… I would have accepted his proposal. And it would have been a fucking disaster, because I was fighting my feelings for his best friend like you wouldn’t believe. But I still would have said yes, just so that I wouldn’t be alone. Real fucking pathetic, huh?”

 Iris shook her head. “No. Maybe sad, but not pathetic.”

Riley raised her eyebrows as she inhaled. “Well, it would have ruined his life and Drake’s life and my life, so I guess everything happens for a reason or whatever. This isn’t really the point. It just helped give me the push to find a therapist when I moved back to New York. That and the fact that I did my best to help Drake self-destruct our relationship in the beginning.” She glanced down at her lap again, knowing that as tough as it was to get all of that out, it was about to get way worse. “It kind of seems like I only got halfway better, though. Because… because Drake and I have started talking about kids. And all I can think about is all the shitty examples of motherhood that I got to experience in my life. And it’s like I want to shut down and never remember a single moment of it ever again. But what else am I supposed to think about?

“And I know some people say that they learned how to parent by doing the opposite of what their parents did, but I don’t know. I… I think that’s really fucking trite, and I don’t want to screw up a kid just counting on the chance that I can do better than the Grissoms who called me an ungrateful bitch repeatedly, or the Schnellings who used their stipend they got for having me on their own kids while I barely got enough to eat. And that doesn’t even touch on my own mother, who found new ways to neglect me each time she regained custody, new shitty dealer boyfriends to bring around, all of that.

“I mean, sometimes things were okay. Mom would always be really attentive whenever we were first reunified. And there were a couple of good families along the way. The Veras. The Andersons. They were fine. Great even. But…” Riley took a breath as she tried to slow the word vomit that had somehow started spilling out of her. “I don’t know, it’s a lot of bad memories. And it’s like my brain just views parenthood as linked to all this terrible shit.”

Iris kept quiet for a few moments, so Riley glanced up. Her expression was gentle, but fairly nondescript. It made Riley think she might be a damn good poker player. “Sorry, that was a lot to dump on you.”

Iris shook her head. “I offered to listen. I am so sorry that you have to revisit what must be truly traumatizing memories whenever you think about having a child. I don’t mean to pry, but… are kids even something you want?”

Riley started to nod, but then bit her lip and paused as her eyes drifted back to her lap. “I… I don’t know.” Her voice was quieter than usual, but it felt good to be able to say it out loud. “It feels like the sort of thing that I should know. Drake knows. Hana and Catherine know. You and Liam know. Or Maxwell is sure he doesn’t. But I just feel so confused.

“When it comes to theoretical kids, I am all for it. I told Drake I wanted them years ago, you know? But it’s getting more real now, and I just keep feeling doubts popping up. And I can’t figure out if it’s just me being scared and it’s clouding everything or if kids are something I kind of only want in the abstract. It’s just… I get so confused and I know I should have a better sense when it comes to something this big, but I feel really fucking torn.”

“I don’t want to make this about me, and I get that your reasons are very different from mine, but until fairly recently, I wasn’t sure I wanted kids.” Riley lifted her head up quickly, watching as Iris gave a small smile and nod. “Yes, I don’t really like babies and toddlers, you see. I adore kids… once they start having their own interests and passions and can tell you all about them. But before that, I just… I was never a fan of the tantrums and diapers and crying in the middle of the night, and I wasn’t sure if my dislike of those first years was a big deal or not.” Iris tilted her head to the side. “I know that is a pretty frivolous reason compared to everything you’ve survived and have to mentally weigh, but-”

“No, as someone whose only memories of her father involve him either screaming at my mother because he ‘wasn’t her fucking babysitter’ or just barely listening to anything I tried to tell him, believe me, it’s not frivolous.” Iris blinked a couple of times, pity creeping onto her face, but Riley shook her head. “It’s fine, I haven’t seen him in over twenty years.”

“Riley, it’s not fine.”

All Riley could do was shrug. “Yeah, I know. But it’s not like I have a choice in the matter. It is what it is, right?”

“Still, you-”

“I count my blessings that he moved, because he was even worse than my mother, and that’s saying something. She at least tried. She failed miserably, but she tried. Sometimes.”

“Are you still in touch with her, or did you…?”

“She died when I was 21. ODed.”

“I’m sorry, that must have been… a complicated time for you.”

Riley cocked an eyebrow and nodded in agreement. “Yeah, I was barely in touch with her at that point, since she mainly would just hit me up for money, but she’d called a few months before she died and told me she was getting clean. I ignored it, because I’d heard that shit before, but I always wonder if she was telling the truth and relapsed or not. No way of knowing at this point, but I will probably always wonder. And I think that’s the part that fucks with me the most.”

Iris looked conflicted for a second, then set down her toiletry bag and earrings on the floor before reaching out a hand. Riley hesitated, but then reached out as well, letting Iris grab her hand and give it a squeeze. “I know there is nothing I can say that will make anything better. But as fun and enjoyable as the woman I got to know over the past few days was, I want you to know that I like this woman, too.”

Riley felt a few stray tears trickle down her cheeks, but she didn’t feel on the edge of a breakdown. It hurt, thinking about her mother and father, remembering her past. But talking about it with Iris felt painful in a different way than she was used to. With Drake, it always felt heavy. Not in a bad way or anything, but sharing her darkest parts with him involved a degree of trust she’d never known before she fell in love with him. With Hana, she tended to gloss over the gritty details. With her therapist, it always felt like she had to have a purpose or reason behind the stories and memories she chose to share.

But with Iris, she was just able to talk. It probably helped that she barely knew her. After all, she had no real predictions of how Iris would respond to anything she said. The fact that they didn’t have a pre-existing relationship that could get altered, that Iris would see her differently was also probably a factor. But part of it had to be Iris herself. There was something very disarming about her, and Riley just knew that she wasn’t going to spin around and tell Liam anything they’d talked about. 

“Thanks for listening.”

“Of course.”

Riley smiled and nodded, dropping Iris’ hand and swiping away her last tear. “On that note, I’ll let you get back to packing.”

Iris shook her head. “There’s no need to rush; I’m basically done anyway.”

“Nah, I gotta go pack, too. But, seriously. Thank you.”

“Anytime, Riley. I mean it.”

“That’s kind of an empty promise when I don’t have your phone number,” Riley teased with a wink.

“Oh, crap! Here!” Iris tugged her phone out of her jeans pocket and passed it over, allowing Riley to add herself as a contact before she handed it back. Iris tapped quickly on her screen, and a few seconds later, Riley felt her own phone vibrate.

“Now you can talk to me anytime,” Iris said with a smile.

Riley just smiled back as she and Iris stood up at the same time. She stepped forward and hugged this woman she’d hadn’t know even existed one week earlier. “It was great meeting you, Iris. Liam’s taste has certainly improved.”

This time, Iris just grinned and shook her head at Riley’s self-deprecation. “I’m so glad I got to meet you as well. I hope we can see each other again soon.”

“Me too,” Riley said before making her way to the door. “Oh, and Iris?”

“Yes?”

“I guess I took care of being the one crying and throwing up in the bathroom at the end of the night, huh?”

Iris burst out laughing as Riley waved goodbye.

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“Are you sure you’re okay with me staying, Liu? Because I can definitely head back with you.” Drake stared at Riley as they stood before the security checkpoint, saying their goodbyes. It wasn’t the first time he’d posed this question in the past 24 hours. He just felt nervous, like he was abandoning her when her emotions were so goddamn frazzled by staying in Cordonia for another week.

“I’m sure, Drake. I’ll be okay, I swear.” It was the same answer she kept giving, but it just couldn’t fully squash the feelings of guilt that had wormed their way into his mind. The kid thing had ripped open all sorts of psychological wounds for Riley, and now she was going to be all alone. Given that the whole thing basically felt like his fault, it seemed like he should be there with her.

But he knew he had to trust her. She kept insisting that she had to face certain parts of her past, that she had to struggle to come out the other side. And intellectually, he got what she was saying. Hell, he’d seen her strength and resiliency time and time again, and there was no reason to think this time would be any different. But deep down, he just wanted to shield her from all that pain, or at least be there as a source of comfort if she felt like shit. That instinct was flaring hard. After all, it was his job to take care of her.

“If you change your mind, let me know, okay? I’ll be on the first flight back.”

Riley smiled, sliding a hand against his cheek. “You are the most marshmallowy marshmallow, but you should stay here with your sister and niece and nephew. I don’t want you to let them down.”

“Riley, I-”

“It’ll be okay, Drake. It’s seven days. If it makes you feel better, I promise to avoid the booze until you get back.”

He let out a sigh. “But not the rest of it, huh?”

She shook her head as he looped his arms around her waist. “I gotta work through some of my shit. You know that’s the truth. Sitting around, ignoring the elephant in the room is probably gonna make me feel worse, okay? Besides, you know that being patient isn’t one of my strengths.”

All Drake could do was nod and pull her into a firm hug. “Just… be careful, okay? You don’t need to rush things. I promise, we have time to figure this all out.”

He felt Riley nod against his chest as he ran a hand along her back. After a few moments, she pulled back, a thoughtful look on her face.

“What is it, Liu?”

“You can talk to Liam about all of this, okay?”

Drake frowned as he stared at Riley. “None of this is any of his business.”

Riley tilted her head to the side before she shook her head. “I kind of made it his business the other night.” Drake started to shake his head in disagreement, but Riley kept going. “Besides, I want you to be able to talk to him about how you are feeling. I don’t want you thinking that you can’t open up to him because I’m involved.”

“But this is private, Riley. I’m not gonna betray you like that.”

“That’s why I’m telling you I don’t mind. At least not with Liam.”

Drake paused, trying to figure out where this was coming from. “I know how… uncomfortable you were when he and Iris…”

“Were witness to my emotional breakdown?”

Drake just shrugged in agreement. “I am not going to cause you more pain just to have some chit chat with him. Besides were guys, so it’s not like we’re big on the emotional talk anyway.”

Riley cocked an eyebrow. “We both know that your friendship goes beyond typical ‘guy stuff,’ so I don’t buy for a second that you don’t sometimes have more serious conversations. But more to the point, I don’t think that you talking with Liam will bother me if I’m not there.”

He frowned as he worked through her logic. “So, it’s okay because it’s behind your back?”

She let out a chuckle. “No, it’s not behind my back. We’re talking about it right now, aren’t we?”

Drake rolled his eyes. “You know what I mean.”

“I do, I do. I just… I won’t be embarrassed or uncomfortable about a conversation that I don’t have to be a part of while I’m a whole ocean away. I think I would actually feel better knowing that you have an option to deal with my mess, other than just swallowing it down and being stoic about it, okay?”

He stared into her eyes for a few seconds, but he didn’t see any conflict or hesitation. So he nodded slowly. “Okay, Liu. Okay.”

“Good,” she said with a coy smile. “Now that that’s settled, come here.”

Drake leaned forward, kissing her, trying to both soak her in and convey how much he would miss her as their lips moved against each other, his hand tangling in her hair as she clutched his shoulders. All too soon, she was pulling back, adjusting her carry on against her shoulder.

“I love you, Riley.”

“I love you, too. This week will be over before you know it, alright?”

Drake nodded, giving her hand a squeeze before she stepped up to the security agent and pulled her ticket and passport out of her bag. He stayed, watching her make her way through security and down the corridor, waving goodbye as she turned towards her gate. Once she was out of sight, he made his way out of the airport and back to short-term parking. He knew he had to let her do this, but he also knew that he was just going to worry about her until he could hug her again.

Perma: @mom2000aggie @octobereighth @kingliam2019 @lovingchoices14

TRR/TRH: @iplaydrake @princessleac1 @twinkleallnight @gkittylove99 @ladyangel70 @marshmallowsandfire @axwalker @sirbeepsalot @iaminlovewithtrr @forallthatitsworth @marshmallowsaremyfavorite @hedgehogs-dilemmas

Drake x MC: @petiteboheme @mskaneko

ICWAM: @sunnyxdazed @thequeenofpixels​

[chas111291]

She was my best friend, my hero, my mom.

SATURDAY JULY 24th exactly two weeks ago from today. I wake up to a hot southern sunny day like any other day I call my mother like every morning to tell her I'm stopping by before arriving to work later that evening she tells me okay and that she loved me she was going to lay down for a short nap I'm sitting with my wife while lacing my boots my for work getting ready to head out I get a phone call from my aunt (moms sister) she's frantic screams yours moms not breathing my heart took a nose dive straight to the pit of my stomach I scream to call 911 and don’t stop CPR boots still half way laced me and wife hop in our she only lives bout 3 mins up the road from me so I high tail over there the ambulance was pulling her out while continuing cpr they say headed to the hospital follow us and side note the cop that pulled me off to the side to mention “its a good sign they are taking her to the hospital” I mean sure he meant well but fuck false hope right now I got to get to my mom. So me the wife and my aunt arrive at the hospital in record time we mask up rush in and get the info from them we are told to wait outside we comply. No more than two minutes later a lady comes out no in uniform just a hospital staff badge I knew it wasn’t long she was back there for them to have news already I knew the news was going to be bad. I grabbed my aunt's hand and ushered our way thru the doors. I tell her to say it just say it tell me to my surprise the lady started tearing up before I could react the doctors now come out to tell me Hes sorry for my lose and that they did everything they could in the tiny what 5 mins they had her whatever sure thank you anyways he confirms and what seems like a bad dream everything's falling away from me all around I lose all feeling in my legs brace my back against the cold hospital wall and slowly collapse. My wife lets out a noise of heartbreak and my aunt is I think in shock? They tell me to come tell her goodbye or do our last goodbye whatever I couldn’t physically walk into the room the confusion the questions the agony why is this happening I was coming to see u mom what happen? I went into the room I found the strength somewhere God only knows I sit there with her with my back turned I couldn’t bare to look at her my heart was completely broken. People say heartbreak sometimes hurts physically and I never could relate but they day I understood I got it that day it hurt like hell. Meanwhile my aunt gets a phone call. I'm the youngest (29) out of moms two girls my sister (34) calls and the worse time possible on speaker I head the operator say the usual automated voice recording “ you have a collect call from an inmate at the correctionally blah blah blah my siters been in prison for the past few years old fines recovering addict she's turned her life around me and mom were so proud of all she has accomplished and the changes she had made thus far release date was august 16th so close, eh? It angered me to my soul my mom had been looking forward to that day for a while she was so close I just was anger I was anger at god I was anger at the doctors I was anger at the world anyways my aunt tells her what's happening and she falls silent for what seem like forever and replied with you're lying and messing me stop don’t I cried for her I knew it was going to break my sister she had always feared something would happen while she was away putting her past behind her I just never really thought it would happen anyways she talks to my aunt my wife comes to my side tells me to kiss my mom bye and tell her that I loved her I sit there staring into what seem like nothing then I thought back to just a day ago me and mom had a conversation on her front porch swing and every time I was stressed or just needing advice my mom would reassure me I was okay the best advice I could ever receive and she ended that convo that day like always a hug and I saying she always said to me “you got this” with a smile so back to the hospital room I stood up gave my wife a half grin put  my shoulders back and stood tall kissed my mom's forehead and whisper near her “i got this” and left. That was the worse day of my life I lost my dad back in 2015 I took it pretty hard but this felt different my mom taught me everything I know how to brush my hair how to tuck my baby dolls in as a child I felt emptiness and confusion. She was just fine I never would have thought I would've been there that day going thru the suddenness of everything happening. Honestly the death of my mom and how sudden it was without no warning no nothing has been the hardest part for me emotionally and mental. My dad always taught his two girls work hard for what you got and appreciate it especially the small things don’t take shit from no one and make a good life for self. I work a trucking job my wife works for a nonprofit animal clinic for helping animals. We’ve moved back to my hometown state Mississippi from her home state California talk about a culture shock for her moving here btw lol she's amazing shout out to Tumblr btw for giving us that chance of our paths meeting and finding a love in one another. Okay back to the story I've always worked hard it hasn’t been easy it hasn't been good day after good I've seen some real bad days and vice versa I've never used a GoFundMe hell I didn’t even really know what it was until my wife explained it to me. I live pay check to pay check but I got everything I could ever ask for and a lovely home to come home to. I was just completely blown away when the funeral home gave me a final price I cried and I cried some more I didn't know what I was going to do my sister wasn’t exactly in a big way to help until the 16th when she was released. So I'm taking my time out of today to tell the story of the worst day of my life my best friend my mother my hero and the day I lost her forever. If you still have your parents believe let them hug you even longer than they already, do I'm lost and I'm asking for just the smallest donation of whatever anything will help at the point and I'm already up about $800 out of $4000 for the total cost of putting my mother to rest she wanted to cremated so on the day my sisters get out Aug. 16th is the day I have arranged for her funeral and all services that I got the quote for because I'll be damned, I was letting her miss that. Thank you. I will link my GoFundMe and even if I don’t get anything thank you for taking the time to read and allowing me to open up and talk about it. God knows it's going to be a long hard journey, but hey I GOT THIS.

.https://gofund.me/3f0a19e5 <--- link for donations. thank you.

[puppywritings]

fidelium - johnny suh x gender-neutral reader (teaser)

masterlist

⇢   synopsis: you can’t wait to spend the weekend at johnny’s house. your boyfriend was a bad boy, and a motorcycle rider to boot. things were new, thrilling. perhaps more thrilling than you bargained for. you come to learn that it’s a lot more difficult to leave than to stay.

⇢   release date: valentine’s day  

⇢   expected word count: 6-7k 

⇢   teaser word count: 900

⇢   trigger warnings for full fic: death, guns, toxic relationship involving manipulation, objectification, arguments. sexual elements and implied sex but no explicit scenes. 

⇢   trigger warnings for teaser: arguments, possessive behaviour

⇢   a/n: this is my piece for @du0tine​‘s 21 ways to kill your lover collab. intended for 18+ audiences.

“Here we are,” Johnny welcomed you, helping you off the bike. The house was bigger than you could’ve expected. The term mansion wouldn’t be amiss.

“So,” you commented, looking up at the structure, illustrated by the silver moonlight. “This is where you and your biker gang live?” You looked along the line of bikes, queued up around the house. They were of different styles and sizes, though (with your limited knowledge on motorcycles) they all looked rather impressive.

“I keep telling you, we’re not a biker gang,” Johnny corrected you, with a light-hearted roll of his eyes. “We’re just a group of friends who live together, and just so happen to ride together too.”

“And if that’s not a biker gang, what is?” you teased.

“Zip it,” Johnny said gently, and you complied. “Here, I’ll take your bag.”

“Ever the gentleman,” you commented, passing it to him. You braced yourself, as he led you into his home.

"I wish you didn't have to leave today," Johnny said, pouting as his fingertip traced shapes along your forearm as you lounged on his bed together.

"I know, babe, me too," you agreed. His eyelashes looked beautifully long, fanned across his cheeks as he gazed downwards.

"You should stay," Johnny suggested, a hopeful lilt to his voice. "Just another day or two?"

You shook your head at him. "I'm working all week babe, it's easier if I just go home. I can stay again next weekend." 

Johnny sighs, an irritated huff, retracting his hand from your arm. "You don't wanna stay with me?" he asked, looking up at you with hurt in his eyes.

"It's not that I don't want to, John, it'll just be complicated. You'll have to give me a ride to work, and it's so far that I'll have to wake up a lot earlier."

"You don't even sound like you're going to miss me," he pointed out. His voice had a tinge of anger and it frustrated you in turn. He was acting so petty - you hadn't seen this immature side of him before.

"Of course I'll miss you, Johnny," you assured him with a roll of your eyes. "But we can see each other next weekend, okay?"

"Whatever," Johnny scoffed.

"Whatever?" you asked incredulously. "Johnny, you're acting like a child."

"Sorry. Sorry I'm going to miss my partner because they insist on leaving me." 

You shifted away from Johnny, swinging your legs off the bed and facing away from him. "This is stupid," you muttered.

"I'm stupid?" Johnny exclaimed.

You rubbed your eyes in frustration. "I didn't say that."

"You didn't need to." Johnny jumped up from the bed, swiftly storming past you and exiting the room, complete with exaggerated stomps and a hefty slam of the door.

“God!” you cussed, in irritation and disbelief. You couldn’t believe he was acting like this. This side of Johnny, bitter and bad-tempered - you couldn’t say you enjoyed it. If anything, his outburst had only made you want to leave more.

You noticed that your phone lay atop Johnny’s dresser. Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. You weren’t sure where, exactly, you had left your phone, but you were certain you hadn’t laid it there. “Hey - my phone-”

“Oh, right. Your boss called. He said you don’t have to work tomorrow. That’s great, right? You can stay the night - you don’t have to leave.”

You nodded, feeling a little sick but faking a smile anyways. “Great.” You were tired, physically and emotionally. You felt bad for even thinking it, but you wanted a break from your boyfriend. You wanted some space. He was making you feel uncomfortable, bordering on unsafe, and you found yourself craving the security you felt in Donghyuck’s room.

“Um, I’m gonna take a shower,” you conjured the excuse for an escape. 

“Okay,” Johnny accepted it easily, smiling widely. He wrapped his arms around your waist, planting a kiss on your forehead. “Don’t be gone too long, alright?”

“Alright,” you nodded, breathing a sigh of relief when he released you. You would stay another night; it wasn’t worth upsetting Johnny over.

You peered upwards, at the higher shelves, before standing on your tiptoes and stretching upwards, reaching for an eye-catching book with a golden spine.

“Careful,” Donghyuck murmured, placing a hand on the small of your back to steady you as you strained.

You heard Johnny’s growl, a split second before he entered your field of vision, entering the study and shoving Donghyuck away from you.

“Johnny!” you cried, feeling helpless and out of control as he squared up to the younger man.

Donghyuck had his hands raised in surrender, looking at his friend with concern tainting his expression. “Hey, man, calm down,” he attempted to pacify Johnny.

“Stay away from Y/N,” Johnny yelled, right in Donghyuck’s face

You leapt into action, manoeuvring your way in between the pair, palm flat on Johnny’s chest. “Johnny, look at me,” you commanded him firmly. There was a fire in his eyes that you didn’t recognise. It flamed, bright and angry, threatening to burn anything and everything in its path. It scared you, and you resisted strongly against the urge to cower before him.

It had been easy, agreeing to stay the weekend with Johnny. Although, with your boyfriend’s newfound temper, you were discovering that it was a hell of a lot harder to leave. It seemed, in those moments when his temper flared and his eyes set you ablaze with their glaring anger, that the only way you’d be leaving this house, securely tucked away in the isolation of the forest, is in a body bag.

[darks-ink]

Reanimation - Ectoberweek 2020

A family can be a bunch of ghost hunters and 1 (half) ghost child.

[first part]

Rating: Teen Warnings: Implied character death, implied child abuse Genre: Family, Hurt/Comfort Words: 2,439 Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - canon divergence, Sequel, Families of choice/Found family

[AO3] [FFN]

---

Agent O looked up from the report he was working on, trying to surreptitiously glance at the ghost in the van. One of the other agents had put a blanket on her—why did they have blankets in their ghost hunting van?—and she looked… cozy, for lack of a better word. Curled up even smaller than she already was, with the cape wrapped tight around her body, holding it tightly with her small fists, like she was afraid they might take it away from her otherwise.

Knowing what they had seen, where she had come from… O wouldn’t be surprised if it was a fear formed from experience.

She seemed stable enough for now, as long as she wasn’t using any of her powers. Which was good, because O wasn’t sure how they were supposed to stabilize her. When he’d promised to help her, he’d assumed that the scientists back at the base would know.

Hell, he hoped they knew. He’d promised, and knowing what she’d gone through, he would feel terrible going back on that promise now.

Looking down at the report again, he frowned. Turned back to the ghost. Cleared his throat to draw her attention. “Do you… have a name?” Was there any way to find out who these ghosts had been in life? To find out whether Masters had taken children and killed them, turned them into ghosts?

Were there parents, somewhere out there, whose child was gone and left behind the shade sitting opposite of O?

“Danielle,” she muttered, so quiet that O almost missed it. She repeated, a little more determinedly, “Danielle Phantom.”

And there it was again. Not only did she looked like Phantom, she used his name as a last name as well. How odd.

“Any relation to Phantom from Amity Park?” he asked. Had Masters somehow modeled her after Phantom? And if he had, would he have told her?

“Yeah, um.” She glanced away, eyes on her fidgeting hands. “He’s my… cousin.”

“Did Masters tell you that?” Agent L asked before O could work out an answer. “Or did you know that yourself?”

“I…” Danielle paused, clearly working through her answer. “I knew we were related,” she finally settled on. “But Daddy told me to call him my cousin.”

“And your brother?” O prodded, glaring at L over his glasses to get him to back off. “Did you know he was your brother for sure, or did Masters tell you that, too?”

Because it was undeniable that Danielle resembled Phantom more than just a little. Far more than what O would consider normal for humans. For ghosts, who could look like just about anything? It seemed suspect.

Was Phantom the first attempt? An escapee who wouldn’t listen to Masters? If he wanted another ghost just like Phantom, of course he would’ve prioritized her brother over her.

God, if only they had seen the other ghost before he’d destabilized. If he really had looked just like Phantom…

Well, it certainly had implications, didn’t it?

“No, I…” She frowned, then shook her head. “It’s different. We were all siblings, me and my brothers. Bones, Mo, Pixie… So of course he was, too, even if he never got to leave the incubator.”

“I see…” Bones, Mo, Pixie… those must’ve been the other ghosts near the mansion. Bones likely the skeletal ghost and Mo the muscular ghost, which meant that Pixie might’ve been the small one. “Your name seems a little strange, compared to theirs. How come?”

She shrugged, tugging the blankets further up, trying to curl away into it. “I… I was the only one who Daddy named. Bones, Mo, Pixie, we all picked their names. But Daddy called me Danielle…”

Her face crumpled, suddenly, somewhere between sad and outraged. “He didn’t even care about any of them! He only pretended to care about me! I— I—” The glow around her body brightened, the light visible through the blanket. Green coalesced around her clenched fists.

“Shh, shh, calm down,” O hushed, hands out and paused before putting them on her. “Danielle, you’re going to destabilize if you keep this up. Just calm down.”

“No!” she shouted back, her bright eyes snapping up to meet O’s eyes. “They’re all gone already! Nobody is going to care if I go to! Maybe—” The fire in her cut out as sudden as it had come. She sniffled, tears in her eyes. “Maybe we’ll get to reunite someplace else, someplace better.”

“Hey, shh, don’t talk like that.” O finally finished the motion he’d started, placing one hand on her shoulder. Damn this entire squad for being emotionally constipated. “Don’t look at it like that. Just think of it this way. You still remember your brothers, right, even though they’re gone? So as long as you still live, still remember them, they won’t be entirely gone.”

“Besides,” K cut in, finally. “This way, you can help us ensure that Masters gets punished properly, so he won’t ever be able to do what he did to you and your brothers. Don’t you want to help us with that?”

Her glow settled down, finally, as her expression grew determined. “Yeah,” she said. “Yeah, I would like to do that.”

O drew back, then threw a glance at the report he’d abandoned to the floor. Shook his head as he picked it up, then put it away properly, instead taking out a voice recorder. “Alright, how about we start with this then. You tell us everything you know. We can record it, and you won’t have to talk about any of it again if it hurts too much, okay?”

“Yeah, that sounds good.” She nodded, shifting her shoulders underneath the blanket like she was bracing herself. “Tell me where to start, please?”

---

“Danielle,” O said, disapprovingly, frowning at her. “You know the rules.”

“K said it was fine!” she immediately retorted, gesturing at her plate. Which was, of course, loaded with all kinds of sweets. Sometimes she maybe it rather easy to remember that her apparent age and her mental age didn’t quite line up right.

“Did he now?” O asked, raising an eyebrow at her. “So if I go over there right now and ask him…”

“No, don’t!” She grabbed onto the plate, holding it away from him. “L said I should, not K! But—”

Why was it always L? O made a mental note to speak to the man later, and then to talk to L’s partner M as well, just to be safe.

“Danielle,” he said, more patiently now. “I know you like the sweet things, but you need to eat properly, okay? You need to stay healthy.”

“But the ectoplasmic stuff is yucky.” She made a face, then jerked away when he stepped closer. “You can’t stop me from eating this!”

“Danielle,” O said, again, feeling his patience rapidly deplete. “You can have it after you’ve eaten all your regular food, okay?”

She narrowed her eyes at him, clearly considering it. Finally she heaved a deep sigh and put the plate back down onto the table. “Fine.”

“I’ll go and grab some from the kitchen, then.” He stepped past her, ruffling her hair on the way. “Behave yourself, or I’ll have P and Q watch over you next time.”

“Noooo,” she whined, sprawling over the table. “I’ll behave, I promise!”

O hummed thoughtfully. “You’d better, little lady.” And with a last wink to her, he left the room.

Time would tell whether she would actually listen or not. O wasn’t sure if it was proper parenting behavior but, to be fair, none of them were proper parents anyway.

Besides, what kind of parenting advice would apply to a young ghost, anyway? Danielle appeared to be about twelve, but her behavior often seemed to fit a child much younger, and she couldn’t remember a life before being a ghost, either.

At least they had managed to stabilize her. It took quite a bit of work to convince the scientists to help stabilize her, rather than experiment on her, but they had managed it. After all, Danielle had been one of their few captures, and her behavior was so complicated that it clearly required further research. Not to mention her similarities to Phantom. Subjecting her to regular research would’ve a waste, no?

O scoffed to himself. A waste, definitely, but not for any of those reasons.

Now all they needed to keep her stable was a steady diet of ectoplasmic contaminated food. And also some regular food, because Danielle burned through quite a bit of energy just by existing.

And boy, was she intent on doing more than just existing. They needed all Agents on base just to keep her safe and occupied sometimes. Over time it had just… somehow become standard fare for all of them. They were all living on base anyway, so why not help take care of the little ghost?

O shook his head to try and dislodge the thoughts and focus on what he was doing. With a resigned sigh he opened the designated Danielle fridge, peering over its contents to find something lunch-worthy. Ah! Sliced ham. Perfect.

Quickly, he set about making some sandwiches, letting his thoughts stray once more. Yes, somehow Danielle had become the base’s shared child. No one present among the Guys in White would dare to harm her anymore. The few scientists that had let their curiosity stray a little too far had been corrected and, when they refused to learn, got fired entirely.

Or, well. They weren’t around anymore, at least. O might be in charge of his team, but he wasn’t that high up. He assumed they must’ve gotten fired, but who knew with government organizations like theirs.

Either way, Danielle was safe among them. She was cared for, protected, and okay. They hadn’t gotten Masters locked away yet, building a perfect foolproof plan first, but he was under constant supervision. No other children would suffer, no other ghosts would be made by his hand.

And, soon enough, he would pay for what he had done.

O finished the sandwiches, cleaning up the supplies and carefully picking up the plate. Now, time to see if Danielle had behaved herself.

He stepped through the doorway, back into the room where he’d left Danielle. Quietly, he inched closer to the table, then put down the plate with sandwiches right between her hand and the plate with sweets.

“Busted,” she murmured, withdrawing her hand.

“Busted,” O echoed with a grin, drawing away the other plate. “Lunch first, Danielle.”

“I know, I know.” She sighed wearily, like it was a huge task, and pulled the sandwiches closer to herself. “But sweets after?”

“Eat all your lunch first, then we’ll see if you have space left.” He sat down opposite of her, the plate with sweets in front of him. “Who’s watching you after?”

“Agent K is,” she said around a bite of food. “Why?”

“Well, we wouldn’t want you to get sick while she’s watching you, would we?” O smiled down at her. If it had been L, he might’ve considered it. It would’ve been a good lesson for both Danielle and L, who had encouraged her. But K? She was a good Agent, and she took good care of Danielle.

O watched Danielle tuck a strand of black hair behind her ear, feeling… satisfied. Yes, they were taking pretty good care of her, all things considered. She’d stabilized, and her core had grown mature enough for her to develop her own unique powers. She was a fully grown ghost now, even if her mind remained young.

Still, he was curious to see if she would grow in body, too. One of the first unique powers she had developed was a minor shapeshifting ability, after all, allowing her to look perfectly human. Which made sense, according to the Agents on base, since Danielle was so human, and spent so much time around humans as well. Of course she would develop powers related to that.

It was perfectly possible that she would continue to develop her shapeshifting ability to allow her to look older as time passed. O would be curious to see it. To see what she would look like, fully grown.

And, yes. Sometimes he wondered if this was what Danielle had looked like before she’d died. If somewhere out there, there were parents who could look at her and know this was their child. But they didn’t know how long Masters had her, or any of the other ghosts. Didn’t know what happened to their parents.

For all they knew, Masters had taken only orphans, or had killed the parents and made them orphans. It was better not to worry about it, when there was nothing to be done about it anymore.

Danielle finished her sandwiches, then turned big, watery, blue eyes onto O. “Please?”

He sighed, then slid the plate with sweets back over to her. “If you get sick, it’ll be your own fault. And L’s.”

“Yes!” she cheered, taking the plate from him. “I’ll be careful, promise!”

“Uh huh,” he said, dry and unconvinced.

She started munching away on the sweets, scattering crumbs all over the table as well as her clothes. Mentally, O made a note to have someone clean the room later.

“Hey,” Danielle said, suddenly, lowering the piece of chocolate she’d been about to bite into. “O? Is there… any chance you guys might take me to Amity Park someday?”

Amity Park? Why?

Apparently he’d taken a moment too long to respond, because she quickly added, “Y’know, to meet my cousin?”

“I… I’ll talk to the others about it, see if we can manage something.” Right. Her cousin. Who they were hunting down for haunting Amity Park. Who might be another one of Masters’ victims, and who might be just as human as Danielle.

That Phantom.

Danielle grinned at him, bright and cheerful. “Thank you!”

O sighed, reaching over to ruffle her hair. “Don’t thank me just yet. I can’t promise anything, just that I’ll try.”

“So? I can thank you for trying, can’t I?” She patted his hand, then suddenly jumped out of her chair. “Oh! I’d better get going before K gets worried.”

“Go, then,” O said, waving her away. “And Danielle? Stay out of trouble.”

“Like K will let me get in trouble,” she answered, blowing a raspberry at him. “Bye, O!” she called back before rushing out of the room, running down one of the hallways.

He listened to her rapidly decreasing footsteps, then heaved a sigh.

Right. Time to look into Phantom and Amity Park once more.

[one-abuse-survivor]

Hi…if I’m being honest, I’m not really sure how this works…

I’ve been following your blog for a couple of weeks now (the Monday floofs always make me smile), and I guess I have a about emotional abuse, if it’s okay for me to ask?

I was wondering, have you ever heard of intermittent emotional abuse? Whenever I tell people about my mom, they tell me she is emotionally abusive. However, I’m afraid to agree because I’m not sure if she is actually bad enough to count as abusive.

Days or even weeks can pass without anything bad happening. She never swears at me when angry, and she never says anything over-the-top (I wish you were dead, for instance).

At the same time though, growing up, whenever she was frustrated, I noticed that she would get angry at me over things she would normally not care about. She would not apologize, either. When I got older, I told her that she was using me as her emotional punching bag. She apologized and promised to do better, and she did for a bit, but overall, nothing changed.

She would constantly invalidate my emotions, and she would get annoyed whenever I would talk about something I enjoyed too often. She actually banned me from watching more than one episode of my favorite TV show per week at one point (I was punished because, according to her, I thought about the show too much—not “watched it too much,” but “thought about it too much”). With another thing I enjoyed a few years later, she once got mad at me because “Your whole face lights up when you talk about it!” She also would just get angry at me for crying, being scared, or feeling any emotion she did not like.

She rarely apologized. Instead, she would turn it around on me, or she would promise to do better, but would not. I remember, at one point, I told her that she had promised not to get so mad at me over the little things, but had not kept her promise. She replied with how I had promised not to give her an attitude, but still did sometimes. I told her that I was trying, and she said that she was trying, too. But while I actually stopped giving her an attitude—and speaking to her about anything unnecessary—she got worse with the anger.

The past two years have been the worst. I’m 16 now, and I’ve noticed that her words have had more of an effect than before. I started suspecting that something was off three years ago, when we were on a vacation that required us to walk around for several hours—not so bad on its own—in an environment so hot, the news released warnings about it (there was a heat wave). She had made me buy new shoes for the trip, but they were not comfortable, and after two days, walking felt like being stabbed in the foot. It hurt bad. However, when I tried to tell her, she got angry and told me how ungrateful I was being, and that I better not tell my dad how I felt.

Even recently, by which I mean two days ago, she was talking about what her “ideal son” would be like (I’m a girl). She said that if he was like one of my childhood friends, my dad would be in heaven, and if he was like one of my cousins, she would be in heaven.

So I asked her, “What if he was like me?”

Her response: “Then dad and I would be dead. We couldn’t handle two kids like you.”

She went on to talk about how she would not be able to handle two children as cold as I was, and how in most families, there was always one child who was “different,” so if she had a son, he would probably not be like me, anyway.

Then, I asked my dad, “But you like spending time with me, don’t you?”

He said yes.

My mom said, “Tell her the truth.”

I’m pretty sure that my mom saying this is not okay, even if it was done in a casual manner. But…I don’t know; I’m not sure if the way she acts is harsh enough to be called abuse. When I compare it to people’s experiences online, it seems so much easier. She can go as long as three months with no incident.

When I was a kid, I would view our relationship as one of the best mother-daughter relationships out there. At the same time though, even though the good times happen more often than the bad, it eventually got to a point where I was constantly bracing myself for the bad. The good was more often, but the bad outweighed it. There are a bunch of things I have not included in this message, too. A lot of times, I find myself wishing she would hurt me worse, either physically or emotionally, so that I know for sure. When I see her getting mad, I start feeling both happy and terrified—terrified that she will hurt me, and happy because that means that it is real. However, I’m not sure if I’m just crying wolf, and if I want evidence just so I can support a false claim.

I just…I don’t know. I’m tired of being around her. Last year I was TERRIFIED of her; this year, I just feel…empty. The idea of having to live with her after I graduate from college sounds like a fate worse than death, literally. I would genuinely rather die than stay with her.

I’m just so tired of her constantly being on my mind. EVERYONE I’ve spoken to—a few high school friends, and several people online—says that she is emotionally abusive. But when you condense a lifetime of wrongs down, it’s going to look like a lot, no matter how nice the person is. I just…I don’t know.

Hi, I’m the Anon who asked about dissociation vs zoning out and who asked about whether constant lecturing was okay in a relationship (when I sent the second ask, I had forgotten that I had sent the first). I guess this is partially a vent, and partially just me asking for advice.

Yesterday, my mom said that she wanted to have a talk with me. She told me that I needed to be careful about what I told people about her, because apparently, one of my aunts and one of my uncles have been talking about her and her parenting style.

Those are the only two relatives I’ve ever spoken to about my mom, and rarely (twice to my aunt, once to my uncle). According to my mom, though, while they know she is a good parent, they are worried that her parenting style is starting to affect me.

Then she started lecturing me and asking, “Look at what I’m doing now. I’m driving you to a restaurant because you wanted to eat out. I drop you off at your friends’ houses because you want to go. Look at everything I do for you.” She went on for a while about all the things she did, explaining how she did everything for me and had no life outside of me, and scolded me for expecting her to be perfect. She said that she thinks I am just being a dramatic teenager, and I am probably exaggerating my experiences and my feelings.

Just…I’m so confused now. What if she’s right? Nobody is perfect. I know that I’m not. What if she’s right, and I’m just making a big deal out of everything for, I don’t know, attention or something?

She also brought up a recent example: she had been talking about her ideal son (I am a girl), and I asked her. “What if the son was like me?”

Her response was that she and my dad would be dead, because they would not be able to handle two children so cold and aloof. I then asked my dad whether he enjoyed being around me, and when he said that she did, my mom told me to stop lying.

So yesterday, when we were talking, my mom told me that I needed to stop taking things out of context. She said that of course she would want a different kid, because who wants two of the same thing? For instance, if I had sisters, would I want them to be the same, or different?

But…that isn’t what she said the first night. She specifically mentioned how I was too cold and aloof. And even last night, she told me, “The reason I said that is because your dad and I want a daughter. A child. We want to be parents, and we want to be a family. It’s not that we don’t love you, it’s that we don’t think you love us enough.”

I just don’t know anymore, and it’s driving me crazy. My mom is right in that she does do everything for me. What if I am being too harsh and expecting too much from her?

At the same time, though, I started suspecting she was emotionally abusive two years ago. I dismissed it as, “I’m being dramatic. In two years, I probably won’t feel the same way.” But two years passed, and I still do feel that way.

Then, a few months ago, I thought, “Well, obviously I’m biased. No one else seems to think anything else is wrong with her parenting style.” But then, two of my friends sat me down to discuss how they are starting to think that my mom is emotionally abusive

Even then, I was still not convinced, so I talked to some friends who I have known since childhood, and to some people on Reddit (probably not the best idea, but I was desperate). EVERYONE said that my mom was emotionally abusive. The only people who haven’t outright called her abusive are my aunt and uncle whom I mentioned, but they, and my mom, were all abused and neglected as children, and they don’t acknowledge that, either (forcing a 5 year-old to walk on the side of a busy road to get school, ALONE, for instance, is just one example). Surely not all of the people who have agreed with me are people whom I accidentally fooled with exaggeration.

And what about all the feelings I’m experiencing? The last week in particular, I remember thinking about how I don’t even feel like I own my own body; how it felt like that was only a possession of my mom’s. For context, she’s really controlling about what I can eat, and I would constantly hear “Only eat if you’re hungry.” “Leave 25 percent of your stomach empty.” “You can only have 75 percent of the food on your plate. If you get hungry later, eat fruit.” “I gave you extra food, so leave a third of it.” “Stop saying you’re hungry; you’re only eating because you like it!” “At the party, don’t forget: only one sweet thing.” “You had a mini cupcake three days ago, so I don’t want you eating that cookie because we might get dessert in two days.” “STOP ACTING LIKE I DEPRIVE YOU OF SUGAR!”

A month ago, I started losing my appetite, and she started forcing me to eat more (I mentioned an example of that with the fruit in one of my other asks). Today, I know that I have to drink some fruit juice she’ll make, water with the weird powder in it, at least five other glasses of water, two other fruits, and actual food. If I don’t have the room, than she’ll tell me not to eat the actual food.

She even keeps going on about my body hair, and since I was 13, she’s been forcing me to wax and thread my upper lip. I didn’t mind the waxing too much, but when she switched to threading, it HURT. I begged for about a year before she switched back to waxing (she had stopped because I once got spicy sauce on the skin after waxing and it burned it). She’s been talking about me waxing my arms and threading my eyebrows, and I REALLY, REALLY DO NOT WANT TO.

It’s my body, and I’m not ready! I’m not self-conscious about the hair, so why does she have to make such a big deal about it? She’s constant talking about having me get a full-body laser treatments and I. Don’t. Want. It! She even keeps talking about how she’s going to start introducing me to guys when I’m 21, and how, hopefully, I’ll start trying to find one to get married to when I’m 24. She just doesn’t stop, no matter how much I tell her that it makes me uncomfortable. She just says, “It’s just introducing you! I’m not making you marry any of them.”

I don’t even feel like I’m in control of my life right now. I feel like I’m her doll; that she OWNS my body the same way she owns this house and her clothes. I don’t doubt that she loves me, but I’m starting to think that she loves me the same way you love a pet or a favorite toy.

But now, I also feel so guilty, because what if she’s right? What if I am being cruel or exaggerating? At this point, I don’t even know—I’m just so tired of having to think about this. I just want to be a good person.

Also, sorry for sending in yet another ask; I know that this is my third or fourth. I wasn’t originally going to send anything, but I woke up feeling so numb, and then this all hit me like a train, and I panicked and wasn’t sure what else I could do.

(previous asks)

I hope you don’t mind me answering these two asks at the same time, nonnie; they were sent pretty far apart but I figured from context they were from the same person.

From what you shared, your mom sounds very emotionally abusive and neglectful, nonnie. I know it's hard to believe a parent is abusive when other people's abuse stories sound so much worse than yours, but it's important to remember two things. One, that abuse doesn't have to be the worst it could possibly be for it to be abuse. Just like physical abuse doesn't have to leave bruises or broken bones to be physical abuse, emotional abuse doesn't need to include parents telling you they wished you were dead to count. And two, that, when you go through abuse for long periods of time and your abuser constantly justifies their behaviour, it tends to become so normalised in our minds that it doesn't feel like it's “that bad” anymore. Meanwhile, when we hear other people's stories of abuse, we mostly hear about things we haven't experienced and haven't been normalised in our minds, so they tend to sound “worse” to us. Moreover, when we're thinking about someone else's suffering, it's far, FAR easier to see it from a rational point of view than when we're thinking about our own suffering. We always tend use our emotional brain to think about ourselves, and that's why it's easier to accept that others are suffering and deserve better than to think WE are suffering and deserve better. And, again, going through abuse exacerbates these feelings, because we get told our emotions and pain and boundaries aren't okay and are unreasonable and selfish.

Regarding the abuse being too intermittent to count, I answered another ask on the topic a while ago, which you can read here. I don't think there's such a thing as “abuse that's too intermittent to count as abuse”. If there is a cycle of abuse, and you are getting hurt and experiencing distress or any symptoms of PTSD, then I don't think it matters how “slow” that cycle is or how few and far between the moments of cruel abuse are: you are a victim of abuse, and you deserve to acknowledge that and to get away from the situation and heal. And, nonnie, “days or weeks” isn't that far between at all. When I think of very intermittent abuse, what comes to mind is abuse that only happens in certain moments of the year (for example, only during summer holidays). Abuse happening every few days or weeks still sounds to me like continuous abuse—and, if it helps to hear, that's how frequent my own abuse was for most of my life.

I think it could help you to watch this video on childhood emotional neglect, because some of the things your mom does definitely sound like some of the forms of childhood emotional neglect listed in the video.

Using you as her emotional punching bag, getting mad at you for expressing positive emotions around her, telling you that having another child like you would be the death of them and calling you ungrateful for trying to establish boundaries that are inconventient to her are all forms of emotional abuse and neglect. It's also a red flag of abuse to get told that you shouldn't talk negatively about her to others; many abusers hate it when you talk to others about the way they treat you.

Additionally, reminding you of every single thing they do for you to make you feel guilty is also emotionally abusive. When she drives you to meet your friends, she's not doing you a selfless favour out of the kindness of her heart—she is doing her job as a parent, something she signed up to be. But emotionally abusive parents often love to remind their kids of every little good thing they do to make us feel guilty for having any negative emotions toward them, and to downplay the not-so-good things they do to us. That's why many abuse victims end up constantly punishing themselves for thinking badly of their abusers and reminding themselves of every good thing the abuser has done, and that's also why we tend to constantly question if the bad moments are "bad enough" not to get cancelled out by the good ones: because abusers weaponise every single decent thing they do for us and use it to paint themselves as saints and as victims. They make us feel like it's a horrible sacrifice to take care of us, when in reality they signed up to take care of us; none of us asked to be under their care.

And wishing it would be “worse” so you could be certain it was abuse, as well as constantly bracing yourself for her to be cruel again, are all symptoms that you're dealing with trauma from abuse, nonnie. People who haven't been abused don't wish they'd get treated worse just so they could be sure they're not making up their own pain. It's also a sign that you've been abused to constantly worry that your abuser is “right” and that you're making everything up, exaggerating your pain somehow, or accidentally being an attention-seeker. In reality, all you've done is have and express your own emotions and trauma, nonnie. You don't want anything else but to have your pain acknowledged and to stop going through abuse. You can't accidentally be an attention-seeker. You can't accidentally fake your own very real emotions. There's no such thing as feeling the “wrong” emotions. Especially not when it comes to trauma.

It's also common, when you go through abuse, to feel like you're not in control of your own body or life, and like you are at the mercy of your abuser. In my experience, this happens because we get so constantly denied boundaries regarding our bodies, time, and emotions, and we get told so often our emotions are wrong and selfish and un-called for, that we can feel like we're going crazy, like our own bodies and minds aren't ours.

It's absolutely not okay for your mother to control what you eat in that way, nonnie. I'm furious on your behalf that you have to hear this stream of bullcrap every time you eat. Ugh. You absolutely do not need to worry about how many sweet things you eat or about leaving food on your dish, and I'm so sorry you have to put up with this from her. It's no wonder you don't feel in control of your own body when she doesn't let you choose what you eat and what you don't. If you don't mind me sharing my personal experience, my mother had a phase at one point where she decided having omega 3 supplements was a necessary part of life and she'd force me to eat them or she'd scream at me if I refused. Just going through that for a few months felt incredibly intrusive and traumatic, and I can't even imagine this on a daily basis with every single food you have. Forcing you to ingest things you don't want to is most definitely physical abuse. So is making you keep walking while in pain and under a heatwave.

And I'm about to get slightly more personal here, because the topic of forced hair removal is very close to me, but it is absolutely not okay and very VERY messed up for her to make decisions on your body hair, especially permanent decisions. You're right that she has absolutely no right to make your body hair a big deal. I, too, was forced to shave since I was 12 and actually started permanent laser hair removal because I was forced by my parents, and those sessions were traumatic. I did not want my body hair gone, and the laser was very, very painful, and the people who did those sessions constantly berated me for expressing pain and told me it was something “every woman should go through” and to suck it up. I still have bald spots on my legs from it years after I stood up to my parents and refused to do another session. So, from personal experience: she does NOT get to put you through that. Your body hair is your business, and your business alone.

And, oh my god, what the fuck. She does not have a right to control your dating life. She does not have a right to make you meet boys at ANY age. I know from your other ask that you struggle to tell apart what's healthy and what isn't in a romantic relationship, and let me tell you, what she is doing right now sounds like she is setting you up to end up in a toxic relationship. And I will reiterate something I mentioned in that other ask, because I think it's vitally important to know: romantic relationships are not mandatory. Marriage is not mandatory. There's not one set age at which you need to start looking for someone to date or marry. If you go into adult life with that mindset, there's a very high chance you'll end up in a toxic relationship out of fear that being single is worse than being with someone who makes you miserable, and it's majorly messed up for her to be setting you up for this kind of future.

So, in conclusion, nonnie, I definitely don't think you're exaggerating. In fact, I think you need to get far away from her as soon as you can, for your own safety. The way she treats your body and life as her property and makes decisions for you regarding them sounds deeply traumatic, and it is very dangerous to have so little control over yourself. I'm especially concerned about the food issue, because having a bad relationship with food and getting less food intake than you need can have very dangerous psychological side effects. And you most definitely do not have to go through her plans for your adult life. You deserve to live a life that is yours, and to make your own decisions about who you meet and who you date and what you do with your body.

I'm sending the biggest virtual hug and all my support your way. No one deserves to live like this, and please know you deserve so much better than this, and you most definitely deserve to label what she's putting through as abuse. ❤️

[fanfic-corner]

John Being An Asshole

When The World Screams by K_K_Tibal on AO3. (31,354 words).

Tags: Alternate Universe, Deaf Castiel, EMT Castiel, Guitarist Dean, Aftermath of a car accident, Mild Gore, Past Abuse, Panic Attacks, Mind Reading Through Touch, Ableism, Slow Burn, Love Confessions, John Winchester Being an Asshole.

My Rating: 5 stars.

Description: The one thing that Castiel Novak can’t do is hear. He excels in his job as an EMT despite the fact that he’s deaf and has never let anything hold him back from being at the top of his game. That is, until he meets a certain man in the aftermath of a car accident. The one thing Dean Winchester can’t do is touch. Communication should be simple with the easy way that people can read each other’s thoughts through skin contact, but Dean outright refuses anything of the sort and much prefers the gentle caress of fingers on guitar strings. That is, until his dreams of being a professional guitarist are shattered in the accident. Even with the unfortunate circumstances of their meeting, a friendship grows and there is one thing they realize they can do for each other very well: Listen.

Notes: I was very confused until I figured out the mind reading thing, but once I did, I loved it!

Sleepless in Lawrence, Kansas by PrinceMalice on AO3. (50,162 words).

Tags: Radio Show AU, Self Help, Long Distance Pining, Sleepless in Seattle, John Winchester is Terrible, Slow Build, Some Angst.

My Rating: 5 stars.

Description: “Um, yes, hi. My name is Sam and I’m calling from Lawrence, Kansas.” A new voice... Castiel loved new voices. They always had new stories to tell. “Kansas… well, it’s not really midnight down there, is it? What keeps you up?” he asked. “I’m worried about my brother, Dean.”

Notes: Actually so cute, even though I’ve never seen the movie! I’m never quite sure whether I ship Sam and Ruby, especially in this, but Ruby was an icon in it.

Just Like You by imherecauseimnotallthere98 on AO3. (35,717 words).

Tags: Homophobia, Homophobic John, Hurt Dean Winchester, Protective Dean Winchester, Established Relationship, Protective Castiel, BAMF Castiel, Protective Sam Winchester, Angry John, Angry Dean Winchester, Angry Sam Winchester, Protective Bobby Singer, Awesome Bobby, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Scared Dean, John Being an Asshole, Swearing, Bisexual Dean, Pansexual Castiel, Past Child Abuse, Accidental Outing, Death Threats, Fluff and Angst, Implied Sexual Content, Sharing a Bed.

My Rating: 5 stars.

Description: When John shows up at their door in the middle of the night, the Winchesters and Cas start looking into who or what could have brought him back. Meanwhile, Dean struggles to keep his relationship with Cas a secret from his father, with some help from Sam. The tension rises between the Winchesters as Dean shows John that he is no longer the obedient little soldier he once was, and tries to establish himself as an equal with his dad.

Notes: I asked for John being an asshole, and this fic delivered. There are many fics where he is horrible or does horrible things, but this one is definitely the crowning champion. Bobby and Sam are incredible in it, though.

999 Days From Now by RebelSpaceOddity on AO3. (35,537 words).

Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Character Death, Alternate Universe, Past Drug Addiction, Romance, Slow Burn, Copious Amounts of Angst, Asshole John Winchester, Diner Owner Dean.

My Rating: 5 stars.

Description: An AU in which a recovered alcoholic Dean owns a diner, Sam is in law school and is clueless about the way Jess looks at him, and Cas? Well, Cas turns Dean’s world upside down and maybe, just maybe, gives him a reason to have a little faith.The love of a lifetime told in a heartbeat.

Notes: This fic got me. I have a terrible, risky habit of not reading the tags/warnings, so imagine my horror when I got halfway through this fic before I realised my mistake! It was excellent, though.

Father Knows Best by DarkHeartInTheSky on AO3. (81,034 words).

Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon Divergence from Season 8, Castiel Whump, Hurt Castiel, Worried Dean, Kidnapping, John Winchester Being an Asshole.

My Rating: 5 stars.

Description: When John wakes up alone in a field after spending years in Hell, he thinks he's been given a second a chance. A chance to do right by his boys for once. A chance to protect them like he should have. So protect them he will--even from the horrific creature that's weaseled its way into their lives that calls itself an angel of the Lord.

Notes: I know he means well, but Jesus H Christ, John is really desperate to win that Worst Father of the Year Award in this (He wins. That’s all I’m saying).

Collapsed Rainbows by suckerfordeansfreckles on AO3. (6,125 words).

Tags: Soulmate AU, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Hurt Dean Winchester, Hospitals, Nurse Castiel, Blood and Injury, Falling in Love, John Winchester Being an Asshole, Hurt/Comfort, Touch-Starved Dean Winchester, Dean has a lot of Selfworth Issues, Blood, Bruises, Broken Bones, First Kiss.

My Rating: 4 stars.

Description: Dean wakes up on his 18th birthday, giddy and a little scared, and rips his blanket off of himself to start searching his hands for the soulmark that is supposed to appear somewhere on his body today. Nothing. His arms. Nothing. Shoulders, upper body, legs. Nothing. It’s okay, he tells himself, don’t panic yet. But then he rushes to the bathroom and braces himself on the edge of the sink to look up into the mirror, and it’s right there. Black streaks and blotches along the edge of his jaw, dark like ink. Marks like the imprints of knuckles meeting Dean’s chin. It takes him a little while to fully realizes what this means. That his soulmark is there, for everyone to see, right on his face, impossible to hide.

That his soulmate’s first touch will be a punch to Dean’s face.

Notes: Super cute but slightly frustrating and the plot is a tad thin.

Your Love is Strong by tale_to_tell on AO3. (6,562 words).

Tags: Hurt Dean Winchester, Worried Castiel, Worried Sam Winchester, Protective Castiel, Sam Winchester Knows, Sam Winchester Ships Castiel/Dean, Sam Winchester is So Done, Brotherly Love, Major Character Injury, Ghosts, Canon Universe, Internalized Homophobia, Homophobic John Winchester, Implied Sexual Content, Angst with a Happy Ending.

My Rating: 3 stars.

Description: Sam knew. Honesty, it was impossible not to know. Dean and Cas were always brushing shoulders and sharing sickeningly sweet smiles. There was also so much eye-fucking. God, it was disgusting how in love they were. At first, Sam wondered when they were going to figure it out for themselves, but now he just wondered if they would figure it out at all. It had been years. God, Dean was so stupid sometimes. A "Profound bond," could you be anymore obvious than that? Dean was either super oblivious or just an idiot. Probably both. Definitely both. What Sam didn't know, however, was that Dean and Cas were already aware of their feelings for one another and in a relationship. They were just trying to figure out how to tell him. Apparently, a terrible injury on a hunt is what would ultimately reveal their relationship to Sam, just not in the way any of them would have wanted.

Notes: Sam is such an unbelievable mood in this.

Sins of the Father by allthebeautifulthings9828 on AO3. (2,458 words).

Tags: Post Episode s08e23 Sacrifice, Fallen Castiel, Human Castiel, POV Dean Winchester, Abusive John Winchester, Love, First Date, Protective Sam Winchester, Angst with a Happy Ending, Family Angst.

My Rating: 3 stars.

Description: Having had enough of Dean hiding his relationship with Castiel, Sam takes matters into his own hands. He won't let Dean deny that he's in love with the former angel, but nothing prepared him for his big brother's confession about the last time he was with a male. Can Sam undo yet more of John Winchester's damage before Dean runs from his feelings again?

Notes: Quite short but cute, and I live for Sam being supportive.

Athazagoraphobia by Mickey_Todoroki on AO3 and Wattpad. (20,347 words).

Tags: Established Castiel/Dean, Established Gabriel/Sam, Protective Rowena, Hurt Dean Winchester, Bisexual Dean Winchester, Abused Dean Winchester, John Winchester Being an Asshole, Mental Health Issues, Panic Attacks, Athazagoraphobia, Suicide Attempt, Self-Harm, Past Non-con, Attempted Murder, Alternate Ending.

My Rating: 2 stars.

Description: After some thinking, Amara decides that Dean needs both his parents. Only, she didn't know his past. And what John did to Dean growing up. And now that he's back, Dean might regress back to his 22-year-old scared self.

Notes: I know that some people like them, and there certainly are a lot of them, but this reads like an angsty, emotionally repressed fic usually reserved to the depths of Wattpad, which you find at 3am and wonder whether the author is okay. It was fine, but only just.

So, there you have it. (Probably) everyone’s least favourite Winchester, being a complete dick. You’re welcome.

[btswrckd]

Hunting a Hybrid V

Black Panther!Hybrid Jungkook x Fem!Reader

Summary: Four years after it’s made illegal to acquire hybrids as pets, you’re approached by the daughter of your former employer to hunt down one that had been gifted to her

Warnings: slight violence, mentions of past abuse, poorly written smut

A/N: A lot is happening this chapter and it’s not as clean as I hoped it would be but tomorrow is Christmas and I really wanted it to be up. As you guys know, I’ve been busy with a new job and didn’t have much time to work on this fic but I’m hoping you guys will enjoy anyways. Also if you’re like me and love to listen to music while reading, I was listening to Can You Hold Me by NF and Dynasty by Miia. Much love!

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The red and blue lights flickered against the beige house, illuminating it and many others around. People, neighbors, stood along the street in a crowd and a few women breaking off into their own little cliques to whisper amongst themselves. Hands covered their mouths as if they weren’t so obviously speaking of the swarm of cop cars parked outside your home, their husbands off to the side and speculating just what the hell was going on. 

Sangchul stood gruff with crossed arms, nodding his head at the information being passed on to him by one of the few officers on the scene. His shoulders stiff at the sound of your voice, scream piercing through the crowd and footsteps heavy as they pounded against the asphalt behind him.

You were late coming home, 15 year old you grumbling and kicking rocks along the path you walked, Yoongi at your side and teasing you for losing track of time. Pouting as he ruffled your hair and said to be careful gathering your things, you shook your head and gave his shoulder a light punch. You noticed him wince slightly and dropped your head in apology; ever since training with your grandfather, both you and Yoongi noticed how strong you came to be, but this is what Sangchul had taught you to be and Yoongi never questioned it aloud. Not that you’d tell him the truth anyways.

“What the hell is that?” You asked, noticing the red and blue flashing lights just up the street. You noticed the mob of people as they turned to look at you with sympathy, anxiety creeping your spine and your stomach dropping to your feet. Bile rose in your throat with each step you took, the chatter and people fading into the back as you neared the house surrounded by police officers and an ambulance. The door looked as if it had been kicked in, the wood splintered from the force, and covered in yellow ‘caution’ tape. Your breath shuttered as you stepped off the curb, taking note of your mother’s car in the driveway. “Mom?”

Yoongi tried to snag your elbow before you went any further but his own father had clapped a hand to his shoulder, shaking his head in response to Yoongi’s glare. His head whipped back around at your shrill scream, the word ‘Mom’ being screeched so loud it made a few cops jump and try their best to stop you from going into the house. 

Stumbling as your knees gave in, you allowed yourself to be caught by the officer standing with your grandfather, hot tears streaming down your face when the paramedics stepped out the front door with a gurney and what you prayed was not your mother in a body bag. “Mom!” 

The officer winced when you clawed at his arms to break free from his embrace, nails digging into his skin but his hold was strong, tears springing to his eyes at hearing you cry out to your mother like a lost child. His bottom lip trembled at your tear stained face, throat raw from screaming and body going limp with exhaustion, he whispered his apologies into your hair. He knew better than to become emotionally involved but you were still just a kid whose own grandfather wasn’t doing much to comfort you. As he turned to shoot a glare in Sangchul’s direction, his grip faltered and you broke away from him to sprint into the house.

Other officers tried to restrain you, but you were quicker than them, more agile in your movements to dodge their hands. Finally reaching the front door, the bile in your throat came out full force at the sight of blood, too much blood to be just your mother’s. The red splattered across the walls painted a very gory image of what could have happened, your father’s body finally catching your eye and giving you a glimpse of what looked like claw marks.

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You sat up quickly, short of breath and feeling as though someone had been trying to smother you in your sleep. Sweat clung to your still naked body and soaked your sheets making you grimace and throw them from your body. Leaning over the bed, you slipped on a bra, panties, and a tank top. The rustling of sheets alerted you to Jungkook also coming to and jumping up in panic when he couldn’t feel your body beside his. 

“Hey,” His voice was soft and comforting as he felt your nerves on overdrive, your anxiety seeping out in waves. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” You lied, trying your best to calm the rapid beating of your heart and rising from the bed to cross the room, “Just a nightmare.”

“Another one?” Jungkook was understandably concerned, he himself waking with night terrors, but none leaving him as shaken. Even before his parents’ deaths, he had always been treated badly because he was a hybrid so he learned to adapt. But something about your nightmares made him uneasy, the need to protect you from them greater than anything he’s ever felt. 

“Kook,” Your voice broke through his thoughts as you faced the dresser and braced your palms against it, “Do you want to know why I became a hunter?”

He held his breath and stared at your back, watching your shoulders tense and arms tremble, signs that you were crying. It left an ache in his chest.

You took in a huge breath before turning to face him, leaning back against the dresser, and closing your eyes to recall that very night so long ago. “The night my parents died, I had been out with Yoongi because I was going to stay the weekend at his house. My dad had business out of town and was forcing my mom to go with him. When I got home that night, there was all kinds of cop cars up and down our block, and our neighbors were standing around outside. They crowded our house...” You couldn’t finish your sentence, the words dying on your tongue and the memories so vivid it was as if it all happened yesterday.

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“Y/N,” Sangchul’s voice caused a shiver to run down your spine, blood running ice cold at the lack of emotion in his tone. Of course he didn’t care that his only son and daughter-in-law were just murdered. Why would he?

You were on your knees, hands braced on the floor as you heaved, the acidic taste of vomit still present in your mouth. Eyes shut tight and the pain squeezing your chest, you shook your head as if it were going to erase the images.

“Y/N,” Sangchul’s tone was harsh as he tried to get your attention by gripping your elbow tight and tugging you to your feet, turning your body to face him. “Calm yourself.”

You looked at him as if he’d grown two heads, disgusted and confused by what he meant.  Hot tears streamed down your face while you scoffed, “Calm myself? Do you see what’s happened here? Are you blind?!”

“Do not,” He hissed and brought your face close to his, “speak to me that way. Of course I see what’s happened. Your parents were attacked by a beast.”

“A beast that looks both man and animal,” Sangchul clarified when your brows drew together, not yet processing what he was saying, “A hybrid, Y/N. One of those things did this to my son and your mother.”

“No,” You shook your head, refusing to believe any of it, “No, one would never. Hybrids...they’re not like this.”

“Yes they are. They’re savages whose violent nature cannot be tamed. Hybrid’s are unnatural and have no place in this world. And one did this to your home.”

“No!” You pushed at your grandfather’s chest hard, bringing your hands to your hair to tug at the strands as if trying to pull them all out. “No, it’s not true!”

Sangchul quickly engulfed you in a hug if only to keep you from causing more of a scene, “Of course it is, Y/N. They did this and we will find it. You will make it pay for what it has done.”

“The p-police will handle it, grandpa,” You pulled back, bringing your hand to your face to wipe away the tears, “can we please just go?”

“The police?” Sangchul growled and placed his large hands on your shoulders, comforting to an outsider but a warning to you, “You think any of these imbeciles will be able to find that hybrid? You think they’ll hold it accountable for what its done? No, Y/N, only you can make it pay. You deserve that much.”

“I don’t want to make him pay.”

“An eye for an eye, Y/N,” He insisted, grip tightening on your shoulders, “blood for blood, you know this. That’s the cardinal rule for hunters and you must uphold that.”

“I don’t want this.” You shook your head with fresh tears leaking down your cheeks and buried your face in your hands. “Please don’t make me.”

Sangchul was becoming frustrated, pulling you close once more to whisper, “You know what happened to your grandmother. You know a hybrid murdered her before you were even born and I never got the chance to see it hurt the same way I did. But you can. You can make it hurt just as bad and you’ll feel so much better once you do. I promise you, Y/N, that when it’s done and over with, you won’t even remember that hybrid. You’ll sleep peacefully knowing you avenged your parents.”

You never wanted to be that way, never wanted to hate the hybrid race because they were different and your grandfather despised them. You always believed hybrids were beautiful and misjudged simply because their appearance wasn’t of the normal standard. A chance encounter when you were a mere 5 years old convincing you that they meant no harm to anyone. You’d become lost in a crowd during your family’s weekly grocery shopping, becoming frightened of all the many strangers passing by without offering help to a little girl. Scurrying up and down aisles, panic began to settle in until you bumped into a friendly stranger with an even friendlier hybrid. The two helped you find your mother and the hybrid had playfully tapped your nose, making you giggle through the hiccups that developed while crying.

There was a raging hate your grandfather always carried for them and you never thought you could feel the same way...until now. You spared a glance at your father’s body being zipped into a black body bag just like your mother’s and decided...

Hybrids were not beautiful and they were not your friends, they were animals. Beasts that fooled you into believing they could be anything but what they were; feral and dangerous. You were wrong about them and you weren’t going to allow yourself to be blinded any longer.

Sangchul watched what little sliver of light you held die out. A smirk spread across his lips at the darkness swirling in your eyes, your jaw setting and nostrils flaring in rage. It was done; you were finally broken enough to train properly, to track and kill without remorse. You were finally ready to become the hunter Sangchul could never teach Donghoon to be.

“Everything okay over here?” The previous officer asked as Sangchul led you to his waiting car. His hands rested on his belt, studying you for any more signs of distress.

“Everything is fine, officer,” Your grandfather leaned in to read his name badge, “Kim. Ah, a fine name. Now if you’ll excuse me, I really must take my granddaughter somewhere safe.”

“Of course,” Officer Kim nodded but never took his eyes off you, wanting so badly to prevent that from happening. He waited until your eyes finally met his to say, “I’m very sorry, sweetheart. If you need anything, don’t hesitate to call and ask for me, okay?”

He had known your mother for quite some time now after he answered a domestic abuse call some months back. Officer Kim approached her discreetly and asked for the real story, and once the truth was out, he began to help build a case against your father. He was the only one convinced that a hybrid couldn’t do any of this but the evidence suggested otherwise. Something about all of it, including Sangchul’s odd behavior didn’t sit well with him.

“And we thank you for the offer,” Sangchul answered before you could, “But that’s what I’m here for. Come now,” He gathered your hand in his and led you away from what was no longer your home. Glancing back at you, he stopped a long time acquaintance on the force that was on the scene and leaned in close to whisper something into the detective’s ear, slipping a rather hefty roll of money into the man’s hand. 

“Where are we going?” You asked when he joined you in the car, eyes peering suspiciously at that same detective stopping officer Kim from getting any closer to the car. “Why did you just slip that detective money?”

“We have to leave town,” Sangchul sighed heavily, “and we won’t be able to return for a very long time. That detective is doing me a favor by making sure we’ll never be found.”

“Why aren’t we staying here to catch the hybrid?”

“You’re not ready,” He explained through grit teeth, frustrated at your series of questions. “Training every once in a while after school isn’t enough anymore. You need more time.”

“And exactly how do you suppose we find it if we don’t stick around?”

“You will,” Your grandfather promised eerily, “once you’re training is over, you’ll find it.”

Twisting around in your seat, you searched for Yoongi, finding him trying to chase the car down with no luck, his legs nearly giving out as your grandfather pressed harder on the gas pedal. You could see him cup his hands around his mouth to shout something, but you never heard what it was, instead lifting your hand to wave goodbye.

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

“My parents,” You continued, “weren’t a happy couple. My dad would beat my mother every night. Just because he could. He liked making my mother feel inferior, making her feel as if she was nothing. Donghoon was a man that strived on the fear of others, especially her.”

Jungkook waited with bated breath, the realization that you were about to bare all for him, your past, finally sinking in.

Pushing away from the dresser, you faced him and caught the pity in his eyes and you almost laughed; Jungkook had very obviously endured more than you ever have and yet he still felt sorry for you. You never shared your story with anyone, not even Taehyung, and a small part of you was ashamed that you’d kept it from him. You trusted Taehyung with your life but why you chose to keep your past a secret was still a mystery to you. You supposed it was more that you never had anyone to share it with until Tae, but could never bring yourself to do so after seeing the fear in his eyes from one of the many jobs you pulled.

“He abused alcohol, my mother, drugs,” You tugged on the end of your hair, a nervous habit Jungkook picked up on, and let out a mocking laugh, “Never me though. No, I...I was too precious to hurt. But my mom, the woman who birthed me, she was okay to toss around like a ragdoll.”

“Did you ever,” Jungkook wasn’t sure what he was trying to ask, just that he needed to speak, “tell anyone?”

“No,” Finally settling on the bed, your hair fell in your face to hide the feeling of shame at keeping it a secret. “You see, just because my dad never hit me didn’t mean I wasn’t scared of him. He had so much power because was so successful in everything he did. Accusing him of something like that...it would have never worked in mine and my mother’s favors. No one would have believed us but I guess that never stopped my mom from trying.”

“Somewhere along the many, many years of abuse, she finally had enough courage to tell someone and started gathering evidence against him. I never found out who helped her, but my dad caught wind of it because my grandfather had ears everywhere. A detective found the file on my father and told him all about it. That night Donghoon went home...he killed my mom. I guess after his rage induced outburst he saw what he had done and for a split second, felt remorse. But then, panic set in and he didn’t want to have to face what he’d done or the kind of questions to come if he were to call the police. So, like a coward, he called my grandfather to cover it up and make plans for us to disappear.”

Jungkook felt sick to his stomach, he’d seen plenty of humans do some disgraceful and vile things but none quite like your father.

“My grandfather said he wouldn’t clean up my father’s mess for him.” Your eyes glossed over with tears, gaze still on the floor and it was like you were in a trance as you told Jungkook everything. “He took that same hammer Donghoon used on my mom and killed his own son. If you thought my dad was awful, Sangchul...he was a different kind of evil. He took a knife and slashed up their bodies to look like claw marks. Any untrained eye would believe the story he told about a hybrid breaking into the house. That night, he was able to convince me that hybrid’s were just things. That they deserved to be hunted just like any other animal.”

“If you knew,” Jungkook tried to process what he’d just heard, tried to understand why you never said anything and feeling a lump forming in the back of his throat, “why didn’t you tell the cops?”

“Sangchul was a master manipulator,” You explained, finally turning to him and bringing your legs onto the bed to rest your chin on your knees, “he always knew just what to say when he felt like I was slipping through his fingers. He was able to cloud my mind enough to hide what he was; a monster. It wasn’t until just after my 18th birthday that he told me what happened that night and what he’d done. He was really delusional enough to think that I would actually thank him. That I was enough like him to believe what he did was a favor. He was right to think I’m just as cruel because really, in a lot of ways I was. Am.”

Jungkook’s ears twitched when your voice dropped to a whisper, “I’ve only ever been taught to be one thing, Jungkook. And that’s never changed. The person I became is the person I will always be.”

His whole body stiffened, tail whipping back and forth and anger building in him. Anger at your father, your grandfather, and even you. Hunters tore his family apart and he thought it would be easy to forgive them, but your confession at being unable to change your habits made him sick. He moved away from you, hair covering his eyes and the way they glowed bright green.

“You have to understand something, Kook,” Your breath hitched at the distance he quickly created, watching his chest rise and fall in uneven breaths. “I kept hunting because Sangchul taught me that I could never trust anyone. Even after I learned the truth, that stayed with me. Those hybrids that I tracked down for people like Hyungsik, I never forgot them, not for one day. But I did what I thought I had to and I regret it all of the time. I know that trying to save them now won’t make up for what I’ve done.”

“Then why even bother trying?” He sneered, canines elongating and becoming visible at his irritation as he began to dress himself. “Most of them are dead already. You won’t be saving many from the prison you put them in. I understand that hunting them was a part of your past, but it doesn’t have to be now. You’re choosing to let it be because you’re scared that this might actually work and you don’t know how to handle being happy.”

Your gaze stayed on the bed sheets as Jungkook strode to the door and stormed out, choosing to stay put in the room and keep your distance. You understood why he was angry and took his harsh words without interruption because he was right. If everything worked and you were actually able to free the hybrids in Nam’s home, you’d no longer have a purpose. Hunting was your everything and without it, you didn’t know what to do with yourself, it’s why you agreed to hunt down Jungkook in the first place.

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

“Oh, you’re up.” Taehyung blinked at Jungkook stewing on the couch, tail bristled and ears flat against his head. He peered down the hall to your closed door as Seokjin came up behind him.

“Are you alright, Jungkook?” Seokjin questioned and shuffled to the panther carefully. “You seem agitated. What happened?”

“We got into an argument.” The younger boy explained simply and felt Taehyung’s defenses rise at the possibility of you being hurt again. “She’s okay. Physically, at least.”

“The fuck does that mean?” Taehyung took a step towards Jungkook but Seokjin put his hand up to stop him. 

“Not now, Taehyung,” He kept his voice level so as not to rile either boy up any further, “go check on Y/N and Jungkook and I will head back upstairs for a few days.”

Taehyung didn’t hesitate to turn on his heel and stalk down to your room, not even bothering to knock and instead let himself in.

“She said,” Jungkook began to tell Seokjin, “that she’ll always be a hunter. And that it won’t ever change.”

“Do you expect it to?” His senior asked seriously as he sat on the coffee table across from him, “Y/N has hunted for a very long time. Just as you’re a predator, in her own way, so is she. That nature isn’t easy to forget.”

“She’s not even going to try!” Jungkook huffed and ran his fingers through his long hair and hanging his head in defeat. 

“She’s willing to risk her life to free the hybrids in Hyungsik’s home, isn’t she?”

“But will it really be over?” He whispered more to himself than Seokjin, “Will she really just stop hunting because Hyungsik is in jail? If her nature can’t be forgotten...then was I wrong to trust her?”

“Jungkook,” Seokjin frowned and reached to pat the younger on his shoulder, “trusting Y/N will have been the best decision you made in the end. At least for me, it will be. Don’t forget that I too chose to work for Mr. Nam because I was desperate. You still trust me, don’t you?”

“I…” Jungkook struggled to find his answer; he did trust Seokjin, but his feelings for his senior weren’t exactly the same as his feelings for you. He even went so far as to claim you even after you expressly said he needed to be sure, and he was. Is. Isn’t he?

“Come on,” Seokjin rose to his feet and led him to the door, watching Jungkook’s ears twitch at your voice coming from the room and his lips curl into a growl. Opening the door, he made room for Jungkook to stompy by.

Jungkook’s fists curled into balls as they hung at his sides, Taehyung’s voice carrying down the hall explaining that the panther has chosen to stay in the apartment above and your response being ‘it’s what he wants’ causing a harsh pain in his chest. You really weren’t going to fight him on the need for space.

Seokjin pulled a note from his pocket to leave on the kitchen counter with the words ‘I called detective Kim and he said he’s free for most of the week’ scribbled on them before following Jungkook to the elevator that seemed to be taking forever. As he rode in awkward silence next to a pissed off hybrid, he could only hope Taehyung had better luck finding out what happened from you.

Once on the floor above, Jungkook swiftly stormed to one of the empty rooms and flopped down on the bed. Head buried in the pillows, he ignored Seokjin’s questioning knock and the concern in his senior’s voice. He could already feel the pull of his mark coming from Taehyung’s apartment, the desperate need to be at your side burning a hole in his chest. But he wouldn’t go, not yet, not until he had enough time to sort out his thoughts.

Hybrid hunters were notorious for being ignorant about the hybrid race, believing humans were superior in every way and showing it in the way they chose to treat hybrids. Even now after the laws were passed, people still looked down on him and his race, disgust written all over their face. Jungkook was sensible enough to acknowledge that not all humans hated hybrids, some viewing them not as pets but as friends, sometimes even more. Seokjin was one of those people. Hoseok and Taehyung were those people. You, on the other hand, were in between; not hating hybrids but not seeing them as more than animals either, despite your many claims of regret.

Jungkook hissed as his chest burned; you were in pain, upset and possibly crying. There was nothing that he wanted more than to comfort you, hold you in his arms and soothe the pain inside. Tears sprung to his eyes as he resisted the urge to do so, claws sinking into the mattress beneath him as he gasped out his own agony.

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

“How is she?” Yoongi questioned from his side of the phone, the chattering of his bar patrons nearly drowning out Taehyung’s response.

“She says she’s okay,” Taehyung sighed and picked up the paper Seokjin had left, “But I’m pretty sure she kicked me out of the room so she could just cry to herself. You know better than I do that she’s not really going to tell me what the hell happened.”

On his end, Yoongi scrubbed his hand down his face, pushing Hoseok away when his friend all but squished his own cheek to Yoongi’s in hopes of hearing the conversation. 

“And Jungkook?” Hoseok blurted out and Yoongi winced at the volume of his question.

“He went back to the apartment upstairs. Seokjin hyung promised to stay with him until this blows over, if it blows over at all.” Taehyung stalked around the kitchen, opening his cabinets to pull out two glasses and set them on the table. He pulled a pitcher of water from the fridge as he heard the door to your room open and close. Trying to hide the frown on his face, Taehyung noted the red that brimmed your eyes, “The detective he talked to said he was going to be free this week so we’ll meet up with him.”

“We won’t be doing anything,” You slumped in the chair at the kitchen table and fiddled with the glass, “I’m going to see if he’s actually trustworthy. You’re going to stay here and out of my way.”

“Why?” Taehyung demanded and set his phone on the table after placing the call on speaker, not expecting Yoongi to chime in and agree with him that you needed backup. 

“Because I said so.”

“We’re not teenagers anymore, I’m not as afraid of you as I used to be.”

You rose a brow over the glass brought to your lips, “Tae, if this goes south, I don’t want you or anyone else near it. That’s the deal.”

“No way.” Taehyung shook his head and crossed his arms sternly, “I’m not letting you meet with him alone. It’s dangerous.”

“Yeah, I think out of the two of us,” You waved a hand between you and your best friend, “I’m better at handling dangerous situations. Look, Tae, I’m tired of arguing with everyone, just do what I say and stay here.”

The table shook with the amount of force you put into slamming your hand on the table as you stood up, grumbling under your breath the entire way back to your room.

Taehyung jumped at the sound of Yoongi screaming ‘yah!’ from his side of the phone, trying to get your attention but failing. He sighed heavily and propped his elbows on the table, folding his hands in front of him. “This whole thing with Jungkook is concerning.”

“I’ve been saying that since the beginning.”

“Anymore fighting with him is just going to cause Y/N to distance herself from us more.” Taehyung ignored Yoongi, thinking out loud and wanting to bang his head against the table. He really thought he’d seen a change in you after meeting the panther but now he’s not sure what he should do. Removing Jungkook from the situation wouldn’t help, not with his mark very clearly embedded in your clavicle. Any further distance would only make it harder now that Jungkook had claimed you.

He tugged at his hair, the strands sticking out in every direction before he dropped his forehead to the wood of his kitchen table, groaning in frustration.

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

“The hell do you mean there was no evidence left behind?” Kim Namjoon scolded the forensics team. “You’re telling me this whole scene was wiped clean of everything?”

He stood in the middle of an abandoned house, a lioness hybrid’s dead body separating him from the team. He pinched the bridge of his nose and took another look around what used to be a family room but was now covered in dust and mold. “Find me something.”

“What’s the big deal?” One of the crew scoffed, “it’s just an animal, detective, it’s not like it was anything important.”

“Watch yourself.” Namjoon growled, advancing on the much shorter man and towering over him, “Just because they’ve got animal DNA doesn’t mean they’re to be written off, understood? She may not have been important to you, but somebody out there is missing her, so if you’re done being a fucking prick, get back to work.”

The man shied away from Namjoon’s glare to comb the room once more despite having found absolutely nothing the first time around. Namjoon glanced down at his watch and cursed; they’d already been there too long for his liking, especially given that the whole place had been wiped clean to keep anyone from finding out what happened. He also had another case he was working on, one no one else knew about so he couldn’t exactly just leave the scene without a proper investigation.

“Yo,” His partner and long time friend Jackson clapped his shoulder, “look man, why don’t you head back to the precinct before one of these guys loses his teeth? I’ll handle things here.”

Namjoon smiled at Jackson’s joke and shook his head, “You sure? They don’t seem to be trying very hard and I just want to make sure---.”

“I’ll make sure everything gets done, bro.” Jackson assured him, “I promise we’ll go over this place all day if we have to. Just get out of here before Jay pisses his pants, okay? Dude’s scared of you, so give him a little peace and quiet and he might actually find something.”

“Fine,” Namjoon conceded and let Jackson steer him towards his car where he hopped in and watched his friend march back to the house and basically cling to Jay in order to make sure they were being thorough. He let out a small chuckle at his friend’s silliness and pulled away from the street they’d blocked off. 

It was the first body he’d seen in weeks and couldn’t help but wonder if this was a stashed hybrid that the owner could no longer risk being found. She had no form of identification on her and she didn’t come up in missing persons, so he could only assume that she wasn’t a registered citizen, which meant she was being kept away from the public. There was bruising around her ribcage and signs of sexual abuse and he shuddered at the thought of what this poor girl went through.

The drive back to the precinct was quiet except for the occasional chime of the dispatcher coming in through his scanner. Namjoon rubbed at his tired eyes, squeezing them shut as he sat at a red light and felt the obvious signs of a migraine beginning to form at his temples. He needed sleep but the file he’d been gifted from his father lingered in his mind, opting instead to spend his nights under the dim glow of his bedside lamp reading over the death of Y/L/N Iseul. A 40 year old woman whose body was found along with her husband’s in their home, allegedly attacked by a hybrid but Namjoon’s father never believed it. 

The case haunted his father and Namjoon remembered the many nights his parents would argue over the obsession his father carried over it. When he was a child, Namjoon didn’t understand the big deal about the case when it had already been closed. As a teenager, he remembered berating his father for being forced to retire much too soon because he couldn’t let it go. Now as a detective himself, the case was indeed strange to Namjoon, especially after it was coupled with another file on the woman’s husband accusing him of long term domestic abuse. The file had never been seen by anyone other than himself and his father and Namjoon found himself thinking about it non-stop.

The loud honk coming from the car behind him startled Namjoon as he jumped in his seat, pressing down on the gas pedal rather harshly after finally spotting the green light.

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

You watched as Namjoon sighed heavily and stalked through the precinct to his office, the distraction of one of the officers needing his signature giving you the opportunity to slip inside. 

Closing the door, he felt a slight change in the atmosphere that alerted him to your presence. Namjoon quickly drew his gun, twisting around to aim it smack dab in the middle of your forehead. His mouth parted in surprise at the stoic look on your face, his forefinger curling around the trigger as your hand came up to gently push the barrel of his gun away from you. 

“Not very friendly of you, is it, detective Kim?” You smirked as you leaned back against his desk, crossing both arms and legs.

“Not very friendly of you to sneak up on me, is it?” He was cautious, keeping his gun tight in his grip but aiming it at the ground rather than you. “How did you get in here?”

“The door,” You nodded towards the aged wooden door as if the answer was that simple when in reality his question was how the hell you ended up in his office. “Just walked right by desk after desk. Not a very observant precinct you guys got here.”

Namjoon set his jaw, bringing his gun up to you once more, clearly tired of your games and quite rattled by your calm exterior. Anyone able to slip past dozens of armed officers and trained detectives was not to be taken lightly. He watched your tongue poke out against your lips in an attempt to hide your smile; you were amused by something and it chilled him to the bone.

“Relax,” You chuckled lowly, uncrossing your arms to prop them back on his desk, “I don’t think your Captain would be too happy if you shot an unarmed civilian in your office, would he?”

“If you’re who I think you are,” He pulled his finger from the trigger, switching on the safety to his gun and pushing it back in his holster, “then you’re not unarmed.”

“You’re more than welcome to draw your gun again and find out,” Pushing yourself from his desk, you turned and plopped into the chair, listening and using the reflection from the silver picture frames on his desk to watch as he rounded it and sat opposite of you.

Namjoon ran his hands through his already messy hair, smoothing it back before opening the file that had been sitting there long before you arrived. “I didn’t think you’d come to me. From what Jin hyung told me, I didn’t think you’d ever set foot in a police precinct.”

“What Seokjin told you,” Your hardened voice caught him off guard, any hint of playfulness long gone, “Or what you hoped? You know how dangerous I am and it won’t be easy to pass off as simply defending yourself if anything goes wrong. After all, who’s going to believe someone like me could overpower you?”

His hands froze in the middle of turning over a page in the case he was looking over, his eyes locking with yours and he wondered just how long you’d been lying in wait for him to come back. He was surprised to find how cold your stare was compared to a minute ago, the stiffness in your posture suggesting you were done being friendly. “Did you look at this before I got here?”

“No.” You chuckled at his shoulders slumping in ease. “You’re not very prepared, Kim, that’s not a good look for you. Maybe you weren’t expecting me so soon, but you were expecting to run in to me at some point this week.” Resting your elbow on the arm rest of the chair, you propped your chin in the palm of your hand, pursing your lips. 

Namjoon let out a frustrated huff of breath, “The file I have here has a missing persons report from when you were 15, but there’s another that says your grandfather took guardianship of you after your parents’ death.”

“My grandfather had powerful friends everywhere,” You offered this bit of information to clear up his confusion, “He didn’t want us to be found so he called in some favors.”

“Until his body was found three years later in the forest of your hometown, allegedly mauled by a wild animal.” He had dug deeper than he first let on, his tone implying there was more to the story. 

“Why do you care?” You countered, lips curling into a devious smile once more, “My grandfather had quite the reputation, he was no stranger to criminal activity and if you’ve looked into me, then I’ve no doubt you’ve already gone through his records. You’ve already made up your mind about me, detective Kim, because you believe I’m just like him. And judging by the way you’re yet to look down at the paper in your hands, you’ve committed my file to memory, which means you’ve combed over it for hours. Am I wrong?”

Namjoon was at a loss for words, not expecting you to have been as hyper aware of him as he was of you. He swallowed audibly, truly shaken by your quick assessment, and dropped his gaze to the paper in his hands because he had studied it from the second he obtained it to now. He poured over your grandfather’s activities because his father had left the file to him, comparing them to Donghoon’s file until the night of his death. Not long after Sangchul’s death, his father began building a file on you, but there was no record of your existence after the age of 15 so not much was there. Both he and his father had gone restless nights staring at the investigation report of Sangchul’s death and the autopsy report that was suspicious but not enough to truly be bothered with since his supposed only next of kin was also dead.

“You’re right, you know?” You broke his train of thought, watching as he nearly jumped out of his skin after forgetting you were even there, his head whipping up to observe your face and brows furrowed. “I’m very much like Sangchul, and you’re right to assume how dangerous I am. My grandfather’s death was a godsend, detective. He was an evil and vicious man, and you should really be grateful that he doesn’t still walk this Earth.”

“You killed him,” He breathed out, hands trembling as he debated whether he should draw his weapon again or hear out the rest of what you had to say. 

“His son killed my mother so I simply returned the favor,” Rising slowly from your seat, you stuffed your hands into the pockets of the oversized jacket you borrowed from Taehyung. “You can arrest me if you’d like, though I don’t think you’d get very far without concrete proof. The cameras in your office have been disconnected so my confession wasn’t caught.”

“What?” Namjoon glanced around to check the security cameras hidden in the corners of the room to find they had in fact been tampered with. His eyes fell back on you, jaw clenching at having been bested in his own damn office. It suddenly dawned on him that he couldn’t feel the weight of his phone in his back pocket anymore, panic rising as you produced said phone from your jacket, dropping it to the ground and taking care to stomp on it violently. “Fuck.”

“Seokjin said he trusted you,” You kicked the phone across the floor, listening to it glide across the tile underneath his desk until he stopped it with his own foot, “and I’d like to think I can trust you too since we have a common enemy.”

He rose his brow, hands fisting on his desk and shaking with rage, but he stayed silent to allow you to go on. He was tempted to arrest you for destroying his property but he was actually impressed with how you managed to swipe the phone from his person without notice. He always had a sinking suspicion Sangchul had been murdered, not attacked. Sangchul’s case went cold and though it had truly looked as if he’d been attacked by an animal, Namjoon never bought it. Given your particular set of skills, it was quite clear what had really happened. Namjoon wasn’t all that surprised to hear you say your father killed your mother since the file his dad kept hidden documented what kind of person Donghoon really was.

“Nam Hyungsik,” You dropped the piece of paper Seokjin had given you on Namjoon’s desk, “has at least a dozen hybrids still in his home and I’d like to help you get them out.”

“What’s in it for you?”

“I want a specific hybrid to be protected until this is over,” You didn’t hesitate to mention Jungkook, your hand unconsciously coming up to rest on the twin holes in the juncture of your neck. His mark almost burning under your touch, the need to be close to Jungkook becoming desperate. “Dr. Kim and the people you’re about to meet...I don’t want them to be a part of this.”

“What does this hybrid have to do with Hyungsik?” Namjoon skimmed through the list of names on the paper you provided.

“Hyungsik’s daughter hired a few hunters to find him for a pretty hefty reward and I’ve been keeping him safe.”

“Where?”

“Out of sight.” 

“Right,” Namjoon sighed and figured he shouldn’t have even bothered to ask given the lengths you were willing to go through to keep this particular hybrid safe. “Are you one of the hunters that was hired?”

You scratched the back of your neck, palm resting against it afterward to massage the tension building there. “Will you help or not? You weren’t exactly my first choice when it came to handling this situation but Seokjin insisted.”

“Taking down someone like Hyungsik won’t be easy, it’ll take time.” He scrubbed his hand down his face, wincing at the bold lettering of deceased next to most of the names on the list. 

You nodded in understanding, taking his answer as proof that he’s willing to help. “Hyungsik is under the impression that I’m still looking for this hybrid so we have a window of maybe a week or two until he wants to meet up again if I haven’t delivered before then.”

“Good,” Namjoon nodded and pulled out one of his desk drawers to tuck the papers in it and slamming it shut. He watched your shoulders tense at his not so secret hiding place, “I’m not keeping these here, only while I’m in the office and then they go everywhere with me.”

Turning on your heel, you made for the door, hand on the knob and ready to turn but his voice stopped you, the low timbre making you hesitate as he asked-

“Why didn’t you tell anybody?” He wondered, “If you knew your father killed your mother, why didn’t you say anything?”

“Nobody would have believed me,” You didn’t face him, the memories of that day flooding back and you refused to show him how affected you still were. The image of 15 year old you, desperate and pleading flashed before you, your grandfather’s stone face as you became hysterical burned in your mind, “My father was a pinnacle of society, loving and doting out in public but behind closed doors…”

Namjoon’s features softened as he pitied you for having a rough childhood, something he didn’t quite understand because he’d come from a loving home with supportive parents. He knew that not everyone was as lucky, but he didn’t know how hard it could be for someone else either. 

“There was never any record of abuse against my father,” You weren’t sure why you continued, but chalked it up to needing to tell someone the truth after hiding it for so many years, “An accomplished man like him? No one would take my mother’s side if she tried to accuse Donghoon of abuse. He was a drunk, Detective Kim, and one night he simply snapped and couldn’t stand the sight of her, so he killed her. And like a coward, he chose to call his father for help only to have his own life taken by the very man who raised him.”

You still faced the door, body practically vibrating with rage at the memories, grip on the door handle so tight that your hand shook, “My grandfather manipulated every cop on the scene that night and convinced them that a hybrid attacked my parents. His hatred for their race was no secret, so he did everything he could to make sure I hated them too. It wasn’t until Sangchul thought I’d been brainwashed enough that he told me the truth about what happened that night.”

Namjoon caught your eye as you looked over your shoulder, door knob rattling in your grip, “An eye for an eye, Kim. Maybe not for people like you but for monsters like me, that’s how a score is settled.”

His mouth went dry and his stare bore into your back as you pulled open his office door and walked out like you hadn’t just resembled a cold hearted murderer. His fellow detectives and officers all glanced back into his now open office and he waved his hand dismissively to signal that he was okay.

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

“You sure you don’t want anything a little heavier?” Hoseok offered as he set down a glass of water in front of you; he and Yoongi had inventory to go over before opening for the night so they’d spent their day at the bar.

“Didn’t you hear?” You snorted as you lifted the glass to your lips and took a long gulp, “Tae put me on an alcohol ban after a messy assignment a few years ago.”

“He’s just looking out for you.” Yoongi grunted over a couple of cases of liquor he carried in from the back. “You know, since you didn’t allow us to do it.”

You rolled your eyes playfully as Hoseok snickered and made his way to the back room to carry in more boxes. “That wasn’t my choice.”

“You still could have found me after your grandfather died.” Yoongi braced his hands against the bar top, his eyes flicking down to the mark on your shoulder. “How are things with the panther?”

“It is what it is,” You tried to play off your argument with Jungkook but he knew enough about you to call bullshit. He also knew it wasn’t a good idea to push any further because you’d only shut him out if he did.

Yoongi watched your elbow come up to rest on the bar, your chin propped on the palm of your hand. He reached out to tuck a stray piece of hair behind your ear, “You’re so stubborn, little one. The kid’s hurt that you said you won’t give up hunting. Why aren’t you giving it up?”

“Hunting’s all I know,” You swallowed the lump in your throat, leaning into his touch as the back of his hand skimmed down your cheek. “After this is over, what purpose would I have, Yoongs? It’s not like I can just get a normal job.”

“Why don’t you become a bounty hunter?” He suggested, smiling softly at the way your eyes closed in content at his touch. “You’d definitely be the most successful with your tracking skills.”

“I’d have to out myself as a hybrid hunter,” Moving away from his hand, you took another drink from the glass in front of you, “not many people respect us these days, you know?”

“Your knowledge on hybrids is what will make you the best.” Yoongi picked up the bar rag Hoseok had left to wipe down the counter, “As much as those people don’t want to believe it, hybrids are capable of committing crimes. Some of them have chosen to live up to the stereotype that they’re just wild animals.”

Your head lolled from side to side, the tension from earlier becoming too much to hide anymore. A lot of it was because of the separation from Jungkook, but he was yet to speak to you and you weren’t one to give in either. It wasn’t in your nature to surrender and the throbbing pain of his mark should have been enough to send you running towards him but you wouldn’t allow it to control you.

A low whistle coming from the doorway caught your attention, the deep chuckle was familiar as your back straightened and glanced to Yoongi. His jaw was clenched and grip tight on the rag in his hand.

“We’re closed.” He growled as you pulled on Taehyung’s jacket and zipped it up to keep your new company from seeing Jungkook’s mark. “Get out.”

“I’ve been looking for you, Y/N,” Suho’s voice was smooth, relaxed in the way he greeted you. He was always good at keeping his composure and you found it admirable whenever you met on the street. Truthfully, he was the only hunter who was able to stand tall before you without being intimidated as much lately.

As you peered up from the glass in front of you to the mirror behind the shelves filled with liquor, you counted two more people flanking either side of Suho. Tipping the glass to your lips, you gulped down whatever water was left and twisted all the way around on the stool you occupied.

“I haven’t been hiding,” You matched his sinister smile with one of your own, “Your tracking skills were always shit. No wonder you can’t find the panther.”

“You haven’t found it either,” Suho hissed and balled his hands into fists, taking a step closer as his men did the same. “The bounty’s still out for it and believe me when I say I’m going to collect that money.”

“Yeah?” You tilted your head playfully, both mocking and riling him up at the same time. “Good luck with that.”

“I said we’re closed,” Yoongi interrupted before things got out of hand, “Leave, Suho. Xiumin and Kai not tell you about my warning the other night?”

Suho nodded while kissing the back of his teeth in a small ‘tsk’, “With their busted lips and swollen faces it was a little hard to understand so it might have gotten lost in translation.”

“Wanna hear it for yourself?” You stood from the bar stool before Yoongi could grip your shoulder to keep you in place. Tensing as his two goons stepped in front of him, you smirked; of course he wouldn’t go head to head with you. Suho never physically fought with you if it could be avoided, his hand to hand combat skills were nothing compared to yours.

“Damn it,” Yoongi muttered under his breath, listening for Hoseok stumble around in the back and praying he didn’t come out any time soon. He turned to make his way to the back room, trusting that you can handle the situation since getting involved and helping you out wouldn’t be welcomed. “Y/N, don’t make a mess.”

The tall man to Suho’s left you recognized as Chanyeol came at you first, rushing forward and throwing his fist out. You stepped back, gripping his forearm in the process and turning to smash his head into the bar top. He groaned, knees wobbling as he fell to the ground with his hand pressed to his now broken nose.

Suho pushed Kyungsoo forward, cursing Chanyeol’s failed attempt at landing a solid hit. Kyungsoo swung violently, his hands heavier than they look, narrowly missing your face as he threw punch after punch. His footwork was quick and he was able to keep up with you much better than Chanyeol could. Unfortunately for him, his footing became misplaced and you were able to catch him off guard by ducking to swipe at his feet. Kyungsoo grunted as he fell to the ground and quickly tried to scramble up but you were already atop him, knee pressed down on his shoulder with one hand fisting the front of his shirt. 

Raising your fist high, you brought your knuckles across Kyungsoo’s face in five solid hits, blood smeared across your hand and all around his mouth and nose. You looked up to his boss, jumping back before Suho could get his hands on you and kicking your foot out to hit him square in the gut and send him stumbling to his knees. You made a mental note to thank Taehyung for insisting you wear your steel toe boots instead of regular sneakers. Chest heaving unevenly, you stepped around Suho and slid one hand up the back of his head while the other cupped his chin.

Suho began to panic after falling to his knees and feeling you take your position, clawing at your arms but your grip was strong. He looked to his members frantically, a silent plea passing between them but they were injured too badly to even move. He felt your breath at his ear and winced when you jerked on his chin slightly.

“You were no match for me when you first got in the game, Suho,” You seethed and looked two his men sprawled on the floor before him, writhing in pain, “and you’re no match for me now. Stay the hell out of my way.” Releasing him, you stepped back to plant your feet and give yourself enough momentum to thrust your knee forward, sending Suho to his hands. 

“Bitch,” He spat as if he hadn’t been struggling against you a moment ago. “You think you’re so fucking great, Y/N, but the truth is that you’re worn out. A hunter with your magnitude of skill quitting after the laws were announced? You’re a coward that couldn’t take the heat.”

Rage shot through you like never before as you kneeled in front of him, gripping his chin tight in your hand and bringing his face close, “You used to be so scared of me, Suho.” A wicked grin took over your face before you could stop it, feeling his body stiffen as your free hand trailed underneath his shirt and up to his rib cage. His skin burned underneath your touch, muscles tensing as your finger traced a rather nasty scar along his midriff. The amount of fear you incited in him now that he was on all fours and at your mercy was unmatched when he met with other hunters.

Tears gathered in his eyes, his body shook in your hold, and a single tear slid down his face as you leaned in to whisper against his lips, “Don’t forget who gave you this scar. I was much too nice that day and today. Take your men and leave before I reopen this old wound and gift you a few fresh ones.”

You rose to your feet with your fingers still wrapped around Suho’s chin and heard the sound of the back door swinging open as Yoongi and Hoseok stepped out to see what happened. You caught his eyes flicker to the two men behind you and sunk your nails into his skin, hissing as he grunted, “Don’t make me regret letting you live.”

Suho gasped when you threw his head to the side, hearing Chanyeol scramble to his feet and attempt to wake Kyungsoo. He kept his gaze on the floor and waited for the taller man to gather his friend, turning on his heel to storm out of Yoongi’s bar with trembling hands. Outside, his hand drifted up to his torso where he felt for the scar over his t-shirt; he remembered that night quite well.

“I’m sorry. You’re asking me to what?” You snorted at Choi, hearing the rustling of Taehyung on your right and knowing he was equally amused.

Choi Sungil sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose; he had somehow made the mistake of hiring on both you and Suho for a job and suggested you partnered up instead of rampaging through the city in competition with each other. “Just work together. I can’t afford to pay you both separately.”

You tsked and shook your head, eyeing Suho standing to your left, “He’s a rookie, Choi. You really think he’ll do me any good? He’ll only slow us down.”

“Suho’s reputation is established well enough now. Besides,” Sungil gave Taehyung a once over and sneered, “I heard you were taking strays now.”

“Watch yourself.” You warned through grit teeth and took a step in front of Taehyung as if to shield him from the man’s view before turning to Suho. “I’ll take the newbie but his blood is on your hands if he doesn’t come back alive.”

Sungil nodded in understanding and waved his hand dismissively; he really couldn’t be bothered with what did or didn’t happen to Suho so long as you delivered on your end of the deal. “I want that lion, Y/N, don’t disappoint me.”

Taehyung took your cue to leave but heard your footsteps slow the closer you got to Suho and he turned to see you whisper something into his ear. Most likely a warning for him not to screw up or it was his head.

That night Suho was in charge of staking out the home, making sure the perimeter was clear and there would be no interruptions. You and Taehyung managed to slip inside to secure the lion hybrid for Choi and were close to getting away cleanly but Suho had managed to miss one little detail; the fucking idiot didn’t warn you that the hybrid’s family returned early.

You and Taehyung had been caught and had to fight your way through the hybrids but Taehyung had been injured in the process. Because Taehyung had gotten hurt, you spent the remainder of the night alternating between taking care of him and beating the shit out of Suho for screwing up. 

He remembered trying to fight back, remembered the sting of your blade as it pierced his skin, all the while promising that he wasn’t the only going to be paying for what happened to Taehyung.

“Boss?” Came Chanyeol’s nasally question, snapping Suho from his memories and causing the older man to scramble for their car. 

“Let’s get the fuck out of here and regroup,” Suho snapped at him and peeled away from the curb.