#girl has been here for one chapter and she has already committed arson | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

teasty · 4 years ago

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kiss yourself (02) |h.js (m)

● pairing: han jisung x (female) reader

● genre: angst, smut, (kinda) fluff || fwb to lovers au

● words: 7.0k

→ summary: It all started when you and your best friend for life, Han Jisung, got a little bit too tipsy at a party and ended up waking up naked in the same bed. After that unfortunate night, you and Jisung confirmed there be a distinguished “friends with benefits” relationship between the two of you, with a few rules.

Number One: No one else is supposed to know about this relationship.

Number Two: The minute one of the two of you starts a serious relationship with someone, the benefits are cut off immediately.

Number Three: Have to respect the other’s wishes, if one doesn’t want to do it, then there’s no argument.

Number Four: No falling in love.

But, when Jisung starts crushing over your classmate, you start to break the rules. One by one.

● taglist: @itzgabz22

Chapter One | CHAPTER TWO | Chapter Three

“Oh, baby, I’m going to fuck you so good…”

You debated arson the next morning.

You woke up to the sound of screaming over the phone before the sun even came up, and realized that Jeongja was screaming her head off at some poor sap that probably didn’t deserve it. Well, who knows, you’re just mad that she didn’t even bother to leave the dorm room and go scream out in the hallway to give you your peace and another two hours of sleep. She didn’t even bother to apologize to you, only giving you a wave before she gathered some things and dashed out the door.

So, of course, you weren’t really the most happy - go - lucky person today. You decided to be lazy today and just wore an oversized gray tee shirt underneath a black jacket and a pair of denim blue ripped jeans. You didn’t even bother to do your hair, deciding to just let it flow around your shoulders and do it’s thing.

You didn’t see Jeongja again that day. You expected to see her somewhere on campus since you wanted to speak, no, yell at her why she should never, ever scream at three fifty in the morning and not even bother to apologize about it and then go running off. You debated calling her, but you didn’t want to deal with it, especially when you have better things to worry about.

It wasn’t really supposed to be a busy day, but it turned out to be just that. You’re a member of a specific team mostly meant for the organization and well being of the school. It could be considered something like a student council, but you’re not really in charge of the students, just more planning for future events and other things as well as budgeting. You’re only on this team because you were specifically chosen by a group of professors choosing students by their major. So, you, a political science major, got specially chosen for the job. Whether or not you wanted to be a part of the team, you were persuaded into it by professors, saying it’ll be beneficial for future decisions in your career as a politician.

There were only another seven students on the team. One of which, thankfully, is someone you know and trust, Christopher Bang. You both became good friends after you met him that one night months ago. Especially being on this team together made you both closer, and he was a lot friendlier than you had first imagined.

There’s another girl you know on the team, but you couldn’t call her your friend. Sure, you two talked often and never had any reason to dislike each other, but something about her just wasn't right with you. Her name is Jun Chunae. A beautiful young woman in your year, as well as your same major. She’s quite refined and civilized, if anything a little bit too proper for your liking. Whenever you tried to talk about parties, drinking or even just going out with friends for fun, she always liked to lecture you on how it’s disrespectful to the education system to ignore it’s attempt to educate us by going out and partying at night.

Other than that, she’s alright.

But, another thing about Chunae that never really sparked you right was how she acted when she was with Jisung. You had only learned recently that they’re quite touchy - feely with each other. You didn’t think they were friends, but it was obvious that Chunae had the hots for Jisung. But, with Jisung, you couldn’t really tell if he was attracted to her or not. He kind of treated her the way he treats every other girl, including you. And, that fact kind of made you upset. You know that you’re only his friend, but you have benefits that no other girl, to your knowledge, has. No, you don’t want to be treated like his girlfriend, but you didn’t just want to be treated like the only girl in the world one night only to watch him kissing up to someone else the next.

Were you jealous? Yeah, you were. You weren’t too fond of a girl you don’t exactly trust being too intimate with Jisung, your best friend. But, you’d never, ever, admit that to Jisung.

He’d cut things off the minute he hears that you’re jealous. He’d think you’re falling for him, and then try everything in his power to make sure nothing happens between the two of you. And that you’ll only stay his friend, with or without those stupid benefits.

But, back to the point at hand, you were pulled early out of your last class to attend a meeting for the team. You had met up with Christopher on your way to the conference room, since he had a class nearby your own.

“What could they want this time? And, here I thought we finally got out of these dumb meetings,” you whined, and Christopher laughed, nodding along as he agrees.

“I’m not sure,” Christopher sighs, shoving his hands into his pockets, “I think Chunae would be sure to know,” Christopher rolls his eyes. Chunae was always the smart one of the group. She usually knew things before the rest of the team would know, which, in your eyes, was completely unfair. “Nothing against the girl, I just don’t like how she gets all these benefits just ‘cause she kisses the professor’s asses.”

“Right. I get what you mean,” you nod slowly, “But, it must be important if they pulled us out early without notifying us beforehand. It must be for some kind of event going on. No clue, though. We haven’t had a festival yet, so they might start one since winter’s coming soon.”

“Maybe a festival for the first snow?” Christopher suggests.

You shrug a shoulder, “Who knows. I don’t bother checking the weather, so snow could be falling any day, really. But you would think they would at least shoot us an email, right?”

“Who am I kidding, they don’t really care too much to ask if we’re free for a meeting. I was planning on going out with some friends tonight, but if this meeting is just like any other, then I might have to cancel.” Christopher looks down, obviously upset about the situation.

“Hey, don’t be so down about it. We might end early. And, if they do try to keep us in late, then just say you had plans and leave. It’s not like they’re going to kick out or anything. Besides, we’re already only eight people, we need more members, anyways.” You reassure, giving Christopher a friendly pat on the shoulder. You let your hands rest in your pocket, “Were you going to go with Jisung?’

“No, he said he had things to do,” Christopher shakes his head, not minding how you asked about Jisung, since you usually did to keep tabs on him, “No clue what, since that boy complains twenty - four seven about how boring it is in his dorm and how his roomie is usually doing his own thing. So it was just going to be Hyunjin, Changbin, Felix, Minho, Seungmin and I. We were gonna go to a bar. I’d invite you, but I don’t know how comfortable you would be around a bunch of guys without Jisung.”

“Yeah… Thanks for the consideration, though. I haven’t gone out drinking in a while. It might’ve been fun, but I think I would have had things to do tonight, anyways,” You give him a half - hearted smile, and Christopher bothers you a glance before his eyes shoot forward again. “Oh, hey, we’re here already.” You laugh to yourself as you stand in front of a wooden door with the word ‘CONFERENCE’ on it. Christopher opens the door for you, and you walk in. It’s dimly lit, and you weren’t surprised to see Chunae sitting at the head of the table, scrolling through her laptop as a professor sat next to her, mumbling about who knows what.

Her eyes shoot up the moment she hears the door open, and she shoots both you and Christopher a well practiced business smile before she takes her hands off her laptop and bows her head in welcome. Both you and Christopher bow back in respect, especially since a professor is present, and you both take a seat next to each other. “Hello (Y/N), Christopher. Good to see you guys made it. You have our apologies for pulling you out of class at random, but it’s quite important. Let's wait for the others before we start.”

“How important is it?” You ask, leaning back in the comfortable chair, raising a suspicious brow at Chunae, who closes her laptop.

“We’re holding an event, (Y/N),” Chunae says matter - of - factly, as if you should have known this by now, “It’s for the start of winter for the first snow. We’re going to do things a bit differently, a bit more western. It’s going to be… something like a dance. Except, we will have a performer and activities present, but for the majority of it, it’s a dance for the start of winter.”

“Called it,” Christopher raises a hand, and Chunae raises a thin, neatly trimmed brow at Christopher.

“Barely. It’s not like it’s a festival,” you hold back laughter as Christopher shrugs, still proud of his semi - correct assumption.

“Well, it can either be considered a festival or dance. Doesn’t really matter,” Chunae says, and Christopher snorts, and you glare at him. You fold your arms over your chest, making Chunae smile at your stubbornness, “Oh, come on, (Y/N). This will be fun. First, we must figure out budgeting and organization, as well as fitting everything into the school’s schedule. Other than that, it should mostly be advertising and preparation.”

After Chunae’s short description of what’s going to happen, the other team members glide in one by one. They all wave or bow to you, Christopher, the professor and to Chunae. All taking their respective seats and waiting for Chunae to begin the meeting. The professor left shortly after, not without bidding us good luck.

“Oh, and Chunae?” Christopher pipes up, and Chunae raises her brows at Christopher, giving him her attention, “How long are you going to keep up here. I originally had plans to go out with friends, so I don’t want to stay here until eleven like last time, if you can help it.”

“This is a very vital meeting, Christopher,” Chunae says, and Christopher rolls his eyes, looking away, “I don’t care if you want to go out with friends or not, this meeting might be long and that’s alright. You may choose to leave when you feel like it, but you might be absent for important information. It’s your choice.”

“Then why can’t you just e - mail me the information I missed?” Christopher shrugs a shoulder, and you nod in agreement.

“Because it’s better to discuss in person, is it not?” Chunae stands up, picking up her laptop, “We will debate on different things, as well as discuss things. It’s difficult to discuss in real time over e - mail.”

“Then call me. I’ve got things planned, Chunae, you can’t just pull us out of nowhere and expect us to keep our mouths shut when you don’t even warn us beforehand that there’s going to be a meeting. Sorry, Chunae, but you’re not in charge,” Christopher sighs, obviously irritated. Chunae waits with a stoic expression.

“I’m sorry, Christopher. I really am. I know I’m not in charge, but the professors have trusted me with the information I’m about to share. If you take this role responsibly, you’ll stay without argument. If you don’t, then leave. You won’t be kicked from your spot, but, as said before, you will miss a lot of vital information. It’s your choice in the end,” Chunae responds, and Christopher sighs, deciding not to argue further.

And after that little dispute, Chunae started the meeting by explaining what’s going on. And, as said before, the school is hosting a dance, which is not something ordinary for Korean colleges, since festivals usually took place in spring and usually was just with an invited idol to perform for a few hours. Chunae explained that this dance is mainly supposed to mark the end of fall and a new quarter, as well as the first seeing of snow. It was obvious, even though she never directly said it, that it’s mostly meant for couples and friends.

Each team member was given a specific task to do. Before Christopher left to go out with friends, he was given the task of budgeting. You were in charge of consulting, which was mostly just getting people to fund as well as finding performers, DJs, hosts and other people. It’s a lot of social work you weren’t too excited for, but you knew you had to take responsibility and do the job whether or not you wanted to do it.

Though it was quite boring, you had gotten a text midway through it. Chunae gave you a subtle glare, but didn’t care for how you responded to the text and carried on with the meeting.

It was Jisung.

heard you were pulled into a meeting. how long will u be there?

You responded quickly, keeping your phone under the table as you typed, your hands somewhat trembling, and you had to calm yourself as you typed.

wont be leaving for another hour or two. its pretty big. ill let you know when im leaving

He responded to you, but you didn’t bother to look at it as you shoved your phone back in your pocket.

“And who was that?” Chunae asks after a moment, staring down at you.

“Why do you wanna know?” Your brows furrow, and Chunae sighs.

“Because I’m talking about something important and you’re texting.”

“It’s my friend. Calm down, he’s just wondering when I’m getting off,” you raise your hands in a mocking surrender, and Chunae’s chin lifts higher.

“Hmm. Is it Jisung? Han Jisung? He’s your friend, is he not?” Chunae asks, and you begin to feel annoyance pile through you.

“Yeah, he is. What about it?” You ask, and Chunae shrugs her shoulders.

“I was just wondering,” Chunae sits back down in her seat, the others watching the conversation between the two of you with curious eyes. Chunae stuffs a lock of hair behind her ear, “He’s quite the looker. I hope I have your blessing if anything were to happen between us.”

“I don’t care what happens between the two of you guys,” you spit out, lying straight through your teeth. You do care. You care a lot. A part of you would be happy for Jisung, but another part doesn’t want him to leave you hanging for a girl like Chunae. You know she would treat him well and that Jisung might be better off with a girl like Chunae, but that jealous part of you doesn’t want to let him go. You love the sneaking around, the overnight sessions and even the semi - public ones. You’re not really ready to let that go, yet. It’s only been a few months. You didn’t expect for someone to be kissing up to Jisung this soon, but you should have expected it. “He’s my best friend. As long as you treat him well, then I might not consider punching your teeth in if you do end up with him.”

Chunae laughs, and you tensely chuckle through your nose along with her, “Well, I’m sure Jisung is happy to have a friend like you, (Y/N). So protective. Sometimes I’ve gone to wonder if you two are really in a relationship or not.”

“Yeah. You two basically hang off of each other, you’re around each other all of the time,” says another team member who you recognized as Naeyeon. Someone you didn’t bother to get to know. She didn’t seem to like you that much, anyways.

“It’s none of your business in the first place, if we were in a relationship. Which, we’re not,” you snap, not really in the mood to talk about Jisung right now, “Can we get back to the main focus?”

“Yes, my apologies, (Y/N). I shouldn’t invade your personal life like that in a professional environment like this,” Chunae stands up again, and you sigh. Already tired of this meeting.

At the end, you’re given loads of papers to go through considering consultation, and you weren’t ready to study them just yet. Your backpack got ten times heavier as you stuffed them in there, and you were the first one to leave when Chunae called the meeting to an end. You didn’t even bother to wave goodbye as you slammed through the door, basically speed - walking to get out of the main building and to the dorm rooms.

As said before, you had nothing against Chunae. In fact, you’d like to get to know her past her proper and all - to civilized self. If she were to let loose, she might be really fun, in your eyes. Her whole aura just sets you off, sometimes. Sometimes, she can get pretty stuck up, and you’re not sure how Jisung could handle her if he continuously complains about your stubbornness.

Speaking of Jisung, one of the first things you did when you basically ran out of the conference room was text Jisung that the meeting’s finally over and if you should start heading there.

He never answered faster.

He said you should head there, but to be careful of security since it’s so late. You were cautious, but thankfully no officer was out this late, even though it was only ten - thirty at night and curfew was thirty minutes ago. It’s a pretty long walk to Jisung’s dorm, though, since it’s on the top floor of the (decently huge) building. Since it’s past curfew, the elevators weren’t in working order anymore, and you had to take the stairs to the top floor, which absolutely killed your feet. But, once you made it to the familiar dorm door, you rested against the doorframe before knocking softly.

It takes Jisung a minute to open the door. You take that time to relax your weight against the doorframe, but your peace is short-lived when the door swings open so fast you almost lose balance of yourself by how fast Jisung opens the door. So, it takes you a short moment to actually take in Jisung’s appearance. His hair is messy and damp, and it’s obvious he has just showered most likely not too long ago. He wears a pair of gray sweatpants and no shirt, and you try not to gawk at his well built and defined body. He stares down at you silently, a small smirk playing at his lips as his half - lidded eyes scan over your body.

But, after that moment, he grabs you by the wrist and pulls you inside. The moment the door is slammed shut and locked behind you, he presses you against the door. Your heart beats rapidly against your chest as Jisung’s hands grip your wrists and pin you to the door. His face mere centimeters away from yours, and you can feel his warm breath against your lips. Your backpack falls to the floor. No matter how many times you’ve had sex with Jisung, he’s never been one for intimate kissing in your relationship with him. Which, to you, was weird since he always tried to get playful kissing from you out of sex or even from his other friends. Sure, you’ve both kissed before, but usually it’s not very intimate.

But, he kisses you before you could say anything. His hands firmly, yet gently gripping your wrists and pinning them to the door as his lips find themselves planted against yours. His soft lips move with yours in a passionate sync, and you don’t hesitate when you kiss him back. Your hands balled into fists as Jisung presses his body against yours, both of your eyes fluttering shut in pleasure. Chills shoot through your body as Jisung’s lips capture yours in a slow, yet lust filled kiss. It’s not rushed nor sloppy, but filled with desire and crave. You let yourself melt into his kiss, his experienced lips having you succumb to him, and you could already feel yourself dripping wet from just this simple kiss.

To you, however, it wasn't so simple. You never usually get this chance to have Jisung kiss you so passionately. You never bothered to ask why, and mostly thought he didn’t want to do it because, during sex, it’s something mostly only real couples would do. Not friends with benefits. So, when his tongue meets with yours in a euphoric, blissful way, you try to savor the feeling. Knowing this might be one of few chances you’ll get to actually enjoy such a kiss, you try to make it last as long as you can.

Jisung’s lips eventually lift off of yours, but he leads a trail of firm, wet kisses down your jawline and over your neck. His tongue licking stripes up your neck as he sucks on the delicate skin. Your womanhood throbs from the feeling, and your legs press together. Jisung’s hands let go of your wrists, and you let your hands grip onto Jisung’s hair. His hands creep underneath your shirt and hoodie, lifting them up as his cold hands meet with your warm skin. His hands feel up your waist, and your head falls back, your kiss - bruised mouth opening from the bliss.

“What… What’s gotten into you tonight?” You mumble out, your arms wrapping around Jisung’s neck, pressing him further against you as his hands firmly brush over your ass and up your back.

Jisung’s lips brush against the lobe of your ear and he chuckles deeply, sending chills through you and you let out a pathetic whimper because of it, “Can’t I do something for a friend?” He says this in just above a whisper, his voice deeper and huskier than normal. And then he goes back to pressing kisses underneath your ear, trailing down your neck, moving one hand up to move your hair out of the way.

You don’t argue with him, and you let him dominate you.

Jisung pulls off your hoodie along with your tee shirt. Pulling you away from the door as he throws the articles of clothing to the side. He guides you to his bed, having you lay down on your back as Jisung pulls himself over you. Trapping you underneath him, and your hands fly to the sides of your head, succumbing to him. Jisung pushes himself down, now pressing kisses to your collarbone and over your chest. One hand fumbling with the straps of your bra, pushing them down your shoulders before they tamper with the clip.

Jisung doesn’t even hesitate to rip off your bra, and throw it alongside the other articles of clothing (most of which landed on Jeongin’s bed, and you would do something about it if you weren’t so caught up in the moment with Jisung). You let in a deep, sharp inhale when your warm breasts make contact with the cool air. Jisung looks down at you, examining your exposed breasts before his eyes flicker up to meet yours. Your face is flushed a beautiful pink, and Jisung stares at your face, loving the flustered expression you’re making before his head dips down. One hand flying up to cup one breast, his hands moving efficiently and swiftly as he firmly massages it. His lips kissing down your other breast before his tongue makes contact with your erect bud.

You emit a breathy moan as chills run through your body as Jisung suckles on one breast while his hand plays with the other. His thumb running over and pressing against the hard bud as he firmly massages your breast in circles. His tongue working wonders over your sensitive nipple, and your teeth capture your bottom lip in between them as your hands run through his hair, letting out soft whimpers here and there when he sucks harshly on your breast or pinches your nipple.

“Jisung… Oh, you’re gonna make me pay you back for this, aren’t you?” You breathe out, and Jisung chuckles against you. His tongue pressing against your nipple, and his eyes look up to meet yours.

Once he lets go, your back arches when your breast, which was once warm in the cavern of Jisung’s mouth and tongue, meets the cold air. “You think so lowly of me, baby.” Jisung presses kisses along your chest, going lower and lower, and you watch him with dark, lust filled eyes.

“I’m usually the one blowing you off, Jisung - ah,” you state, “It’s not like you to - mmh…! - do things like this.” The back of your hand presses against your lips as they press into a firm line, trying to hold back whimpers as Jisung’s fingers start to undo the buttons of your jeans. His lips pressing kisses to the bottom of your abdomen; a sensitive area, and it sends sparks of chills up your spine.

“I want to make you feel good, baby,” Jisung breathes out, lips still pressed against your skin as he speaks, his dark eyes flickering up to meet with yours, “Don’t think too much into it. Just let me make you feel good, alright?” You nod quickly, your mouth closing and your hips lift with Jisung’s hands as he slowly pulls off your jeans. “That’s my good girl. My good little (Y/N).” He chuckles darkly, and you whimper softly at both the feeling of your soaked panties meeting the cold air and from Jisung’s praise.

Your thighs are on either side of his head, and Jisung’s hands guide them apart, spreading you out for him. And, boy, is it a sight for sore eyes. Jisung occasionally looking up at you, the eye contact making you even wetter from just the intensity of his eyes. His breath fans your clothed cunt, and your hips jitter and twitch just from that. Jisung cooes at your sensitivity. He knows you’re sensitive, but since things are usually rushed, he’s never really taken the chance to slowly edge you on. “My baby girl is so sensitive and I haven’t even touched her pussy…”

Jisung’s finger makes contact with your clothed cunt, pressing against your labia and firmly pressing up and over your clit. Your hips stutter at the feeling, and Jisung watches you as your eyes squeeze shut and your head falls back. Your mouth opening to let out a beautiful, breathy moan.

But, you weren’t prepared for when Jisung pulls off your panties, his hands having to fly up to stop your thighs from slamming against either side of his head. “Ah - ah - ah… keep your legs spread for me.” He guides your legs back, spread apart and resting against the sheets. A slight burn on your inner thighs from the stretch. You watch Jisung as one arm wraps around one of your thighs, his other hand caressing your other thigh, and he presses a wet kiss on your inner thigh. Dangerously close to your exposed pussy. And, oh, how exposed you feel. Usually, you both do quickies in bathrooms or the car or somewhere where you have to put your clothes back on quickly. You’re never, usually, completely nude in front of him. So you couldn’t deny that you were a bit embarrassed by how exposed you were to him.

Your head flies back, and you finally let out your first vocal moan when Jisung’s mouth comes in contact with your pussy. His tongue pressing against your wet cunt and his lips kissing your folds. Jisung smirks against you, his tongue working wonders on your throbbing cunt. His warm mouth engulfing your cunt, and your hands brush through his hair. Gripping onto either his hair or the sheets by you as Jisung’s tongue lickes stripes up your labia, occasionally teasing your sensitive, aching clit.

Your moans get even louder when one of Jisung’s fingers begins to tease your entrance, his mouth now more focused on your clit. His middle finger slowly enters you, and you clench around him. “Oh, fuck, Jisunggie… That feels so good.” You whimper out as Jisung’s knuckles meet with you, as his finger is fully flush inside of you. Your warmth engulfing his finger, clenching around him, looking for something more. He chuckles against you, his tongue still licking up your clit, sometimes pressing sloppy kisses to it. His finger slowly begins to thrust in and out of you. More of a slow drag than a thrust.

Your mind fogs as Jisung slowly begins to add more and more fingers, his pace still slow, but fast enough to make you whimper delicately when his fingers hit a certain spot deep inside your wet, warm walls. His other hand gripping your thigh firmly, but not firm enough to leave a mark of any kind. You gently moan out his name, and it only seems to give him more and more confidence to be just a little bit rougher, but still being euphorically slow and steady.

However, it’s when he sucks gently on your clit and roughly drags three fingers out, stretching you out, before letting them roughly ram back into you, hitting your G - Spot, when you feel your climax nearing. Your back arches, and your hands grip the sheet by your head tightly as you let out a moan, “Ji… Baby, oh fuck, I’m gonna cum.” Your bottom lip becomes captured in between your teeth as your hips begin to stutter and twitch, bucking up into Jisung, but his free hand tries to hold you down. He didn’t respond. In fact, he didn’t even look up at you. His brows furrow, focused solely on your climax. He doesn’t slow down either. He only speeds up. Sucking on your clit while his fingers thrust into you.

When your climax hits, you let out a string of loud moans, both incoherent curse words and Jisung’s name. Your eyes roll into the back of your head and your mouth opens. Your back arching off of the bed as you cum on Jisung’s fingers. His fingers rut slowly into you, twisting and pressing against your G - Spot. His tongue presses against your clit to helpL: you ride out your high.

His lips detach from your throbbing pussy, and his fingers slowly pull out of you. His fingers coated in your cum. Jisung takes a moment to catch his breath. He looks up at you, and you're still coming back from your orgasm, the sense of overwhelming bliss. Jisung climbs up, trapping you under him once more. Your legs still spread for him, and Jisung pulls you into another kiss.

You can taste yourself on his tongue. It’s bitter, but you don’t care. You don’t care for how gross it may be, you just want to kiss him. You just want all of him.

Your arms wrap around his neck, and Jisung’s hands caress your thighs, “Oh, baby, I’m going to fuck you so good… You want that? Want me to fuck you, baby girl?”

Your head leans back and Jisung’s lips graze over your neck, “Yes, Jisung. I want you to fuck me hard… Want you to fill me, please. Please, Jisung, I need you so bad.”

Jisung smirks, already pulling down his sweats, “I fucking love how you beg for me. Only for me.” You moan out in response. Jisung finally lets his hard cock free, and it presses to his abdomen. Leaking with precum, just from eating you out. The tip is a pretty pink, and you bask in the thought how you, alone, can make him so hard. Jisung gets on his knees, and you watch how he takes a condom from his nightstand drawer and rips it open. Preparing his cock into it before his tip presses against your cunt, still sensitive from your last orgasm.

“You ready for me, baby?” Jisung asks, moving your hips up to align with his cock, which is barely pressing against your entrance. You nod frantically, the only thing coursing through your mind being how badly you want Jisung’s cock inside you. How ready you are for him. “Use your words, (Y/N).”

“Yes… Goddamn it, Jisung, just fuck me already, please. I need it so bad,” You whimper out, irritated by the emptiness inside you.

Jisung laughs darkly, “Feisty, now are we? I like your pride, (Y/N), but I’ll be sure to shut you up, got it?” And, without warning, Jisung presses into you. Your hand flies up to cover your mouth as Jisung’s hard cock slowly drags deeper and deeper into you. Filling you to the brim, and stretching you out more than his fingers ever could. Jisung’s hand grips your wrist, pinning it to the bed, “No, no. I want to hear your voice. Wanna hear your pretty moans as I break you.”

Jisung is slow, painfully slow at first. You’re wondering how he could hold back, since he usually tends to fuck you like no tomorrow. Jisung slowly drags himself out, feeling your walls clench around him, before pushing himself back in. His head dips down to watch his cock disappear into your soaking pussy, and he lets out small groans as you let out breathy moans with each thrust. “Ji… Jisung - ah… Faster, please.” Jisung looks up at you, a smirk edging on his lips before he presses a kiss to your forehead.

“As you wish, (Y/N),” and so he followed through with your plea, and slowly started to pick up speed. His forehead presses against the side of your head as your legs wrap around his waist, allowing him to get even deeper inside you. With every thrust, you can feel his tip meet your cervix, and it’s such an intense feeling, you could cum right there with just enough force. But, you want this to last. You want to savor this moment for as long as you can.

Soon enough, Jisung flips you over, pressing the side of your face into the mattress as he gets on his knees. He leans over you, pressing his chest against your back and moves your hair to the side to give himself the access he needs to press wet kisses to the back of your neck, sending chills down your spine as he enters you once more. His hands grip your wrists as he groans into your neck, your loud moans muffled by the pillow below you as Jisung rams into you. His cock moving fast against your walls, giving such a blissful, burning sensation inside you that you want even more of. His hips meet over and over again with your ass as he thrusts into you. Your moans echo through the room, and at this point, you don’t care if anyone overheard you.

“Oh, fuck, baby. God, I love your pussy so much,” Jisung moans out next to your ear, and you don’t have the stability to respond to him, only with pathetic moans falling out of your lips. “Drivin’ me goddamn crazy…” Jisung grumbles as he sits himself up. His hands gripping your hips firmly to move you with him, sending you back with his thrusts as he fucks himself into you.

You can tell when Jisung is nearing his climax, because instead of his usual rhythmic thrusts, his hips begin to stagger and twitch, and his moans rise in pitch and get louder in volume. When he nears his climax, you can feel another one climbing up for you, mostly from the pure oversensitivity from your last orgasm. “Oh my fucking god… Oh fuck, cum with me, (Y/N). Cum with me.” He moans out his words, and your voice gets higher as your back arches once more, meeting your climax. Jisung leans over you again, his forehead resting on the back of your neck as his hands tightly grip your hips as he cums at last into the condom.

“Fucking hell… that was so good,” you breath out, trying to catch your breath. Jisung takes his time to relax his overworked muscles by leaning over you. He takes a minute before he pulls himself up and out of you. Your hips fall, and you wipe off the sweat as Jisung ties off the condom and gets up, tossing it into the bin.

He gets up, going over to his dresser to grab a towel. He cleans you up silently, and you watch him with curious eyes.

The moment he turns away to toss the towel into a hamper, you get up and walk over to Jeongin’s bed to grab the clothes Jisung had thrown onto it. You pick up your bra and shirt, and you barely even notice Jisung behind you before he speaks, “Are you leaving?”

“Don’t you want me to?” You look over to Jisung, who’s now wearing a pair of boxers and nothing more. He’s standing close behind you. You don’t mind the close proximity.

Jisung shakes his head, “No… Stay here tonight. Jeongin won't be back till the weekend.” Your mouth falls ajar slightly, surprised by his words. You pull your shirt over your head and put it on, and Jisung watches you.

“Alright… I’ll stay,” you sigh, and Jisung smiles down at you softly. You turn to face him, your brows furrowed, “But, seriously, what has gotten into you? You’re a bit more… intimate tonight. Didn’t really expect that.”

“What? Can’t I do something for you?” Jisung teasingly smirks at you.

“Well… yeah, but I just didn’t expect you… to do that.” You mumble out, and Jisung laughs.

“Kiss you like that?”

“Yeah.” You shrug a shoulder, “You know what, let’s not think too much into it. I’m tired.” You sigh, and Jisung laughs softly, shaking his head. You climb into his bed, pulling his blanket over you as Jisung turns off the lights and climbs in right next to you. Pressing his chest against your back, and one of his arms wraps around your waist. His chin resting on top of your head. Your heart hammers against your chest, and you try to calm yourself so he wouldn’t hear it. But, it seems impossible. Jisung’s acting weird today, and you want to find out why.

But, the answer comes sooner than you imagined.

“I don’t think we’ll be doing this much longer.”

Your eyes snap open, and your brows furrow. “What… did you say?”

“I said… I don’t think we’ll be doing this much longer,” Jisung repeats, a bit louder than before. You had heard him loud and clear the first time, but it shocked you, “I… I dunno, (Y/N). There’s this girl. And… I really… really like her. God, I sound like a middle schooler, don’t I?” He chuckles, but you don’t respond to him. You stare at the darkness, and Jisung clears his throat awkwardly when he realizes that you’re not responding. His arm squeezes you tightly. “If things work out, we can’t do this anymore.”

“Who is it?”

“Huh?”

“Who is it.”

Jisung chuckles again, and you can tell he’s getting nervous. Whatever the reason is, you don’t know. Maybe he can tell that you’re irritated with this news, “You know that one girl in your political science class? Jun Chunae. It’s her.” You hold back a groan, and roll your eyes. Of course it’s Chunae, “She and I have been hanging out recently. And, god, I think I really like her, (Y/N).”

“Of course,” you scoff, and Jisung props himself up to look at you through the darkness, “Of fuckin’ course it’s Chunae. Always Jun Chunae. That’s why you invited me over, wasn’t it? That’s why you treated me so well tonight, because it’s one of the last times, huh?”

“No, that’s not… that’s not what I’m saying,” Jisung says slowly, as if dipping toes in dangerous waters.

“Don’t lie to me, Jisung,” you snap, “I know you. You don’t like to kiss me before, during or even after sex. You just don’t. You don’t take it slow and you don’t even usually bother to pleasure me. I get it now. It’s not a problem, I’m just a bit upset that you lied to me.”

“And how the fuck did I lie to you,” Jisung doesn’t even ask it, it’s more of a demand. You can hear how he’s getting angry right back at you.

“You said you wanted to do something special for me. You said that this was supposed to be special. But, it’s not. Just for you to cut things off.” You sit up and push Jisung’s arm off of you. You scramble off of the bed, and Jisung laughs bitterly.

“Oh, come on, (Y/N). You’re overreacting,” you can hear Jisung’s smile in his voice, but you don’t smile. You don’t even bother with your underwear and just throw your jeans on. You turn on the light and slip on your shoes. Jisung’s expression falls, “Wait, (Y/N), don’t leave.” You turn back to give him a dead glare, and Jisung brows crease in desperation.

“I don’t think it’s necessary for me to be here if you’re going to start chasing after Chunae, don’t you think?” You say and sling your backpack over your shoulders.

“But, if you just wait a little bit longer… I can…”

“You can what, Jisung?” You turn to face him.

“I…” Jisung trails off.

“Goodnight, Jisung. I’ll see you tomorrow.” You unlock the door and open it, “Thanks for the special night.”

Jisung gives up, and plops back onto the bed as you slam the door behind you.

Now you were really considering arson. And not just for the school, but to just burn down Jun Chunae.

You weren’t in love with Han Jisung. But a part of you was beginning to debate that.

590 notes · View notes

lily-radiance · 3 years ago

Text

Disgusting Disarray:

Chapter 4

Sangwoo Oh x Police Female Reader

Fem reader, Suggestive content, implied emotional and physical abuse, attempted SA and suicidal tendencies. Mentions of possible sexuality discovery meaning the reader isn't straight and is experimenting

IF YOU FEEL UNCOMFORTABLE AT ANY TIME BY THE TAGS OR CONTENT DO NOT CONTINUE. IF YOU ARE TRIGGERED BY TAGS PLEASE DON'T CONTINUE.

"(l/n) this is serious, you need to stay here-"

"I don't understand why I'm needed here! After all you seemed perfectly happy to kick me out of my own office a few weeks ago!"

You're trying to get out of the department as soon as possible, not wanting to cause any suspicion. You swerve past several other officers and civilians, looking for the nearest exit.

"I'm trying to talk to you about this because it concerns your safety!"

You both notice the wandering eyes of people land on your conversation, trying unsuccessfully to eavesdrop discreetly. You recognize some of the faces as family and friends of past victims, some pleading for any new information.

"My safety is not the issue, but those people crying in this very building, are the ones you need to protect.", You lower your voice to a whisper.

"Bad things change people, they change good people who don't deserve what the world gave them. Protect those people so they don't change."

You push past him to your own desk, glancing at the paperwork that hadn't been filled out weeks prior. The folders had creased as an affect of them being opened so many times, sporadic notebook pages filled with bullet points and smeared ink.

But something's different, something's new to your notes. A suspect list, and a few motives listed:

Sangwoo Oh

- friend/lover

- aggressive

- Confident

- military background

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

You had to stare at the paper for what felt like a lifetime before looking up at the detective getting you unraveled.

"I don't know where you get the nerve to go behind my back and then suggest that my-that he could do this."

"C'mon you know he fits the description perfectly no matter what you think! I get you love this guy but-"

"What facts? Your assumptions about someone you don't even know just because his personality fits some description you made out of thin air! Do you have DNA, or a photograph, or anything remotely real for me to go along with this charade?"

You have stopped listening to his argument, instead stacking the various case folders and taking them under your arm. You hope that getting these out of the station will give you some peace of mind even though you know there are probably copies.

"You can't ignore the facts forever (y/n)."

He can tell you're getting angry and defensive by the way you counter every possible idea. He'd seen reports and heard stories of how passionate you could get in the line of work but it was nothing like this. He was beginning to see the anger falling away and how there was a quiver to your voice as you continued the interrogation.

"The point is we've seen this all before, families believing their brothers or sons are nothing but angels that actually turn to be vicious killers. You need to see this from an objective point of view or else you will end up injured or worse."

The encounter has ended finally, for at least one day, but it gives you new worries. You try to keep your mind intact as you run through all the evidence over and over again.

Unbeknownst to you, Yura has heard the important pieces of the conversation, and has a couple ideas of her own. Her ideas have no detailed plans but rather the sole goal of keeping you from what she can only assume to be the enemy.

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

"Hey I need to borrow your lighter really quick."

Your friend almost does a doubletake as he hears those words, reluctantly taking out the mechanism from his pocket.

"Committing arson already? Damn I thought you were the good girl."

You roll your eyes at the absurd comment, focusing on the files in hand. There's a hesitance in your movements, nervous to actually be destroying what Seungbae considers valuable information.

The manilla folder crinkles as the flame eats its' way through the papers. The smoke begins to hit your nose, making you turn your head for a small time. Once the flame begins to grow it's easy for you to step on the kindling, grinding your heel against what's left.

"If I quit what would I do? No job has ever made me feel more overjoyed but at the same time, I think it's killing me. That body was no longer recognizable, it was practically decimated by the time they found the pieces, and the wounds..."

He places a hand on the small of your back, but knows he's made a foul move when you flinch from his grasp.

He knows he didn't touch a bruise or a cut, but rather the memory of nothing but pain and fear. You're lost within the bounds of your imagination, the world too far away to touch.

"Hey, look at me, right now (y/n)."

He's trying to get your attention, to pull you back to a place you know like the back of your hand. He wants to pull you into his arms and stop your muttering.

"Sang, you wouldn't lie to me right? I don't know who I can trust anymore and I need you to promise me this one thing."

You feel so far away from him, as though he can never reach you just when he can feel his fingertips on your shoulder.

He doesn't understand why he can't bring himself to hurt you, why you are his biggest concern at the moment. Why are his emotions coming back so strongly? Why does the pain feel so real?

He hasn't felt these emotions in years, not since he was a child, not since his bastard of a father had threatened him and beaten him. He was no father, and Sangwoo was no one's son. No, he was considered the devil by the public.

But what was the devil but an angel who fell too far from the sun? Someone put in an unbearable position with no proper outlet?

So was he the angel who had been wrongfully treated and discarded by the world? Or was he the devil who played people like pawns in his game of chess?

The answer's quite simple if you consider what a human is; A creature with the opportunities to create and destroy at the flick of a wrist.

So for now he'd play the part of the beautiful angel all while hiding the devil inside.

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

You didn't know why you were crying over a man you hated while in the arms of the man you loved. He didn't understand it either, but still allowed you the access to relief and a shower.

Like previously stated the water would be freezing at first but eventually, would get to a lukewarm condition. You could tell after a certain number of years that the water would never exactly get hot but on the edge of it. That was enough for you to know you were clean, and the feeling of the water temperature coming back to frigid.

You could hardly bare it to look at yourself in the foggy mirror, seeing splotches of blues and purples. They seemed to gather anywhere from your shoulders to your ribs, and somewhere along your hips. Sometimes they were randomly gathered on your thighs or legs, reminding you of the pain.

You could sit in this room forever if not for your friend laying on the couch in worry. You could get used to the muggy air, the way the towel stuck to your body that dripped water all along the tile floors.

You would stay in this bathroom if you could, closing your eyes and avoiding the mirror like your life depended on it. The idea to avoid gazing at those bruises sounded like a dream come true.

"Hey (y/n), you've been in there a while."

You couldn't bring yourself to respond, lost once again to the battle going through your mind.

He began to knock on the door repeatedly, trying desperately to get your attention.

"(y/n), I need you to open this door. If you don't I'm coming in there!"

Another wave of silence before the firm opening of the door. The urge to cover up immediately hits you, causing you to pull the towel over your exposed body.

"I was just about to get out! Give me a minute next time!"

Your excuses amount to nothing as he can't help but stare where your bare body was once in view. He wasn't flustered, not in the slightest as you turned your head to avoid his eyes.

"Does it hurt you? The bruises?"

Even seeing your reflection in the mirror is difficult, especially when he's standing next to you.

"It's in the past, so don't worry about it."

You're trying your best to get away from this conversation, but it seems that all the questions that arise are forbidden fruit. You can't remember the last time you actually talked about the mundane tasks that you had taken for granted.

"You've been in here longer than usual and when I opened the door you seemed completely oblivious. Now, you can barely look at me, so you can guarantee I'm worried about these small bruises of yours."

He's getting irritated with these encounters, more irritated than he should be. But doesn't he have the right? You wouldn't leave his side in highschool because of his past, so what was so wrong about his worry? Why did you feel the need to hide?

Funny could be used to describe this odd circumstance, but strange seemed a better word. He had known this pain, this guilt,this disgust, this self-hatred, but he couldn't understand it when it came from you. Why couldn't you just accept it? Why couldn't you openly be angry at these events?

Funny could be used, but it was no laughing matter. Hypocritical, possessive, judgemental, prejudice and ignorance better described these circumstances. He had told himself it was easy to get over these memories, and denied that he had any weakness whatsoever.

Was it that you reminded him of his past self? Of the child that could not fight back no matter the opportunities? Was it the fact that he could not explain his methods of peace because they weren't peaceful at all but rather repulsive and evil?

"Look in the mirror, (y/n)," but you didn't move an inch. In fact it seemed you strayed farther.

The feeling of his grasp on your chin towards the reflective surface made you squirm on instinct.

He wouldn't release you, not until you budged from your statuesque pose and gave in. Once you opened your eyes and saw the image it didn't feel real. It didn't feel real to be this close to him in such a weak position, nor for him to see you in such a sorry state.

"You are alive, and he is dead in a morgue where he can't touch your body ever again. You are safe, safe right here where he can't get you."

You glanced away once more, a tremble in your figure as you allowed yourself to lean into him.

He let out a sigh before bending down to look underneath the sink and inside a cabinet, a grip still on your left wrist.

He didn't keep many actual weapons in his house, except for the bat and occasional kitchen knife. So when you saw him pull a pocket knife from the storage, you jolted slightly.

When he saw you flinch he dropped your wrist promptly, indicating you were not his target.

"Sang, what the hell are you doing?"

He outstretched his left arm, forearm facing the ceiling and fist clenched softly.

He admitted it hurt a little more than he was expecting, but not enough to scare him from showing you.

The new incision had to be a couple inches long, but not too deep as to cause long lasting damage or a trip to the doctor.

"Now you're not the only one with a couple scars, huh?"

But you couldn't help but bring yourself to cover your mouth, eyes wide in petrification.

The blood continued to fall and travel along the length of his arm, the crimson liquid being smeared and forming droplets as he began to wash it off.

If seemed after looking at a certain number of dead victims you had lost your appetite and the ability to hold the contents of your stomach, as you quickly slammed open the toilet lid.

It seemed along with the loss of appetite came the loss of energy, and after that came the loss of self-control.

He now had a bandage around his injury, but it seemed as though the pain was non-existent as you were still stunned by the action.

You both now sat on the couch, pondering the words best suited for this conversation.

"Don't do that again, Sangwoo. I mean that this time. I can't be around always in your stead. I don't even think I'll stay in Korea that long..."

He perked up at that comment, noticing the suggestion that you might leave. An unbridled fear and sense of loss filling in his chest.

"It's not like you could just throw everything away and start all over instantly! I mean you can't just leave like that, it doesn't make sense!", He tried to refute these claims desperately.

"It makes perfect sense, especially after everything that's happened! There are real people dying out there from a monster, and you expect me to stay and act like it isn't my problem!"

He had to keep himself from actually yelling, instead raising his voice an octave and continuing.

"Exactly my point, it isn't your problem at all! You don't owe anything to these lowlife scumbags, and certainly not that asshole who nearly got away with that-"

A new perspective has been introduced to you, making your stomach twist.

"Scumbags, yeah? How can you not see that these are living people with families and lives to lead? You act like they have no meaning!"

Arrogance was getting the better of you two, making your words much darker.

"What I'm saying is that you're working yourself to death's door for a bunch of people you don't know! And then you want to go and leave Korea with no warning at all! Aren't you supposed to tell me what's going on with you? I put up with that guy for years and suddenly I'm no more than a roach in your grand adventure to save people!?"

You tense at his tone, well aware that you have been living in a dream for sometime.

"It's not like I'm doing this for kicks you know? I'm trying to do something decent with my life before something worse happens to someone I actually care about! You won't stop smoking even with the risks, you won't stop drinking because alcohol can't be that bad, and you can't even get through a day without picking a fight with Seungbae and-"

He's stopped glaring, and stopped fighting you because his personality is going to come through sooner or later. He can't think like this if he wants to stay hidden.

"And god forbid your conscience if anything happens to your trainwreck of a friend? Because you know I'm just gonna die someday don't you? Guess you and your buddies at that police station really are getting along? I bet you'll go back to Yura, or better yet Seungbae? They can offer stability and comfort where I'm just another delinquent with issues you can't cure!", He finishes his interpretation of the sentence for you.

He's getting unstable, not in his actions but his words. He's revealing too much of his mind for comfort and his wall is coming down fast. He can't lose you, not by his own idiotic statements, but they come like second nature.

When did his comforting words become poisoned razorblades? When did he become so paranoid of other relationships of yours? When did he care so much about your opinion?

Forever, forever and always. You'd become the one constant he had in this hellish place, in this vindictive world made of monsters.

"Do you have anything else you want to say, or is that it? Is your trust the only thing I've lost, or did I never have it to begin with? I guess I'm the idiot once again, right? Guess common decency isn't so common after all."

Your steps are quick as you escape through the front door, jacket hanging off your shoulders as you tug it on in a hurry.

"The one person I have left and he can't even stand me for a minute?"

Your thoughts are scrambled as you continue the walk throughout the empty streets, feeling nothing but a sense of abandonment.

You hadn't even grabbed your stuff, or your car keys, and only your phone and wallet resided in your pockets.

The sound of shoes skittering behind you was evident but your thoughts remained at the forefront of your mind.

"He had no right to say that, but he isn't entirely wrong either. Why do I have this job? I can't even save people, let alone him... Maybe If Seungbae took over-No! No I'll never let that ass get my job! I worked myself to exhaustion in the academy and damn him if he thinks I'll so easily put that aside! And screw Sang if he thinks I can't do it either! "

The sound of movement makes you turn your head reluctantly, slow and cautious.

This neighborhood had terrified you for years when you were a child and even a teenager. Some faces you remembered to avoid at the middle of the night, drug dealers and predators were a few in that list.

You'd advised your friend at every opportunity to move locations, but he would not listen to your worries. Instead he claimed that if any intruder or threat came, he could handle it, especially with a member of law enforcement in his side.

Yet, you had never felt more helpless because you didn't have a weapon besides pepper spray and maybe a ballpoint pen in your jacket.

You'd remembered how Sangwoo would sling an arm over your shoulder when you got the chills. He's learned how to pick up on fear and it was rather easy to sense when you were out of uniform.

"I've got your back, (y/n)."

"I've got a pocket knife in case."

"Stick to me,okay? I won't let them touch you."

He'd said these phrases countless times but you had never thought they would be of any real reassurance. You had told yourself to disregard the fear, disregard the reality of this area even though the crime reports said otherwise.

Where would you even run to? At night this place was like a maze of disgusting criminals and an infectious form of violence filled the air.

You couldn't help the urge to run, to run far far away and never look back. You found yourself running back towards his home, towards that vile building that would probably come crumbling down if you leaned on it too much.

What turn had you taken? How close was your home? How far was his house from your location? Was he even looking for you? What would happen if you were just another victim? What would Seungbae do? What would Yura do? What would the media say about you? What would happen to Sangwoo? What would happen to Yoonbum?

Faces of greed and despair flashed by you, staring at the poor women who could not control her world. The poor woman who was running into the arms of death, the most handsome creature at the moment. Death who could take her pain in a chaste kiss and give her nothing but the sweetest lies!

"Sangwoo! Sangwoo!"

You could hear the echoes of your pleading voice as the buildings seemed to surround you. The darkness seemed to pull at you, trying to destroy your sanity at the very edge of hope.

"Hey princess, looking for something?"

This wasn't a kind voice, and it certainly wasn't one that belonged to your friend. You kept moving forward, fear pulsing through you like a time bomb.

"Hey, didn't you put my buddy away? Yeah you're definitely that cop! What's a pretty thing like you doing around here?"

You tried to block out their voices, but the sea of erosion was unforgiving as it clashed with your heartstrings.

Vultures loped around your frame, taunting and ravenous. Some of them would startle you and make you flinch in a pathetic way. Sometimes they'd push you into one another, spinning you in a circle of mischief.

One was now pulling at your hair, while another seemed to claw at your back and arms. They wouldn't stop not even as you cried out desperately and fought like hell. It took one swing of your elbow against one perpetrator's nose for the game of cat and mouse to turn deadly.

You were perhaps too focused on one man to notice the other two getting ready to strike. You could feel a metallic sensation on your back and the struggling between the group of four was ended by a gunshot.

At first you didn't register what had happened, too caught up in how they dispersed like rats in various directions. Maybe they realized injuring an officer, even while off duty,was a foul move? Maybe it was how they saw your blonde counterpart rearing up to crack skulls and batter them bloody.

It seemed the world was a blur as you could barely tell up from down, let alone your friend's worried voice begging you to talk to him. He had kneeled on the pavement, allowing you to be cradled in his arms once again, only this time was far more dire.

He'd seen several people die in the last few months, all of which were by his own hand, but he wouldn't let you die on his watch.

"Hey (y/n) you cannot pass out on me, okay? Stay awake for me please, I need you to stay awake!"

The feeling of blood crawling up your throat was evident by the way you rolled your head to the side and coughed. It seemed every time you breathed in the oxygen would leak back out and you'd come back to a coughing fit.

"I can't breathe-Sang, I need you to call Seungbae or Yura-my phone is in my jacket."

He rummaged through your article of clothing, looking at every pocket for your phone.

"Hey, stay focused on me! I'll call him but he probably doesn't trust me, so I need you to give a little bit of help. Can you do that,(y/n)?"

You merely nodded, weaker than a couple of seconds ago. You couldn't sit up or really hold your phone so he had to put it to your ear.

"Seungbae I need you to listen to me-I've been shot in the abdomen and I think the bullet got to my lung-"

You were interrupted by another coughing fit, making your friend take the phone.

"Listen,I know you don't like me but we really need a ambulance or something to come here! She's been shot in the right lung and we don't know if the bleeding is going to stop! Just get here fast before- anything else happens!"

Sangwoo began to cover the wound with his free hand, worried that the blood flow was too fast. He could see it getting closer, feel death pulling you in.

"Where exactly are you two!? And how did this happen? Look from what I understand you need to stop the bleeding via either a bandage or some other material you have. And no matter what I need her conscious! You need to get her to stay awake and alert!"

The line was filled with the sounds of yelling and people bustling by, anxious and cautious all at once.

Sangwoo was trying his best to stay calm as he could see you fighting the urge to sleep.

"C'mon you can't die on me, not today! I said some shitty things and you need to stay alive so we can talk this through! You can do whatever you want when you're all better but until then you're stuck with me!"

He could see the blood covering every surface of your mouth as you chuckled lightly before a wry smile formed. The crimson color had never bothered him, not since he was a kid, but seeing you in so much pain was making him rethink everything.

You hadn't seen him actually cry in what felt like a million years, but the tears were becoming obvious as the clear liquid dripped down his cheeks. Crying was like poison to him, weakness a sin amongst men like him. Devil or not he was the most fearful he'd been since the day you almost got hurt by his bastard of a father.

"There's some paperwork in my nightstand-some letters as well-they're really important...."

Your grip on his shoulder was getting looser than before and he couldn't help but deny what you were suggesting.

"Your will isn't valid right now, because you are not dying! Can't you see you're going to be okay I promise, I won't let you die!"

Of course he always knew this was a possibility for a police officer to get shot in action, but it never applied to you. There was always that worry in the back of his mind that you were going to get hurt somehow, someway, but it never felt real.

Was this another delusion? Another bad dream where he'd wake up with another ill intent? Would he wake up with you in his arms after another idiotic argument? Would he finally have the courage to tell you he loved you? Would you survive this ordeal? And what would he do if you did die?

He could hear sirens approaching quickly, reassuring him that maybe there was hope after all.

"Hey over here, she needs help now!!"

Sure enough you were lifted promptly onto a gurney where several paramedics watched over you. Your shirt was cut off, revealing the disgusting bruises once more, along with the bullet hole that had drilled through a couple ribs and your right lung.

You could feel yourself slipping away, slowly falling further into the depths of exhaustion and the arms of the grim reaper. You felt cold even with the warmth flooding your abdomen and the want of comfort was gnawing at you.

You could recall the bright, white lights of the hospital along with the smell of antiseptics in the air, making you feel slightly worried. Hospitals weren't your favorite place to dwell, especially after you had recounted the several adventures that landed you here in your adolescence.

"We need to extract the bullet and make sure her ribs haven't punctured her lung any further."

You couldn't hear the rest of the details, only aware that the blonde was getting impatient as both Seungbae and a nurse had to talk him down from his hysteria.

He glanced in your direction before deciding to speak with you before this operation. He squeezed your hand as you faded out of consciousness and the doctors began their approach.

"I'll be there when you wake up, just stay alive please."

#Spotify #reader insert #female reader #killing stalking #x reader #gore #oh sangwoo x reader #horror #injury #sensitive content #possibly triggering #read tw #fanfic #series

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everythingsinred · 3 years ago

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Let's Talk About NatsuMikan: Natsume (pt. 4)

We are at the turning point so things are about to get super fun! Pretty much everything we've gone over until now has been exposition and set-up for this arc.

More than ever there's a trigger warning here: we'll be discussing mental illness, depression, child abuse, and a genuine suicide attempt here so it will get quite heavy and dark.

Chapter Thirteen

We are approaching a significant turning point. This arc is heavy with things to analyze and important revelations about Natsume. Pretty much all the stuff I analyzed before now was just extended exposition, to be entirely honest. We were setting things up, establishing Natsume in every way we could and it will all come to a head right here. This is the arc we've been waiting for.

The chapter opens with Natsume, and from the start we can tell that we are in for a treat. We’ve never seen his perspective like this, only little snippets like “I know I used my alice on her”, or remembering Aoi’s hair-clip. Here, we have much more to work with, and we don’t have to do as much guesswork to make conclusions!

He’s having a nightmare, which is also what he calls it, much like the one he had in the anime. He’s running in darkness and there’s too many people’s voices. Being called a murderer, being told to obey or else… and all the while he’s telling them to shut up already. It’s enough to make anybody feel crowded. He just wants relief, to get out of the darkness, for the nightmare to end.

Even when he's all alone, he's bogged down by noise and taunts.

He wonders if he'll ever get real reprieve from the constant hell he's in. All he ever does is run, his life entirely enshrouded by darkness. He wants it to stop, and later we'll see how exactly he'll attempt to do so.

The fact that the arc begins with this scene despite the fact that Natsume does not feature heavily in this chapter or the next is foreshadowing that something must change by the end of it. He's despairing and hopeless now, and these points will all be brought up later as things come to a head, so something must shift by the end of the arc.

We later find out Natsume’s in the hospital, and then inevitably he gets kidnapped by Reo. He spends about two chapters unconscious, so we’ll be moving on to two of the most important chapters for Natsume’s development.

Chapter Fifteen

Natsume wakes up in the warehouse, but the way he wakes up is very interesting. He knows he’s in a strange place, not in a hospital bed. He thinks so much like a soldier or spy here, using his senses to observe his scary new surroundings and clinically filing away information until he opens his eyes and sees his classmates gnawing at each other’s binds. It’s fascinating to see inside his head, to see the dangerous ability training in action, that he doesn’t think like his peers would, or how any ten year old should.

He's intaking information, filing it, analyzing his situation, all before his eyes even open.

He is understandably irritated by the presence of his classmates, considering he’s been kidnapped, drugged, sick, and has to deal with an alice barrier on top of all that. He gets that he’s screwed, and, with Mikan and Sumire in the mix, his chances aren’t looking too great.

If you want to make yourself sad, it’s worth noting that Natsume doesn’t think he’s going to make it out of this situation alive. He’s processing his options and considering the best thing to do going forward, but he’s well aware that there’s also a good chance he might die tonight.

They manage to get into contact with Narumi, who instructs them to stall and keep quiet, also telling Natsume to use his alice. He’s strong enough to overpower the barrier, so it shouldn’t be an issue, but Natsume is sick. In order to get a small flame, he exhausts himself, and is even less of a state to run away than he already was. Their kidnappers realize the kids are awake because of the disturbance in the barrier, so they confront them to try and figure out their alices. Reo wants this information for nefarious purposes, planning on selling them. It’s already been said earlier in the story that alice children are more valuable in the human trafficking trade, so it’s in his best interest to know what exactly he’s selling.

Mikan has nullification, so the voice pheromone doesn’t work on her, but Sumire is affected, and about to reveal her alice when Natsume interferes. He’s exhausted, but he might have more or less already given up on himself. The most he can do now is try and protect his classmates who came to save him, even if it’s all he can do. So Reo does move on to confront him, taunting him by telling him all the plans they have for him. He’s to be assimilated into the organization, joining Z and becoming a child soldier for their ranks.

Reo brings up an excellent point: “What difference does it make if you start working for Z instead? Everyone there hates the academy like you do.” It’s true. Natsume might even prefer it slightly because it’s an anti-alice organization and he is by no means pro-academy (unlike in the anime where he becomes a poster boy for abuse apologism). At the academy, he’s surrounded by abusers and those subservient to the abusers, by bullies and kids who whisper behind his back, accusing him of murder and arson. Maybe at Z he could be around like-minded people (albeit people who are supportive of child trafficking).

But no.

Natsume doesn’t even consider it.

Maybe Reo should consider that Natsume doesn't want to be a child soldier at all, hmm?? Maybe he'd be better off just being a normal kid? Did that occur to him at all or...?

He immediately smacks Reo’s hand away. Even sick, even heavily under the effects of Reo’s alice, even despite being weak and drugged, he still resists. There’s not even a temptation or hesitation. His choice has been made for him.

Interestingly, Reo was also used by the academy. He knows how twisted the school can be, but he’s still confused and surprised by Natsume’s refusal. I’m assuming based on this that perhaps Natsume is a special case. It would be reasonable to assume most of the kids used in the dangerous ability class are threatened and cowed into obedience, their physical and mental safety in jeopardy if they rebel in any way. Natsume is a child, and we’ve seen him run from his own teacher in abject terror. He’s obviously not a fan of putting himself in physical and mental jeopardy. But the way to get to Natsume is not by threatening him; it’s by threatening Ruka, or Aoi, or Youichi, because Natsume doesn’t care about anything as much as he cares about them--not even his own life.

And that’s why Reo is surprised and confused that Natsume would say no to him and choose the academy over Z.

And it’s because Natsume is not actually choosing the academy over Z. He’s choosing Ruka and Aoi over Z, like he chooses them over everything. Natsume knows that resisting Z here is tantamount to suicide, but he’ll choose that, because he’ll choose his loved ones over his own life.

And then something surprising happens: Mikan gets in between Natsume and Reo, protecting Natsume.

This is new; Natsume is used to being the one doing the protecting. He was more than willing to take all Reo’s wrath to distract him from using his pheromones on Mikan and Sumire. He’s being protected now though, a little, but it’s really just a taste of what’s to come. Mikan stepping in is unexpected… and unwise.

Now Reo can conclude that she has the nullification alice. This is bad news in general, but a great opportunity. Reo and his goons are distracted and there’s enough time for Sumire to use her own alice and see where they are and what’s around.

Turns out there’s dynamite and other explosives a couple warehouses away. This instantly gets Natsume’s attention and he’s already formulating a plan.

He tells them to run for it, reassuring them that he can take care of himself. He says he’s only helping because he’d feel guilty otherwise, not because he actually cares much for what happens to them, because it’s their own fault they followed him.

We know this isn’t the truth. Since he woke up, Natsume has been prioritizing the girls over himself.

He can hardly stand up so the idea that he can escape on his own is a little ridiculous... but he knows that too and he's known it from the start.

The escape begins and the girls run for it, with Natsume distracting Reo and his goons by threatening to blow up the dynamite two warehouses away.

This is a genuine suicide attempt. Natsume has no intention to save himself. He considers himself a lost cause. He’s sick, exhausted, in no condition to run. He can stall long enough to let the girls escape, but he’s gonna blow up the dynamite, taking Reo and part of Z down with him. Reo’s kidnapping whim will prove fatal and catastrophic, and the Black Cat will be eliminated.

Chapter Sixteen

This arc turns so much darker.

Yes, Natsume seems to have no choice but to kill himself to protect his classmates and eliminate the Reo threat. The first page of Chapter Sixteen also establishes that this isn’t just Natsume’s own plan. He’s been commanded to commit suicide in this kind of situation by Persona. If he’s ever trapped and can’t escape, he’s to kill himself, so that he can’t be used against the academy. He’s too powerful. The academy would rather this child die than fall into Z’s hands. In fact, if Natsume were to rebel, in any way, even by not killing himself in such a situation, the academy will hurt the people he cares about.

This is a grown ass man telling a child that his life is only important if he can be a tool for the school and as soon as he can't be anymore, he ceases to have value and is better off dead.

I will once again mention that Natsume is ten years old. The academy is not just an abusive institution, it’s also a human rights violator, since child soldiers are prohibited by international law. A child soldier is any child under the age of 18 who is compelled to fight or otherwise service any state or non-state armed group (the academy counts as an armed group because it has a division of child soldiers with magical powers ready to kill and maim on command as well as teachers with magical powers willing to threaten these children into submission). Natsume is a child soldier and the fact that the dangerous ability class was never fully dissolved is an actual human rights violation.

Anyway, this arc is where we see Natsume clearly for the first time. Compared to all the fun and mischief of previous chapters, these chapters are dark and scary. There’s no exciting dodgeball game or howalon-related antics. This is life-or-death, suicide attempts, threats.

This marks the difference between the life the rest of the kids at the academy are living and the life Natsume has been struggling through. How do you live through missions like this, watching your life whittle away, being threatened on a regular basis, and then go back to school and pretend to care about math or about sports or friends? It makes perfect sense that Natsume would feel so isolated from everyone. His experiences are too different.

Of course, this whole thing is about to get a whole lot worse.

Reo asks why Natsume would even bother with this. Is there even a reason? He even gives a pretty good deal: If Natsume backs down, Sumire and Mikan will be spared.

But Natsume doesn’t bite. He’s ready to die, because the academy told him to, because he wants to protect his loved ones, because he wants to help Sumire and Mikan escape, and--most heart-breakingly--because he genuinely wants to die.

Now that Sumire and Mikan are gone, he doesn't have to lie about his plans anymore.

Natsume has been appearing in the last sixteen chapters, showing up to offer a sarcastic quip, set something on fire, and be generally unpleasant. But more than that, we’ve seen glimpses into what appears to be a horrible, miserable life. Natsume hates the academy, only has one friend, goes on life-threatening missions, frequently visits the hospital, despises his own alice, and he never smiles. All his appearances up to this point have been an explanation: this is why Natsume wants to kill himself.

Natsume isn’t just forced into a suicide attempt. There’s a reason he submits so easily to the idea of dying here. He’s ready. He’s been ready for a long time. He might have even been waiting for it; to get it over with because it’s bound to happen sooner or later.

He says he feels like he’s living his life cowering on his knees, like his head is constantly under a pool of shame. “I’m sick of the academy. I’m sick of you all. I’m sick of everything!”

Natsume is going to die in a few moments and he’s okay with it. He’s even happy about it, because there is really nothing worth living for. He doesn’t have a future, or hopes and dreams. This whole time he has been living for Ruka and his family, doing everything he can to keep them safe. Nothing he’s done in the past two years has been for himself. This may be the very first selfish thing he has done in all this time. He’s ready to die.

It’s not like he had something to look forward to anyway.

Natsume is about to die, until the wind is knocked out of him and he’s suddenly on the ground, with Mikan grabbing his shirt and screaming into his face that he’s an idiot. He’s lying on the floor because one of his stupid classmates--the one he hates the most, the stupid girl with the nullification alice and her head so full of rainbows and butterflies and happiness he could barf just thinking about her, the one that walked right into the worst thing that ever happened to him and smiled about it--tackled him and stopped his suicide attempt.

Just one split second changes everything and there's nothing he can do about it.

Yes, the previous chapters leading up to this explained why Natsume wants to die, and how miserable his life is, but they also mark another thing: the only fifteen and a half chapters where Natsume isn’t in love with Mikan.

In this moment, she saves his life. She risks her own safety on a whim to protect him, and she does. She didn’t come all this way for nothing! She’s willing to fight Reo and any henchmen to protect Natsume, who can’t even walk without help. Natsume was not expecting this.

He asks why she even came back, but she makes it clear it wasn’t a choice--they’re partners, after all! It’s her job to look after him.

The next few scenes are Mikan protecting Natsume, and it’s important to point out that nobody has ever done that before. Natsume is always the one doing the sacrificing and protecting, and he’s okay with that. He doesn’t want Ruka to be burdened by his hardships, or for Aoi to be held responsible for something she did under a dangerous fever. He will do the hard thing, will be the caretaker, because that’s who he’s always been.

It might be uncomfortable and strange for him, but Natsume is being taken care of here, led to hiding spots and being protected. When he tries again to convince her to leave him behind, he’s using all the insults he can think of. This is another way of protecting people: hurting them so that he can further distance himself from them and keep them safe.

But Mikan fights back, saying, “Who do you think I came back for?”

Here Natsume finally understands something. The girl he has hated ever since she voluntarily enrolled into the school that uses him as a human weapon is more than a bumbling idiot. Her sickening optimism and determination are the reason he’s still alive now. He gave up on himself, but she refuses to. She’s the kind of person who would risk her own life to save a boy who has caused her nothing but grief, because she can see value in his existence that he can’t.

Natsume's never thought of himself as even having a future before, let alone a happy one.

And she says, “Everyone is waiting for you.” Natsume used to look down on her optimism and rose-colored lenses, because how naive is it to think things will just work themselves out? That the future will be better? That there’s something worth working for, even if you aren’t sure what it is? It’s stupid. Natsume knows better: life sucks and then you die because you get kidnapped and you have to commit suicide or else your loved ones will get hurt. Relying on stupid things like positivity or hope is just a waste of time.

But not this time. This girl is saving him because there’s a bright future awaiting her, but more than that: she sees a bright future for him too. She thinks things will work out for him too, that he has moments to look forward to where he will laugh and cry and live--moments he hasn’t seen yet. There’s still so much life left for him to live, and he’s never thought of it that way.

For the first time in a long time, Natsume is thinking about his own future.

He doesn’t argue when Mikan stands up to protect him, or when she grabs his hand to try and lead him from danger. He trusts her now and even more, he wants to live.

And then Mikan gets overpowered by a goon, who slams her into the wall in order to get to Natsume.

And that pushes Natsume’s berserk button, because now he cares about Mikan, and he goes absolutely unhinged whenever someone he cares about is hurt.

Mikan has become precious to Natsume only a few minutes ago, but he's kinda ride-or-die so it's like going from 0 to 100.

Just a few chapters ago, a middle-schooler grabbed Mikan and threatened to hurt her if Natsume didn’t back down and Natsume just laughed. Now he’s detonating a whole shipyard because somebody shoved her.

Yes, he does set off the dynamite, because he’s no longer thinking rationally and how dare someone hurt Mikan?

We’re not really sure what consequences this had, if he ended up inadvertently hurting himself or Mikan in the process of getting revenge against this man for hurting a girl who he just started having feelings for like five minutes ago, but both of them end up hospitalized.

Conclusion

This whole arc is a fucking MASTERPIECE. We’ve met Natsume before, but that was the old Natsume. That Natsume was miserable and didn’t have anything to look forward to. We’ve just met a new Natsume; a Natsume who has hopes and desires and will do selfish things because of them. His life is still dark and dreary and miserable, but there’s a light coming in now, and he’s content now just to be in the sun for a little bit until his life comes to a complete end, which will still be sooner than later.

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amjustagirl · 4 years ago

Text

Chapters: one. ~ two. ~ three. ~ four. ~ five. ~ six. ~ seven.

Wordcount: 2.1k

Masterlist link here

AO3 link here

Summary:

Akaashi Keiji catches glimpses of another life in his dreams. He dreams of fields of endless gold, of constellation of stars that light up the night sky. He hears the echo of birdsong in her laughter, her songs to the gods in the wind.

Author’s note: This fic is a little different from my usual work, so I’m a little nervous about publishing it. If you do like it, would love if you leave a comment / reblog / anything!

Pro tip: Italics denote scenes in Akaashi’s dreams / past.

If you’d like to be included in the taglist, do drop me a msg/ask!

Time passes.

Akaashi graduates from university with top honours and gets recruited immediately by a publishing company. He’s mildly disappointed when he’s dispatched to the manga department instead of the literature department as he originally hoped, but it’s not all that bad, he gets to work with Udai-sensei on his new volleyball manga.

He’s content, all things considered.

His mother is constantly on his case to find a girlfriend - because she insists she’s growing old and wants grandchildren soon. To placate her, he goes on arranged dates with daughters of his father’s business associates, with nieces of his mother’s friends. While they’re pleasant enough, they all seem to come from the same mold - well bred middle class university graduates more interested in complaining about their bosses and talking about the branded bags they’re going to get next.

Once he tried asking one of them about the type of flowers she likes best. His date blinked in confusion at first, but immediately brightened up and she said ‘roses, I guess? They look so good on instagram!’

He did not ask for a second date.

Honestly, he’s not exactly looking to date anyone at the moment. He’s young, barely twenty three. Work is time consuming enough, with his days filled with constantly looming deadlines and chasing temperamental mangakas like Udai-sensei. His mother will just have to accept that grandchildren are very much not in the near future.

But he does feel somewhat guilty - ‘even Yuji-kun is seeing this lovely girl, auntie tells me,’ his mother nagged last Sunday, so he picks up a habit of buying flowers to soothe her every time he heads to his parent’s home for a meal.

‘Pink carnations for your mother again?’ the florist asks brightly.

Akaashi nods, insisting on paying for the baby’s breath she adds to the bouquet. The florist lets him when he assures her he’s no longer a starving university student, and pulls her gloves off to rifle in her drawer for change.

‘Here you go!’, she chirps, holding out a tray with his change. His gaze is drawn to the pink burn scars streaked across her hands, and flushes when she meets his curious eyes with a knowing look.

‘Sorry, I - uh didn’t mean to stare’, he begins to splutter, but she waves it off.

‘It’s fine. I got them a long time ago’, she replies, a wistful smile twisting her lips, tugging her sleeves down to her wrist.

He bows and takes his leave. He doesn’t spare a second thought on the encounter when he reaches his parent’s house, his mother exclaiming over the little bouquet.

The table shakes when his colleague slumps into his seat, sighing deeply.

‘Did your boss get on your case for typos again?’ Akaashi asks, his spoon pausing on the way to his mouth.

‘Worse’, his colleague groans. ‘He’s sending me to Hokkaido for next month’s feature on crimes that shocked the nation, and I have to travel all the way up the mountains to some dinky little town without a train station.

‘Hm’. Akaashi raises an eyebrow, curiosity piqued. ‘What’s the feature about?’

‘See for yourself’. His colleague dramatically slides his folder of articles across the table, bumping it into Akaashi’s plate.

He thumbs through the folder. Nakamura Yakeru, the mayor of a small mountain town in Hokkaido, found guilty on a multitude of charges - breaking and entering, causing arson by fire, assault and attempted murder of a schoolgirl, her identity redacted. It’s shocking in and of itself - but there’s something awfully familiar about the man’s face.

He smooths out the creases in the paper, bringing the newspaper clipping closer to his face, and oh -

He knows that face.

His mind echoes with the memories of flinching at the sight of Nakamura’s teeth, yellowed from nicotine and bared in a smirk, the acrid stench of cigarettes lingering on his shirt, cursing whenever that inconsiderate bastard left sparks smouldering in dry grass. But it doesn’t make sense - there’s no reason for him to have ever met the man. He’s never been farther north than Sapporo, a born and bred Tokyo city boy after all. And he doesn’t recall seeing the man’s face on the news either when the crime was committed.

So why would his dreams feature this man?

‘Akaashi?’ he hears his colleague call his name, but his voice can barely be heard over the pounding of his heart in his ears. ‘You’ve gone really white, is everything ok?’

‘I’m fine’, he replies, hastily shoving the article back in the folder. ‘Everything’s fine.’

His colleague doesn’t look like he believes him. Frankly, Akaashi doesn’t believe himself either.

Try as he might, he can’t get the eerie coincidence out of his mind. And after a few restless nights, he finds himself back in his childhood bedroom, holding the old omamori in his hands. It’s just an inanimate scrap of cotton fabric, but he’s tempted to borrow his mother’s sewing kit to pick its stitches apart, to discover the secrets woven into its threads.

It feels silly being so superstitious, but he can’t help feeling that he’s on the verge of discovering what his strange dreams have been trying to show him - so he tucks the omamori under his pillow, his thumbnail catching on a stray thread, before he surrenders himself to his dreams.

‘Akaashi Keiji’, a cool voice pronounces his name with faint amusement. ‘Back to change the terms of our bargain? ’

His eyes fly open.

This time he’s on familiar ground, kneeling on the twenty sixth step of the shrine he visits with his parents for Hatsumode, the other twenty five steps below him shrouded in mist. But the woman standing before him is not familiar to him - in fact, she’s clearly not even human, not with her red eyes and pale lips, not with the wisteria trailing from her hair and disappearing into her skin.

That should scare him, but it doesn’t because he can’t discern any malice in her eyes, and the scent of the wisteria is soothingly sweet.

So his curiosity wins out over his sense of caution, and he asks politely - ‘I’m sorry, who are you exactly? And, um. What bargain are you referring to? ’

Her eyes gleam. ‘I’m offended. Don’t you recognise the guardian of the shrine you’ve been praying at your whole life? And as for the bargain you’ve made with me - I thought you already figured it all out by yourself, little boy.’ Laughing airily, she crouches over him, a wooden plaque dangling from her finger. ‘Remember this?’

He reads the words etched on the plaque. ‘I wish I could have more time. I wish for yesterday to come again.’ Then he glances up at the shrine deity sharply. ‘I remember that from my dreams. Does this mean they’re real?’

‘What do you think?’ Her lips stretch into a grin.

‘Logic would suggest that they aren’t. It shouldn’t be possible to swap bodies, let alone with someone I’ve never met in my life. And yet…’

‘And yet?’ she prompts, tilting his head towards her with the nail of her finger.

‘It’s too much of a coincidence to ignore the fact that I know Nakamura Yakeru from my dreams, so that suggests at least some semblance of it is real.’ He looks at her pleadingly. ‘Are you here to help me?’

She laughs again, the sound ethereal like the flutter of butterfly wings. The sleeves of her purple kimono slide down her wrists, the scent of wisteria enveloping him growing sickly sweet. ‘Help you? Well, since you asked so nicely, little boy, I guess there’s no harm telling you your dreams are real. I granted your wish on a whim, and look how amusing you’ve been!’

Oh gods his dreams are real. They’re real. Oh gods, oh gods, oh gods, they’re real.

Akaashi feels his stomach churn. He inhales a shaky breath.

That means she’s real, doesn't it?

He thinks about the salaciously titled newspaper articles, the violence implied in its words. He thinks about the innocence in her impulses, the whimsicalness of her thoughts. He feels ill at the thought of someone deliberately trying to extinguish her.

‘What happens in the end ?’ he asks, blood surging to his head, slamming his palms flat on the ground for support. ‘What happens to her?’

Sunlight pierces through the fog, and the wisteria spirit starts to fade before his very eyes.

‘Why don’t you see for yourself?’, her voice echoes. ‘You’ll find all the answers you’re looking for at the shrine in the forest. You know the way there - you’ve been there a thousand times, both in real life and in your dreams.’

He gasps as he jolts awake, hands clenching his sheets.

He’s in his bed in his apartment. Everything is exactly as it was before he went to sleep.

Well - everything except the scent of wisteria lingering in the air.

Udai-sensei’s eyes bug out from its sockets when Akaashi tells him he’s off to Hokkaido for an impromptu holiday.

‘You aren’t burnt out, are you? Is it me? Is it the deadlines? Don’t quit on me - there’s no way another editor can provide the same input on my new volleyball manga like you!’ he begs, sounding dangerously close to tears.

Akaashi sighs, muttering under his breath about ‘ highly strung mangakas’ but manages to reassure Udai that no, he’s not quitting, he’s just taking a four day break. He thought it’d be nice to visit the flower fields during summer in Hokkaido, and he has an old friend in those parts he might pay a visit to.

So he puts himself on a short flight to Sapporo, and a painfully long bus ride further north into the mountains, arriving at the rural village he’s traversed countless times in his dreams. He drags his luggage past the high school, the crunch of wheels on gravel slowly knocking loose memories of bones aching, flesh bruising, from tumbles down the stairs, from falls off drain pipes, from predestined losses against cement floors.

He exhales through his nose when he walks past the florist’s shop. It’s a hollow shell of bare concrete and cardboard shutters, a gap where the signboard should be on the shopfront, a stark contrast to the bustling bakery and combini it’s sandwiched between. Thank the gods, he mutters, the blaze of hurt and desperation in Hana-chan’s eyes haunting his mind.

The only inn in the town is serviceable enough, though he’s looked at in askance by the innkeeper when he admits he’s an editor for a publishing company. ‘Another gossip hound ’, the old lady mutters resentfully, and Akaashi has to do damage control lest she assign him the dampest room in the establishment and assure her that he’s no journalist, just a flower enthusiast interested in the lavender blooming in the fields. He charms her enough with his politeness that by the time he checks into his room, she offers him free use of a bicycle to explore the town, and he takes her up on her offer once he drops off his bags in his room.

The summer sun is starting its descent from the sky as he cycles past familiar dirt paths lined with trees, the anticipation in his blood thrumming as he passes sprawling farms he’s sure he’s eaten stolen eggs from, passes the gas station she bragged about stealing petrol from. The rush of blood to his head hits a roaring crescendo when he reaches the edge of the woods.

Leaning the bicycle against a fallen tree, he sets off to the very heart of the forest, his feet seeming to recognise a path his eyes cannot see. The deeper into the forest he ventures into, the thicker the branches overhead seem to grow, leaves interwoven into a net that blocks the sun.

The wind ripples over his skin. The trees seem to whisper out to him.

Okaeri, he hears. Welcome home, the Kodama spirits murmur over the rustle of leaves in the breeze.

Sunlight from the setting sun spills into a clearing just ahead, and though he’s almost blinded by the sudden flash of light, he can make out the outline of a shrine, situated dead center of the clearing and breaks into a run. There it is , he thinks, dropping to his knees, hands trembling as he brushes fallen branches and leaves off the shrine, deaf to the growing whispers from the trees surrounding him.

‘Please grant me your secrets’, he breathes, eyes closed in prayer.

He can feel a pulse in the ground, a sudden shift in the air. Wisteria blooms from the soft earth in his heart.

Oh.

Oh gods.

He remembers.

Taglist:

@forgetou @animeflower26 @kageyamakock @underrated-fruit-tarts-official @bongofrito

#haikyuu!!#haikyuu #hq #haikyuu angst #haikyuu romance #haikyuu fic rec #haikyuu imagines #hq imagines #haikyuu writing #hq writing #akaashi keiji #akaashi keiji x reader #akaashi x reader #akaashi keiji x you #akaashi keiji x y/n #akaashi x you #fukurodani #kimi no nawa #haikyuucreations

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bottleofspilledink · 4 years ago

Text

God's Watching, Put on a Show || Chapter IV

"Listen up, girls!" Sister Lydia said, smacking her ruler on the blackboard to draw everyone's attention.

A few students visibly cringed at the noise, faces scrunching up in distaste. Eve never quite understand why that was. If anything, the sound of the wood against the board would snap her mind back to the lesson instead of letting her mind float off for the rest of the subject.

"Today will mark the beginning of the new system we've put in place" She tapped the ruler against her palm as she paced around the board.

"Your next period will be dedicated to assigning you your partner and your new schedule which will be effective this coming Monday."

A low whisper rang through the class, some excited, others... not quite. Though they were quickly hushed by another hit of the ruler.

"Now, a few ground rules before you find out who you got assigned to. This is system was made to keep you and your partner from sin. You are to build trust, camaraderie, and friendship, yes, however first and foremost, you are there to keep each other out of trouble.

"You are to guard one another and report any wrong doing you see them commit and any rule they break. This may seem like a cruel thing to do, subjecting your friend to scolding and disciplinary measures, but what you need to understand is that it's all for your own good.

"Do you understand this?"

"Yes, Sister Dolores." The girls spoke in a machine-like unison, voices indistinguishable from one another. The habit had been drilled into them after nearly four years of studying here.

How long it would take them to unlearn that was what Eve pondered as they all lined up and left, silent and eagerly nervous to meet their new partner.

Her amber eyes scanned every girl carefully. By now, Mary had told her who had ended up with who, and nothing would surprise her.

Tabitha was paired with Esther, she remembered as the girl wondered aloud who she got. Eve could only imagine how careless the nuns were when picking partners for the girls who weren't suspected of arson.

Esther had put a wad of gum into Tabitha's hairbrush while they were in the locker room, leading to the girl sobbing her eyes out as the hair she'd grown out for three years was reduced to a pixie cut.

It was stated in the handbook that girls were to have their hair meet their shoulders and we're not to have it any shorter. Though the nuns had to make an exception due to the rather delicate situation.

She could only hope that Tabitha would graduate with some hair left.

Susanna was paired with Rachel, which Eve thought explained the upset look on her face as she exited the nun's office with her new schedule.

Susanna had stolen Rachel's boyfriend the year prior. In response, Rachel destroyed her bag, as well as all the books and homework in it, making her flunk four subjects that semester and ultimately making her lose her scholarship.

The relationship didn't even last six months.

"Eve Peccator." A Sister called from the door, her voice wavering and her hands shaking with the weight of the years and the wooden clipboard.

How long has she been here?

How long has it been since she dedicated herself to God?

How long has it been since she lived for her and her alone?

She shook the thoughts from her head and entered the office, prepared to hear news that was no longer news to her.

"Eve, dear, have a seat." Mother Cecelia said, the cup of tea she held in her hands removed from her lips to reveal a saccharine smile. A smile with a tad bit of extra teeth that didn't quite reach her eyes.

"Now, I'm sure you know what you're here for," she pulled down her reading glasses from where they rested on her habit and opened a folder on her table, "so let's cut to the chase, yes?"

Eve nodded curtly.

Mother Cecilia, from what Eve knew, was a kind yet strict woman who had no tolerance or capacity for lies and deceit.

"Alright then, dear. You'll be paired with Lilith Damien. We've created a schedule for the both of you to follow, effective on Monday. Is that clear?"

Eve nodded again, the soft curls of her golden hair swaying ever so faintly as she did so.

"Good. Well, you've already been informed of this but I'll repeat it for the sake of clarity, but if Lilith is to admit to or does or even plans to do anything wrong, you are required to report it to us, no matter how small or long ago this wrongdoing seems to be." She closed the folder in her hands and slid it over to the girl.

Eve took it, but remained seated, bug-eyed and expectant of the other to say more, particularly awaiting for the woman to mention that they were using her to catch the perpetrator of the kitchen fire.

"Well? Do you have any questions? If not, then you may leave inform Sister Priscilla to send in the next girl."

But nothing came.

"Of course. Thank you for your time, Mother Cecilia."

She couldn't quite understand at the time what she felt at that moment, being used as a means to an end without her supposed knowledge, but she would later come to recognize that the feeling that tugged at her heart and nagged at her mind was that of her faith in the people who ran the school shattering into infinitesimal fragments she wouldn't be able to piece together if her very soul depend on it.

...

"Well?" Elizabeth asked the moment she sat down for lunch.

"Well, what?"

The brunette let out a huff, clearly exasperated. "Well, do we share any classes?"

Her neatly manicured hand waved her folder in the girl's face to drive the point home.

"Oh yeah." Eve pulled the papers out of her bag, passing them over without so much as a second glance. Her mind had yet to fully comprehend the lie by omission that Mother Cecilia had told her earlier.

Was she not a woman of faith?

Was she not the same woman who had so often chided others for lying?

There had to be something in her vows that prohibited lying, right?

Her thoughts were put to an end by Elizabeth's excited squeal.

"Oh thank God! We share English and chemistry at least." She tossed the papers back to her friend. "Me and Mary don't have a single class together!"

"Are there even enough classes for that to be possible?"

"Right?" Elizabeth slumped onto the table, miserable. As fun as she could be, she wasn't the sharpest tool in the shed, and would often cheat off her cousin, Mary.

Cheating was explicitly stated as grounds for expulsion on the fifth page of the student handbook, but really, who cared about that when they were failing math?

"At least we share lunchtime. You're on your own there."

"Wait, really?" Her mind had been too occupied to even check the schedule after what had happened and she had neglected to check the papers altogether.

"Yeah! Didn't you check mine?" Eve's eyes flicked over to the unopened folder that she only now realized had been placed in front of her.

"Sorry, Liz..." She put her juice down, sighing. "I've just been distracted today."

"Today?" Elizabeth said in disbelief.

"You're distracted all the time!"

"Is that anything new for Eve?" Mary chimed in as she arrived, immaculately shaped brow raised.

"But it's a different distracted now! It wasn't this bad before."

"Is there something you're not telling us, Eve?" Mary teased.

"No way! I tell you guys everything."

"Do you?" The girl pressed on, brow raising even more.

"Oh! I know what you're hiding!" Elizabeth chirped, giggling as she scooted over to whisper to Eve.

"You have a boyfriend!"

The blonde nearly spit out her drink.

"I do not have a boyfriend."

"I don't know..." said Mary. "That violent reaction says otherwise."

The two girls cackled and sang childish rhymes about trees and kissing, and marriage and baby carriages, as their friend groaned, flushing up to the tips of her ears in embarrassment.

"I promise, I don't have a boyfriend."

"Prove it!" Elizabeth leaned on Eve, effectively pressing her body to the table in an attempt to crack the girl.

"Think about it for a sec, Liz." The hardness of the metal was digging into her, the flimsy fabric of her uniform not doing much to cushion her from the dull ache of it as it bit into her skin. "If I had a boyfriend, why would I try to hide it from you?"

"We're friends, so I don't need to worry about you guys ratting me out or stealing him."

Mary put her spoon down, humming. "She has a point."

"Hey!" Elizabeth was off her in an instant. "Whose side are you on?"

"I'm just here for the show." She chuckled once more. "Besides, as student council president, I can't take sides. It would be very diplomatic of me."

"Oh, c'mon! Can't you make an exception for your favourite cousin?"

"Who said you were my favourite cousin?"

"I'm your only cousin!"

"Are you?"

As they fought amongst themselves, she couldn't help but let her thoughts go astray.

"Oh God," Eve thought to herself, "if they find out..."

She pushed the thought to the back of her mind.

There was nothing for them to find out.

There was nothing that made her different from them.

There was nothing for her to worry about.

Not yet.

______________________________________________

Taglist: @melpomenismask @littlemisscalamity

(Holy shit, I've got a taglist now!!)

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emberbent · 5 years ago

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Book 2: Air | Chapter 4: Bending Embers

“Idiot,” Yanyu scoffed. She was a mean-faced woman of indeterminate old age; though she wore civilian clothing, her long, gray queue and sharp, precise movements gave her away as having had Dai Li training. She cast a disgusted sneer at the Avatar, who was held fast to a chair with hand-shaped cuffs made of unforgiving stone, entranced. “I can’t believe she fell for it.”

“I can’t either,” the Org lackey grunted. He sat beside the chair on the floor, taking a rest with his arms curled around his bent knees. He’d lit the fireplace to stave off the chilly late-autumn draft that had swept into the room. “Name’s Nobu, by the way.”

“Can’t say I really give a damn what your name is,” Yanyu replied airily. Then, with more force: “You know what I’m here for.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Nobu rolled his eyes. “Hang on a sec.” He yanked his radio out of its holster on his belt and held it up to his mouth. “Agent Tanaka to Command. Avatar has been captured and is ready for transfer, over.”

The response was immediate. “Very good. See that she is brought to me in one piece. Over.”

“Wilco. Over and out,” Nobu said into his radio. Hauling himself up into a standing position, he twisted a couple times to the left and right, cracking his spine. “Man… I’m getting too old for this.”

“Oh, please,” Yanyu spat. “Don’t talk to me about being old. I want my money.”

Nobu stood firm. “You know the deal. We get her transferred, and then you get your cut.”

Yanyu rolled her eyes. “Fine.” Then she looked again at the pacified Avatar, eyes open but unseeing, face still. She produced from the inside of her robe pocket a little vial of thick, black liquid. “Let me give her more of this before we take her.”

“What is that?” Nobu inquired, squinting at the substance.

Yanyu uncapped the vial and, with a hard curling of her fingers, removed the sludge and let it hover in the air for a few seconds. “Insurance,” she smirked. “Gave her some of this when she was a kid just in case. This’ll help her stay nice and quiet on the trip.”

With a slow, tight twist of her hand, she propelled the wobbling blob toward Shinza.

“Open,” Yanyu instructed.

She obeyed. The sludge brushed her bottom lip.

Hey. Hey! Wake up! shouted a familiar voice in Shinza’s mind.

Her hand twitched.

“Hurry!” hissed Nobu. “She’s coming out of it.”

Shinza! Wake the fuck up, you’re in trouble!

“No she’s not,” Yanyu replied arrogantly. “Shinza… you are a good, quiet girl.”

Korra’s palm was hot and hard as it struck Shinza’s face. “Wake! Up!”

Shinza bolted upright, dazed, as she found herself in the spirit room with Korra. “What…?”

“You have to wake up,” Korra urged. “It was a trap. The Org and some bitch named Yanyu are kidnapping you. Get up.”

Slowly, stupidly, Shinza looked at her hands, her arms. Realization dawned on her. As if piped in through an old-time intercom system, a voice came to her: “You are a good, quiet girl…”

She was awake now.

“I can help you, but you have to fight. Ready?” Korra urged.

On the physical plane, Shinza’s eyes shot open, glowing white with the force of Korra’s guidance. A howling wind kicked up around her, throwing furniture around the room as if it was all made of paper. The earthen cuffs crumbled away and she stood up from the chair.

“I am no such thing,” Shinza bellowed; the wind was deafening, but her voice rang out above it, bolstered by Korra’s voice layered behind it. With a sharp jab, she shot a blast of fire at Yanyu’s head.

Yanyu swiftly ducked and rolled, grounding herself in a solid horse stance and sending her foot downward, hard. The cement slab beneath their feet broke into shards like brittle candy, shredding the carpet above it; Yanyu directed the shards inward, aiming to capture Shinza’s legs. Narrowly, Shinza leapt upward on a current of air, the cement scraping at the leather of her boots. Behind her, Nobu snuck up and wrapped his arm around her neck, cutting off her airflow with the crook of his elbow. Flailing, Shinza kicked both legs out high, striking Yanyu in the jaw in an attempt to wriggle free. Nobu flexed his bicep. Shinza saw stars. He snared her wrists behind her back and wrestled her to the ground, stomach to the earth with his knee hard on her back.

“Stop fighting!” Yanyu commanded over the cutting wind. Gesturing with her hands, she summoned the crumbled earthen cuffs; they reformed and flew toward Shinza, stony fingers curling--

Shinza uttered a deafening howl. The gale picked up with sudden, ferocious force and sent Yanyu and Nobu both across the room in different directions, their bodies thudding against the walls. She got to her feet. Nobu, fazed and angry, bolted upright and lunged for her. In a split second, Shinza’s eyes went to the fireplace. Her hand shot out, summoning the smoldering embers forward. Then she thrust her fist at Nobu, sending them into his eyes.

Nobu screamed, clutching at his face and falling to his knees. The smell of charred flesh permeated the room.

Behind her, Yanyu drove her bony knuckles into Shinza’s spine. Once, twice, but before she could land the third blow, Shinza whirled around, catching Yanyu’s arm in her grasp and twisting until she heard a loud pop. Yanyu yowled defiantly, her hard green stare daring her to continue. Shinza yanked her other arm forward, gripping it hard and twisting at the shoulder so Yanyu couldn’t move.

“You wouldn’t dare,” Yanyu growled.

Shinza snapped her arm with a nauseating crack. “You will never block anyone’s bending again.”

In the recesses of her mind, Korra whooped and hollered triumphantly, and then slipped away. The white glow receded from Shinza’s eyes, and the gale subsided. The room was in shambles. Yanyu lie passed out on the floor, and Nobu crouched near the crooked bed, wailing, blinded, burned.

“Why? Why would you do this?!” Nobu cried.

Shinza sank to her knees near him. “Would you really have let me go if I’d asked politely? I don’t think so. I don’t believe you would have reasoned with me.”

“The Avatar is not reasonable,” Nobu argued miserably. “You’ve proven that today.”

“I’m sorry you see it that way.”

“I don’t see anything now because of you!” he spat viciously, lunging at her in rage but toppling, unwilling to remove his hands from his blistered face. He sobbed. “It wasn’t supposed to go this way. I was supposed to turn you in, collect my bonus, and retire.”

Shinza studied him. Greying at the temples; muscled, but he probably had to work harder to stay fit than he used to. Maybe he had a wife and grown kids. This was just a job to him - one with a good pension, by the sound of it. Nothing personal.

“What do you really think of the Organization?” Shinza inquired. “Of the Avatar?”

“I don’t know,” Nobu sniffed. “I don’t care anymore. Leave me alone.”

Shinza’s gaze narrowed on him. Was he really letting her go? “Okay then. I’m walking away.”

“Go. Get a head start before I change my mind. Just know the big man won’t be pleased when you don’t arrive. He’ll send out another crew, a better one, and they won’t treat you well.”

“That’s fair,” she said. Then she turned for the door, stepping carefully over Yanyu’s prone body and opening the door. With one foot over the threshold, she turned back. “By the way, the healers in Republic City are top notch. They’ll fix you up.”

Nobu scoffed. Shinza stepped into the chilly air, sticking her thumb and index finger into her mouth to whistle for Xia. But before she could make a sound, the ground rumbled beneath her feet. Shinza turned back to see the pointy end of a shard of concrete leveled at her face. Yanyu directed it with her feet and sent it forward. Shinza ducked, but the corner of the block caught her shoulder, ripping her clothes and the skin beneath it. An ugly black bruise began to form immediately. Shinza growled furiously, cocking her fist--

A plume of sweltering flame blasted through the doorway, missing Shinza but engulfing Yanyu, as Xia drove relentlessly forward into the building, arching upward in a loop like a roller coaster once she’d cleared it and doubling back to reign more fire.

“Shit,” Shinza murmured. The inn began to burn around her. “Oh, fuck.”

Xia made another loop and slowed down just enough for Shinza to throw herself onto her back. Before she knew it, they were speeding into the air as the inn was consumed by flames. In the distance, she heard police sirens.

Reeling, Shinza clung tightly to the dragon. She’d managed, just barely, to wriggle out of her own kidnapping, but she’d had to physically maim two people to do it. Her dragon had just committed murder by arson. The Organization, she knew, would be out for blood. She could already see the propaganda flyers littering the streets of towns across the globe: Avatar brutally murders her opposers.

The visceral feel of Yanyu’s limbs snapping in her hands pulsed in her head like a sick heartbeat. The stench of Nobu’s charred flesh was embedded in her clothes - a smell she’d never be able to wash out.

Clinging tightly to Xia’s back, she planted her palm firmly onto the slick, scarlet scales, closing her eyes and communicating with gratitude: I couldn’t have gotten out of that without you.

_______

They touched down in a town a comfortable distance away from Gaoling. Shinza parted with Xia, wearily found another inn, checked in, and immediately collapsed on the bed. Though she slept hard, she dreamed a familiar dream: black sludge oozed out in sticky tendrils from her eyes, nose, mouth, and ears. But this time, she let it flow, watching it collect itself into a neat blob and flow back into its little glass bottle.

In the morning, she felt as if she’d been hit by a Satobus. Bleary-eyed and sore, she made her way to the bathroom, noting the ugly blue bruise and the throbbing, bloody scrape on her shoulder. Her reflection stared back at her, hollow-eyed, pallid. Her freckled face was framed by a tangle of dark hair. There were no mirrors in the Eastern Air Temple; with the exception of the pond in the early, tranquil morning, she hadn’t seen herself in months. Shinza scarcely recognized the woman she saw. In her own mahogany eyes, she saw exhaustion, anger, sadness, and what Shinza could only describe as freedom. Though she smoke and char from the inn in Gaoling still clung to her skin, and though she could still hear Yanyu’s yowling and the snapping of her bones, she felt as if a great weight had been lifted from her. Carefully, she cleaned the wound on her shoulder and bathed. She’d lost her bag, she realized with a sigh, and reluctantly slipped back into the soiled and torn clothes she’d arrived in.

Then, with a growling stomach, she went out in search of food. A block down from the inn was a noodle house; Shinza stopped in and slipped into a booth. A waiter came by to attend to her - a young man with a tapestry of tattoos covering both arms.

“Morning,” he greeted, clearly pretending not to notice the state of her clothes. She had a feeling he wasn’t one to judge. “What can I get you?”

“House special, please,” she replied. The young man bowed and returned momentarily with a steaming bowl of fresh noodles drowning in fragrant broth. Her stomach rumbled again as she unsheathed her chopsticks.

“Anything else I can get for you?” he inquired.

“Actually,” Shinza paused, studying his tattoos as surreptitiously as she could. “Will you tell me where you got your ink?”

“Pretty sick, huh?” He took a moment to admire the intricate, colorful designs on his skin. “Old man Guo hooked me up. He does it old-style with a poker, not metalbending. He’s over on Shi Street and Main.”

“Thanks,” Shinza replied, and tucked into her noodles.

_______

Shi and Main was a short walk. Guo’s place would have been all but invisible to those not looking for it, save for the wooden sign that had fallen off its little hooks on the awning and sat leaning against the outside of the storefront. Shinza entered and found a man - old, indeed - perched on a stool behind the counter, apparently asleep.

“Excuse me,” she said. “Are you Guo?”

As if he’d been awake the whole time, he smiled brightly, toothlessly. “Oh, yes, that’s me. How may I help you?”

Shinza peered at all the artwork that lined the walls, some of it on old-style parchment scrolls, some on paper. Not a measure of wall was without a drawing or a painting. Spirits, beasts, curvaceous women, and poems in elegant calligraphy abounded.

“I’d like a tattoo,” she said. “A big one.”

With the enthusiasm of a child, Guo stepped off his stool and hobbled around the front counter. “What strikes your fancy?” he inquired in his thin, airy voice. His cloudy eyes traveled over the torn fabric of her shoulder.

“Don’t ask,” Shinza said flatly. Guo met her gaze and winked. Then she rolled up the sleeve on her opposite arm. “Are you familiar with the red dragons of the Island of the Sun Warriors?”

The process took nearly eleven hours, but meditating with Lo Sang for months on end had prepared her both for the wait and for the pain. The pain was intense and prolonged and entrancing; once Guo had sunk the inked needle into her skin for the last time, he carefully and reverently cleaned her skin and gestured for her to take a look in the full-length mirror nearby.

The tattoo consisted of strict, uniform linework and painstaking, meticulous shadow stippling in pure black ink. It started at her clavicle, where the likeness of Xia’s head breathed fire toward Shinza’s heart; the dragon’s body extended down the entire length and surface of her arm, ending with the detail of Xia’s tail wrapping delicately around her fingers, over her scars.

“It suits you,” Guo said, admiring his work. “Your spirit companion will be quite proud.”

“How do you know I know this dragon?” Shinza inquired casually.

Guo peered up at her and offered another toothless smile. “We have long awaited your return, Avatar,” he whispered. “Go in peace.”

Guo refused to accept the last of her money, claiming no payment was greater than to be allowed to tattoo her. Shinza cast him one last inquisitive look before closing the door behind her and whistling for her dragon.

_______

@chromecutie @hetapeep41 @jaymzbush @newyorkerqueen @my-remedy-is-euphoria

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fluffy-marshmallow-heart · 5 years ago

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20 Seconds of Courage -Part 19

The Elementalists au

Beckett x MC (Oriana)

Words: 1835

Warnings: This is a very dark chapter. Assault, rape, murder, blood splatter, and suicide are all here, as well as gun violence and arson. Read at your own risk. (Please don't hate me, I don't even know how this got so far, but it's fairly fitting for a Halloween posting lol)

Series Master List

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“Oh my god.” Oriana groaned, immediately trying to grasp the back of her head, but finding herself restrained, her wrists and feet tied. “What the hell was that…” She looked around the unfamiliar setting, her head throbbing. “Where….?

The room she was in was luxurious. She was lying in a four-poster queen size bed. She was laying on top of white satin sheets and wearing a white satin slip. She had nothing on underneath and was barefoot. “How in the world….?”

“I wouldn’t think about it too much. You won’t be here long. Loose ends don’t stay loose for long at all. And you, my dear, are a huge loose end.”

She froze, hearing the voice coming from across the room. She knew that voice. Her eyes immediately shifted, finding Jason’s immediately. “Jason, what are you doing? Haven’t you done enough to me already? What more could you possibly want?”

“It was never supposed to go this far. You were never going to be anything other than a decoy as we hit the real target. You really fucked up those plans, and you will pay the price. Since our big payday is no longer coming, we could try to hold ransom from Beckett for you, but….this is much sweeter isn’t it? Finding his true love, devoid of life, wrapped in white satin soaked in crimson blood? I know I’m looking forward to that view. Just like I was his sister’s. Of course, that had to be hurried, and it became rushed and sloppy. But this…you…will not be rushed. It will not be sloppy. You will be beautiful even as you die.”

Jason stood up, sauntering towards her as though a predator. The glint of a knife drew her attention. He noticed.

“Oh this? This knife and I go a long way back. It’s my...sacrificial one, if you will. You aren’t the first person we’ve had to put down for getting in our way. For the rich ones, the real targets, I have another. But for you…”

He arrived at her bedside, smiling down on her. “This knife is for little bitches like you, who don’t get out of the way fast enough.” He pressed the tip into her neck, drawing a drop of blood. He grinned as she winced.

“I’m not normally one for drawing things out. It’s such a rush, such a high, taking someone’s life. But I want your lover to know how greatly you suffered. I want him to know it’s his fault that you did not go peacefully. He’s going to wish you died the way his sister did. Instant. Didn’t feel a thing. Here one minute, and the next…gone from the earth.” He sliced her arm, a trickle of blood coming out.

“You might wonder why you’re dressed like that. A tiny slip, naked underneath, surrounded by white. Your arms and legs tied up so you’re spread open for anyone to see that perfect little pussy of yours. There’s going to be alooooot of fun happening here. Maybe not so much for you. But you’ll be bleeding out anyway, growing weaker and weaker, but still feeling every sensation brought to you. I bet I can even make you cum as I slit your throat. Dying during an orgasm…now that is a good way to go. I guess I’m feeling generous right now. Or maybe I just want to see you shudder in ecstasy at the same time you choke on your own blood.”

“Why?” She whispered. “What did I ever do to you? What did Beckett ever do to you?”

Jason sneered. “That bracelet…I loved seeing you wear it. Completely oblivious it belonged to someone else, someone important. It took me a few years to wear you down and get you to date me…honestly you are such a tease. So, it’s been years since I’ve fed my innermost desires. And this is pure poetry.”

“How?” She cried.

“You haven’t figured it out, yet? You made my relationship with Lisa public. She could no longer be used to satisfy my bloodlust. So it was fucking perfect that Beckett Harrington, brother of the last person to meet their untimely demise by my hand, picked you to start a relationship with. He caused quite the trouble for us, leading the search for Katrina’s killer. But there were no leads to go on. Everything was a dead end. Absolutely no trace of me was left behind. So, I forgot all about him. Until a few months ago when he applied for a position. At first I was nervous, but then I realized, what a beautiful thing it would be, to work with him, mentor him, become his friend. I never had the chance to make it happen. It would have been one of my finest moments, having him open up about his tragic past to me, letting me relive it through his eyes.”

“You’re despicable.” Oriana spat.

“I prefer the term, God. I alone have held lives in my hands. Just like right now, I have full control over you living and dying. If that’s not God, I don’t know what is.” He was practically singing his triumph. “I just want you to die. But not until after I’ve had you again.”

Jason climbed on top of her, unbuckling his pants as he went. “It’s a pity things went this way. I enjoyed you so much. The things you can do with that tongue of yours….” He eyes turned black with desire.

Oriana opened her mouth to scream, but Jason’s knife was immediately on her throat, breaking through her skin. “I don’t want to kill you until I make you cum, Oriana. But don’t think I won’t.”

Jason lined his cock with her center, and just as he was about to enter her, the door to the room slammed open.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” A voice boomed out.

Jason jumped off of her, yanking his pants back up.

“Are you a fucking idiot? You want your DNA all over her, inside her? I told you to leave her alone. Why are you even in here?” Michael strode into the room, not sparing a single glance at Oriana. She felt like the wind was knocked out of her.

“M…Michael? What…how…why…?” She gasped.

He turned his cold gaze to her. It was so cold she actually shivered. “You don’t actually think this one is smart enough to pull shit off by himself, do you?”

Oriana gaped at him, and he chuckled with a sneer. “God, I thought you were smarter than that. But then again, you wore a bracelet an ex-boyfriend gave you around a new boyfriend. That was pretty stupid. I didn’t think girls actually did things like that.”

He turned back to Jason, leveling him with his gaze. “Although, it’s not as stupid as giving someone a trophy to wear anytime they like. So here I am, getting my hands dirty so we don’t spend the rest of our lives in prison because of his complete and utter idiocy. And, as you can see, he has a flair for the dramatic.”

Michael shook his head in disappointment. “I never wanted to hurt you, Oriana. You’re a beautiful and bright girl. But unfortunately, I’m left with no choice. Jason, get over here.”

Jason went up to Michael, smiling widely. “It’s time, isn’t it?”

“It is. Go to the bed and take your pants off again.”

“But you said…”

“I changed my mind. I want to watch you destroy her. I haven’t actually seen you do this before. I want to experience the thrill of it.”

Grinning wickedly, Jason went to the bed, sliding his pants and boxers down, kicking them away. He climbed on top of her again, and Oriana finally started crying. She couldn’t help it. This was it. This was how her life would end. Before she could even register what was happening, there was a loud BANG! Jason fell heavily on top of her, motionless, blood everywhere.

Oriana screamed as his blood splattered on the white satin and her skin. Michael looked at her, his face blank. “Welcome to your murder suicide, Oriana. I was actually going to wait a bit longer, but I just can’t stand listening to that man speak anymore. And although I’m not opposed to killing you, I have no desire for him to rape you. I’m no monster. Jason’s messed this up so bad, and I don’t have room for more mistakes. Getting close enough to do it is good enough and all I need.”

Oriana was hyperventilating, seeing the gun in Michael’s hand, and the hole in Jason’s head, his lifeless eyes looking into hers. She couldn’t get enough air in her lungs to scream.

“But…I…he…”

Michael bellowed a laugh. “I can’t understand what you’re saying. SPEAK.” He cocked the gun, aiming it for her.

“…How…?” She croaked.

“Oh, how is it a murder-suicide? Well, I’m going to untie you. Then I’m going to anonymously tip off your dear Beckett Harrington about your location. People already know you’re missing, and they’ll suspect Jason of being with you. Beckett is already mad with worry, and he’s been publicly jealous and angry in the past. He’ll come in, see you and Jason about to fuck since you’ve missed him so much, and he’ll be so blind with rage that he kills you both. And then I’ll reappear to put a bullet in his own head, and make sure his fingerprints are everywhere they need to be, especially on the gun. Absolutely no loose ends. But just in case there’s any doubt whatsoever…”

Michael left the room for just a moment, returning with a few candles, placing them by the curtains and the bed, lighting each one ceremoniously. “There was so much commotion, a couple candles fell over, and since there was no one left alive to correct that…everything will be consumed in flames. I would use gasoline to speed things along, but who shows up and commits a crime of passion armed with a can of gasoline? Besides, you and Jason definitely would have had romantic lighting as you restarted your affair.”

“Where are we?” She whispered. “Someone will see or hear something. Those gunshots.”

“We are miles away from anyone. This house is long abandoned. Some very fancy furniture though.”

“Please don’t do this.” She begged. “I’ll leave the city, I’ll take Beckett with me. We’ll never breathe a word about this to anyone. Not even each other.”

Michael rolled his eyes. “That’s the best you can come up with? That’s the most cliché thing I’ve ever heard.”

Her whole body was trembling, feeling crushed by Jason’s dead weight, his blood dripping on her. She looked Michael square in the eye as he rose his gun back up and put his finger on the trigger.

“Goodbye Oriana.”

She let out a scream as the gunshot rang out, the house falling still as a candle fell over and lit the curtains on fire.

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#beckett harrington fanfiction #beckett harrington fanfic #beckett harrington #Beckett x Mc #choices beckett #beckett x oriana #the elementalist #the elementalists #the elementalists fanfic #the elementalist fanfic #choices the elementalist #playchoices fanfiction #choices stories you play #playchoices fanfic #playchoices #te fanfic #te2 fanfic

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kyrobooks · 4 years ago

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The Haunting of Gallagher Hotel- Chapter One

The Haunting of Gallagher Hotel teaser

She’ll never forget the day she died.

Torches lit up the town square, illuminating scowling and shouting faces. The townspeople launched stones and spit, pegging Trudy’s arms and face as she trudged through the abhorrent mob. She cringed when a pebble struck her cheek. Pain erupted, shooting through her face like lightning striking the earth.

Deputy Hill yanked her arm, leading her through the narrow path the townspeople created. Fists balled, Trudy groaned as the rope around her wrists dug into her skin. Her bare feet picked up glass shards and debris from the cobblestone path as she shuffled along.

She glared around at the angry faces and recognized the men, women, and children of Holloway. She’d done more for them than any God before her. Many of those people owned the very businesses that lined the stone slab she marched across that night. Building and financing the rows of wooden businesses lining the town’s square accounted for half the things she’d done for Holloway. She fed the hungry, made clothes for cold children, and taught woman’s independence. The ever-growing list of the townspeople’s wants was endless. At one point, she didn’t mind the busy work. Fulfilling dreams of the once poor town kept her boisterous and distracted from her bitter reality. Trudy was Holloway’s personal shepherd, making the people her needy sheep.

Hands snagged at her lavender tea gown, adding dirty prints to the blood drops and grime from the beatings in that putrid cell. She glared at the bare-faced man towering over her. The brim of his deputy hat cast a thick shadow, hiding his dark eyes and pale face.

Deputy would miss her. She was sure of it. He got off on the assaults that bruised her face. His heavy fists pounded her bones and scraped her skin until she confessed. And even after her confession, he continued with his evening visits, slamming her body into cinder block walls and passing off open-handed blows to her nose, cheeks, and eyes.

Trudy sighed. A bath with lavender and Epsom salt sounded good for the swelling. She didn’t realize how bloated and purple her once beautiful, fairly smooth skin had become until she passed by the picture window in front of the town’s jail just before they began her walk of shame. Her dark hair matted to her forehead, washed by sweat and blood. Her plump lips were chapped and bloated with bruises.

Even then, her face pulsed with intense hurt. Pain shot through it whenever she winced.

The sea of convictions roared, growing louder as she drew closer to the opposite end of the square.

“Adulterer,” yelled a woman.

“Traitor,” screeched a boy.

“Murderer,” said a pot-bellied man.

Their accusations sent a sickening jolt through her bones. She watched the path underneath her slowing feet, fighting back the tears.

How could they turn on me like this?

“Why’d you do it?” Trudy glared over her shoulder to find the small voice. Off to the right, a pale, round-faced girl sobbed. Arms across her belly, she grasped the sides of her smock dress: one of Trudy’s latest designs. She released it to Mary and Belle’s Boutique, not even a month prior. “I looked up to you,” the girl shouted.

Trudy froze. The child would never understand. Holding the girl’s crying eyes in her own, Trudy thought, I did this for you.

She caught the faces of women shouting and screeching, advocating her death.

I did it for all of you.

“Eyes front!” Deputy said, his authoritative baritone struck Trudy in the gut. She frowned and did what she was told: eyes forward, just like the man demanded. She watched her last stop approach in that ungrateful, dying town. After all the work I’ve done, this is how it ends. She swallowed the ball in her throat, bowed her head, and pressed on.

With every step, she drew closer to the burnt building just beyond the angry mob. Charred and blackened, there it sat, blending with the night beyond the crowd’s orange flames. It moved her to tears to see her building reduced to rubble. The roof caved in, falling through the attic and second floor. The blasts left the double-paned windows bare, with nothing to see inside but burnt walls and a black staircase. A crooked beam leaned over the arched door frame where the door held onto the bottom hinges as the top had burned away.

She scoffed. The people got creative, tying the noose to the end of the lone beam. Underneath it, a wooden crate.

“You people are about to make a serious mistake,” Trudy hissed.

“You should save your breath for your last words,” Deputy said. He led her to the crate. “Step up,” he said.

Legs shaking, she placed a barefoot on the crate and hauled herself up. The ground seemed miles below. Her head lightened, and the jitters threatened to knock her onto the charred floor that used to be the honey waxed porch outside the front door.

“Turn around,” Deputy said.

Trudy turned and faced the prosecuting crowd. She grunted when a stone slammed into her forehead, pushing her off balance. She caught her footing and fought to stand straight as dizziness whipped around her head.

A cluster of women, including her sisters Belle and Mary, stood amongst the mob. Their faces, glossed in tears, glimmered in the flickering lights. They held her glance for what felt like hours, their eyes begging for an answer.

Trudy had an answer for what she did, but didn’t see the need to tell them. It was already too late.

Slowly, they turned and pushed their way through the excited crowd, sauntering off in their fine silk lampshade tunics. Trudy remembered the day she’d bought those for them. She purchased the boutique and the bakery for those girls; now, her heart raced as she cried. The backlash from the town was expected, but never from Mary and Belle. As she watched her sisters leave her behind, Trudy went dead inside for the fourth and final time in her life.

Deputy pulled the loop over her head and tightened the knot, fastening it. Her throat shrank, and butterflies circled her belly. Through heavy gasps, she said, “You know this town wouldn’t have grown without me.”

Deputy stepped back and faced the crowd. He pulled a note from his trouser pocket and opened it. Then, he reached into the breast pocket of his tan deputy button-up and pulled out his reading glasses. He placed them on his face and looked over the note.

“You—you people wanted to bring money into this town,” Trudy yelled. “I caught the train over to Detroit and made connections that brought the money here! I paid the price to make Holloway the train-stop town that it is today! I made this place into Saloon Alley! While you people collected money from tourists and travelers, I was out there making deals that made us rich!”

“Quiet, whore,” a man shouted.

“Hang the killer,” a woman yelled.

Deputy cleared his throat and raised a hand. The crowd fell silent.

“Trudy Mona Lisa Gallagher, on this day, June 19, 1921, you are hereby charged with the following crimes against the town of Holloway, Michigan: destruction of property, conspiracy to commit murder, murder, and arson. You have been formally convicted by the people of Holloway and me, Sheriff Deputy Davidson Lee Hill. You were not allowed a trial as Judge Benjamin Rowles, District Attorney Allen Clyde Albright, and Sheriff Jay Kyle Louis have all perished on this very spot along with Michigan’s Governor Brighton James Fisher, Mayor Richard Tucker, Mrs. Louise Fisher, Mrs. Patricia Tucker, Mrs. Madeleine Albright, and Mrs. Freda Albany Louis.”

The mob gasped and fell into hushed chatter.

“Also, amongst the dead are nineteen souls, including the hotel’s waitstaff, maids, pianist, and bartender. I am sad to say that this will haunt Holloway forever.

“Our investigation concluded that you planted homemade explosives and barred those poor souls inside. You are sentenced to death by hanging on the grounds where your explosions claimed innocent lives. All that stand witness, aside from the townspeople of Holloway, are your two sisters, Mary Karen Welch and Belle Leanora Roth. Your husband, Ulysses Gallagher, God rest his soul, must flip and twist in his grave. He died in the muds of our enemy’s territory for all of us. How you can defy him with your heinous behavior is beyond me.” He moved his eyes from his note and onto the mob. “Trudy Gallagher has lain with politicians and bootleggers alike to push her own sinister agenda. She poisoned the streets of Holloway with hooch, prostitutes, thieves, and brawlers. She is an illness to this town and needs to be extinguished before she harms anyone else.”

He turned to Trudy. “You are a disgrace, and, in my opinion, hanging isn’t enough of a punishment. I wanted the firing squad to take you down.” He flexed his neck and huffed. “However, after days of deliberation by the people of Holloway, this is the conclusion to your life of manipulation, greed, and murder.

“Reverend Pillars wanted to say a prayer for you, but the people would rather not waste any more time. However, they will grant you your last words, an attempt at getting an explanation, perhaps. What say you?”

Tears fell down her face as she perceived the risks associated with her lifestyle. Inhaling deep and pushing a weak breath through her shaking lips, she felt her chest swell due to the taunting accusations made against her. Keeping up with deals and tracking lies day in and day out was enough to drive anyone mad. But the rewards and freedom that came along with those risks changed her for the better. Trudy became the most powerful woman in Holloway. The prize was well deserved, and in the name of Ulysses, she’d claim the crown even after death.

“Did you hear me?” Deputy asked.

She smirked.

The people groaned and gasped.

Deputy cleared his throat. “Murder is funny to you?”

She sighed and shook her head. “No.” She looked him in the eye. “But I’ve never begged for anything before, and I won’t start now. Those people deserved what they got, and if I had another chance, I’d do it again. No one stands in my way. Not you, not these people, and not the bastards who blew up.” She scoffed. “In fact, if I had the chance, I’d do the same to all you ungrateful imbeciles.” She glared at the faces of her persecutors. Faces that used to trust her before. Faces that she strived to keep happy. Faces that could burn in hell alongside the others. “I always win, and when you all go to sleep tonight, I want my words to sit deep in your conscience. I don’t beg.” She narrowed her eyes. “I take,” she growled.

Deputy nodded, disdain across his face. It tickled Trudy’s heart to see him disappointed. He might take her life, but he’d never hear her apologize. He didn’t deserve it, and neither did they.

“Burn in hell,” he said.

Cheers filled the square as Deputy kicked the crate, sweeping it from underneath her.

Her body dropped, and the sound of snapping bones erupted in her ears.

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International Paperback Book: mybook.to/gallagherpaperback

#horror #horrorbooks #chapter one

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fandom-imagines-stories · 7 years ago

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I Can’t do this Alone

Archie Andrews x Reader

Words: 2622

Part: One, Two, Three

Summary: No one could have prepared for this. As Archie faces the consequences of his actions, Jughead enlists the help of Cheryl Blossom, who is being charged with arson by her own mother. Betty finds assistance with a much different crowd. Maybe leather suits her.

Note: So this chapter was depressing to write, but still a lot of fun. Fred Andrews is a saint and deserves better! Also, an even darker side of the characters will be coming out, especially Archie. Jumps around a bit like the last one. Enjoy! This is the forth part of Goodbye Riverdale so be sure to check out the first three if you haven't already. Tags: rochyu

“Dad?” He whispered. This wasn’t happening. It wasn’t real. “Dad!” He screamed, rushing to him. He pulled Fred into his lap and shouted at Pop to give him a towel. As soon as he held the fabric, he pressed it to the wound and the towel was instantly soaked through with blood. “Call an ambulance!” Pop rushed to the phone and dialed 911. Fred reached his cold hands up at Archie.

“Archie…” He coughed. “I needed to tell you something.”

“Shhh, you can tell me later.” Archie cried. “Right now you need to save your strength okay?”

“Archie,” His dad sighed, blood trickling down from his lips. “I may not have later.”

“Don’t say that.” Archie yelled, starting to shake with sobs. “Don’t you dare say that.” Suddenly he felt like a little boy, running into the kitchen with a big cut on his knee from falling off his bike. Tears had streamed down his face he had pointed at the bloody gash on his leg.

“Fix it daddy!” He had exclaimed. Fred picked him up and set him on the counter.

“Everything is gonna be fine, little man.” He rummaged around the kitchen for a bandage while little Archie wailed. “Here it is.” He said and placed the band aid on the cut. “See? All better.” Archie nodded and sniffed, wrapping his arms around his father’s neck.

“I love you dad.” He had said. Fred chuckled.

“I love you too kiddo.” He ruffled his red hair and lifted him off the counter. “How about you and I head down to Pop’s and get some milkshakes?” Archie nodded vigorously and Fred picked him up and carried him to the car.

Now, laying on the cold tiles of Pop’s, Fred’s blood stained the ground, seeping into Archie’s clothes and skin. Fred’s vision blackened around the edges. The only thing he could see was his son’s mortified face. Sirens sounded from outside and paramedics surrounded them, lifted Fred off of Archie’s lap. They placed him on a stretcher and rushed him into the ambulance. It was the second time Archie had ridden alongside someone he loved in a span of one day.

The paramedics told Archie that he needed to stand back, but he held on tightly to his father’s hand.

“I love you dad. Please, I can’t do this alone.” He sobbed. Fred smiled, his teeth red with blood.

“I love you too kiddo.”

The Psychiatric Ward of Riverdale Hospital was unnervingly quiet. A man and a woman sat across the table from each other, but seemed to be carrying out completely different conversations. Jughead shifted awkwardly in his seat. Cheryl smiled sweetly, but hid the pleasure in her eyes from watching him squirm.

“Come here often?” She teased. Jughead rolled his eyes.

“Look, Cheryl. I’m here because I think you know something about Y/N.”

She looked at her hands. The red nail polish was chipping. This time when she spoke, it was a whisper. “What makes you think I know anything about it?”

“Because you were best friends with her since the second grade!” He growled. Her lip trembled. He took a deep breath and calmed down.

“Y/N and I stopped being friends a year ago, Jughead.” She said, even quieter now. He reached out his hand to hers. She froze, looking up at him. His eyes were so sad, sadder than she had ever seen them. Sadder than when she pummeled him in the cafeteria. He was just… empty.

“Please Cheryl. You must know something.” Slowly, she nodded.

“In the months before her mom died Y/N was,” She searched for the right word, “I don’t know. She was different. Strange.”

“Strange how?”

“Jumpy. She’d stare off into space for seven minutes straight.” She scratched off a piece of nail polish, watching the red fall onto the table like blood. “I heard her talking to herself in her room, or at least I think it was to herself. She talked about how her dad was clueless to all of it, and how her mom was manipulating. When she saw that I was listening, she looked like she had just been caught doing something awful.”

“Did you speak with her before she… you know.” He clasped his hands together on the table. Cheryl shook her head, but it wasn’t hard to tell that she was hiding something.

“Cheryl,” Jug sighed, running his hand down his face. He was exhausted. “I need to know what she told you. Y/N was in trouble. We think that’s why she did what she did.”

“She texted me an address.”

“Do you remember it?”

“I think so. Do you have a piece of paper?” He scrambled through his bag until he found a scrap of paper and slid it across the table with a pen. She scribbled down a few numbers and a street name. “This is all I remember.” 227 Maplewood Ln.

“Thank you.” He stood, folding the scrap and putting it in his pocket. “Seriously Cheryl, thank you.” Her chapped lips stretched into a smile- a real one, not forced or painted on with lipstick. Cheryl Blossom smiled at Jughead Jones as he left the Psychiatric Ward, leaving her alone at the table.

“Jughead!” She called after him. He stopped in his tracks and turned back to her. She was staring at him with a fiery, commanding look in her eyes. “Find out who did this.” They stared at each other for a split second before Jughead nodded and made his way to the elevator. The music was cheesy and obnoxious, but he would have kept listening if it meant the door never opened to reveal surgeons rushing a man on a stretcher to the emergency room. Jughead just barely got a glimpse of Fred Andrew’s pale form before he was taken away, a sobbing, blood covered mess who almost looked like Archie trailing after him.

Betty tightened her ponytail before she entered the Whyte Wyrm. People in leather jackets were everywhere. She felt weak in her pink cardigan, the snakes on everyone’s back glaring at her. She looked around for someone who seemed to be in charge, but it was just chaos without FP. After a few minutes of searching, she noticed someone familiar. It was one of the kids Jughead had been with at Southside High. He saw her walking towards him and broke away from his group of friends.

“Jughead’s not here.” He held a burning cigarette between his fingers and brought it to his lips.

“I know. I’m not here for Jug, I wanted to talk to you.” She held her head high so she didn’t look afraid. He snorted.

“To me?” He motioned for her to follow him outside to get away from the noise. “What, does the princess finally want to have a little fun?” He smirked. She clenched her fists.

“I want your help.” He cocked an eyebrow in surprise so she evaluated. “My friend,” She couldn’t make herself say it. “She was in trouble. And the person who did it to her is being released from prison. I want the Serpents’ help in taking him down.”

“You want the Serpents to take on Hiram Lodge?” He leaned in so no one would overhear them. “Are you insane?”

“Yes.” She stared him dead in the eye. “And I’m also desperate, or I wouldn’t be here.” He thought for a moment.

“Sorry Pretty in Pink, but Serpents only help their own, and that pink sweater doesn’t look like leather to me.” He started to go back into the Wyrm, but she grabbed his arm.

“Then I’ll become a Serpent! Please, what if it was one of you? What if one of the Serpents were threatened into killing themselves? Then you would want to avenge them in any way you could right?”

“You can’t just decide to be a Serpent. FP has to-”

“FP isn’t exactly in the position to be making executive decisions.” She snapped. He sighed, knowing that she wasn’t going to give this up.

“Look,” he started, “I will help you, but only because I like Jughead. And I know he was friends with whatever her name is too. So I will see what I can do.” Betty sighed with relief. “But you’re gonna hold up your end of the bargain. We need someone looking out for the Serpents in Riverdale, and I think you’re the perfect girl to do it.”

“Fine.” She agreed. “And don’t tell Jughead I came to you.”

“Fair enough.” He scoffed and went back inside. Betty’s phone started ringing and for a moment, she panicked. They knew she was here. Her mom was coming to get her and send her the Sisters. But she relaxed when she saws Jughead’s picture on the screen.

“Hey,” She answered. “You have to come down to the hospital Betts. Right now.” He muttered into the phone.

“Why?” Her panic returned. “What happened Juggie?”

“It’s Archie’s dad,” he grimaced. “He’s been shot.”

Hermione Lodge was frozen. Her husband had had an affair with a woman who was now dead. A woman whose daughter committed suicide. A suicide Hiram possibly had been responsible for. Her daughter’s friend. Pieces of memory were falling into place and an alarming rate. Her hands shook. Everything he had said was a lie. He was a monster. And he was coming home.

Veronica was in the kitchen, making a pot of coffee. It had been a long day and caffeine was something both of the Lodge woman needed right now. They had thought about going to Pop’s, but Smithers said it was closed due to a robbery. Her phone buzzed on the counter. A text from Betty popped onto the screen.

Come to the hospital now. No time to explain. Archie’s dad’s been shot.

She read it over and over again but the words never sunk in. It wasn’t possible. Not Fred. He was the kindest person in Riverdale. It couldn’t have been him. She felt out of her body as her feet brought her to the living room. Hermione turned her head, noticing her daughter’s blank expression. She rubbed her eyes.

“What is it now, Roni?” She sighed. Veronica made a choking sound. “Veronica?”

“We have to go to the hospital. We have to go right now.” She scrambled around the apartment for her jacket and her mother’s keys. Hermione stood.

“Veronica what are you talking about? What’s going on at the hospital?”

“He needs all of us there. God, he must feel so alone.” Veronica muttered. Hermione started to panic and grabbed her daughter’s arms.

“Veronica!” Her lip was trembling and her eyes were wide. “Now tell me, what is going on?” Veronica gulped.

“Fred Andrews was shot.” Hermione went numb, releasing Veronica. She didn’t notice when she started pulling her out of the apartment and down the stairs. She didn’t notice when the car door opened, or when she turned on the ignition. Hermione drove without knowing where she was going, but needed no directions getting there.

No one could have prepared for this. The hospital waiting room was completely silent. Everyone was staring off into space instead of at each other. Betty holding Jug’s hand, and digging her nails into her palm so tightly, she feel the blood dripping between her fingers. Jughead was trying to get the image of a blood covered Fred out of his head. His eye was still throbbing, but at least his lip had stopped bleeding. Right now, his face was just a reminder that he had betrayed his best friend. He glanced at Archie, who was sitting the farthest away from everyone. He hadn’t been allowed to follow the doctors and wait outside the operating room. It took three nurses to get him to wait with everybody else.

Veronica had tried to talk to him, but he was giving all of them the cold shoulder. Not that she blamed him. Her dad was probably the reason his was fighting for his life on the operating table. Hermione was reliving her high school memories; her first date with Fred, going to the drive-in every weekend, swaying back and forth on prom night. She winced as she remembered picking Hiram over him.

“Chose the rich kid.” The Fred of her memory recalled. She buried her face in her hands. She would do anything to take that choice back. Everyone held their breath when the doctor approached Archie.

“How is he? Can I go see him? Is he gonna be okay?” He ambushed the doctor with questions and he held up his hand to tell the boy to slow down.

“Your father is-” His next words hung in the balance. They held everyone at the edge of a cliff and decided whether or not to let go, “going to be fine.” The group exhaled at the same time. “We’re going to keep him here while he recovers, but so long as he takes it easy, Mr. Andrews is going to come out of this.”

“Can I see him?” Archie asked. The doctor nodded.

“He needs to get some rest, but he’s refused until he gets to see you.” He turned his attention to the crowd of people. “The rest of you will have to wait until morning.” He lead Archie away to Fred’s room. As soon as the door was open, Archie grabbed his father’s hand, kneeling next to the hospital bed.

“Hey Casanova.” He breathed, a tired but happy smile spreading across his face. Archie laughed through his tears. It was strange, seeing the strongest man he knew attached to all those wires and machines.

“I don’t what I would've done, dad.” He cried. “I wouldn’t be able to do this without you.”

“Hey,” He ruffled his son’s hair. “I’m okay, Archie. And I still want to help, but obviously it’s just going to take more time than we thought, okay?” Arch nodded. “The doc said that I should probably get some sleep.”

“Yeah, yeah of course.” He got up and turned off the light, sitting in the chair closest to the bed. In that dark hospital room, it was completely quiet. Archie leaned his head against the wall and the Andrews boys both fell into a deep, peaceful sleep.

Hours passed by like shaking breaths. Archie was fast asleep in the uncomfortable chair by his father’s side and Fred slipped in and out of sleep, afraid that if he fully let go, he wouldn’t come back. When he had finally settled into being half asleep and half awake, a girl crept into the room.

No one was supposed to get hurt for you. You took your hand out of your sweatshirt pocket and moved a piece of Archie’s hair out of his face. You turned back to Fred and grabbed his hand gently.

“I’m sorry.” You whispered, barely even able to hear yourself. “This wasn’t supposed to happen. I’m not even supposed to be alive.” You wiped away a tear and tried to keep your voice from breaking. “The funny thing is, that through all of this, I kept wanting to talk to you about it. You were there whenever I wanted to talk when my mom died, you were there. When my dad left, you became a better father to me than he ever had been. And now, you're the person I’ve wanted to spill everything too.

“How I was supposed to die, but didn’t. How Hiram Lodge is keeping me captive because he thinks I have his money. How much I miss your son, and my friends, hell, even going to school. But Hiram got to you too. And it’s all my fault.” He gripped your hand, eyes open and narrowed at you in the dark.

“Y/N?” His eyes widened. “How are you- Archie!” You backed away, throwing the hood of your sweatshirt over your head to hide your face before bolting out the door. “Archie, it’s Y/N. She’s here.” But when he turned back, Archie’s sleepy gaze following, you were gone.

#riverdale aesthetic #archie andrews x reader #jughead jones #fred andrews #riverdale imagines #goodbye riverdale

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yespleasefandomtrash · 7 years ago

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AlMei Week 2017 - Security/Ulterior Motives

Greetings! I'm here for AlMei Week 2017! Instead of writing individual oneshots per prompt, I decided to make it seven chapters with each chapter at least somewhat aligning with the topic for the day. This is a Modern!AU where Mei is chief medical examiner and Alphonse a police officer. I guess we'll see how this turns out, won't we? (This chapter probably fits the prompt 'Security' best.)

Day 1: Security/Ulterior Motives

Read this chapter on fanfiction.net here.

Disclaimer: I hold no ownership over Fullmetal Alchemist.

xXxXxXx

"Do you notice anything unusual about her organs?"

"Nothing. Excluding the damage caused by the killer, of course. Up until her death she seemed to be in perfect health."

Mei Chang – chief medical examiner of Xing – had recently had her hands full. Normally her city was one of the quieter ones when it came to homicides, but a serial murderer had suddenly struck and did not seem inclined to leave. Needless to say, the bodies of dead men and women were showing up at her office almost by the day for her to autopsy. The females were strangled and then stabbed six times, and the men died from a gunshot before being stabbed in the same manner. In fact, it was the six stab wounds that linked the murders of the men and women to one person. "Is there anything unusual about the wounds?"

"Nah. Just the usual we've seen with the female victims. Strangling is premortem and the stab wounds postmortem."

"Death by asphyxiation, in other words." The Xingese doctor sighed. "I know they're a sociopath. I know it! Living out some sick, twisted fantasy by brutally murdering innocent people." She took off her plastic gloves and tossed them in the trash before running her hands through her dark hair. "Winry, can you finish up in here? I've got some autopsy reports to enter into the system, including this one."

"Yeah, I got it." The blonde looked up from the bruises she was examining on the victim's neck. "And you don't have to worry about this one. I'll do the report since I'm almost done. I want you to go home and get some rest once you've finished. I know your sleep schedule has been completely screwed over because of this killer."

Mei chuckled. "My sleep schedule has always been that way, but thank you. I appreciate your concern." She was already constantly on-call to the scenes of the murders, most of which were either discovered or committed early in the morning. But it was part of her job, so she couldn't complain, no matter how much she sometimes wanted to. "I'll be in my office if you need me."

"Roger that."

Mei left the morgue in Winry's hands and headed up the stairs, briefly wondering why her office wasn't closer to the place where she did most of her work. Upon entering the mildly cluttered room the woman hung her lab coat on a hook before walking over to one of the several sets of drawers lining the walls. "Which to complete first..." she muttered, thinking back to the three cases that were yet to be put into the computer. She rolled her eyes before deciding to just get the three files out and work from there.

"Let's see," she said aloud, flipping through the folder she knew contained reports that were only on paper. She frowned.

There were only two sets.

That wasn't right. It couldn't be. A quick glance told her that one was just the report of a man's suicide and not relevant to the serial murders and the other was that of Maria Ross – an officer who had been killed in suspected arson.

But the missing one was that of a victim in the serial murders – Maes Hughes.

Mei herself had not performed the autopsy in his case, but she could not recall handing the report over to anyone. In fact, she didn't think anyone had seen it but herself.

She checked other drawers under the labels 'H' and even 'M', wondering if somehow it had simply been filed incorrectly, but no such luck.

"Is this some sort of joke?" she muttered under her breath, trying not to panic. There had to be a logical explanation as to why the report was nowhere to be found. "Think, think!"

Nothing came to mind. Mei bit back a scream of frustration as she pulled her lab coat off the hook and onto her shoulders before running out of her office and down into the morgue. "Winry!"

The blonde jumped, almost dropping the pen she was holding as she made notes on the autopsy she had just finished performing. "Mei! You scared me." Then she noticed the panicked look in the Xingese woman's eyes. "What's wrong? Did something happen?"

"I'm missing an autopsy report," she explained, tucking a strand of her long dark hair behind her ear. "Maes Hughes. Do you have any idea where it might be, or who it might have been handed off to?"

Winry shook her head, worry forming in her blue eyes. "No. I haven't even seen that report. All I know about it is what you've told me."

Mei cursed under her breath. Maes Hughes had been an investigator with the FBI and so she'd been instructed to keep the details of his death as quiet as possible. "Right. Sorry." Could she herself had misplaced it somewhere?

No. It was impossible. She'd looked the report over only once before putting in the correct drawer. She remembered it distinctly.

"Mei..." Winry said slowly, resting a hand on her hip as a thoughtful expression fell upon her features. "Do you think someone could have stolen it?"

The doctor raised a brow at her words. "Stolen? I don't think..." She trailed off as her eyes widened in horror. "Oh no."

"What?"

The dark-haired girl cursed. "A few days ago. You weren't here. I don't think anyone was, because it was after hours. I was called by Ling to report to a scene immediately, and I left without a second thought. I left the doors unlocked. I remember because I felt like a complete idiot afterwards." She groaned, holding her head in her hands. "I checked to see if anything had been taken, but there weren't any signs of breaking and entering – not that there needed to be, since I practically left the doors wide open."

"It's not your fault," Winry said in her matter-of-fact tone. "It could have happened to anyone, understand? You've just had a ton on your plate lately and no one blames you for it."

Mei sighed. "Thanks. I appreciate your support – I really do. I have no idea what I'd do without you."

The blonde chuckled, smirking. "I know. You're lucky I've got your back."

The medical examiner rolled her eyes. "Yeah, yeah." She sighed a second time. "I guess I'll go page Ling and report the theft." She hesitated, then corrected herself, "Actually, I have to call in. I think Ling just managed to get the rest of the week off so he can spend time with Lan Fan. I don't want to bother them."

"I wonder why someone would take those papers," Winry mused. "I mean, they only took that one report. Nothing else. All the others relating to the murders are still there, so they didn't need everything, clearly."

"I've already got a hypothesis," Mei said as she dialed 911. "I think there was something in that report that the killer didn't want us to know about, so they came in to take it back before we could notice."

"In other words," her assistant added, "they screwed up badly enough to the point they were worried we could track them, huh?"

Mei nodded before moving her phone to her ear.

"911, what is your emergency?"

The Xingese woman explained what had happened and where she was located. The operator promised to have a few officers sent over immediately. Until then she was asked to stay put and to look over her office a second time just in case she'd missed it.

"Now we wait," Mei said with a sigh as she hung up and tucked her cell phone away. "I was really hoping to go home early today." Then she laughed bitterly. "As if."

xXxXxXx

A few minutes later, there was a knock on the glass double doors.

"I'll get it," Mei called to Winry from her office, putting down the reports she did have that she was entering into the computer.

"Roger that!"

The dark-haired woman brushed herself off and prayed she looked somewhat presentable before heading down the hall to the lobby where the entrance was. Standing outside were two officers she'd never seen before.

Both were blonde, though one had much longer hair than the other. Both also had golden eyes, but the attitudes radiating from the two couldn't have been more different.

Mei found herself drawn to the taller officer. She wasn't sure why, per se – but his eyes glimmered with a certain mixture of intelligence, kindness, and strength. A blush painted her cheeks as she realized her thoughts were exactly that of a young schoolgirl.

She hastily pushed her feelings aside and opened the door for the two men. "Afternoon, officers," she greeted politely. "I'm so glad –"

"I'm afraid there's no time for talk," the man with longer hair interrupted, staring down at her with a look that seemed less than impressed. "We need to speak to the chief medical examiner immediately. Are you his secretary?"

Mei felt her cheeks get hot from a mixture of both embarrassment and anger. She managed to calm herself and say, "Pardon me, Officer...?"

"Elric. Edward Elric"

"Officer Elric." She reached into her pocket and removed the silver badge of the chief medical examiner. "You're speaking to me right now. And while I appreciate you coming here to assist me, I do not appreciate your rudeness. If we're going to be working together I expect a certain level of respect. Understand?"

He turned a brilliant shade of crimson at her words. He tried to reply, but all that came out was incoherent sputtering.

Mei sniffed and put her badge away.

The other officer laughed. "I apologize for my older brother's behavior, Doctor Chang. He never knows when to keep his mouth shut."

"So I noticed," she said wryly. "But it's fine. Even though I've been here for nearly five years now, there's still skeptics."

"My name is Alphonse. Ed and I are transfers from Amestris." He gestured towards his sibling. "And while he may not look it, he's a retired FBI officer."

Mei raised a brow. "Really? I'm doubly sorry for my abruptness, then. I meant no disrespect, Edward."

Alphonse laughed again when her brother didn't reply and instead choose to cross his arms and nod. "Sorry. He's completely incorrigible, Doctor Chang."

"Call me Mei," she replied. "Anyways. You know why you're here. Do you need to see my office? Or the morgue? Is there someone you need to talk to in particular?"

"Bring us to your office first," Edward instructed. "When we're in there we'd like you to tell us everything you know about the report that was stolen."

"Understood." Mei led the two officers down the hall and held open the door for them. "I searched through the files where the report should have been as well as where it might have accidentally ended up, but I found nothing."

"What was in the missing report?" Alphonse asked as Edward began going through each and every drawer.

"Try not to get those out of order," Mei said to the older brother before returning her attention to the younger. "It was the autopsy report of Maes Hughes."

"Was that all it contained?"

"No. It also contained photos of the crime scene where his body was discovered."

"Anything else?"

She hesitated. "I'm not certain. I only briefly looked at the papers relevant to my job, which were the two I've already stated. It's possible there was something else inside that I may not have noticed or simply paid no attention to."

Alphonse wrote something down on the notepad she had not noticed he was holding until that point. "That's understandable. I would have done the same. When did you receive the report?"

Mei frowned. "Four days ago, I believe. I did not perform the autopsy – the FBI did. They sent the report to me because they know my office has received every other body from the serial killings. I found it slightly odd I was not allowed to perform the autopsy, but Hughes worked with the FBI, so I assumed that was why."

"When do you suspect the report was stolen?"

"Two days ago. I was called out of my office to report to a scene and left the doors unlocked."

Edward snorted. "Wow."

Mei glared at him. "It was eleven o' clock at night and I had performed nine autopsies that day, Officer. I won't tell you the details because I doubt you could stomach it. I'm well aware I was being stupid, but it was not intentional in any manner."

"Anyways," Alphonse said pointedly, "was anyone else here at the time? And did anyone else know about the autopsy report prior to its disappearance?"

The Xingese doctor bit her lip as she tried to remember. "As I said, it was after hours, so I was here alone..." She paused, and her eyes widened. "No, I wasn't alone. There was a security guard."

Alphonse raised a brow, and Edward paused his search in order to listen.

She cursed. "But I don't know who. It is possible to find it in the system, however. I can take a look –"

"Mei," a voice interrupted. Winry walked into the office, looking down at the papers in her hand. "I just finished writing this down, and I was wondering if –" Her jaw dropped when she noticed the two officers in the room. "Ed?! Al?! What are you doing here?!"

"Winry?" Alphonse said in disbelief, echoed by his brother.

"I thought you two were working in Amestris," Winry said, putting a hand on her hip. "Did you two lie to me?!"

"We transferred," Edward replied, rolling his eyes. "Why would we lie about something so insignificant, huh?"

"Edward Elric, I'll have you know –"

"Oh, Winry knew about the report on Maes Hughes before it was stolen," Mei interrupted, snapping her fingers as the memory came to mind. "I remember telling her because I thought it'd be best if my assistant knew."

"You're her assistant?" Edward repeated. "I thought you wanted to go into the prosthetics business."

"I do," Winry retorted. "This job is how I'm paying through college and physical therapy instruction classes."

"Winry," Mei said, paying no attention to what the two were talking about, "do you remember what security guard was on duty two days ago? On the night shift?"

The blonde woman frowned. "Two days ago? Let me think..." She bit her lip. "Two days ago... That was Wednesday... Oh! It must have been Yoki. You dismissed me early and I said goodbye to him on the way out."

"Yoki," Alphonse murmured, making a note. "Is he here now?"

"Yes," Winry said, blinking in surprise. "Why? Do you think he was somehow involved in the disappearance of the report?"

"It's possible –"

"Yoki would never do such a thing!" Mei protested. Or she hoped he hadn't, if nothing else.

"We're not accusing him of anything," Alphonse reassured her. "I promise that he won't be convicted unless we have absolute proof."

She frowned, and probably would have argued further had it not been Alphonse talking to her. She'd known him for all of ten minutes and he'd already managed to get under her skin. "Fine. But if you don't uphold the status quo of 'innocent until proven guilty,' I'll sue. Follow me. Also, Winry – it'd be great if you could put the report from today into the system."

"Of course."

The Xingese doctor left her office, the Elric brothers behind her. She could detect the confusion from the two men. She'd even go so far as to admit she had been oddly adamant about holding no prejudice towards Yoki. But once they saw him she was sure they'd understand.

Several hallways later they found Yoki himself.

"You're the Yoki who works here?" Edward said in disbelief, staring at the short, dark-haired man.

He nodded, unable to stop himself from laughing nervously. "Yes?"

"Yoki," Mei said, stepping forward, "these gentlemen have some questions for you about two days ago when we suspect an autopsy report was stolen. Okay?"

Yoki nodded. "O-Of course."

"If you don't mind, Chang," Edward began, "it'd be preferable if you would –"

"I will not be going anywhere, Officer," she interrupted. "And if you must address me by my last name, it's Doctor Chang."

"It's fine if you stay," Alphonse said, giving her a warm smile and causing her to blush more than she'd care to admit. "All we ask is you don't interrupt."

Mei rolled her eyes. "That goes without saying. I've participated in investigations before, you know."

It's the Amestrian's turn to flush a bright red. "R-Right." He cleared his throat and took out his notebook before turning to face Yoki. "What do you remember of the events from Wednesday, two days ago?"

"Specifically?"

"As specific as you can, yes."

"Well, I didn't come into work until late. That Rockbell girl said goodbye to me when she left around nine."

"Where did she leave the building?" Edward asked.

"The front doors. When she left I continued to make my rounds. No one showed up until close to midnight."

Mei's eyes widened at the guard's words. "Midnight?" She hadn't returned until almost one.

Yoki nodded, apparently indifferent to her reaction. "Yes. It was an FBI agent."

Edward and Alphonse exchanged suspicious looks.

"They showed me their badge and said that they'd been ordered to pick up a few documents relating to a case. There was a car waiting outside as well. I couldn't see the driver, but if I had to guess I'd say it was a woman."

"When did they leave? Can you recall?"

Yoki frowned. "Hmm... Maybe fifteen minutes later? They were carrying one of those manila folders. They just left. Pretty rude of them, now that I think about it."

"Was the agent who came in male or female?"

"Um..." The dark-haired man shrugged. "Again, I couldn't tell. It was dark and they didn't really say much to me. I'd guess they were a guy." He snapped his fingers. "Oh! They – he? – had oddly colored eyes. I'd have to say they were almost purple. I thought that was pretty strange."

"Can you remember anything else?" Alphonse asked. "Did the agent show you the papers, by any chance?"

"No. They just got them and left."

The blonde snapped his notebook shut. "You've been very helpful, Yoki. Thank you."

Yoki beamed. "You're welcome, Officer. I'm glad I was able to be of assistance."

The three left the man behind and headed back towards Mei's office.

"Do you understand why I was worried you might hold prejudice towards him?" Mei said, her arms crossed over her chest. "I know officers are not kind towards ex-convicts."

Edward snorted. "Please. We –"

"You worries were understandable," Alphonse interrupted. "And I'm sure you also understand how far-fetched his story seems. The implication of an FBI agent is a very serious accusation."

"Oh, I know," Mei replied. "So we'll go the FBI tomorrow and conduct and investigation. Simple."

Alphonse frowned. "I don't know..."

"That's what I was going to suggest," Edward said, staring the two down. "We can conduct an impromptu investigation under the facade that we need to talk to Hughes' closest friend – Mustang. There's also some officers there that were at the scene when Hughes' body was discovered. We'll get as much information as we can about Hughes' death and try to recreate the stolen report. Easy."

"It seems you've actually had a good idea," Mei smirked.

"And you won't be coming," the blonde added.

The Xingese woman's jaw dropped. "Excuse me?!"

"I said you won't be coming."

"And why can't I? I'm partially at fault for this, not to mention it was a crime within my own office. I have every right to be there."

"She's right, Ed," Alphonse said meaningfully.

Edward groaned. "I bet you just want to hang out with her again because she's your type. But whatever. Fine."

Alphonse shook his head, though he was smiling. And if Mei wasn't mistaken, a light blush was painted on his cheeks. "We'll pick you up here tomorrow around 8."

Mei beamed at him. "Excellent. I look forward to it." The officers said their goodbyes and left, leaving the girl all alone in the hallway. She glanced at the watch on her wrist, sighing when she saw it wasn't even four o' clock yet.

Then her thoughts drifted back to the Elric brothers. Specifically the younger one. Edward was far too rude for her taste.

But Alphonse...? She chuckled quietly to herself. She was certainly looking forward to seeing him again.

xXxXxXx

I'm a bit rusty, in case you couldn't tell. Nonetheless, I hope you enjoyed, and I'll see you again tomorrow for Day 2: Growth/Tradition!

Read Day 2 here.

#almei #almeiweek #tw: mentions of murder #fullmetal alchemist brotherhood #fullmetal alchemist #fma #fmab #fma brotherhood #alphonse elric #mei chang #edward elric #winry rockbell #yoki fma

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derekswhore · 5 years ago

Text

RUSSIAN ROULETTE: CHAPTER ONE

kick-off chapter here

original episode.

"Last night, a team of two criminals was identified," Hotch said, "we originally profiled him as a couple, but we've recently learned that they're twins. Kitanna and Aleksander Egorova, originally Andreyev."

"They were caught on tape leaving a bar last night, and then a dead body was found in there only minutes after they left," JJ said.

"They work so well together everyone assumes that they're a couple," Cora said.

"Typically, siblings tend to argue over everything, especially if they've committed a crime like murder," Spencer spoke up, "but they don't. So everyone assumes that they're either friends or a couple, but didn't think of them as twins."

"What do we know about them already?" Maribelle asked.

"Uh— they were born in far eastern Russia, and into a very wealthy community in Nakhodka," Hotch said, "a fire on their birthday, February 14th when they were about seven, burned their entire family mansion and killed all of their family."

"They had eight other siblings, plus their parents, so in all, that was twelve people living there," JJ said, "they were almost never seen or heard from again after the fire."

"Except, they've been doing this since they were young," Elle said, "the original profile says that they've been doing work like this since a young age."

Hotch sighed. "That's where this case get's extremely morbid. They've been working for the Russian government as assassins and spies," he said, "they've been training since seven and going on missions since fourteen."

"They're wanted for murder, arson, kidnapping, torture, and espionage in almost every country that's not affiliated with Russia and controlled under it's government," JJ said.

"These kids have been used as weapons all most their entire life," Derek said.

"But they're adults now—" Cora started.

"They can't be more than what, 25? 26?" Derek asked.

"Then why not leave?" Cora asked.

"Their government still has leverage about something over them," Jason said, shaking his head, "they won't leave because they can't."

" do not dwell in the past, do not dream of the future, concentrate the mind on the present moment. " — gautama buddha

Maribelle sighed as she looked at the list of aliases Kit and Aleksander had used overtime. Samantha Windsley.

Maribelle looked up immediately. "That bitch," she whispered.

"What?" Cora asked, turning to her.

"When I first joined... Kit and Aleksander came to me for help," Maribelle sighed, "they said Kit had poisoned Russia's leader and that they needed to get away. I gave them the aliases Samantha Windsley and Connor Lucas. Those are aliases I gave to them so the Russian government didn't track them down."

"You helped two of the most wanted criminals in the world and didn't tell anyone?" Derek asked.

"Y-yeah," Maribelle said softly, looking down, "it was wrong, but—"

"But nothing!" Derek yelled.

"That's enough," Jason interrupted quickly.

"She shouldn't be working this case. There's a personal connection," Hotch said.

"Actually, it'd be beneficial if she were working this case," Cora spoke up.

Maribelle nodded. "I met the twins in my early CIA days. I know them and they know me. It'll help," she said.

Hotch glanced at Jason, who nodded. "All right. We'll see how it goes."

To put it simply, Kitanna Egorova was quite pissed off. Not only at her brother Aleksander, but at her boss and friend, Liv, as well.

A last minute mission. Were they crazy? If something went wrong, Kit and Aleksander were screwed. They weren't prepared. They hadn't trained at all before the mission had happened.

"Got anything, Liv?" Aleksander asked.

Olivia Latimoff was quite possibly the best tech genius you'd ever meet. Her skills, so far, remained unmatched by anyone Kit and Aleksander ever met. "Not yet," Liv replied, biting at her lip gently, "wait. Wait, wait, wait... Oh, never mind, they're only passing by."

"Who?" Kit asked, furrowing her eyebrows.

"The cops," Liv replied, "fuck, wait. Guys they're not just passing! It's the cops! They're searching the place!"

Kit panicked and glanced at Aleksander. They heard the warehouse doors open, causing them both to pull their guns. "Higher ground," Kit said quietly, "they won't see it coming." Aleksander nodded and lifted up his sister, Kit pulling herself up quickly and quietly. Aleksander lifted himself up, aiming his gun at one of the two officers that entered the building.

He fired, the bullet hitting his head. Almost right between the eyes, leaning towards the right. "Bet I could do better," Kit whispered, aiming her gun at the other officer's head. She fired, the bullet hitting him right between the eyes, "bullseye."

"Bitch," Aleksander scoffed, climbing down.

Kit smirked. "We got any thing to burn the Five-O?" She asked. Aleksander pulled a box of matches, "might not be enough, Alek."

"We can try, Kitty," Aleksander said. Kit rolled her eyes as Aleksander lit two matches, throwing them on the officer's bodies.

"Let's get out of here, we still have that strip club to hit," Kit said, walking out of the warehouse.

Aleksander followed quickly. "Yes, ma'am."

Maribelle sighed as she looked at the board. She bit her lip. "Guys," Derek said as he walked into the room, "two police officers were just found dead and burning at a warehouse."

"The warehouse was a hiding place to extremely important government documents," Cora said, "we checked security cameras, they said they needed to hit a strip club. There's four in the immediate area, so Spencer and Derek will go to one, Mari and me to another, Jason and Elle to one, and then Hotch by himself."

Everyone nodded. "We'll leave when the club opens. No drinking, keep badges and guns hidden," Hotch said, "I'll allow smoking if it helps you fit in. Just no drugs."

Derek glanced around the club. "I don't see her," Spencer said quietly.

"She probably fits right in," Derek replied, "or she's giving someone a lap dance in private." Spencer gave him a look, "you do know what a lap dance is, right?"

"Yes, I know what a lap dance is, Morgan," Spencer scoffed.

"Doubt that," Derek said quietly, causing Spencer to shoot him an offended look.

"Wait, look," Spencer said, hitting Derek's arm gently before nodding towards a group of people.

Kit was sat on a man's lap, Aleksander sitting across from her. Everyone in the group was drinking, smoking, or using some sort of drug.

"You stay and order a drink, pretty boy, I don't need you choking on cigarette smoke," Derek said, starting to walk over. Spencer opened his mouth to say something before sighing.

Once Derek had walked over, Kit looked up at him with a small smile. The man who's lap Kit was sitting on glanced at Derek before looking back at Kit. His phone went off. "I gotta go, doll, excuse me," he said. Kit stood up and backed up a bit, the man leaving.

Kit looked at Derek and bit her lip. Derek walked over and sat down, Kit sitting on his lap with a small smirk. Derek took a deep breath, placing a hand on Kit's waist gently.

Kit glanced at Aleksander, who shook his head. Kit raised her eyebrows before putting her cigarette out, turning to connect her lips to Derek's. Aleksander sighed and rolled his eyes, taking a hit of the blunt that was being passed around.

Derek deepened the kiss slightly, his grip on Kit's waist getting tighter. Kit smirked slightly as Aleksander's phone went off. He handed the blunt to some random chick next to him, standing up and starting to walk away. Kit pulled away from the kiss with Derek and got off his lap, following Aleksander quickly.

Aleksander and Kit turned the corner, Aleksander immediately stopping and looking at Kit. "You really can't help yourself, can you?" He asked.

Kit smirked, tilting her head slightly. "You've been getting high the entire night. I've been making out with random men and women. Call it even," she said. Aleksander pushed her against the wall, the back of her head hitting it, "ah! Ow!"

"Have a little self control next time," Aleksander said, before walking away.

"The weeds really getting to you now, huh?" Kit asked.

"Shut it." The two walked outside, spotting a ladder that leaded to the roof of the building.

The club had an upstairs 'VIP' section, so there was a staircase leading to the roof. The man who they were to kill stood up there patiently.

"You're the two best people Vladimir sent?" He asked. Irish. Noted, Kit thought.

"Is your reaction because I'm a girl or because we look like children?" Kit asked. Aleksander hit her arm gently, "what?!"

"We'll go with both," the Irish man replied. Kit rolled her eyes.

"Look, I just want to know if you got the weapons," Kit said, taking a step closer

"I do. But I won't deal with the girl here."

Any second now... Kit thought to herself, biting her lip. She glanced at Aleksander and he nodded. "Fine then," she said, pulling her gun. She shot the Irish man in the head twice.

"FBI, drop your weapon," Derek said. Spencer and Derek were now on the roof, Spencer having his gun aimed at Kit and Derek's at Aleksander. The two froze and Kit dropped her gun.

Spencer walked over, his gun still raised. Once he was close enough, Kit pulled a stun gun and stun gunned Spencer in the neck. He was down for a minute. Kit grabbed his gun and pointed it at him, Aleksander pointing his at Derek.

"Let us go and maybe I won't shoot the pretty agent," Kit said with a small smirk.

"In your dreams, Egorova," Derek replied. Kit sighed.

"You know, the more I look at his pretty face, the more I'm gonna regret it if I kill him," Kit hummed.

"Then don't," Derek said. Kit bit her lip.

"I have to," she said softly. Derek shook his head.

"You don't," he said, "I promise you, you do not have to kill him. Drop the gun and come with us." Kit sighed and tossed the gun, putting her hands up as Aleksander did the same. Derek walked over slowly, grabbing a pair of handcuffs. He began to cuff hit and she immediately spun around, kneeing him in the groin.

Aleksander ran over, wrapping his arm around Derek's neck. "We're 27 and already overpowering FBI agents," Kit smirked as Derek began to lose consciousness, "I'd say that's a pretty good win."

"Wait, wait, wait," Maribelle said, "you played lip guitar with Kit and then she stun gunned Spencer in the neck, then her brother choked you out?"

"Weak," Cora snorted.

"Oh, and what did you two do at the club?" Derek asked.

Cora and Maribelle glanced at each other with small smirks. "One got laid, one got high, we'll let you figure it out yourself," Maribelle said.

Derek's mouth went agape. "Cora said she wanted to stay a virgin until she got married—" Spencer started.

Elle snorted. "Ha. That's funny. Cora? A virgin? Nope," she smirked.

"Place your bets now. Cora got laid and Maribelle got high," Derek laughed.

"Guys," Hotch said, turning on a TV that was in the conference room. On the news was a raging fire at a government building, with pictures of Kit and Aleksander on the side.

"Who leaked the profile?!" JJ asked.

"Who knows," Maribelle scoffed, "plenty of cops that want them caught."

"But we specifically said not to release the profile to anyone. That it was premature," Cora said.

"Cops talk. Pissed off cops talk loud," Maribelle and Derek said.

Jason walked into the room. "There's talk of them at a warehouse. A hideout," he said.

Everyone looked at him and nodded. "Let's get going," Hotch said.

"So now what? We wait?" Kit asked, raising her eyebrows.

"Yup," Aleksander replied, turning to face Kit, "spar with me."

"Absolutely not," Kit said, "those agents could enter at any moment. If we spar, they will catch us."

"Fine," Aleksander scoffed, crossing his arms, "spread out."

"What? Why?" Kit asked, furrowing her eyebrows.

"They're used to us being together. Besides, more firing from different locations," Aleksander said. Kit nodded and sighed.

The twins heard the door open as they began to walk away. They both pulled their guns and turned around, pointing them at the FBI agents that had ran in.

"Kitanna and Aleksander Egorova, drop your weapons and put your hands on your head," Derek said.

"Well hey there, hot stuff, nice to see you again," Kit smirked, "and of course pretty boy."

"Drop your weapons," Derek said. Kit glanced at Aleksander and nodded, placing her gun on the ground. Derek walked over, grabbing a pair of handcuffs and cuffing Kit quickly, Hotch doing the same to Aleksander.

Derek caught sight of the A. 550 on the back of her neck and froze.

They branded the poor kids.

Kit sat in the interrogation room, tapping her fingers on the table as she bounced her knee up and down. The door opened and Derek and Spencer walked into the room. Kit jumped and looked at them, biting her lip.

"They branded you," Spencer said, placing the file down, "what else have they done to you?"

"You want it in exact detail or just a vague explanation?" Kit asked, raising her eyebrows.

"So I assume they've done a lot to you?"

"Yeah," Kit nodded, "they did."

Spencer nodded. "Agent Hotchner has talked with the US government about letting you and your brother stay under immunity," he said, "if you break immunity—"

"I know, I know," Kit said, "I get thrown in prison... Or I get deported. One of the two."

Spencer nodded. "Good to know you know your rights," he said.

Kit almost let a smile slip. "I'm not stupid, Dr. Reid," she said, biting her lip again.

"You know, you should stop biting your lip so much. There's a bit of blood," Spencer said as he and Derek got up.

"What're you sitting there for?" Derek asked, "you and your brother are on the jet ride with us."

Kit raised her eyebrows and got up slowly, walking with the two men. "Does it hurt?" Derek asked. Kit looked at him, confused, "the brand."

Kit smirked slightly. "Only when I think about it."

" the love between friends could create life. " — betsy cornwell.

DAI SPEAKS welcome to chapter one y'all !!!

#criminal minds #derek morgan #spencer reid #aaron hotchner #david rossi #jennifer jareau #emily prentss #jason gideon

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bookreadalongs · 8 years ago

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November 9

17:16 5/9/2017 I should've waited until 11/9 to read this. It did not escape me that those numbers were 9/11 in a different order. This is not that kind of book at all though. Was. It a huge fan of the first part. It was not relatable , unbelievable, and just full of instalove. It was interesting that Fallon pointed out a lot of the shit. They both pointed out a lot of it, actually. It just felt weak...yet here I am, unable to put it down. Second November 9 Also, I did appreciate that he could not articulate his thought spectacularly. I appreciated that as a writer (and a person in general) he knew the importance of digging beneath the surface, finding motivation and truth that cannot immediately be seen. 87. A manic episode? So...he's bipolar? - also, doubtful now...but I thought he could possibly be a prostitute when his room mate was like yoooo where ya been 99. He seems to be the only one (okay, only Fallon and her dad are the other people I took into consideration) emphasizing her life in the whole...ordeal. 104. haha that's Kyle's girlfriend, right? Who's living with them now? I went to go back and check, but then I stopped myself. I should just read on. - Ah...so Fallon is what he wished his mom was...weird phrasing. I meant, alive. Hey, Fallon also compared Ben to her mom. 111. Yeah, as soon as Kyle came in and acted like that I was 10% more intrigued. Now, it's been amped up to 25% more 112. I don't get it. Is Kyle...it can't be Fallon in particular that he had a past with. CHoover has already done that shizz. 127. He's so loaded... 133. She so isn't going to be able to do all that with him. It's too perfect...too planned. This book is about things- reality- stopping plans from coming to fruition 138. You got a last minute plane ticket for her. Her dads not rich, but she seems well enough off to see you. And this book will be weird if one of the only times you see each other in five years is a phone call. 152. All of her nakedness and he hadn't even been shirtless yet. I've a feeling his jealousy is no match for what hers should be comparing his romantic endeavors with hers. I'd like her to keep the shirt 168. This is good. I like this. It's just not as compelling as LJ...maybe I'm just not grown up enough...but this is just... wry clearly a romance novel 171. Did he cause his mom's death? I have noticed (obviously) CHoover's method of having a character have some deep dark secret. Blaming himself for something that is not his fault is...not it. I don't know. 176. I appreciate CHoover's consciousness of people (okay, admittedly frequently females read her books) are quick to blame the female character. I'm kind of glad I didn't. I used to be that way. Such double standards... 180. Oh my gosh. HOW DID SHE DO IT? I TOTALLY FELT THAT WOULD HAPPEN? WHAT FORESHADOWING DID SHE DO? Like how it was obvious that one guy was deaf. She just gives out these subtle vibes. That's what really impresses me. I was thinking how it would be weird if brother thing...THEN IT HAPPENED. But it's also like...they were at their weakest ever...surely it couldn't have continued...yet her we are. Talk about bad timing, huh? Always. @LJandJohnAmbroseMcClaren 182. Wow. That's what he thinks? That's really what he thinks...that's what t alluded to I suppose. 183. I realized why it seemed like he was with Jordyn. He was being a dad. I mean...that had to been all there was...but, hm. I don't know. Those vibes, man. 184. I'm dying. This is it. This is why. I can feel so enamores and captured by the book even if I feel kind of a tinge apathetic and a little not connected to the characters...yet also tear up at these moments. 185. Obviously you can't leave like this...on the off chance you both decide to come back next year. "Off chance"...but for them it could be the last time they see each other. I guess she just makes weirdly real characters even though they also feel so fake...I really do admire her as an author. I feel like that admiration isn't coming through enough. I do love her work. 186. WOOO LOVER BOY NOTICES. This just makes for such a fucked up family. Like, the future? After they've had se x? Like...no. What the heck. Uncle...uh...Ben? And mommy? Ewwww! 188. Ohhhhhhh! Ben was with Jordyn first? Maybe? Interesting! I just read about Fallon not wanting to take him away from a woman who has been through so much. How did that cause me to think that? How does she write like this? 189. AH THAT WAS GOOD. That was SO GOOD. Fifth September nine 193. I bet this is the first one that started...not about one of them thinking about the other. The fire. I want to read Slammed. She says that...because she's afraid she'd lose the race of love. 198. "I'm studying the probability of soulmates" I love it. I hands down love it so much. That is my favorite sentence in this whole book. Because, of course he's studying that. That's just...him. I love it so much. Especially after Fallon began this chapter not believing in fate. It's great. 199. Okay, maybe I'm completely being ignorant here, but I feel like vibes were to be given off that Theodore was being a like...I need to find another word...rapey. 200. He never loved her though...did he? See, if I as the reader don't know, it's completely fair for her not to know. Did amber tell him? 202. They. Not we. Home? Surely he lives somewhere else then? But...that house is too big for only the two. 206. STOP SHE IS KIND OF A LITTLE DRUNK INSTEAD OF ROOTING FOR HIM FOR THE FIRST TIME IN THE NOVEL I WAS LIKE WHAT THE HECK 207. So, Amber did not tell Ben.... 208. Haha cue the scene where you're meant to love Amber 209. Ahhh! So it was Glenn! Obviously. Good job, dude! 210. I want her to say no. But that tomorrow-yes, that would be good. She needs to feel bad for how he felt too. 211. HOW DARE YOU!! Awww her friends....plus Ben 213. Agreed. Very agreed. A million times agreed. I hope the epilogue is like November ten -year six A year needs to pass OF them being a couple for an epilogue 214. He never told her he loved her. Not in those words, sure that he was falling in love with her, but not actually there. 215. See? That's what I knew would be really weird and bad and icky for a long time. 219. Okay, when is his bombshell going to drop though? It's always in these last few pages. 221. AHHHH HOW DID HE DEPICT HER? Maybe that's it. I feel like it'll have to play a role. Maybe after she broke his heart? I don't know! I'm so excited! 224. Honestly, better restraint than me. 227. Wow. I imagined he was the cause of his mother's fire. This is...not what I really thought. Awkward. Weird. Very secretive. Not poetic. 228. He did evade that one question early on. It was before I started taking notes. Mental notes though...Amber, I think asked when they met-no. That was how long they were dating. Fallon said something? I don't know, oh wait! About the first time he saw her, I think? Then he was like "well when I first saw you in that booth an hour ago..." and I was like that's so not what she said. But he didn't know the accident or...I guess just the situation she was referring to...oh. Welp. 228. Why would he incriminate himself by telling everyone? I'm confused by that. 230. I thought he commit arson for so long. How does she do this? 232. I like it. Like, that's what he dad instilled in her for so long. She had so many walls built up. For the one to help her take them down to hide this...and do it. Woah there. 234. I came into this book thinking it would be the fact that she didn't know he was writing about her would be the breaking point. Then, she knew the whole time, so I stopped thinking that...well...assumptions will be the death of me. 236. Wow. I like it. Ah, yes. Another year. 241. Okay, we all know it wasn't Amber. 243. Okay, even though she won't read it obviously her mom would. Or else, how else would their love story progress? We see his perspective to understand it's true. It weed out the fabrications imagined by a girl who has only seen him 5 days over the course of her life. 249. What? Was Fallon's father the cause of it? 250. Apparently...she went through with it. So, no foul play. Her tattoo, how does t relate to his? I guess just the fact that she was a poetry major. What about the fact that it was on a staff? 251. I see now. Something to do with his father, maybe? Uhg. Please don't let them be siblings...unless Fallon's mother was also unfaithful, but that would just screw up HER character. 252. I guess he did say music was important. Well, he only said that because of his mother. I need to go to that first time he went home. I need to reread that. 53-54. Where was he last night? 254. No page numbers is making this difficult. This is...obvious, right? 258. Oh, was he outside of their house that night? I want to go back to when Fallon talked about the girl who married for the money Donovan didn't have. I want to see Ben's response. Again. Not now though. Not right before the arson. 265. Panic attack? What does he have? Anything? Definitely something. Counting down? Ah, DEFINITELY something. 273. So, when Kyle died...he lost. He lost everything. 276. Wowza. This is long. I feel like my suicide letter- woah. Like, hypothetically. Completely hypothetically, would be super long too. Because I ramble. This note is very inappropriate. Did not realize that when I began it. Welp. What can ya do? WOAH WOAH WOAH PLOT TWIST. I saw the others coming, this? Not so much. 278. Had Kyle read the letter? He tossed the money on the table like he knew what he was doing. If Ian had to go to the station, and only just picked up a copy...Kyle couldn't have read t yet. WOW LOOKY THERE! BEN DID KNOW! That date was important for Ben too. That's why he was at their house the night before. That's why he was so unkempt. That's why neither of them slept much. 280. What do you mean half the manuscript? That was three chapters, none of which had you. Oh, she must have read more. Must have, right? 281. Oh. So, he wasn't visiting their house. He was with someone. Just as I thought earlier. Who the heck is it? How did Jordyn know? 382. He said once he met and talked with and did everything that day with Fallon, actually, it was in the middle. Because that's when he saw Kyle. But he said to himself, in his inner monologue, that he would change now...because of her. 283. Uhhhhhhhgggg fuck. That's exactly what I thought. Kyle. Kyle knew...that's fucking kid. Oh my gosh. I'm so blown away right now. Kyle was such a fricken trooper. Oh fuck. Goodness gracious that was such a trip. Good. I'm so glad. 287. Ahhh! Then you follow him to wherever he goes because you want to talk? 296. Ahhh! After all those spin offs of the story from the guy's side, this is the best. Well, she always alternates. She tries to make them more...masculine with boobs and whatnot, but they're always sensitive. Not just her, a bunch of writers. That's okay though. Because they're so dang lovable. Wait wait wait. Half way through the manuscript? That isn't that long. Certainly not enough for a novel...hmmm... 298. Ah, yes. Fate was in that little poemy bit hat has been before each action. HEY MY EPILOGUE IDEA OF NOV 10 IS LIKELY...or they'll just finish things up on the ninth like usual. I'd actually, again, prefer a flash forward...so Year 7. Like Harry Potter! But...why did they always wait so long so solve any bit of their problems? Interesting. "Last". Wasn't the fifth the last? Is it one in the same? It must be. Obviously they must make up...now. 305. Throwback to before when I started writing notes and she was like and there's this awesome guy who's practically a fictional boyfriend in front of me and I was like hah eye roll. 306. Aww that's actually quite cute. Could've gone straight to him though...and just gotten it together. You really scared him. But, it's fine. 307. Haha spoilers. I love it though. It's just as cutesy as one would only expect. Also, it's good that it didn't end on the twelve thing. I like that. It's cause of the whole author thing and her love of reading. Can we take a second to adore that she opened up a whole new genere to him? That's huge! A whole new world of possibilities were introduced. That's so sweet. I mean...also that they saved each other, but details, you know? 20.57 read straight through for the first time in a while 4 stars

#Colleen Hoover #may2017 #2 #2017

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