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hollyhomburg · 7 months

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Before I leave you (Pt.67)

(Omegaverse au, Mafia au, Bts x Reader)

Summary: You and Hobi bury a dead body (That's a lie, Yoongi buries it for you).

Tags: blood, gore, body horror, death, dead bodies, everyone is pretty beat-up in this, brief implied self-harm but it's very quickly squashed- seriously it's nowhere near as bad as past scenes but i do have to tag it, Dissociation, tae is in the freeze part of fight or flight. hurt/comfort, mental breakdowns, flashbacks, discussions of past abusive relationships, everything is very fluffy until it's not,

W/c: 12.5k

A/N: Are you guys ready for Hoseok's secret reveal??? I'm really excited!!! But also terrified because this whole series has lead up to this point!!! A good number of people have already guessed his secret so congrats on getting it early <3

Previous part - Masterlist - First part

Jimin sits on the stairs going down to the basement. His arm in a sling and bandaged up to the elbow. It aches with every small movement he makes as he peals a tangerine. He hasn't had any narcotics in a few hours and they're starting to wear off.

Jimin needs all of his brain power for this; For covering up the murder.

The fewer things running through his system the less sluggish and fuzzy his thoughts are. Jimin picks his poisons and fewer things make him less coherent than the panic and pain and near constant avalanche of thoughts. Tae, Tae's hurt, Tae's-

Tae's fine, Tae's upstairs with Y/n. he has to remind himself of these facts every few breaths. Tae's going to be okay because you wouldn't let anything happen to her.

There is evidence of that virtually everywhere; In the lines across your hands that Yoongi had dabbed at with a cool cloth, the swollen side of your jaw that he'd cradled. The blood drenching the opposite side of your face that he'd tenderly washed away. Not to mention the blood on the kitchen table, the floor, the ceiling. The blood splattered across your nest-

You don't fuck with an omega's nest; you don't fuck with their packmates.

Jimin quiets his brain with a steady breath as he looks down at Yoongi, Jin, and the body between the three of them wrapped in plastic.

He manages to peel the tangerine in his hand despite how uncooperative his left hand is. Numb at the fingertips just like it’s been since the surgery.

Namjoon had stroked his fingers and tested their give every chance he got, holding onto them and prodding while they waited in the hospital room and then again when Jimin got discharged. He said that they’d probably get better. Probably.

Tae's going to be fine because Namjoon is there too- had checked out her head with that soft alpha grumble croon of his. The most soothing sound in the world, and yet incapable of soothing this.

But Jimin knows nothing’s for certain, he might never get the feeling in his hand back. (This is Jimin's penance; The reminder of these tangled few weeks and how things went will be ever present. The reminder will be the first press of every touch with his non-dominant hand. He will never regain full feeling to the tips of his fingers. Never).

There are a few of noodle paw prints in the dust here, Jimin's ass is no doubt covered in it too from resting on the rickety stairs that lead into the half-finished basement. Little paw print marks that would make you coo and take pictures if you were down here.

But you’re not, you’re upstairs getting the evidence washed off of you.

No one's in that kind of mood right now anyway. No one’s been in that kind of mood for a few hours (or a few days, if he’s being honest, from Jungkook’s seizure, to getting shot, and then coming home to a dead body in their living room).

It’s been 4 hours since you killed someone in the kitchen. 3 hours since Jimin was discharged prematurely from the hospital and the rest of the pack was summoned home via a disturbingly calm call from Jin.

It’s been a tangle of moments even for the people not on hard drugs. Jimin feels like he's doing pretty good at answering the pack’s questions given the circumstances. You'd never know that, given Yoongi's eye roll and Jin's heavy sigh.

"Minnie- we're not asking you how you would have killed him just how you'd cover it up."

They used an old shower liner to wrap the body before they carried it downstairs. It makes a squeaky noise against Jin's rubber gloves (The pink elbow-high ones that he uses to do the dishes) as he pulls back the plastic sheet to reveal what's left of the assassin's head and face.

“I already told you, I don’t know his face- not even a little.” I’d have a pretty hard time identifying his face with the state she left it in regardless Is what he doesn't say.

Jimin tucks his chin, unsettled to look at the man's half-blown apart face for long. "I think he might be the spider but I don’t know. I never met him, only heard his name in passing.”

A small tattoo on the man's wrist reveals as much. A small spider tattoo that someone going to have to cut out and bury separately. Someone's going to have to get all of his teeth too- no identifying marks. None.

He’s a little too impressed with the state you’d left him in when he thinks about it. But once he’d seen your face and Hobi’s neck, not an inch of Jimin had felt the kill wasn’t justified. The whole pack feels that way, he knows they must even though they don't say it. Everyone's a little bit in shock right now.

Even Namjoon hadn’t even given the body a second glance when the pack had tumbled into the house. The pack alpha had simply alternated his fussing from you to Hobi to tae and then Jin. Torn between who needed him first. It was the first words Jimin had heard you speak. Your wet gasp, blood that wasn't yours flashing on your teeth. "Joonie- Hobi needs you."

Namjoon had calmed only once he realized that most of the blood on the three of you was the man’s. Yoongi had a similar reaction and so had Jimin, clutching at Tae. Angry at his arm for its uncooperativeness. About ready to tug off his sling and his bandages and stitches if it meant holding tae easier. He'd even tried it, only to be on the receiving end of a disapproving pack alpha growel too.

“Jimin you can’t; your stitches.”

“Fuck my stitches hyung.”

Numb fingers meet numb faces.

He's a bit ashamed of it, but when he first looked up from Tae to you- where you sat crumpled in Yoongi's hold. Your mate laying down a volley of sweet nothings to you to get you to stop shaking. There was only one sentence running through his head.

That’s my girl.

He'd reached over and squeezed your hand, blood and all. That blood has dried now. Soaked into the lines of his palm. Coloring his fate and love lines all rusty while he eats the tangerine. He should probably wash his hands. All of them probably need too.

Jungkook had been the only one willing to speak, closing the door softly behind him, locking it and treading softly closer. Careful to sidestep both the pools of blood and the piece of a skull sitting next to the couch. He looked down at the 7 of you with a surprisingly calm expression on his face.

"Can't we have one normal fucking day?"

Jungkook was the one who’d gone to the kitchen and gotten one of the hand towels to clean your face. His lips tightened to a line when he wiped away the blood and started to see the bruising, the cut across your temple dripping fresh. Lower lip wobbling ever so slightly.

“Kookie-”

Jungkook had turned to Jin and Namjoon, “I don’t want to deal with the body hyung." His hands were already under your arms, lifting you up, helpless. "Help me get them upstairs. We need to-” he’d let out a frustrated noise. Instincts coming to the full front- instincts he rarely feels.

Who knew blood would incur Jungkook's grooming instincts?

The last time Jimin saw Jungkook; He was helping Namjoon and Yoongi herd the three of you upstairs for a much-needed shower. Hobi hadn't been able to do it under his own power. Namjoon had to carry him.

Hobi; who's choked on every word he's tried to speak. Whose eyes are still red from all the burst blood vessels. Who easily got the closest to dying out of the four of you.

Everyone shakes when they touch Hobi and everyone touches him softly. Namjoon just about snaps his teeth at anyone who tries to get close. His hands turning red from the cold of an ice pack wrapped gently around the alpha's throat.

Jimin knows Jungkook's a lot more unnerved than he lets on, shuffling from foot to foot as he bound Tae up with a towel, taking her delicately from Jimin's arms. Carrying her in the same way Namjoon carried Hobi.

Yoongi was all soft helping you upstairs. Speaking in that quiet voice that he saves for Sunday mornings and stolen moments of quiet. Every moment, all of this is stolen.

And now- the beta is down here, leaning over the body and looking at it like it will tell him something that you won't. After your initial demand that Namjoon he tend to Hobi; you haven't spoken a word. Neither has Tae. Jin's done all of the talking.

There isn’t much to say.

Jimin feels the numbness in his hands and looks at Jin. He hasn't apologized for the bullet yet. But the more time that passes the less Jimin wants an apology. Mating marks come in many forms. Jimin has a scar on his body from one of his omega's- so really? What does he have to be upset about?

The whole house needs to be deep cleaned, and then deep cleaned again. There's blood everywhere; on the couch, the ceiling, the curtains. It's a lot to clean. It's going to be a lot to hide.

That's the only reason why Jimin's not upstairs helping you and Tae clean up right now; the body is unfortunately the biggest threat to the pack's safety at the moment.

There’s a bloodstain on the stairs too, a droplet next to where Jimin sits. he makes a mental note of it but doesn't move to wipe it up. He puts a tangerine slice on his tongue and chews before he answers Yoongi’s next question.

“I don’t know how to dispose of a body, I never dealt with this part. My only job was to kill, not take care of them after. I know there’s a way that you can do it with soap.”

Jin snorts, “You only know that from breaking bad-“

Jimin’s a little miffed, “We already have a plastic tub upstairs-”

“Lye,” Yoongi corrects, looking down at the body before he stoops to retape the plastic over the man's face. It was a bitch to wrap him up, the body stiff and heavy from rigor Mortis. The blood beneath it bubbles and darkens, coagulating. Yoongi's long hair falls over his face and he tucks it behind his ear.

“We could use the soap, but it might take a few days.” Jin clarifies.

“Do you think we can wait that long?”

“Absolutely not,” Jin’s got a similar ice pack to his wrists, the skin there bruised and red and swelling where he fought to get free from the handcuffs, where he eventually ripped down the banisters and broke through them with brute strength and panic.

You’d found the keys on the man’s body soon after and released him from the handcuffs, they're wrapped up in the plastic along with the frying pan, the gun that killed him, and a few other items from the living room that were just too bloodstained, every big piece of evidence will lie right beside him where he rests.

Jimin eats another slice of the tangerine, and Jin shrivels his nose at it. “Isn’t that a little gross?”

Yoongi mirrors his disgust. “Yeah Minnie, weren’t those covered in blood?”

But Jimin just shrugs, “I washed it and peeled it hyung” And keeps eating. After a few days of hospital food, the tangerines taste divine.

Yoongi stands from where he’s kneeling on his knees with a faint crack. “One part kitty litter, two parts concrete should keep out the smell,” Jin says, eyeing the 6 by-six-foot hole in the basement's foundation, already there from the plumbing that needed replacing.

Most of Yoongi's tools are down here too. His scrap pile of wood and the dozen bags of concrete. His hack saw and his circular saw that none of them are looking at. Yoongi had only just fit in the plumbing a few weeks ago. He'd been about to re-pour the foundation anyway.

“I’d rather not have a body buried in our house.”

Yoongi touches Jin’s wrist, so feather-light, removing the ice pack to check the swelling to see if it’s gone down. Jin's left hand is just as useless as Jimin's, the knuckles bruised and ballooned.

“It’s just for a few weeks, we can deal with this once it’s all calmed down, but we absolutely can’t go try and bury it. Who knows what the neighbors heard?”

They're all silent at that, silent at the idea that these few hours might be the last few that the pack spends free.

But over the next few hours, there are no blue and red flashing lights outside or concerned neighbors that come knocking. Your one saving grace is that this all happened during the middle of the day and all of your nearest neighbors have nine to five's. Is it so simple to hope that everyone was just at work? That no one heard the gunshots over the nearby roar of the passing train?

(Maybe they're just too used to the pack next door; the one that has the noisy ruts and noisy noisy packmates. The one whose alphas have a habit of opening the windows in the back room and let the sound of their roughhousing and video games flood the street. The ones who have extra loud movie nights. They're just a bunch of kids, how harmful could they really be? At least the pack alpha and omega look respectable.)

It's a good thing that no one comes; because Namjoon has more important problems, more important things to handle beyond the body in the basement or the police at the door.

Namjoon’s hands cradle Hobi’s neck. He wheeze as he tries to speak, his mouth falling open. He's mostly clean, but a rusty trickle of water from his hair trails down his shoulders.

Jungkook tugged him into the shower first and gave him a rough clean before handing him back to Namjoon. They sit on a towel together on the edge of the nest. they only moved him in here to give him some privacy- to distract him because Hobi kept reaching for you. you'd kept reaching back, tae was already in the shower under the stream.

"Pup- your hands- you're going to hurt yourself."

The Nestroom is dark and quiet. Every single blind in the house is draw. Only the christmas lights illuminate Hobi's injuries. Namjoon will tend to Tae and then you after he's checked out Hobi's injuries. will send him downstairs with Jin for some cold water to soothe his throat once he's done. once he's been cleaned again probably.

Hobi was covered with the most blood, having been just under the man when Tae had blown his throat apart while you- Namjoon doesn't want to think of it, doesn't want to see it.

(Namjoon thinks of every moment, sees them behind every blink. Blink and he sees you sitting in his lap over breakfast squirming happily. Blink and you're kneeling in a bloody puddle looking up at him.

Blink and you're curled up in the nest wearing the first pajama pants he'd given you. Blink and he's watching Jungkook dab at your bloody cheek, blink and you're turning into his hand to nuzzle as he wakes you for sunday morning breakfast. Blink and there’s sunlight spilling across your face and blood slipping down your chin. Namjoon's smallest and most sensitive pup not so innocent anymore.)

Namjoon touches Hobi's throat with no small amount of reverence. it cools the anger in his throat. Namjoon's anger has no good place to go.

When Hobi closes his eyes, he sees it too; the explosion of the bullet and the splat of blood pouring down his face. The shower earlier felt so similar- he almost couldn't handle it. He had to concentrate on Jungkook's voice narrating everything.

"Here Hobi, I'm gonna use some soap now. I like Tae's body wash. You know she always just picks whatever bottles are pinkest because she wants all her toiletries to match. It smells good, doesn't it? Can you take a deep breath for me? Through your nose?"

Endless meaningless Jibber jabber to distract all of them.

Now he shivers and shakes in Namjoon's hold. One part terror and one part near frostbite. Namjoon turns the heat up but Hobi still shakes as Namjoon checks his throat. "Open for me baby- that's a good boy."

He flashes a light down there, listening with his stethoscope. The cold metal end of it presses against his collarbones and the bruises too. Finger-shaped that lace over his jugular like a collar. Over Hobi's heart. Every thump ba-thump ba-thump music to Namjoon's ears.

Namjoon’s growl is soothing as he scoots closer to gather the injured alpha close to his chest. Shushing Hobi as he tries to speak for the dozenth time in the last hour. “Don’t try it, careful- I don’t think he did any lasting damage but-”

Namjoon breaks and his forehead drops to Hoseok’s shoulder, fingers rub out soothing circles on Hobi's wrist even as he starts to cry. Namjoon already stitched up the deep puncture wound there. He had to hold his wrist still as he dabbed the stingy antiseptic, the impulse to pull it away too great. The wound wasn't from a bullet but from the piece of the door that embedded itself in Hobi’s wrist. Blown apart the way he could have been.

Namjoon was so close to losing everything, to losing them.

The bruises, Hobi’s eyes, and his little raspy breaths. Everything both punishment and payment for every violent thing Namjoon wants to do. He feels powerless to do more than hold the smaller alpha right now. The strength in his arms doing little to protect Hobi from the hurts he's already nursing. Hoseok leans his head on Namjoon's shoulder and Just lets the alpha hold him.

If he’d come home to the four of you dead what would he have done? more accurately- What wouldn’t he have done?

Namjoon imagines it- the same way he's imagined it thousands of times. Tae's blood on her lips as pretty as any lip stain. Jin on the floor, his little big love wrapped up in permanent stillness like a mating shroud. Your body turned small and quiet the way you'd been when he'd met you- only so much worse. Hobi with his heart slow and absent of his near-constant music. Bodies stiff as statues, turned alters meant to worship both grief and love.

He’d probably have demanded Jimin and Yoongi tell him everything they knew. And then he’d have gone hunting.

Namjoon lets out a shaky breath and pulls away from Hoseok only to continue dabbing at his wounds. The violence of his alpha's instincts calmed by the sanctity of this- of making it better. of being gentle even when namjoon wants to be anything but.

Hoseok’s mute. Throat too swollen to make more than a soft hissing sound on command. Vocal cords not damaged just swollen. Leaving his brain to hurdle through the last few hours. Eyes closed but his mind wide open.

He sees it all behind his eyes; your hand descending with the frying pan, the explosion of wood near his head. The splat of hot blood against the wood floor. Gasping and getting blood in his mouth accidentally. Choking in it- drowning a little. Everything. The sting of smoke on his eyes. Your words ring in his ears like the final notes of a symphony.

“You can take me. I’ll go with you. Willingly. That’s what she wants isn’t it?”

Hoseok’s brain teases through what you might have meant with that. The unnamed she that you mention. Who, why, and what aren’t you telling them? Is it the woman that Yoongi talked to you about before?

He's unable to say anything to Namjoon even as the alpha softy cradles his damaged throat. Unable to even whisper it out through the swelling that threatens to cut off Hobi's airway. It feels like he's breathing through a straw. Namjoon says he's not going to choke, that it only feels that way. The panic is hard to let go of.

But who do you have to go back to there? You've never talked about the family like you wanted them, like they were your pack. Who have you run from? What monsters are here to haunt you? Who is after you? Or is it something darker- more sinister?

Maybe Hoseok's heart has never truly healed from Yoongi leaving them. Maybe a wounded heart remembers. Yoongi always had them to go back to that Hoseok had never questioned. But he's never wondered about you or stopped to consider that maybe, Yoongi's not the only one who left something.

The family doesn't exactly seem like something you can walk away from unscathed. Yoongi managed it, but Jimin didn't.

Hoseok should warn Namjoon, should tell someone but- it's impossible. His airway protesting with an agonizing twinge with every attempt he makes at speaking. He wonders if this is what being nonverbal felt like for you.

The pain pulses dully without adrenaline to dilute it as Namjoon so lovingly examines the marks, again and again. But he shouldn't be spending so much time. You and Tae are bruised and battered too- even if Hoseok’s are by far the worst; you need tending to.

Jin’s hands. Your face. Tae’s head. Hoseok’s throat. Each of you has lost the thing most necessary to your survival.

Hoseok thinks of the body, not the one that sits downstairs, but the one that you found months ago in the ocean. Maybe this wasn’t a coincidence. Maybe none of this was. How far back do the coincidences go? Between Jin and Yoongi who wouldn't have a relationship to stand on without Yoongi's family- how many other things in the pack are because of this?

Hoseok struggles to speak, to talk to Namjoon about what you'd almost done, what you'd almost bartered- but nothing but air comes out, and the pack alpha shushes him. His hands grip Namjoon's shoulders hard.

Namjoon wishes he had more than just numbing cream and sutures for Hobi’s hurts. Jimin’s already offered up some of his opioids for Hobi to sleep and as much as Namjoon hates the idea of anyone swapping medication- Hobi might actually need them.

Jimin’s doctor had been a little bit liberal with them, sure that his 6 on the pain scale had to be at least a 9. He could spare one or two. The truth is that nothing hurts more than this- seeing the people that you love in pain. Jimin and Namjoon save their 10s for days like this.

With the blood cooling, Namjoon’s anger has nowhere to go. The body in the basement has already gone cold.

In the quiet of the house they can audibly hear Seokjin and Yoongi start mixing the concrete. The dull scrape of a shovel against a bucket and the sound of a faucet dripping.

Namjoon wipes at Hobi’s throat, and Hoseok tries again- futile in his efforts to speak. Namjoon shushes him.

In the basement it goes; drip, scrape, drip.

~-~

Jungkook holds Tae up underneath the warm spray of water. The glass is foggy in places and clear and others, occasional spots of red water joining the constellation of them. She rests against Jungkook's chest, her body is prone and almost lifeless. Eyes vacant and glassy.

So shaky and tired as her body rockets down from its adrenaline high. A drop so abrupt that she could hardly hold herself up. A drop so terrifying that Jungkook must do it for her.

He doesn't mind, none of him minds as he cradles the back of her head oh so gently. Tae flinches, whether from pain or the sudden movement. Jungkook meets Jimin's eyes through the foggy glass and then yours. Biting his lower lip before Jimin nods and tells him to keep going.

Evidence is evidence. Washing off can’t wait.

Jimin has joined you upstairs with the body already packed away and on its way to being buried under the foundation of the house. Jimin watches on from outside the shower as he instructs Jungkook in a quiet voice on how to clean Tae of evidence properly. He's been quiet since then. Staring at them while Tae stares blankly back.

You watch them from where you sit. Mostly you just watch Tae. When Namjoon's body doesn’t block your view. He stitches the gash on your forehead, hands pulling the sutures closed in a gentle and practiced way. The pass of the needle through your skin a distant sensation.

The wounds on your hands are in that awkward place of not being deep enough for stitches but still a little too deep to not need something. After a brief debate, Namjoon sealed them with a bit of non-surgical glue that stung terribly and then regular gauze over the top.

Your hands are swelling and clotting. Scabbing although trying to touch anything is too painful. Closing your fingers at all hurts. Namjoon holds you so lightly it hardly feels like he's holding you at all.

Namjoon apologizes after every wince.

The second he’s done he tosses his suture kit into the bathroom sink with a clang the second he’s done. Namjoon gets on his knees before you. The plastic that covers the whole bathroom crackling as he does.

Jimin had the great idea to cover the bathroom with sheets of plastic to cut down on the cleanup. Hoseok's bloody footprints join Tae's trailing from the doorway to the shower. Join the trail that you left. Parts of you are still dripping.

"It's going to scar," Namjoon says, a little sadly. Thumb skimming over the mark on your forehead.

You swallow hard. You still taste blood. You want to brush your teeth; you want to shut the lights off and go to sleep. You want Noodle and you want Yoongi you want everything from the past few hours- the past few years to be gone and over with. You want-

You want to snap at him and tell him that it doesn't matter that it will scar. That you're covered with scars already and you don't care but-

Namjoon kisses your forehead. A lingering brush. The one spot that's not bloody.

You look over at Tae and her eyes flicker blankly to you. Jungkook keeps bringing the boar bristle brush up and down her back in soothing little circles.

When you turn back to Namjoon he's pursing his lips and blinking away tears as he looks down at your hands. You resist the urge to say you’re sorry. You’re not sure what for. The terrible feral hunger in you gone as quick as it's come.

Namjoon’s fingers wrap around the hollow of your knees, and you meet his eyes, even though you don’t want to. It feels too much like a confession already.

“I’m going to say this now, before you get any ideas; This is not your fault and I am not mad at you and Tae for doing what you did-”

“Namjoon-”

He continues on, words rushing out. “I’m proud of you pup, so proud. I’m sorry that I wasn’t here. I promise I won’t disappoint you again as pack alpha-” You cover his mouth with your hand, gauze and all.

The bit of gauze over your palm is already turning bloody. It's hard to tell if it's your blood or if it's his. You’re the last one to shower. The last one to get clean. Namjoon shouldn’t be touching you at all.

And yet he does, yet he cradles your face, brushes the tears from your cheeks, gets blood on his hands. Evidence is evidence, but love has a steeper sort of price if you don't express it when you can.

When you take your hand away, Namjoon doesn’t try to speak again. someone says something that you don't hear, that you can't hear.

Namjoon stands and when you look up, Jungkook has the shower door open for you.

Because the bandages and the glue on your hands can’t get wet Namjoon binds your hands with Ziplock bags and duct tape. The plastic rustles, and you follow Hobi's bloody footprints into Jungkook’s arms. Namjoon closes the door behind you.

Every bit of plastic is going to get melted down later, until all the blood and terror evaporates through something as simple and trivial as fire. Fire will cleanse it of all evidence, as sure as the burning water you step under.

You're not quite sure what you're going to do about the bullet holes in the walls or the blown-apart door to the upstairs bedroom, but Yoongi’s always had a handle on the home improvement stuff.

Jungkook helps you disrobe off your bloodied clothing. Lifting your shirt over your head and stooping, telling you to hold onto his shoulders so that he can take off your sweatpants. You're pretty sure they're Yoongi's but there's no time to get sentimental as he puts them inside a garbage bag along with Tae's and Hobi's clothes.

Everything on your person is evidence. When you look back Namjoon's gone, summoned by Jin's distant call from downstairs. It's just Jimin outside of the shower. watching you, but mostly watching Tae.

You’d be more self-conscious of your nude body if your brain wasn’t still racing. It’s hard to do much with the bags on your hands. But Jungkook squirts out a healthy dollop of your favorite shampoo and gets to work once the conditioner is in Tae’s hair. She sits like a discarded ball-jointed doll on the built-in bench. Her long hair hair stuck like a sheet over her eyes.

Nothing is as important as making sure you’re not found out. And the frothy shampoo turns rusty around Jungkook's fingers. You have to have a lot of blood on your face. All the water that rolls off of you goes pink.

Jungkook is gentle even by your hairline scratching against your scalp with his fingers. The skin there is tender. Namjoon taped a bit of gauze over the sutures too. You don't remember when he did that.

You make a noise. “Too rough?” his voice has something unreadable in it, something soft and concerned.

You don't respond because Yoongi makes his reappearance at the doorway. The black shirt he wears is dusty at the front from the concrete. His eyes single focused on you the second he enters the room. You stare at him the way that Tae stares at Jimin. Jungkook just huffs and pulls you a little more snugly against his chest.

Tae stands in the corner of the shower, still staring at Minnie. Minnie who stares back, practically not blinking. Both of their anguish are hidden behind glass. Like fish in tanks that could never get out. Not really.

Part of Tae gets washed away down the drain. Swirling and gurgling down and down with no one to notice.

Tae stares off blankly into space. Sometimes Jimin talks to her and sometimes he hums through the glass, he'd be in there too if his bandages couldn't get wet either. If Namjoon hadn’t yanked him back from the doorway and told him that he couldn't.

Jungkook takes the boar bristle brush to your body too. Everything has to be scrubbed multiple times until your skin feels nearly raw from it. Tae’s fingernails, her arms, your neck, the side of your face, the hollow at the inside of your arms. Your knees. Everywhere.

He apologizes when he goes over bruises, wincing, clutching you a little tighter, a little closer to make up for the pain. But Jungkook is meticulous as he cleans of evidence until you feel groomed clean. Until there’s no more blood swirling down the drain just clear water, and the light outside has turned pearly and blue in the twilight.

Tae's still silent. She's been quiet beyond the occasional heartbreaking whimper since you both killed that man. Eventually, You push at Jungkook's hands with a pointed look in her direction where she's slumped and he goes with a soft nod. Two omega's taking care of their alphas.

Jungkook’s delicate with Tae’s head, gentle in the way he cradles the bruising, half hidden by her hair. Washing out the conditioner with a quiet hum. Namjoon had diagnosed her with a concussion pretty quickly, it's not a crack in her skull plate but she's not going to go putting her hair up in a bun any time soon.

Jungkook alternates from you to Tae. One moment you're standing, the next Jungkook is taking you up gently from the floor and Yoongi is at the glass, hand on the door- looking at you anxiously. Letting out a volley of cursing. You can't remember the last time you heard him use language like that.

"Hyung she's fine- she's just slippery, I've got her."

Their voices are so soft and grave and so quiet. Or is it just that you can’t hear it? Why are their voices so far away and muffled? Sometimes Yoongi is here and sometimes he isn't. Sometimes Jungkook is holding you, talking to Namjoon about something, and other times he and Yoongi are talking. Keeping their voices low. Your ears ring. It's so loud it deafening.

“Do you need me to take over?” Yoongi asks Jungkook. Jungkook has blood on his feet, from you or Tae you’re not sure, it soaks the hair there. Jungkook’s got hairy fucking feet for an omega- you’re not sure why you’re concentrating on it. Why you’re noticing all these things now. Cataloging little things about them like you might never get the chance to notice them again.

Your heart beats quick, fear still consuming you even though the danger has passed. You look down at the tiled floor and the room spins.

You don’t feel a thing when you close your eyes. You don’t feel anything when you think of the man that you just killed. You don’t feel anything but roaring, like the crashing of the ocean or the sound when you lift your ear to a shell. The hearing in your left ear where the gun went off feels…off, muffled. You put your hand up to toy with it and freeze when you realize it isn't right.

"Guys" You paw at your ear. But they don't seem to hear you.

"No, I've got them.”

“We need to clean up the downstairs. Kookie, where do you keep the oxyclean?”

"Guys"

They still don't hear you. Maybe you're not making a sound at all just mouthing the words. Your movement gets Tae's attention and her eyes focus for the first time in hours. Slumped on the bench, her hand grips the tiled edge hard as she tries to stand but can't. Jungkook hands Yoongi something through the steam, the black trash bag full of bloody clothes.

The notice Tae trying to get to you first. she hits the floor with a small thud and tugs her way over to you. You make a noise in your throat- a distressed chirp that makes the alphas flinch. Tae cups your cheek as you dig your finger in, slippery from the plastic- and pull something small and fleshy out of your ear.

It's soft and squishy. A curved piece of pink and white brain matter. A little bloody but bleached from the water.

You try to stand to your feet but teeter, shaking, staring down at the chunk of person that you just got out of you, that was just in you.

For a second, no one says anything, but then-

“That’s so fucking gnarly.” Your head jerks up in Jungkook’s direction.

"I think I'm going to be sick," Tae actually does look a little green, but it's good to hear her voice at the very least. She hauls herself over to the drain and starts to dry heave.

"Oh tae don't-" the sound of vomit hitting the floor joins the sound of the shower. You don't look at her. just at the lump of person in your hand.

"Someone please take it from me," Jimin is already there opening the glass door and holding out a cloth for you to place it in.

Yoongi presses his hands to the glass as he watches you struggle to grab the brush that Jungkook was using on you from the floor after finally getting your feet under you. Jungkook is torn, his hand on Tae's shoulder as she wretches turning from her to you like he doesn't know what to do or who to help first.

You don't care about the state of your hands you just need to get clean. You Ignore the twinge of pain in your hands as you try and get the bottle of body wash open. Ripping off the plastic bags that cover your hands when you can't unclick the cap immediately. frustrated and panicking. You ignore Jimin calling your name. The gauze falls to the floor with a wet thwack and you take the boar bristle brush to your hands. Cuts and all.

Big hands stop you. Hands that dwarf yours. Hands that you'd know blind.

Yoongi's standing under the spray fully clothed, the water pinning down his hair and quickly soaking him. His hands tangling with yours, taking the brush from you. Wordless as he grabs your wrists and jerks you forward hard.

He holds on until you stop shaking. resting against his chest. guiding your face to his scent gland. "Take a deep breath for me now sweetheart- there you go- just like that."

Jungkook doesn't say anything and neither does Jimin, not as Yoongi starts to wash you again. Jungkook just stoops to lift Tae and place her back on the bench. She goes easy, limp, and doll-like. But she's almost done- she's almost clean. Tae pushes at Jungkook’s shoulders.

"I’m fine. I need to wait for the nausea to pass before I try getting out of here.”

With you, it's going to take a little longer.

Jungkook has already shampooed your hair, but he does it again. The telltale signs of rusty red in the peach-scented shampoo. Bubbling orange-pink. Yoongi does it slower, gentler- it feels more normal. Like the slow loving you're used to.

“Do you ever feel like-” your voice is a little crackly from all the screaming you did earlier. You hate how the terror makes you not remember all the details. Did you make any sound while you killed him? Did you say anything through the rage?

The others are looking at you but you have eyes for just Jimin. his hand tightens to fists, knuckles pressed against the glass. eyes darkening ever so slightly. “Do you ever not feel guilty? About killing people Minnie?”

You are nude, as bare as you’ve ever been before him, it's hard to be self-conscious about it. Maybe this would be a little sexier- showering with Tae and Jungkook and Yoongi with an audience if you weren't literally trying to cover up a very violent murder.

You remember the words Jimin had said to you weeks ago now. “Would you kill for me?” “I’d do worse” you wonder if this qualifies as worse. You can’t imagine what would be much worse than this.

Jungkook's hands are rough as they massage a bit of soap down your back but instead of being comforting, it feels like you’re going to vibrate out of your skin.

Jimin hums. Eyeing Tae still sprawled on the built-in bench. Jimin gathers his thoughts before he speaks. “In my contract, at the beginning-” He starts but cuts off as you start to slip. Jungkook's hands find you, helping Yoongi hold you up more properly. Your mate doesn't let Jungkook take you entirely just moves a bit to the side to give him space. Any other day you'd love to be in the middle of a yoonkook sandwich but-

“Your contract?” he nods, blond hair bobbing. Yoongi meticulously removes the dried blood from under your fingernails, careful to hold your glue sutures out of the direct spray.

“I specified that I’d only ever kill bad people. of course I got a little lazier after I got used to it." He shoots an anxious glance in Tae's direction, but she's still just sitting. "But at the beginning, I’d go back and look through their files to try to find out what they’d done to warrant a hit getting taken out on them. I couldn’t always find a reason but most of the time I did."

You can see it in his face, that Jimin doesn't want to say that they deserved it. Because if they deserved a violent ending then you could say the same about the 8 of you. Jungkook's hands get a little close to the nape of your neck and you turn to him and snap.

"Don't scruff me."

"Sorry." You need it. Is what he doesn't say.

“Most of the time it was worth it?” You cling to his words. With Geumjae you’d never had to guess if he deserved it or not but this-

Jimin’s eyebrows are brought into a hard line, “Karma is a fickle thing. Sometimes it never comes but-” his eyes are downcast, "Sometimes it's a good thing, being the karma."

You sit quietly, digesting his words. Your lower lip trembles, and you don’t know if you feel terrible or better when the tears just won’t come. Yoongi delicately cradles your body, wrapping his arms around your waist from behind and pulling you back against his chest.

“Yoongi.”

“Let me hold you for a minute.” You do, body sagging under the weight of your exhaustion.

Tae teeters in Jungkook’s hold, but she pushes against his hands weakly when he tries to make her stand again. Her voice sounds warbly and fragile when she shakes her head. “I’m still dizzy.”

He tries to guide her gently back to the bench, but she doesn't make it that far. Pushing away his hands when she descends to the marble floor. Closer to the wall, Closer to Minnie who mirrors her, falling to the floor too. Getting as closer to her as he can without being in the shower.

Jimin lets out a sad and bitter-sounding laugh and Tae smiles in reply while Jungkook and Yoongi share an anxious glance over your head.

He's still grinning, words twisting, eyes shining with sorrow and fondness. “You couldn’t wait 24 hours until you had to make it even, didn’t you?”

Tae closes her eyes as her smile twists and she starts to cry “Where you go, I go. We’re the same now Minnie.” Jimin doesn't mean to ask what she means. He knows.

If you're a killer I'm a killer. If you're damned, I'm damned. Even though neither of them believes in God or heaven or damnation. Not really. Not anymore. It's very half-hearted.

(I don't know if it's worth wondering if the people you love are bad people, I think when worse comes to worse, you just put the heaviness down and keep on loving them anyway).

Jimin’s eyes are soft on her, the way that they only ever are with Tae. He places his hand on the glass fogging around his fingertips. She doesn’t match his hands, just leans her cheek against it. Love is only a thin layer of glass away.

You know it hurts her a little bit, must make the dysphoria a little harder to breathe through, to let Jimin and Jungkook see her like this; just the long hair and nothing delicate to cloth her soul in. A soul that now you’ve irreparably tarnished.

A soul that is damaged beyond repair now thanks to you.

It is your fault. All of this is because of you. all of this pain and anguish and damage is because of the choices you've made. the stupid idiotic childish choices. If you'd never needed it- if you'd just been strong enough- Tae could have been whole. Tae could have been unharmed. Hobi and Jin too- if you’d just-

Back at the hospital, Tae had so many questions about Jimin’s job, so many questions about when and where, and why. But she finds her head empty of them in the aftermath. She has no desire to learn anything else about Jimin’s job. Not now that she knows what killing feels like.

Tae is never going to be able to look at red nail polish the same way again.

Jungkook reaches over and turns off the water.

~-~

Eventually, you finish washing. Wrapped up in fluffy white towels that will have to be burned too. The house smells like bleach and gunpowder. It covers everything.

Even the noodle is looking a little more grubby than usual when he zips by, meowing for someone to give him attention. You hear the saw going and you know that Yoongi is cutting the bullet holes out of the walls while the others clean up the blood.

Your skin feels pink and sensitive were the towel brushes as you go looking for pajamas, you'll get some for the others too. Later, Jin will fuss and ask to put some cream on you. Will massage it in something of an apology and pretend that Yoongi isn't going over the whole house with a blacklight to spot any errant blood splatters.

Later Yoongi will take a wood scraper to the floorboards where the man died, will rip them up, and burn them in the house's ancient fireplace just to be sure that no one finds any evidence.

You'll all pretend that Tae doesn't shake through a panic attack when you have an informal dinner in the nest. jin's rule of "no food in the nest" broken for this. You'll all pretend that Hoseok won't choke choking on all but the smallest sips of water. You'll all pretend. You're good pretenders, good liars too.

Later, Jin will put cream on your skin and dot it all with kisses, the swelling in his hands won't take too long to go down. You'll get the love and You won’t deserve a single second of it.

You don't know how you fooled yourself into thinking you ever deserved it. The last 8 months have been stolen. Not earned.

The one-year anniversary of Geumjae's death comes and passes as you go to the top of the stairs in your towel, Ears straining to hear what's going on downstairs.

There is a lot of talking going on downstairs, between Yoongi, Namjoon, and Jin. About what to do, and how to handle this. Hushed voices kept mostly out of earshot. And other more dangerous questions get asked, with equally as dangerous answers.

One of Jimin's guns sits on the kitchen counter through all of it. No one moves to put it away. They're not sure when they're next going to need it and they'd rather not get caught off guard again.

“I could talk to some people- call them. Some people owe me favors, There has to be some section of the family that doesn’t want her too-“

"Absolutely Not, I am not having you get into some weird ass mafia debt"

"Yeah, jailcell orange is so not your color hyung"

“We stay quiet. For the next 48 hours- it’s likely no one will know what happened. They’re too hurt- we need some time to regroup and think.”

Hobi’s voice is absent from the fray. You hear something quite like he's trying to speak, and someone shushing him softly. Namjoon says that his swelling won’t go down enough to talk until tomorrow. You hear the sound of someone opening the refrigerator to get ice.

The door to the bedroom has been blown apart, and a flurry of bullet holes chewed through the top corner. It sits off its hinges and in two pieces.

You remember watching Yoongi paint the door, sitting at the bottom of the stairs while he worked at the top of it and painted it to match the wallpaper in the staircase, a dark cobalt blue. You remember all of it, every little thing you watched him do to make this house into something worthwhile. To make it into a home and now it's riddled with bullet holes and stained with blood.

It's funny, you hardly remember every little thing he did for you, to make you worthwhile.

You have always been a reminder that you don't make houses out of abandoned buildings, and mates out of monsters that bite.

The water has turned the cuts on your hands white and gummy when you look down at them in the closet room. They’re already oozing, not bleeding, it will be at least a day or two until you can touch anything without discomfort. Namjoon will scold you ever so gently later and re-do your bandages.

The pink curtains are drawn already to keep out any wandering eyes from the outside. This is a dressing room after all. The whole room feels like a blush-toned jewel box and you, the one piece of cheap costume jewelry at the center.

You get up and shut the door before you sit on a small poof- something silky and tufted that Jimin had gotten Tae right after she'd come out.

You sit in your towel and look down at your wounds. Thinking about Tae's concussion. Jin's wrists. Hobi's throat. Both of their blank looks and the violence of death and trying to live. You think it all through, every possible ending to this before you pick up your phone and dial Her number.

Moonbyul picks up on the first ring. It’s like she’s been waiting for your call.

“Did you like your courting present pup?”

Your throat is dry and you don’t know exactly what to say, even less how to say it. She hums at your silence, an alpha's imitation of a purr. Waiting until your quietness builds to a frantic pulse.

In the pack, you've always been the one with the best survival instincts. Geumjae made you this way. Although the pack has spent the last few months trying to heal you; deep down you know you've never been anything more than a scared animal. Fight or Flight. Freeze or fawn.

Bullet to bullet. Tooth to tooth. Heartbeat to heartbeat. This time is different. This time you have something worth protecting.

You stand, no longer able to sit. There is a noise at the door, and you wait with bated breath for someone to come in. They don't come. But you stand and move farther inside. Hoping that the distance will disguise the sound of your whispered conversation.

She continues when it becomes clear you're struggling to speak. “I’ve got another one on the way. Hyejin’s here, wanna say hello? You’re on speaker.”

“Pup,” she giggles, and you feel like you might vomit. It’s a struggle really, not to end the call right there, not to let the fear overtake you. “We haven’t heard back from Spider yet, and I have a feeling someone’s been a little naughty.”

You lift the curtain to look outside, the train chugs past and the cars flit by like the fast small birds searching for seed in the snow. The whole world is grey and flat. The sky is orange from the lights of the city reflecting the clouds. The trees bare of all but a few crumbly leaves. It’s strange how all at once, the train is all you can look at. All you can think about.

You think about hoseok, the night at the train tracks where he stopped you from leaving. When he asked you to stay.

“Tell me what I need to do. Tell me what I need to do to get you to stop this, please.” Your voice sounds off, even for you. Too flat, strange even to your ears.

“I’m afraid we’re too far along for that.”

"Please, please Moonbyul-" You turn, pacing back towards the door. Past Tae’s clothes, past yours, past Jungkook’s, past the alcove where Hobi hangs his sweatshirts for you. You pause there. Looking at them.

“You said- you said when it was over you’d give me anything I wanted. Well I want them alive. Even if-"

Your voice is so shaky, you're careful to make sure you're not overheard. The pack is in the other room, just downstairs. You can hear the distant hum of their sweet voices; the people you love always sound like a melody. Your absence hasn’t been noticed yet.

"Even if I’m not here.”

For once they’re silent on the other end of the line. It’s a full silence, filled with one part lust and one part hunger. Both of them are like Noodle playing with a mouse. Waiting for the right time to drive their teeth in and end this game.

But even mice have teeth. Your hand is holding your phone so hard that the plastic makes your bones ache and your cuts bleed fresh.

“If you don’t let them live, I'll never stop fighting. But if you want me to be willing- If you want me to be your pup the way I think you do."

You can’t even close your hand into a fist with how wrecked your hands are. They hurt with every clumsy movement. you hold the phone. Your every heartbeat lurching with the horror of what you're doing.

I can’t lose them; I can’t be the reason why they die. They'll keep sending people until we're all dead unless I do something.

“All of them, all of them need to be safe, Jimin- you need to let him go of his contract and let him go back to living a normal life and you need to not punish Jin for working for the FBI.” Your words rush over themselves. "Leave my pack alone and I’ll be obedient. I'll be yours. I’ll never try and go back to them again. I won’t ever try and leave. I promise.”

Moonbyul and Hyejin are silent on the other end of the phone. You wait for a few moments. They must be looking at each other, deliberating.

Everything in this room aches. The closet bedroom that Yoongi made he made for you. The wainscotting just so. Everything in this house was crafted with an equal amount of love.

It was never meant to be yours forever, you’ve been keenly aware of this fact since the moment you met Yoongi. Since the moment you met his eyes across the dining room table and the moment his teeth met your skin. Borrowed things don't belong, they never do. Good things do not last. You only get them for as long as you get them and not a moment longer.

You're looking at Hobi's sweatshirts, in the alcove where he stacks them for you to take when Moonbyul and Hyejin respond.

“We'll agree to those terms, but remember their safety depends on your performance."

"You have 24 hours to get to us pup. Make them count.”

The dial tone drones like a funeral drum.

~-~

(Hoseok, a few years prior)

The backroom at the record shop is cramped with all sorts of things from a bygone era;

A mini fridge with a decrepit desktop computer and logbook balanced atop it. Pictures and bulletins glued to the wall from the 1960's. A greasy coffee machine piled high with bags of expired tea. A cramped spot for employees to hang their coats and a yellowing old table with a pair of chairs; both occupied by people also out of place. a beta that has a thing for 1980's rap and an alpha with a broken heart who admittedly loves 2010's pop.

A poster of some glittery showgirl omega from the 20s bats her eyelashes down at Hoseok as he has a mental breakdown. Offering neither comfort nor absolution nor love.

Maybe if he'd been born an omega like that, it would have been easier. Maybe they'd have wanted him then.

Yoongi's hands rub down Hoseok's shoulder, his back, places only lovers have touched. Up and down. An endless circle. An ouroboros of affection nibbling Hoseok's fickle heart. Hoseok aches harder with every passing moment.

Yoongi looks at the clock as Hoseok continues to sob. The shop should be open right now but Yoongi won't let it. It can go out of business for all he cares. As long as no one makes Hoseok get up from this chair before he's ready.

Beta instincts are fickle things, but Yoongi has always had a third sense. Something in him always knows if people are trustworthy and if they need him. Something in their scents or faces or eyes- like small planets reflecting the cosmos back to them. Do planets bear life only when someone is willing to look for them? Do people only deserve help when they're willing to ask for it? or is it like this?

Eventually, Hoseok gets his breath back in his chest and his sobs quiet down. His eyes open bloodshot. All sadness has an expiration date (thankfully). Yoongi's hand slides down his arm and gives his hand a firm squeeze (and stays there).

It's the first time someone's touched Hoseok without wanting something in God knows how long but he's too sad to properly appreciate it or savor it. (Yoongi doesn't want anything from him that Hoseok wouldn't willingly give. Doesn't want anything but his smile. fuck- he's just a co-worker, isn't he?). Who knows when the next touch like this might come? (Yoongi is going to hold his hand tomorrow because Yoongi likes holding people's hands, Jin will give him the tacit permission to do that at least. But all of the pack are keenly aware that Hoseok needs time to heal, no matter how obvious Yoongi's crush and Hoseok's needs).

(Hoseok is definitely not just Yoongi's coe-worker at this point, but saviors come from all sorts of unlikely places)

Eventually Hoseok's sobs quiet and Yoongi sighs, pulling back. He takes one look at hoseok's red nose and pale cheeks and puffs up. "I'm making your hot chocolate and you're going to tell me what's happened."

He gets up like he needs something to do. Like he's tired of taking care of Hoseok. He doesn't take it personally, he's tired of it too.

“My mates they- they kicked me out of our den,” Hoseok confesses. Yoongi's got two mugs in his hands, they thud against the counter when he reaches into one of the cabinets.

It’s warm in here but Hoseok is still thankful for the sweatshirt the beta gave him. Not only for its warmth but for the layer of scent it provides; It’s soaked with the smell of chocolate. So comforting and heavenly that it makes Hoseok a little dizzy when he tucks his nose into it and takes a hefty sniff when Yoongi's got his back turned.

Hoseok was never given the other pack's items, never allowed or encouraged to indulge in their scents. They never asked for his either.

Yoongi hangs both their jackets above the radiator in the back so that they’ll dry faster. He bears an impressive bite mark on his arm, visible because of his short-sleeved shirt. It's bruised just ever so slightly- an alpha bite but not a mating bite because betas don't mate. A mark like that on him is as good a claim as any. Even with the other scents that cling to the sweatshirt.

Hoseok hasn’t known him long, but they’re friends even if they’ve never met up outside of work. You can't not be friends with someone you spend upwards of 30 hours a week with.

Yoongi just hums. "Have you been with them long?"

Hoseok appreciates that Yoongi doesn't use the past tense, his heart too tender around the idea of endings. Some part of him is unconvinced that it really is over. A stubborn heart for a stubborn alpha.

His hair is starting to dry when he nods. "It's been a few years." Hoseok bites his lip, "I could lie and say I didn't see signs but-" his hands end up in his hair, elbows leaning against the creaking yellow table. Tugging a little. "I'm so fucking stupid."

"I don't think you're stupid," Yoongi says, hand on the back of his head. warm rough fingers. Touching him ever so briefly as he passes to put the milk back in the mini-fridge. "It's not stupid to want to find more love where you got it."

But in truth, There's not much more than Yoongi can say. Not much more that he knows to say. He'd never met Hoseok's pack. Whereas Namjoon and Jimin and the pups have a general tendency to linger around Yoongi person at all hours and locations. Stopping by to drop off coffee or just to make funny faces at him through the window when they're on their way to work. Yoongi has never met his co-worker's pack and has never seen much evidence at all on him beyond some vague hints of scents.

That alone is enough of a hint; usually, when people have packmates they're soaked in their scents. Visceral claims to keep any wandering eyes wandering still. He'd be lying if he said he hadn't wondered why Hoseok didn't wear his packmate's scents.

It’s not like the alpha smells bad at all- a little strong sure, but less genetically dominant alphas tend to smell a little sweeter like omegas.

At least that’s what Namjoon says when he feels like info dumping. Late at night when the pack asleep around them and only Yoongi's stayed up to listen. Because Yoongi likes the sound of Namjoon's voice when he gets into the details. Stroking across Namjoon’s bare chest just to feel the alpha's words rumble against his fingertips. His heartbeat against his ear the backtrack for all of it.

Whoever Yoongi’s pack is; they surely love him a lot. That much has been evident since the second that Hoseok met him. Evident in the packed bento boxes and the bunny-eyed omega that walks with him to work sometimes. Or in the tall omega and alpha pair that Hoseok has seen perusing the shelves when he comes in to relieve Yoongi of his shift.

Hoseok has worked here for 6 months. It’s impossible not to collect these details. The hickeys on his throat that he wears after weekends, how ruffled but generally loved Yoongi looks when he comes back from rut and heat leave.

“Is there a reason why they left?” Yoongi tries to be as undiscerning as possible. Voice gentle and measured. Stirring the hot cocoa and putting it in front of Hoseok.

Hoseok takes a sip and it feels like he's drinking a cup of the beta in front of him. Yoongi melts a little into the chair at the happy noise Hoseok makes.

It's good. Really good actually, Yoongi uses twice as much Swiss mix as the package instructs and a tablespoon of honey to boot. More chocolate can never be a bad thing.

Before Hoseok has a chance to respond, The phone next to the cabinet rings. And Yoongi takes it off the stand and hangs it up again in quick secession so that it doesn’t ring anymore. It has to be important but he ignores it for Hoseok's sake. Yoongi does a lot of ordering for the shop, the rare records that their boss is always trying to source and sell. It's a lot of chasing down leads and curators.

(This is not true. This is a lie that Yoongi and his boss have fed him. This phone is set up for the family's use. Hoseok doesn’t know that most of the calls Yoongi answers are more delicate than just simple stock orders.)

“I just found out that my brother has stolen from me, what should his punishment be beta?”

“How much did he steal?”

“300k”

Yoongi swallows, fighting his narrow margin of benevolence. The drops of mercy that he's allowed to show without suspicion. He tells himself that the other beta would order a far worse. People only call him when they want lighter punishment.

“A finger for every 100 then.”

The people who call ask him all manner of things. Things like “I think my child might be planning on going to the police, what should I do before anyone finds out about it?” He is both a secret keeper and a jury.

“Send them away. Out of sight and out of mind of anything that they might be able to share. I hear the military academies are lovely this year. So much snow. Yes, they take omega recruits.”

“My firstborn child presented as an omega instead of an alpha. They're my firstborn and heir, how should I proceed?”

“I can ask around for an advantageous match but I’m sorry, there is no fixing presentation.”

Hoseok hasn’t seen a phone like that in years. Didn’t even know they made old-fashioned ones like that anymore. Ones with a dial, the blue plastic worn from the number of times Yoongi's had to pick it up. It doesn't stay silent for long, ringing soon after yoongi's hung it up.

“I'm the only- they’re an all-omega group.” As if by the mention of his sub gender Hoseok’s angry burning sugar scent fills the room. In reply, Yoongi’s sweetness rises. Hoseok takes another sip and pretends it's just the hot chocolate warming his cheeks. “I guess they wanted to keep it that way.”

"I've got two omegas and they keep me on my toes, I can't imagine four." That gets a laugh out of Hoseok.

"You've got a bunch of alphas in yours though, right?" A bunch already, I wouldn't be needed. Hoseok has seen them, the tall one with dimples that looks like something out of a soap opera. The scary-looking one with the chubby cheeks who's always holding hands with the pretty academic one who likes the jazz in the corner.

Yoongi nods, "That must be nice," Hoseok's eyelashes are all clumped together from the tears. "Having so many people to take care of you."

Yoongi hums, knuckles brushing Hoseok’s hand on the table. It’s just one tender touch but Hoseok starts to break. To crumple.

Yoongi senses Hoseok breaking, pulling him in close before he has a chance to really fracture (he comes just in time, Yoongi loves Hoseok just in time). Yoongi’s scent alone is enough to soothe him- beyond the way he guides the alpha to rest against his throat. Hoseok fights it only a little, what's a little scenting among friends?

They're not just friends, it's not just scenting.

Hoseok wants to bury his nose in the beta’s throat, but that wouldn’t be appropriate, not with the scent of so many others clinging to him. He still sags into the hug. Turns his face away to avoid the temptation.

“They didn’t even tell me- and now the lease on the apartment is up and I can’t afford it on my own and-“ I’m so scared and I just wish there was someone to take care of me. I wish I was a pup again.

They sit like that at the table and Yoongi just lets him cry, He pulls back after his sobbing has cooled. They hug until they both smell like gooey chocolate chip cookies with too much brown sugar.

Hoseok sniffles, “We have to open up the shop,” Yoongi's arms tighten around Hoseok's shoulders in reply.

“It can wait a few more seconds.” Hoseok wants to say that the owner wouldn’t like that but he doesn’t.

Yoongi sips and hesitates. “Do you have a place to stay tonight?” Hoseok pauses for a second, flushing before he shakes his head. “Okay, it's okay. You can say with me.”

“Are- are you sure they won't mind?” But Yoongi is already typing away on his phone, shooting a quick text to the pack group chat (a chat that Hoseok will be added to in exactly 23 days, but who's counting?)

“Not at all. It’s a bit cramped with all of us but we have a spare bed in the closet room that Tae likes to read on sometimes- Jungkook's boss slept there last night after they came back from drinking and Namjoon was so mad- he won't be mad about you though- it's just that Jungkook- he just really shouldn't be drinking."

"Is he underaged?"

"No, he's just got health issues."

"Oh." Yet another person who gets the love he needs, the care he needs. Hoseok tries and fails miserably not to be jealous over Yoongi's omega whom he's never met.

He won't be jealous for long. Later Jungkook is going to challenge him to an arm wrestle just to prove he doesn't need babying. Beating alphas in feats of strength is his favorite thing. He'll feel Hoseok’s hand in his and get completely distracted. "Wow, you've got like- really pretty hands!" and drag them close to his to compare sizes. He'll be smitten nearly instantly with Jungkook- for what it's worth. The jealousy only lasts for a few hours.

Within a few seconds his phone is ringing off the hook, he shows Hoseok the chorus of, “Yes it’s okay!” and “Poor thing, tell him he can stay as long as he wants.” "Of course hyung!" "Does Hoseok like kimchi-jjigae or should we just order pizza?" “Oh! Can we get some with pineapple?” “Gross Jk.” "Yeah we all know Minnie doesn't like the aftertaste of burnt fruit."

And Hoseok can't help but feel like he doesn’t deserve this kindness and such an effortless acceptance. There is a knock at the front door before he can say anything. A few short taps against the glass. Yoongi tells Hoseok to stay put while he goes to deal with a pushy customer who wants in. Leaving him alone in the backroom with his cooling hot coco and the poster still staring down at him.

(They say two can keep a secret if one of them is dead, but that's not the only way a secret stays buried; the best secrets are the ones you’re not even aware of.

Out of all the people in your pack. Hoseok is the only one in possession of a secret like this. The best kinds of secrets are the ones you don't even know are secrets see- he doesn't even know that this memory is enough to save you. Hoseok is entirely unaware that in his mind lies this memory.

Hoseok was the first person to get on the no-kill list, and it wasn’t because of Yoongi.

All packmates of a Don get put on the list;

no matter if they're active or past.)

Sitting at that yellowing wood table; Hoseok feels more settled now that he knows he has a place to sleep tonight that isn’t this backroom. Pulling the sleeve of Yoongi’s sweatshirt over his palms and sniffing at the collar where it was pushed up against Yoongi’s scent gland.

If he thinks hard, he can pick out a few scents here and there soaking the fabric. (Milky Omega Jin, Honey Sweet Puppy Jungkookie, Cinnamon sweet Alpha Tae and vanil-lalalala Jimin, Coffee Alpha Namjoon and Chocolate Yoongi).

It's so different from his ex-pack's scents. Their sugary sweet omega peppermint and sharp lemony evergreen, winter berry and pine, the cold smart of snow against his nose. His burning caramel scent- so off-putting. The one scent not Christmas-themed. The one that didn’t fit.

By comparison- Yoongi's pack smells like a bakery in summer. Every scent that could be added to a cake maybe (one day, in the kitchen, he’ll eat your tiramisu and realize yes- that’s exactly what it’s missing. Your cakey scent makes them all complete, the warmth of baking things).

He has somewhere to go now. Somewhere to be. Someone to trust. He trusts Yoongi- even if they’ve only known each other for a handful of short months.

And Yoongi’s pack can’t be worse than his last one.

As if in reply to Yoongi’s phone (buzzing with more texts that he doesn't check because Hoseok is nothing if not respectful of people's digital privacy. If he checked he would see "Is that the hot coworker you're always talking about? The one who always looks a little sad?")

Hoseok’s phone buzzes with the notification he's been waiting for.

Pack Omega 🌙 calling.

Pick up? Decline?

Hoseok hasn't yet gotten around to changing her contact information. He scrambles at it, spilling the hot cocoa across the table as he rushes to pick it up. Scrambling to get to it before it goes to voice mail. Blood pounding in his ears.

Hoseok’s voice is broken as he says his pack omega’s name, his old pack omega’s name.

“Byulyi- Moonbyul please-”

Moonbyul is cold on the other side of the phone. Maybe she’d have liked him more, and wouldn’t have given up on him if he didn't beg. But Hoseok has never been above begging. Not for love. Not for the thing he wants and needs the most. Hoseok needs love more than air and as Yoongi said- it's easiest to go looking for love where you once got it.

Even when you know it could hurt you.

Her voice is flat and unaffected. “I just wanted to make sure you found a place to stay tonight. Are you still going to be around to give the landlord the keys?”

Hoseok finds himself nodding even though he knows she can’t see him. “Yes- I can do that, I can do anything you want. Can we talk?”

“No.”

“Moonbyul please-”

“Goodbye Hoseok.” She says, hanging up after a second. Hoseok looks at the phone. Pushing the button to redial. It doesn't go. She’s already blocked him.

It will be a long time until Hoseok hears from his last pack again, a long long time until he says their names again. He will remember the way he’d begged, the way her name had sounded smack dab in the middle of it. And hate hate Hate how it makes him feel. He won't ever say their names, regret and self-disgust getting in the way.

It's a little funny, thinking of how different things might have gotten if he'd just told yoongi their names. If he hadn't let his alpha pride get in the way. A few days from now they'll talk about it together. "I don't like the way saying their names makes me feel- it feels- I hate how much I want to say it- to see them again- saying their names just reminds me of the power they had over me."

Never again, will Jung Hoseok beg for someone to give him the bare minimum. This is his lowest point. The moment where it shifts- for good.

His head is in his hands when Yoongi comes back into the room. Still sniffling, crying yet again. Yoongi sets a palm in his hair, ruffling it. Eyeing the spilled hot cocoa with a raised eyebrow.

“If you wanted coffee you could have just said so-“ he makes an attempt at levity and is rewarded with Hoseok’s small snort. Wiping his wet cheeks. Neither of them is aware of the secret. Neither of them is aware and so much worse off for it."

Hoseok grins, “Are you buying hyung?”

~-~

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Notes:

in the story there has always been this question- mainly raised by jimin during his secret chapters- if the m/c is actually in love with them or if she's just manipulating them- at the beginning of this chapter- we actually see jimin finally dispel the last bit of him that thinks even a little bit that this is the case. once he sees how much she put her body on the line- that question isn't even in the back of his mind- even a little. i ended up re-editing this part alot because of it.

every time i write something from jimin's pov i'm always like "why is everything so meandering? why are things disjointed?" and then i remember that's literally jimin's character- that he is in a lot of ways an unreliable narrator.

(TW) i have this idea in my head that namjoon DOES NOT become a good person in the event that all of them die like- a whole separate idea of him becoming a doctor for the family through yoongi's connections with the soul purpose of one day killing moonbyul and her entire pack…including their pups on accident which ends up destroying the last bit of namjoon's innocence as a person…and he ends up becoming one of the families assassins alongside jimin as a result, in this event jungkook does not stay with them and instead moves on and yoongi stays and tries to get them to stop only to ask them to kill him as their last kill because he's unable to cope with the loss of jin, hobi, the m/c and tae. BUT ANYWAY I DIGRESS THAT IS NOT THIS STORY.

i think in this story there is this really interesting dynamic of femininity and death and morality- that being said red nail polish is definitely a metaphor for whose comfortable killing and who isn't. i like the contrast between tae who will never wear red nails again- vs the moon pack who all are not allowed out of the nest if their nailpolish isn't perfect like- thats another layer of the fucked up shit.

are you suprised that the m/c is going to leave? Did you see it coming from a mile away? i mean...it is in the title of the series 😈

….the parallel between hobi losing his voice and the m/c not having a voice at the beginning of the series- you can project whatever meaning you want onto that <3

also on that subject the line "Jin’s hands. Your face. Tae’s head. Hoseok’s throat. Each of you has lost the thing most necessary to your survival." it's worth mentioning that thats not what i think is the most necessary thing to their survival but it is their own interpretation of what keeps them alive. like i for one actually think that the m/c is a lot more pragmatic than anyone gives her credit for but i digress. i could go on about all of their strenghts.

what did you guys think about hobi's secret reveal???? a fair amount of people have guessed it and i think when someone got it at the beginning of the series i lied and said it wasn't- i'm allowed to be an unreliable narrator too!!! kudos to everyone who got it! i feel like it could have been revealed better and originally the big one off was slated for next chapter but i decided to shift it to this one (mostly because i think the next chapter is about to get up there in terms of word count tbh 😭) but T-T its done now! please give me praise because i'm baby and this week has honestly been really hard

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lazycats-stuff · 1 year

Note

You the oneshot where the reader didn't have a choice until batfam rescued him . I kinda want to see the batfam reactions to the thighs he didn't get to experience like chocolate, cartoons and a birthday that shocked them the most and what's even worse is that readers handler just sends him to a very difficult mission like a deserted island to fend for himself on his birthday which reader didn't know about

Aww, some family fluff... You got it my dear anon. Also, the request season has started.

Summary: (Y/N) told his family about his lack of experience with usual stuff. Even more with his birthday. Absolutely no one is having it.

Batfamily & male!reader, PART 2, PART 3,

Warnings: Fluff, family wants to kill someone, mentions of missions from (Y/N)'s past.

After saving (Y/N) from his handler, it was obvious that he didn't... Indulge in certain things as any normal kids would. Sure, Damian didn't too, considering his upbringing, but (Y/N) was on a whole another level of not knowing anything.

It started with chocolate. Alfred has made some chocolate cake out of nowhere and he called the others down to eat if they wanted too. Of course, everyone would do so. I mean, who wouldn't want to try Alfred's delicious creations?

Everyone jumped at the news, basically pushing each others out of the way. (Y/N) didn't understand why they would do it. It's just food. He walked in confused, sitting down. He frowned at the sight of a chocolate cake.

" What's wrong (Y/N)? " Bruce asked, digging into the sugary delight.

" I never had anything with chocolate before. I wasn't allowed to have sugar. " (Y/N) confessed and Jason nearly choked on his piece.

" No. " Jason said, in complete and utter disbelief. Everyone glanced at (Y/N), also shocked that he has never had sugar. Of any kind probably.

" How about you try it? " Bruce prompted and Alfred put a chocolate cake in front of (Y/N). He took a fork and put it in his mouth and everyone saw how gingerly he tried it.

It seemed he liked it by the way his eyes widened and the way he relaxed.

" Do you like it? " Bruce asked, clearly already knowing the answer.

" I think I would like a second slice. " (Y/N) admitted and Alfred smiled widely. It's a win and progress. (Y/N) is never the one to voice what he wants and making him explicitly say what he wants is like pulling teeth.

" Of course master (Y/N), but I'm afraid you can't have more than two per day. " Alfred said, already putting some rules down.

" Okay. " (Y/N) said. Bruce decided to put some rules down because rules are all he knows. But they were very relaxed rules. Such as at least 8 hours of sleep, some exercise and a healthy amount of vegetables.

(Y/N) is kind of afraid of Alfred. He saw that Alfred is the one to not mess with and he respected it.

(Y/N) stayed silent as he ate. Bruce already a mental note to buy more sweets for (Y/N) to try.

After the whole cake fiasco, everyone decided to help (Y/N) experience some actual fragments of childhood. So what do they decide to do?

Cartoon marathon.

Jason wanted to watch South Park because he knows (Y/N) will love it. It's pure satire and Jason loved it. Whenever he could catch some free time, he would watch it and it would take a national emergency to stop.

And that's why Jason is leading (Y/N) to the living room.

" What is South Park even? " (Y/N) asked as he entered the living room, quickly moving to his spot.

" One of the best cartoons ever made. " Jason simply said and (Y/N) shook his head.

" It's pure satire. " Dick elaborated and (Y/N) nodded in understanding. (Y/N) liked satire. He considered himself to be a sarcastic person, more so now when he lived with the Waynes. Damian and (Y/N) just communicated via sarcasm and it was fun.

They started from the first episode and (Y/N) chuckled quietly. Everyone turned their heads. Holy shit. It's a beautiful sound too, coming from (Y/N). When they make him laugh properly, they are going to commemorate it once it happens.

" What? " (Y/N) asked, looking at the all.

" You have an adorable laugh. " Jason explained and (Y/N) turned his head away. He didn't want them to see his blush. Nobody has ever told him that. There was never any type of affection from his handler. If he got a 'good job', he could consider it the best praise.

After months of digging, Bruce found (Y/N)'s birthday. Bruce is definitely going to brag about this for the years to come. And he found out just in time. It's going to be in a few days and they wanted to surprise (Y/N).

(Y/N) is observant by nature and keeping this surprise as a secret is not an easy feat. Bruce could see that (Y/N) was already suspicious, especially with the way everyone brushes him off with the exact same excuses and some times they distract him with sparring, cases and all in all just stupid things.

Alfred made a chocolate cake, now (Y/N)'s favorite and the others got him some things that they thought that (Y/N) would like. Jason had a major task of bringing (Y/N) to the dining room.

They all waited with the stuff, knowing that (Y/N) wouldn't like sudden surprise and sudden noise. (Y/N) stopped as he took in the sight of a cake with candles on them.

" Happy birthday. " Bruce said, with a smile on his face.

" What? " (Y/N) asked quietly and their faces fell.

" You never had a birthday before? " Dick asked, feeling sad for (Y/N).

" Not really. I was usually sent on missions during that time. The last one was spent on a deserted island. " (Y/N) said, shuddering at the mere memory of the mission. Bruce walked towards (Y/N) and brought him into his own embrace.

" From now on, we are going to replace all of those memories with some more precious ones. Okay? " Bruce asked and (Y/N) felt something warm in his core. Something that he has never felt before.

Everyone agreed with Bruce, joining in on the hug. (Y/N) never liked to be touched, but he has grown to like it with the others. They weren't abrasive with it and Dick was the most touchy one, he understood his boundaries.

" Can I eat the cake now? " (Y/N) asked, squished in between all of them. Everyone chuckled at the suggestion and let go of (Y/N). The celebration went by without a hitch and it was filled with smiles, even from members who don't smile to much.

#dc comics #dc x male reader #x male reader #batfamily #bruce wayne x male reader #jason todd x male reader #batkids #batman x male reader #red hood x male reader #damian wayne x male reader #robin x male reader #tim drake x male reader #red robin x male reader #dick grayson x male reader #nightwing x male reader

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skyloftian-nutcase · 2 months

Note

I don’t know if the prompts can be asking for more in stories you’ve already started, but I would love to see more of the Hero of Shadow and Wild Link interacting, or more on Abel’s heart attack in the HC AU, or more interactions with Zelda and Link after they had to get married (Golden Mercy? The Imprisoning War? Not sure what that one’s called). … Or basically anything involving hurt/comfort or Hyrule, honestly. 😂

I love your writing so much, thank you for sharing it with us! < 3

Hyrule snapped his fingers in front of his friend. “Wild!”

Wild blinked, flinching and taking a step back. “S-sorry—”

“You good? Was that another—I thought the meds—”

“No,” Wild shook his head. “I—it was—sorry, I just—he—”

Wild continued to stammer, at a loss for words. What was he supposed to say? He hadn't spaced out, he'd honed in, his mind had snapped with clarity, screaming at him and wanting nothing more than to run towards the stretcher.

That man—he was—

And he was having a—

"I-I just... need to sit down for a bit," Wild finally said, walking out of the ED.

Wild had yet to fully explain everything that had happened in his past. Everyone knew he had gaps in his memory, that he'd sustained a head injury, that it made him have absence seizures, but the cause of it... the people he'd left behind because of the aftermath...

How could Wild possibly ever explain? He'd failed in his mission, and it had gotten his entire team killed. He could never face anyone from his past, let alone his—

Castle Town had promised a new life, a new beginning, especially as memories had tried to piece themselves back together and make him want to run and hide all the more. If he told everyone... then there was no more running from it.

Wild buried his face in his hands, resting on an empty stretcher in the basement. His mind screamed with anxiety as his past caught up to the present, and his heart screamed with worry over his father.

This was a nightmare.

XXX

Fable looked over her room one more time. Ambu bag? Check. Suction? Check. Defibrillator? Check. She had her maintenance IV fluid set up, the plasmolyte liter set up, the wires for the cardiac monitoring system ready to go, chest tube suction at the ready, and her little trays had all the syringes, saline flushes, blunt tips, alcohol swabs, caps, lab tubes, and everything else she could think of prepared.

She'd chart stalked the patient while he was in the OR, and she'd already gotten report from the nurse. Forty-year-old male (oh he's young, Fable thought, used to seeing far older patients) presented to the ED via EMS with chest pain and shortness of breath, STEMI confirmed with EKG, and he was sent to the cath lab. There they found multiple severe occlusions and opted for an open heart bypass surgery rather than using stents, and off to the OR he'd gone.

The surgery had gone fairly straightforward from what she could see - he'd been on bypass for about an hour, and the surgery itself had been going on for about four. He'd gotten about 500 of cell saver, 2L crystalloid, and 1 RBC, and he'd only been defibrillated once.

Just as she looked over the chart again, roll call was sent out to the unit, and she gathered her thoughts as she went to the room, awaiting the patient. He arrived a minute or so later, and the room quickly filled with Fable, the charge nurse, the tech, another nurse, the anesthesiologist, the attending surgeon, the fellow surgeon, the respiratory therapist, the ICU attending, and the nurse practitioner.

Everyone slipped into different roles and tasks fairly easily and quickly. Anesthesia handed off to the RT, who attached the ET tube to his ventilator, the tech worked on putting chest tubes to suction and getting outputs, Fable assessed her patient and looked at what drips they were on (2 of epi, 4 of levo, 0.02 of vaso, 1.5 of Dex, 1.2 of insulin), charge took the admission note while the surgeons gave report and Fable listened vaguely, her other nurse was attaching the safe set to the arterial line to collect blood for labs and an ABG, and the ICU providers listened to the report.

Vasoplegia, not too much bleeding but enough to merit product, chest tube output was a little high but not alarming, and he was cold at 35.8. Fable asked her tech to get a bear hugger, and x-ray arrived to check ET placement as the surgeons finished report. Fable stripped the chest tubes alongside the surgical fellow before they all stepped out for x-ray. ABG resulted pH 7.33, pO2 107, CO2 38, bicarb 24, and lactate 3.1. Fable opened the extra plasmolyte fluid bolus up to try and help with the lactate, which was likely indicative that the patient was dry.

The surgery team left, and Fable remained to stabilize the patient. She and her charge nurse worked on detangling the lines while the tech covered him in a warm blanket. His blood pressure was within parameters, with a mean arterial pressure greater than 65, though his systolics were in the 120s, which was right at his upper limit, so she tried weaning the levo a little, going to 3 to see what would happen, before continuing to detangle lines, get a blood sugar for the glucommander that was determining the insulin levels to give him, and obtaining cardiac output indeces. His cardiac index was 2.8, and his systemic vascular resistance indexed for his body weight was around 2600. Good CI, a little higher on the SVRI end. Perhaps she should wean the epi too, assuming his MAP tolerated it.

After about an hour, Fable felt a little less overwhelmed, and she called her charge nurse, who had left the room a good while ago alongside the rest of the team. "Have we heard anything about family?"

"He has a wife and daughter," she replied. "But they're a fair distance from here, out in Hateno. I think last we heard they were making arrangements to get here, but it wouldn't be until tomorrow morning."

Fable glanced at the clock. It was almost shift change, so night shift would have to be the ones to wake the man up, get a neuro assessment, and then hopefully extubate him.

Nodding, she went back to work. She wasn't going to wean sedation until he was warm enough, so all she had to focus on right now was stabilizing him. His labs came back and his hemoglobin was a little low, and his two mediastinal and one pleural chest tubes collectively put out about 280mL of blood. It was still a fairly high amount, mostly evenly distributed (the meds were bleeding more, but neither exceeded 100mL for the hour), but not enough to think there was an active bleed that needed surgical intervention. Not yet, at least.

Overall, he looked pretty decent.

After another hour, one blood product later, Fable finally felt like she was starting to get everything settled. Her patient's temperature was normalizing, but she was twenty minutes from shift change, so she figured it was safer to let him sleep through report and then night shift could try to figure out weaning and bathing. His lactic on his repeat ABG was improving at 2.4, so they were likely addressing all the problems.

When a transporter walked by, IV pumps in hand, she noticed him pause in front of her room. She walked over to him. "Hey. Can I help you?"

The transporter, a young man with long blonde hair tied out of his face, jumped, a little startled. "Uh, hi. Yeah. Sorry. I just..."

"What room are you looking for?" she asked helpfully. "I don't need extra channels."

"Uh, these are for 4301."

"You passed it, it's back that way."

"Right," the man nodded, looking back in the room. "Right."

Fable waited a moment, and then asked, "Can I help you with anything else?"

"Is he doing okay?" the man immediately asked.

Fable smiled. "Yeah, he's looking pretty good, I think."

"Can..." the transporter swallowed, shifting anxiously. "Can I talk to him?"

"He's pretty sedated right now," Fable answered cautiously. "Why do you want to talk to him?"

The transporter sighed in defeat. "I... he's my dad. I... haven't seen him in a long time."

His dad? Her charge nurse had said he had a daughter, not a son. Though... looking between her patient and the transporter in front of her, the family resemblance was striking.

Well, she hadn't heard of any visitor restrictions for him. "Yeah. You're not on his chart, though - can I get your name?"

The transporter sighed, putting the supplies he'd been carrying on the counter of the nurse's station. "I wouldn't be on it. My family thinks I'm dead. It's complicated."

He—uh... what?

"My name's Link," he answered her nonetheless before entering her patient's room.

Link? Huh. That was...

Wait a second.

"Hey, are you one of my brother's friends?" Fable asked as she followed him into the room.

"Your brother?"

"Link. Likes to call himself Legend to differentiate," she replied with an amused roll of her eyes.

Link gawked at her. "You're Legend's sister? He never even said he had a sister!"

"You two are alike," Fable huffed. "He doesn't particularly want a bunch of people to know he's related to me. But never mind that. Go talk to your dad."

Link stood there a moment, processing the words, before he exhaled shakily and nodded. Fable moved to the computer, working on catching up on charting to give him some privacy but also keep an eye on things. This patient's safety was her responsibility, after all.

Link seemed almost timid to approach the patient, even though he knew he was sedated. He slowly slid his hand into the older man's, shakily and quietly saying, "Hey, Papa. I... I, uh... I-I..."

Fable glanced out of the corner of her eye, seeing the young man getting tearful, and she tried to focus on her work once more.

"I missed you," Link whispered. "I'm s-sorry... about... about everything."

She heard a sniffle, and then the transporter moved quickly out of the room, offering her a brief but quick thanks before disappearing.

Fable turned towards the doorway, and then looked at her patient uncertainly. That was... odd.

Sighing, she walked up to the man, brushing hair out of his face. "Buddy, your family drama sounds almost as crazy as mine."

#you ask skye answers #lovely webhead #don't worry Abel's doing fine lol #Wild on the other hand...#writing #lu in healthcare #lu wild #abel #lu fable

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reallyromealone · 2 years

Text

SOULMATES.

OMEGAVERSE, MALE READER, OMEGA MALE READER, ANGST TO WELL SOMETHING, MXM

♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️

He swore he could hear him when he slept.

Four months ago (name)s world came crumbling, on his eighteenth birthday his soulmate mark appeared, the words his soulmate would speak to him upon their first meeting in their handwriting.

"A human?" Was what it said in elegant handwriting, the words concerning the Omega who kept the words hidden from those around him.

Especially his brother.

Tengen would lose his mind if he read what was written on the other.

(Name) wandered down the streets with his brother, wanting to do some light shopping as tengen had given him some money to buy more supplies for his hobbies, the Alpha pleased his little brother found peace from their family with activities.

"Oh- I'm sorry, here you take it" (name) said politely to the tall man before him with the deepest plum eyes he had ever seen "a human?" The black haired man mumbled, stepping closer to (name) "my soulmates human..."

Muzan should have expected it, the only way his mate would have not been is if he or...her, had changed him.

"I-I must go" (name) said panicked, Muzan taking in the sweet pharamones of the Omega, burning it into his memory as he watched the Omega run off.

He will make arrangements to collect the Omega soon enough.

He knows the consequences of anything happening to his Omega.

It could be incredibly detrimental to him.

When two soulmates interact for the first time, their souls are connected and if one gets hurt, the other would feel the pain and humans were fragile.

Tengen saw the interaction go down, ushering his brother urgently.

His room was covered wall to wall with wisteria, papers soaked in the flower smacked against the walls, poor (name) not allowed to leave the grounds under any circumstances.

But everyone forgot that they were connected, the demon using the soulmate connection to influence (name) via dreams.

It was faint whispers of sweet words, seducing him to leave his room.

But (name) resisted, ignoring the others words and sweet whispers.

Then he appeared in everything.

Words began shifting in the books his brother brought him amongst everything else, poor (name) conflicted and scared.

Logically, this was the king of demons.

He was responsible for killing many he held dear and causing tragedy anywhere he went.

But his Omega practically screamed at him to see his alpha.

Tengen spoke to the other demon slayers about this, worried for his brother who was definitely struggling, nearly dropping twice.

(Name) would be taken to the headquarters so his health could be better monitored and protected.

(Name) was weak as his brother lifted him, clinging helplessly "don't worry (name), I will keep you safe" tengen said assuredly as he carried him out, the Alpha having changed the Omega in clothes soaked in wisteria flowers to ward off any demons.

(Name) sat with closed eyes as the train rumbled, the wisteria having quickly faded from his clothes due to the long trip and just feeling dazed.

"Excuse me sir?" A small voice rang from beside him, (name) blearily turning to see a small boy with well kept hair and a soft expression "I can't find my father... Could you please help me?" He asked with a pleasing tone and (name)s Omega sensed his alpha was near...maybe this was his pup.

Due to the poorness of his health, (name) didn't remember the warnings his brother told him, the white haired alpha having to step away for a moment.

"My brother will be here in a moment... He's better equipped than I am currently" (name) could barely stand as the pup came closer "can I stay with you?" He asked sweetly and (name) struggled to resist as the boy gently gripped (name)s clothes "I suppose, when my brother returns we can look for your father" (name) said letting the boy scoot beside him and after months his Omega was finally quiet.

Tengen was confused as he spotted the child beside his brother, the little boy familiar but (name) seemed content by the pups presence "whose this?" Tengen asked kindly and (name) for the first time in a while smiled "his name's Toshikuni, he's seperated from his father... I thought it would be safe for him to stay here till you return"

Tengen smiled at his brothers kindness, the Omega was always incredibly kind and wanting those around him to thrive.

Which is why it confused him in why he was soulmates with the true antithesis of himself.

A monster.

It felt like his brother had been cursed and Tengen had no way of fixing it.

It was devastating.

He remembers when his brother finally spoke to him about it, the pieces connecting and devastated he looked at the concept of the person for him trying to kill those he loved.

Tengen got ahold of a train attendant and (name) weakly crouched to the boys eye level, letting him hug him "I will return for you" the child's voice completely changed to the voice of...him.

(Name) pulled away to see flashing red eyes before turning back to a deep purple, the boy taking the attendants hand and wandering off.

(Name) was frozen in place as his brother helped him back into his seat, the white haired man assuming his brother was just dealing with slight withdrawal and held him close.

Tengen was abnormally quiet, worry evident in his movements and scent as he tried to think of anything to make his brother happy.

"I'm sorry..." Tengens voice was soft as he stared at his brother "I'm sorry your soulmate is...is him"

"It's not your fault, it's nobodies..." (Name) whispered as he stared off before closing his eyes.

He was just so tired.

Tengen looked panicked as his brother dropped again "shit! (Name)--- let's get you comfortable" tengen said panicked and adjusted his brother to a better position.

CRASH

the train suddenly began shaking, tengen pulling out his blades.

Something bad was about to happen.

Things moved in slow motion as the side of the train ripped open, the little boy from before having spikes from his back... Tengen knew something was off with the kid.

"Don't make this harder than it needs to be" Muzan hissed out as the train continued moving, the air pulling things out as Muzan manipulated his arm to stab at tengen, tengen keeping him away from grabbing at (name).

(Name) was practically being thrown around as the two fought for him "keep away from my brother you fucking demon!"

"We're here!" Tengen looked to see the other demon slayers whom had been previously missing "there were other demons on the train, we were ambushed" Tanjiro said as Muzan attacked once more but sadly the strike was hard enough to shake the train aggressively.

(Name) was set in a seat, still dealing with a drop when his body was forced out.

Below them was a lush forest, everyone watching in horror as (name) fell below.

Muzan and Tengen barely spared a glance as they both followed after.

It was by some miracle that (name) landed safely, falling into a pond and waking as his body forced him awake for his safety.

(Name) was Shakey and coughing as he made it to land, unsure how he got... wherever he was.

Clothes soaked he stood up, not looking unlike a newborn lamb as he did so.

He stumbled through the woods, leaning into trees before eventually dropping and leaning against a large oak tree, vision hazy and body cold.

Footsteps could be heard, his eyelids heavy unable to see as a hand gently cupped his cheek "tengen...?"

"No Omega, open your eyes" the voice commanded as (name) opened his eyes to see red staring back "I told you I would return for you" (name) wanted to be scared, to be angry but he was so tired and his Omega was so happy...

"(Name)!" Tengen yelled out as he raced towards the two, Muzan holding (name) in his arms and then...they were gone.

(Name) was gone.

#demon slayer x male reader.#demon slayer x male reader #demon slayer x reader #muzan x reader #muzan x male reader #male reader #omegaverse #omega male reader

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intheshadowsbehindyou · 1 year

Text

The Mercs react to Y/N telling them they have PTSD:

WARNING: FUCKING LONG.

Scout:

- He nods along slowly as you explain this. He might be incredibly childish and confrontational towards everyone but he’s not short of knowledge he learned in college, and personal experience. He seems to understand.

- Scout looks beyond terrified as you describe what happened to you. He doesn’t understand why something so terrible would happen to somebody with so much value.

- He doesn’t want to admit it, but he’s had childhood trauma himself. He goes “My brothers weren’t nice when we were little..” He then refuses to elaborate. This was his attempt to empathize with you.

- He sits there on the side of your bed with his head in his hands. Bouncing his knee restlessly. You could’ve swore you heard a sniffle.

- He’s trying to make his emotional state unnoticeable. But it’s clear to you that he cares. The attempts to hold back his tears say it all.

- If you ask for physical comfort he won’t hesitate twice. His petite body surprisingly feels muscular. He’ll lock his arms around you in a huge hug and won’t let go. He rocks you like a small baby.

————————————————————————

Soldier:

- Freezes up. Like straight up goes stiff. You swear he’s cosplaying as a statue. He’s facing away from you with his hands behind his back as you explain your trauma. You can’t see his expression.

- You think he might not understand and you give up on trying to explain. But then he turns around and goes “No, private. I understand how you feel.”

- Wait what??? Not to be rude or anything but soldier isn’t exactly the brightest when it comes to certain stuff. He’s mostly focused on complete chaos of war and the mayhem he so blissfully causes to his targets. With little room for stuff like psychology. But he sounds surprisingly stoic and understanding.

- As it turns out, whilst he didn’t serve in the US army directly nor has PTSD from the war, his nazi killing spree gave him some pretty horrible insight on what tragedy can do to people. Seeing the look on your face.. It’s the same exact look that young children had when he freed them from camps. (Via blowing the camps up of course.)

- He sounds surprisingly mellow as he comforts you with hugs and reassuring back rubs. Unlike his usual loud and vibrant way of speaking. This is vulnerability you didn’t even know soldier was capable of.

- He has a deadpan look once you finally catch a glimpse of his face underneath that helmet of his. Almost distant and exhausted. He experienced empathy burnout instantaneously.

- “I’m sorry. I know.” Is all he can think of saying. Repeatedly.

————————————————————————

Demoman:

- He’s pissed. Not at you, but at the people who directly or indirectly caused this. You can see righteous anger flaring in his remaining eye as you explain all this baggage to him. He taps his finger on the table impatiently.

- “Bloody hell, this world has nothing but injustice after injustice. And den’ dey wonder why it’s so fucked up. oh, I don’t know lad! Maybe it’s because people like you are stupid as shit!” He goes on a rant about the people involved. He spews drunken threat after threat, waving his bottle around as he talks about all the different ways he could play jump rope with their intestines.

- He immediately drags you into a bear hug. You can hear the venom dripping off his words as he swears that nobody will ever hurt you that way again — Not on his watch. You can hear him breathing heavily against his vest. His breath sounds like a growl. He’s had explosive rage before at the enemy team (pun intended) but this seemed to be his worst yet.

- He puts his entire weight on you, and shields you with his large bulky body. It was like having a giant great dane lay across you protectively. Ready to snap at anything that came near.

- God forbid somebody actually attempts to talk to you today after this revelation. He’ll be watching them closely to ensure your mental state is at ease. The last thing you need right now is another stressor. He becomes increasingly overprotective for the first few weeks.

————————————————————————

Engineer:

- Similar to soldier you can’t seem to understand the expression under his goggles at first. It’s rather unreadable. He sits across from you in his workshop with his hands supporting his head in relaxed position. But as you go into more detail his body language becomes more and more tense. He stops relaxing and instead sits up in the chair and crosses his arms to self soothe.

- He pinches the roof of his nose. His head down in thought. At this rate he can’t even make eye contact with you. He’s distressed about something.

- The gears are turning in his head. “Pardner, are you tellin’ me you had all this shit on your back, and you never even thought of telling me?”

- You profusely apologize, mistaking his behavior for anger. But he’s far from angry. “Hush now, hush.” He wipes your tears away with his gloved metallic hand. You could feel the hardness of the mechanism underneath.

- He sits there with you for an extremely long time. Wrapping you in a blanket that his mom knitted him, and lovingly rubbing your tummy, sides, and back. He seems to know the surface layer concepts of comforting someone with severe trauma. He let you know he’s there, and he’s not going anywhere. That it was in the past and it will remain there.

- You are loved. He really wants you to know your value. He’s hooked on letting you know, in fact. How much you didn’t deserve such terrible things.

- He whispers kind and loving things in your ear. My god, it sounds like velvet to your eardrums. If ears could cum then yours would. His southern drawl is enticing you to relax.

————————————————————————

Heavy:

- Uh oh..

- Yeah, no. quite possibly more pissed than Demoman. You can tell because he’s dead silent and staring out into space with the most malicious intentions in mind. Usually an angry heavy is a loud one, but you were kinda nervous seeing the boiling kettle of a man.

- But unlike Demoman he doesn’t voice his intentions. Let’s just say whatever they are; I recommend you keep him far away from the people involved. Because they’ll likely end up the most gruesome crime scene imaginable. He doesn’t take kindly to stuff like this.

- Due to being a very family oriented person he immediately introduces you to his sisters and mother over the payphone. Because that was usually the thing that made him feel safe. His sisters immediately take a liking to you, and you can hear girlish giggling over the phone. They think you’re cute. No wonder Heavy felt so safe around them.

- “You will become like Heavy’s family. Da?” He asks. Offering you a place amongst them. He knows stuff like this calls for community. He knows it heals people. “And heavy will protect you.”

- You randomly find gifts of food on your bed stand if you have a particularly bad PTSD day. Especially honey cake. His mother always made him that whenever he was upset. They always have little notes attached to them. Small poems about self love.

————————————————————————

Pyro:

- Responds in a very “WHAT THE FUCK??!!” type matter. They’re disgusted and shocked. They immediately hug you without second thought and squeeze you. (A little too tightly.)

- Out of all the mercs, Pyro has to be the most outwardly emotional. They can’t stop bawling about how terrible they feel. They’re crying so much over the thought that that a delicate anomaly of nature had their heart stomped on repeatedly and destroyed.

- Their love language in this situation is nothing but physical affection and kisses. They are so worked up at this revelation that not a single word of encouragement can come out of them. They know they can’t take back what had happened to you. All they want to do is just that.

- Over the next few days, Pyro’s mourning for your mental health quickly manifests less as sadness and more as hyper caregiving. They protect you more fiercely on the battlefield and Spycheck on the regular. They seem more committed to their job and less dissociated than usual. They don’t seem very up to jokes right now.

- Pyro knows trauma is no joke. They know that full well. They become more responsible and ask their colleagues to leave you alone if you feel too stressed. They’re capable of detecting a potential flashback and immediately take you into their quarters to relax from triggers. The expression on your face says it all. You can’t hide anything from Pyro.

————————————————————————

Sniper:

- Shit. god dammit. Fuck.

- He’s laying in his camper van’s bed with his face staring at the ceiling. The entire time he has a look of complete dismay plastered across his face.

- Sniper isn’t exactly the most vocal Merc, but to your surprise he has a lot of things to say about this. Primarily how confused he was that someone like you could be handed such misfortune in life. At least in Sniper’s case he felt like he deserved it.

- His first initial reaction is to get your mind off it. Acknowledging your problems, he pulls out a camera from a box underneath his bed and retrieves a slide viewer. Slipping photos into it and showing you the pictures of Australian wildlife he took before entering the gravel wars. Attempting to ground you back into modern day by reminding you these animals are indeed still around.

- “Ya know, there’s animals everywhere. Isn’t it crazy to think that while we’re in here, a bloody tiger is goring a boar and whatnot? And the boar is absolutely shitting itself? Sometimes it’s hard to imagine we were part of that world once. That we’re still animals. Just really intelligent. It’s easy to mistake ourselves as unlovable gods when our nutty piss mongrel asses can’t even remember a time where we weren’t atop the food chain. We set unrealistic expectations for ourself.” He says, giving an example that everybody is worth while. (This is the same guy who kills anybody by the way.)

- “Just.. What i’m saying is that it’ll take a while for you to heal. I’m here to help with that, mate.” He mutters. He seems pretty against being emotional but it’s not like he has much of a choice in this situation. He deeply cares about you. You’re nice to him.

- There is content silence after a while. After looking through the photos by himself one last time he sighs and plops the device back into the box. You were laid neatly on him, cuddling tightly. He put one hand on your back and rubbed it. His other hand dangling off to the side.

- “S’aight mate.” He says, having no clue how to process the fact you somehow ended up atop him.

————————————————————————

Medic:

- He takes intrigue to your situation. He stops dissecting the specimen he was eagerly studying the anatomy of, and has two fingers on the screw of his glasses. Giving you a raised eyebrow. His curiosity is evident and you can practically hear him thinking. Moving his lips as he tried to internally go over the symptoms of PTSD listed in his brain.

- He’s not surprised that you have PTSD. At all. Somehow he suspected something was wrong the moment you joined the team. No mentally healthy person acts like you do. But that’s okay. His overanalyzing of your mannerisms and behavior seemed to have paid off.

- “Ah yes, post traumatic stress disorder is actually very common with people from your situation. It is treatable.” He says, going for the route of reassuring you this won’t be forever. Dr. Ludwig refuses to show his true emotions to you. Trying to adopt a professional demeanor. He’s losing his mind on the inside and devastated. You catch a glimpse of his smile faltering once or twice.

- For some reason as you’re talking he’s moved away from his project and began writing down notes. Something akin to what a therapist would do. You can see he’s jotting down some of your experiences and symptoms to himself.

- “What medication do you take?” “Oh. Mhm.”

- He puts the temple of his glasses between his teeth and takes his gloves off. Heading towards his pill cabinet above the sink and setting down a bottle in front of you. The label is in german and it somehow looks.. Homemade. This is a terrible idea but this is Medic we’re talking about here. A man who is capable of fixing every problem inside a human body with just a simple snap of his fingers. Maybe if you’re lucky this won’t kill you.

- The medication doesn’t kill you, luckily. It’s very similar to prozac. It’s really a flip of the coin whether or not this aids you, but in the meantime you catch him pacing around his office reading self help books and books from psychologists. He seems eager to understand you. He SWEARS he doesn’t care. He’s just — uhm — doing this by habit because he’s paid to! Yeah! Wow, he really doesn’t want you to know he cares.

- While you’re asleep in bed he periodically begins cracking your door open and taking a peak at you, to make sure you haven’t awoke from a nightmare, or are lagging behind your sleep schedule. the shine of moonlight reflecting off his glasses makes him look rather horrifying. Sometimes if he thinks you’re fully asleep he’ll sit on the bed next to your unmoving body for a while and crosses his arms, looking at the floor. Like an incredibly anxious parent would keep their baby company when sickly.

————————————————————————

Spy:

- Stands silently in the shadows of the base, you can barely see his slim figure. But you can tell he’s listening intently. Unlike the others, you’re the only one he can truly tolerate. There’s a slightly depressed expression on his face as he takes drags of his cigarette. Looking down at the ground.

- “…Pour l’amour de dieu.” (For fuck’s sake.)

- He says nothing afterwards. He lets you vent however long you like. Let out your emotions, even cry. Which you eventually end up doing. He doesn’t complain and paces a little. His eyes still at the floor. Finally after a while of hesitation he raises his arms and offers an embrace. If you choose to hug him, he will do so in what can only be described as an incredibly grandpa-like matter. Back patting, rocking, and mumbles of sweet petnames in french.

- He baby talks you. Take that as you will. He sees you as incredibly adorable individual and because of this new problem he discovered you have, he feels a sense of responsibility that he must aid it in any way he can. Especially considering this man had caused unholy amounts of trauma to people in the past.

- He asks you what you need. Where you need it, and when. How can he make this recovery process easier for you? He even politely offers to kill the people involved. Elegantly going “I assure you, if it is repent for their sins you want, I can arrange that.” Wow thanks Spy.

- Depending on the trauma, he may react more strongly to daddy issues. Prepare to hear a series of new made up slurs specifically created for your father, by yours truly! If any parents are involved in general he’s going to become sickened and repulsed. Jewel-clutching type repulsed. He bares his teeth and shrinks away. nervously fixing his tie. “Ack.. And people think I have a horrible moral compass? Not even I would do something as distasteful as that.” He hisses.

#team fortress 2 #tf2 #tf2 x you #tf2 x reader #medic x reader #demoman x reader #heavy x reader #spy x reader #sniper x reader #pyro x reader

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murfpersonalblog · 3 months

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IWTV S2 Ep6 Musings - Loumand's Power Imbalance: RANT (Spoilers)

I'm seeing so many trash takes in the tags and it's driving me nuts.

Armand 👏 Made 👏 His 👏 CHOICE! 👏

The show said it TWICE, and yet I still see a plethora of braindead takes about Armand/Arun being "forced" by "Maitre/pimp!Louis" to do things. 🤦

Like, ISTG we're clearly not watching the same show, y'all.

Since when did Louis being a pimp or asserting "dominance" or other delusions of grandeur get him anywhere or give him anything that wasn't immediately taken away again by people with ACTUAL power? Louis NEVER had any real power to begin with!

Lou couldn't even convince some schmuck art dealer to buy his effing photos! He couldn't even convince his own boyfriend/companion to make a dang baby with him! Come on, y'all--what POWER (control, influence, effectiveness, coercion, sway) has Louis ever actually had!?!?

Sure, Lou owned all those businesses--and every single one got shut down by the government's Ordinances (via the city council the Alderman & Tom Anderson were board members on). Sure, Lou had money & paid all the bills at DPDL Estate, but his mother had the power to badmouth him so bad that his own nieces never wanted to be around him, and Levi took his place as Florence's son--"you're not welcome in this home!" Sure, Lou's a big bad vamp w/ super strength "remember what I did to that door, Grace?," but Grace was the one who told him to "get out!;" "mah sistah buried me aliiiiive~!" Sure, he was "Daddy" Lou, but when Claudia ran away he couldn't do eff all to stop her or make her come back till SHE decided to come back. Sure, Lou said he was "equals in the quiet dark," but Lestat always had the final say--he's even testifying to an entire judge & jury in the court case that's gonna get Claudia killed & Louis LITERALLY buried alive--cuz ARMAND MADE A DEAL WITH SANTIAGO & THE COVEN & LESTAT! Everyone's making moves w/out Lou having a EFFING clue.

Y'all really think Armand just stood there & let Santiago kidnap Lou's family cuz LOUIS turned Armand into his slave!; or cuz LOUIS had some unfair advantage over Armand?!

Episode 7 was given its title for a frikkin REASON, y'all.

Armand claimed he "couldn't prevent it." Armand. The 500 year old vampire so powerful that HE was the only one in the coven who could set vampires on frikkin fire, and was the ONLY one who could freeze entire rooms full of people AND VAMPIRES.

Somehow, Armand's suddenly SO powerless, SO helpless, SO DOMINATED, that couldn't stop those SAME vampires from abducting his beloved companion ("I want you more than anything in the world") and his daughters? PLEASE.

Coven Master Armand CHOPPED OFF NICKI'S HANDS when he got TIRED of dealing with a mentally ill guy whom LESTAT left him with! Sound familiar!? Only this time it's not Louis' HANDS--it's his DAUGHTERS!

ARMAND WANTS THOSE TWO WENCHES GONE GIRL! He sold them down the frikkin river; and in return was able to guarantee that Louis wouldn't be killed right alongside them, merely buried alive so Armand could dig him up later; "eternity in a box."

Armand passively shut the door and stood by as the coven burned Claudia (after Armand had chopped her HEAD off & sewed it on an adult's body)--and only made his move once all the sentences had been meted out; cuz in classic Armand fashion: HE LET IT HAPPEN.

ARMAND WANTED THAT WHOLE COVEN GONE, GIRL! He's done this crap before! WITH LESTAT!

And Armand was busy wheeling & dealing with Lestat, too!

Lest only complied--COMPLICIT--cuz he'd been starved, delirious & hurt; and Armand tricked him into thinking he could/would help. Les threw Claudia under the bus to protect Lou, but was still horrified that she'd been killed, cuz ARMAND could've prevented it--his fledglings shouldn't've been held to the Great Laws in the first place!

This is a MASSIVE game Armand's playing--the whole point of his gaslighting's that he throws the same thing he does back in ppl's faces to throw them off his scent, "to protect me, from YOU, Mr. Molloy...from my shame...my cowardice." He hides behind illusions--not just with the Mind/Spell Gift, but also through the veneer of innocence: a black-winged devil with the innocent face of a cherub.

People are SO blinded by the mean Black man (whom they don't even like ANYWAY) Dom'ing Armand (FOR SHOW, btw!); and equally distracted by their failure to even parse Armand's birthname Arun (I don't see any of y'all saying Amadeo was book!Armand's "slave name," and I DEFINITELY don't see any of y'all saying ANDREI was his slave name, either!); that they've totally missed how Loumand plotted TOGETHER to concede power to Santiago and "give" him the Theatre--thoroughly ignorant of the fact that Santiago was already being called Maitre by the whole effing coven--he'd already won his coup!

You can't give someone something you never had, Louis!

And their plot was for ARMAND'S BENEFIT; so they could get rid of Santiago, destabilize/dismantle the coven so they'd scatter (just like Lestat caused them to do); and so Armand could decide if he wanted to stay Maitre or not--LETTING ARMAND CHOOSE what HE wanted to do with HIS coven and THEIR lives. Lest we forget: vamps don't just LEAVE covens--in the books, after Les ruined the Paris coven, Armand didn't just LET them leave--he set them on FIRE and KILLED THEM; just like Louis would do--as Armand sat back and LET IT HAPPEN.

He knew Lou'd go ballistic; AMC!Armand even TAUGHT Louis the Fire Gift; literally handing Louis the tools with which to destroy his coven for good!

This show constantly emphasizes the POWER Armand held over Louis & Claudia (& Madeleine)'s lives; and his autonomy, agency & authority over them; despite the roleplay Loumand was up to as they SWITCHED positions; cuz Armand FAILED at running the coven.

All Armand wanted was to be with Louis, but Lou kept dragging Claudia (& Lestat) with him. So Armand was tryna get rid of them--he's Sleeping in Claudia's coffin, cuz he wants to take HER spot; "it's BLISS!"--and he overplayed his hand.

Louis couldn't even kill himself in peace without Armand interfering--cuz at the end of the day, it's not up to Louis what he wants or does. Armand PRETENDS to be Louis servant, "Rashid," his subby bottom boy, cuz Armand WANTS to go along with it all--too shameful for his COMPLICIT culpability; and too scared to live alone.

I saw people saying "the victim became the victimizer; cycles of abuse; etc etc," like omfg--how is THIS man Louis' victim!?

I've said it before though: Armand genuinely loves Louis, and has good intentions. But let's not pretend Armand's some innocent bystander to Louis' schemes, ffs!

#interview with the vampire #the vampire armand #loumand #the vampire chronicles #iwtv tvc metas #like wtf #iwtv season 2 spoilers #iwtv spoilers

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theres-a-bea · 9 months

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I'm drunk, it's barbie time.

ft. Delancy Devin's place in the line of succession to the Gardanian Throne

sigh i can't believe my first ever post of 2024 is a dissertation on the line of succession of a fictional barbie kingdom...

I am currently kinda drunk and I've thought of this for a long while now because I've been scrolling through PCS tiktok and everyone keeps insisting that Delancy Devin is Blair's cousin through Reginald

Anyways Delancy is related to Blair/Sophia through Isabella and I can PROVE IT give me like five minutes to sober up

1.) How would you even explain their resemblance?

Like look at them: they have a pretty clear resemblance to each other, which is why it's pretty fucking crazy because Blair looks exactly like Isabella¹︎. And while Delancy may have her resemblance to her mother, ironically, Devin is not related to the royal family by blood.

Which could only lead to one explanation: Delancy's father is Isabella's brother. (Isabella's side has strong ass fucking genes, I'm pretty sure that brother looked almost identical to her too)

I mean look at poor old reggie, his daughter bears absolutely no fucking resemblance to him at all. If Delancy's dad had been his brother instead, then why is there a very clear resemblance between Delancy and Sophia-Blair? (Like their overall profiles are so goddamn similar, I'm actually gagged that nobody had clocked it before, or even at least pointed it out.)

(Look me in the eye and tell me there was not a single incident where Hadley had tried to scare the shit out of Delancy in the semi-darkened shower rooms at like 8 pm only to find that it was actually Blair, or even Portia tripping out of her mind at 3 am in some dark hallway thinking she was talking to Delancy in the dark when it was actually Blair taking her back to her dorm)

All jokes aside, let's get into the serious shit:

2.) If Reginald was "King"²︎, then why the fuck was Isabella coronated as the true heir of Gardania during graduation?

This actually means she went to Charm School AS the princess representing Gardania, because how the fuck else could she be coronated AS PRINCESS of Gardania if she wasn't?

If some Blair Coronation Shit happened to Isabella too when she was crowned, that would be BIG TALK amongst the courts, the nobles, and ALL THE PRINCESSES PRESENT DURING THE CORONATION.

Keep in mind that Princess Charm School's Graduation Ceremony is a MAJOR diplomatic event that literally has all those countries' leaders in ONE ROOM. Given that Blair's two other besties are princesses whose fathers or mothers might have been possibly present during the graduation ceremony/coronation of Gardania, wouldn't they have at least fucking mentioned it to her? I mean they literally gave her the entire tea on the car crash why the hell wouldn't they tell her if they knew anything juicier? Such as a PCS student being coincidentally the true heir of Gardania when the magic tiara somehow hit her head and lit up³︎?

(I'm aware that it's possibly a Princess Diana allegory given the Spencers' lineage but STILL, kinda fucking embarrassing being next in line to the throne and finding out your fiancée is actually the true heir of your kingdom??? I would actually never show my face before society ever again tbh.)

According to Dame Devin's accidental tell-all slip⁴︎, it is implied that Isabella was in fact, Queen Regnant, and not Reginald. (Because, why would you specifically admit to eliminating Isabella and NOT Reginald? Let's be honest, bro was just a bonus kill.)

This means that Reginald is simply a consort, and we can assume, that Gardania's succession line is matriarchal, and that Queen is actually a higher position than King, which is the reason why Isabella probably got the throne first and not her possible brother, who is most definitely Delancy's father.

i mean, let these charts just speak for themselves:

(yes I made these)

If Isabella is queen, and Delancy is related to Blair via Reginald, then there would have been no way for her to inherit the throne, since she'll only be royal by marriage.

This renders Dame Devin's (admittedly successful) coup absolutely fucking useless, unless of course she killed several other clans with a claim to the throne until she got to Reginald's family, (assuming he was a part of Gardanian nobility) which is highly unlikely considering she would've been caught earlier ??? Cos girl that's literally regicide and treason.

But if Delancy is related to Blair via Isabella herself, then she would have a legitimate claim to the throne, and she has the chance to ascend if Isabella and all her heirs somehow die in a freak accident (which, oh no, is exactly what fucking happened).

so no I will NOT be hearing anyone else out.

Dame Devin's baby daddy mystery solved. *mic drop*

References & Direct Quotations:

¹︎ "No way, Blair, it's a picture of Blair!" (Princess Isla, Princess Charm School, 44:29)

²︎ "Queen Isabella, King Reginald, The Princess Sophia, and their loyal dog, Prince." (Princess Isla, Princess Charm School, 45:00)

³︎ "It lit up on Queen Isabella's head at her coronation." (Princess Hadley, Princess Charm School, 40:36)

⁴︎ "I eliminated Queen Isabella so you could be princess one day!" (Dame Devin, Princess Charm School, 1:11:13)

Source:

Barbie Princess Charm School (2011), dir. Ezekiel Norton

#barbie princess charm school #delancy devin #blair willows #princess charm school #i will never shut up about this movie #i will NOT be hearing out anyone who protests that Delancy is Blair's cousin through Reginald

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alcottsangel · 2 months

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Marvel Library

Spiderman

Growing Pains

Peter makes things really difficult and yet somehow monumentally better for the adults in his life.

Gay Disaster Peter Parker

Coming out is difficult.

Soul Heavy

“I think that sometimes, some people are born with happy personalities and heavy souls,” Peter admitted gently.

Miscommunications

Ever since a civil war tore the Avengers apart, tensions have been brewing. Everyone has their own way of coping. Tony seems to take pleasure in stressing Rhodey out, Natasha avoids talking about anything real, Clint ignores all of Neil the Therapist's advice, and Steve continues to choose his unstable friend over his other, equally unstable friend. Enter, Peter Parker. (Who would've thought miscommunications about a kid could bring the team back together?)

Death Before Inaction

Overpowered Peter Parker is involved from the beginning and hates the Avengers.

Red Ribbon

What could be dangerous about a little white and red gift? Poor Peter, gathered an unwanted admirer and tries his best to keep it together.

Avengers: Road Trip

Tony wasn't sure how the hell he had ended up rattling around in his huge luxury campervan, headed for some obscure State Park in Pennsylvania, alongside none other than Steve, the man he's been avoiding for God knows how long. And also Bucky, Natasha, Bruce, Clint... And the kid, fretting at his torn jeans incessantly but bearing a grin the size of Queens on his face. Thrilled to be among his heroes. Why had Tony gone along with this?

Sometimes I Feel Like Giving Up

Peter never wanted this. He didn’t ask for the entire team to breathe down his neck whenever he eats, or to insist that he reaches some absurd goal weight when he’s perfectly fine where he’s at. He doesn’t need to change. He just needs to stop day dreaming about killing himself. It’s getting distracting.

Are you, Are you, Coming to the tree?

A mentally unstable Peter Parker and a Field Trip.

Promise Not To Fall

After the events of "Civil War" Peter had promised himself that he was not going to fall, that he needed to be strong for everyone. But everyone falls, and even that he didn't want that to happen, it happened and in the worst way possible.

The Places That Should Be Safe

Peter doesn't remember a lot of that day. Or: Peter dealing with trauma and probably more humor than you would think.

Are you dead? (Sometimes I think I’m dead)

Tony liked to think he made an imposing figure in captivity. There was his mind, his past experience, Iron Man, and of course, the weight of the Avengers behind any and all of his threats. As a result, Tony didn’t generally feel the need to resort to blustering or deflection tactics—he’d been kidnapped more times than he could count, and the whole thing was getting old. He always knew how to strike fear into the heart of his captors, how to manipulate the odds in his favor. Even when he was a child being kidnapped for leverage against Howard, he was capable of handling himself by his third go at it. Now that he was an adult, and a superhero to boot? Tony was usually busy staging his breakout by the time the Avengers arrived to rescue him. But in the cold of the small cell, Peter still unconscious and tucked against his side, Tony wasn’t so sure he could get them out of this.

Boy Scout Dropout

When Peter’s stranded in the middle of nowhere after a training exercise gone wrong, it’s up to him to shoulder the consequences of his choices. Alone.

home is where you hang the Live, Laugh, Love sign

it'd been a while since peter had known safety and support. would the avengers help him find it, despite their initially unsafe and non-supportive relationship? and what would happen if they did? (aka peter continues to be bewildered by the concept of love and acceptance and,, therapy?)

An Unofficial Introduction to the Avengers

The Avengers meet Spiderman via the online world, and then meet Peter Parker in Stark's living room. It takes them longer than it should to put two-and-two together.

I Think I Missed a Step ('Cause I'm Fallin' For You)

Peter thinks Wade knows his secret identity, and Wade is really confused by the hot coed who keeps popping up and hanging out with him.

twisted, baby

“Holy shit,” Deadpool murmurs. He’s leaning heavily against Peter, his bulk pinning him to the brick wall. That wouldn’t normally be enough to keep Peter in place — super-strength, and all — but he has a gun pressed to Peter’s jaw, which does the trick. “Are you into this, Webs?” Or: Peter has a problem. For some reason, the perfect cocktail of fear and adrenaline never fails to turn him on.

don’t you wanna feel my bones on your bones

Wade doesn't get why Spider-Man wants to fuck him, but is pleased to be there nonetheless. Also, the boxes are assholes.

Starting Point

It took Tony years to figure out why Peter kept avoiding certain missions, but one day... everything clicks into place. Peter did not like Captain America. How that was possible? Tony didn't know. It was a mystery though, and he was going to solve it.

Spideypool Oneshots

Romance, smut, and probably a smidge of angst.

Screw Them, I Love You

When Peter Parker reveals his identity to Deadpool, both men struggle to work around this new dynamic. It doesn't help that the Tin Man known as Iron Man is sticking his nose in where it doesn't belong, thank you very much.

Daredevil

Meet the Spider-Family

Or is it the Devil’s family? Either way, it’s your family.

Three Times, Red

When Matt spirals down into a dark place, Karen, Frank and Foggy rally around him. That's what friends do. They love you at your lowest.

The Troubles Are Lurking in Queens

When an arrogant lawyer demands his paperwork right now or better yet this very moment, you’re a good wife to Matt and decide to deliver the documents yourself – for your husband’s mental health sake (and for the sake of the meeting he’s running to). The catch is the said lawyer has his office in Queens – and whoever said Hell’s Kitchen was the least safe place in NYC was clearly lying.

lonely as i am, together we cry

Matt can't see Frank's face, but he can feel him—sense the warmth radiating from his body, the scent of his skin, the softness of his breath. He can feel him—in ways that have nothing to do with his heightened senses—and for a moment, Matt feels utterly overwhelmed. "Red—?" Frank calls again, probably noticing that Matt is on the verge of tears. "You want to stop?" It's a genuine question, and Matt is tempted to tell him the truth: that he doesn't want this to stop. Not now, not ever.

Falling For the Devil by @bellaxgiornata

Series of one-shots about a nervous/awkward journalist Reader meeting, falling for, and dating Matt Murdock. Eventual smut in later installments of this series.

Literally everything by @bellaxgiornata. I have never before found an author (in any fandom) who writes so well and comfortingly. Reading her books feels like a warm hug and makes me excited for my future.

#marvel #daredevil #spiderman #the avengers

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harry-on-broadway · 1 year

Text

The Last Line: Part Four

Part Four

Word Count: 8.7K || Series Masterlist || Rating : M

***

“Austria? You want me to go to Austria?” Penny stared at her editors from across the table.

“Only if you want to,” Skylar said gently. “When Jenny reached out to me and said they were looking to promote this new group, you were the first person I thought of. I think your editorial voice would be the perfect match for a young, female-fronted band. But please don’t feel pressured. I know it’s a lot to ask. We can always have Chris–”

“No, I’ll take it!” Penny shouted. “I mean, I’d love to work on this piece. It’s a great opportunity,” she added at a softer volume. She stole a glance at Darren, who sat silent next to Skylar looking only slightly put out.

“Wonderful.” Skylar clapped her hands together. “I’ll connect you with Brett via email this afternoon so that he can fill you in on the schedule and Kelsey will help you with travel arrangements and expenses.” She smiled brightly and her hand over Penny’s. “I can’t wait to see what you come up with.”

“I’ll try to make you proud,” Penny said, trying to hold back the emotions that were swirling around her. She was finally getting a chance, an opportunity to show everyone that she belonged here. “Thank you so much.”

Skylar chuckled. “You don’t need to keep thanking me, Penny. Just let me know if you have any questions or need help with anything.”

Penny nodded and grabbed her laptop and phone from the table in front of her. She couldn’t wait to tell Chloe about this. She caught her best friend’s eye as she exited the conference room and mouthed “big news.” Without prompting, Chloe grabbed their wallets and headed for the door.

Once the iced coffees had been secured, Penny filled Chloe in on everything that had happened behind the doors of the conference room, including her newly scheduled trip.

“You’re going to Austria for a cover story!” Chloe cheered.

“It’s not going to be the cover but it’s one step closer,” Penny said, swirling the liquid in the plastic cup. “I have no idea how it happened.”

“Well, you’ve been paying your dues long enough. It’s about damn time,” Chloe said, chewing on her straw.

“It had to be Skylar’s doing though. Darren looked pissed sitting in there.”

“And that’s different from how he usually looks?” Chloe asked, arching her brow.

“Point taken.” Penny’s phone vibrated next to her. She looked down at the text and clicked her phone off when she saw Harry’s name on the notification.

“Trouble in paradise?”

“No,” Penny said with a sigh.

“That didn’t sound super convincing. Just be honest with me. Do I need to kick his ass? Yes or no?”

“No, no ass-kicking is needed. It’s just been a little complicated lately.”

In all honesty, Penny hadn’t really spoken to Harry since she’d left his house that day almost two weeks ago. The next morning he’d sent her a text thanking her for the company and letting her know he’d be in New York City for work for a couple of weeks. She hadn’t responded, trying to purge all thoughts of him from her brain. She’d been fairly successful but his new message had broken that peaceful bubble.

“Complicated how, Penny?”

“Just like I think I like him. Like more than a friend. And it’s confusing because I was contemplating how to kill him and leave no trace a couple of months ago.”

“No, really, you like Harry,” Chloe deadpanned. “Shut up.”

Penny rolled her eyes. “Thanks for the support.”

“I’m just kidding,” Chloe said, gently rubbing Penny’s back. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“I don’t know.” Penny stared off into the distance. “I’m just confused. It feels so sudden. Like it came out of nowhere and just hit me. But on the other hand it feels like I’ve been waiting so long to meet someone like him. I just want it to make sense.”

“Have you talked to him about this?”

“Hell no. Why would I ever do that?”

“Because I think there’s a good chance he feels the same way.”

Penny shook her head and took a sip of her coffee. “I wouldn’t be so sure. I know we’re friendly but I get the sense that he’s not interested in anything more than going to shows or grabbing a drink. He’s never tried to make the move.”

“The move?”

“You know, like subtly looking at my lips or finding reasons to touch me.”

“OK, well you’ll never know until you ask, CosmoGirl.” Chloe looked over at Penny, waiting for her to take the bait and snap back. “Oh Pen. You really do like him, don’t you?” Penny nodded slowly. “Is the article…?”

“No,” Penny said emphatically. “I gave that up. It just felt wrong.”

“I knew you’d come to your senses eventually.”

“Yeah, I figured I’d rather deal with the wrath of Darren than lose Harry.”

“You still need to talk to him, Pen. Ignoring him is just as sure a way to lose him as betraying his trust.”

Penny unlocked her phone and read Harry’s message aloud. “‘Heading back to LA in a couple of days. Free for dinner?’”

“You are most definitely free,” Chloe prodded. “Go out with him, suss out the situation a little more, you’re going to regret it if you don’t.”

“If I say anything about how I feel he’ll probably just think I’m crazy. Especially after the way I treated him.”

“Or, he’ll say he feels the same way. I think the problem early on was that you all are too much alike. You’re passionate, opinionated people who don’t know how to be casual about anything. Once you learned to live in equilibrium with each other, the sparks were able to fly.” Penny was silent. “Go to dinner with him when he’s back. You’ll regret it if you don’t.”

“I’ll think about it.”

They finished their coffees in silence and stayed on the wall until Chloe had to leave to take a call. Penny sat there, swinging her legs, feeling her heels bounce off the concrete until a voice interrupted her daydreaming.

“Hey, Penny. Long time no see.” Tom had just exited the coffee shop, his own iced drink in hand. He tore open the straw wrapper and poked it through the plastic opening. “Can I join?”

“For sure.” Penny scooted her bag over, making room for Tom to sit beside her. “How’ve you been?” she asked.

“Staying busy chasing everyone all over the place. Got back from NYC last night. Was there with H for a few days.”

“Oh, he just mentioned that he’s coming back soon.”

“Yeah, he had to stay a couple of days after the Gala to take some meetings.” He looked at her curiously. “How’d you know when he was coming in?”

“He, uh, texted me earlier.”

“He said he hadn’t heard from you in a while. He was concerned and I told him not to worry, that you were just probably busy with work. That’s what’s going on, right?”

“Yeah, I’m actually headed to Austria in a few weeks.”

Tom’s eyebrows shot up his forehead. “We’ll circle back to that in a minute, but Penny, just be careful with him.”

Penny wouldn’t meet his eyes. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“H mentioned some stuff while we were out there and I’m not going to pretend to know what’s going on but…treat him gently. He doesn’t open up to just anyone. I don’t want him to get hurt. And I don’t want you to get hurt either.”

What the hell had happened during this trip to New York? What had Harry told his friends? And how did everyone seem to know her feelings about Harry? Was she really that transparent?

“Yeah, we’re not running with scissors here,” she said with a tight laugh. “No risk of anyone getting hurt.”

Tom studied her carefully for a moment before changing the subject to safer territory. “So…Austria?”

“Yeah, it was a complete shock. Our editor-in-chief gave me the assignment this morning.”

“Well, have fun, stay safe, and don’t work too hard.”

“I’ll try.”

“You know I’m having a cookout next week. The usual crew, Harry, everyone will be there if you want to put in an appearance. If you have time before your trip, that is.”

“I should be free. Can I bring anything?”

“Just yourself.” Tom shook his head and grinned. “Austria. Everyone in the neighborhood is going to be so proud of you.”

Penny looked down at the ground. She wasn’t sure about that.

***

Two days before she was scheduled to fly out of LAX, Penny drove over to Tom’s house for the cookout she really didn’t want to attend. As she pulled onto his street she was pleasantly surprised to find that there fewer cars than she expected. Harry’s distinctive convertible was also noticeably absent. Letting out a sigh of relief, she looked around to make sure she hadn’t blocked anyone in and locked her car, the alarm chirping twice as she walked up the path.

Tom’s social circle, and for that matter Harry’s, had grown used to her over the past few months so when she walked into the backyard she was greeted with friendly smiles and raised glasses. Tommy caught her right as she walked in and launched into a story about some sandwich he’d eaten the other day, before Tom chased him away and actually let Penny walk through the gate.

Jeff, and presumably his girlfriend, were holding court with several people she recognized from Sony and Penny fell into easy conversation with them, listening to them exchange company gossip. When she’d finished her story, the woman on Penny’s left, Angela something, turned to Penny.

“Tom mentioned you’re off to Austria soon. To meet with My Ugly Clementine?” Penny nodded, truly shocked that someone had heard of them. “One of my sorority sisters has been working with the group and she’s been dropping hints that they have something special in the pipeline. I’m excited to learn more about them.”

“Honestly, me too,” Penny said. “I’ve heard their name recently but don’t really know any of their songs, so I’m also looking forward to getting to know them better. I was actually listening to one of their singles on the way over here.”

“Never Be Yours?”

“Yep, that’s the one.”

The conversation petered out and Penny found herself searching for a drink, only to be interrupted by a tap on her shoulder. She turned around and was face to face with a sheepish looking Harry.

“Hey stranger. Can I get you a drink?”

“I was actually just headed that way,” Penny said.

“How have you been?” Harry asked as they ambled towards the rickety patio table that was serving as a bar that evening.

“You know, staying busy.”

“I figured that much, seeing as you haven’t found the time to respond to any of my witty inquiries.” He laughed, but it felt forced, and the lightness of his voice did a poor job of disguising his deeper feelings.

“Yeah….” Penny exhaled slowly. She should have prepared for this. Of course, Harry would be at Tom’s party. “Lots is happening. But I could say the same thing for you Mr. Met Ball. Or is it the Met Gala?”

“It’s the Gala, and yeah, it was hectic for a while. Fun, but not the way I’d necessarily want to spend my time. You’re all good, though? I was worried when I didn’t hear from you.”

Penny felt an uncomfortable sensation in her stomach. She wasn’t ready to share with anyone – let alone Harry – everything that had been running through her head over the past few months, but hearing the concern in his voice had her reconsidering. “I’m fine, Harry,” she said as convincingly as she could. “When I get busy with work, I’m really bad about staying in touch with family and friends. Just ask my mom. Chloe’s really the only one who’s exempt since she sees me at work.”

Harry held her gaze for a moment. He nodded. “If that’s all it is…”

“Do you need a refill?” Penny asked, gesturing to the table of liquor in front of them. Harry held out his cup for her to top him off, before Penny poured a drink of her own.

“H! Penny!” Tommy called out, walking over to them. “How’s it going? I hear you’re headed out of the country soon? Switzerland?”

“Austria,” Penny corrected.

Harry whipped around to stare at her. “You’re going to Austria? When?”

“In a couple of days,” Penny said, not meeting his eyes.

“When you’re there you need to try an apfelstrudel,” Tommy said, before listing off a list of tourist attractions she needed to see.

She only halfway listened, daring to take a peek at Harry after a few moments. He wore a questioning look on his face as he sipped his drink. He finally spoke again after Tommy had bounded off in search of snacks. “When were you going to tell me you were leaving the country?”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize I needed to keep you updated on my whereabouts.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “I thought we were past this. I don’t care where you go or what you do. I’m just curious as to why you didn’t think of telling me. I thought we were friends and taking a big trip like that seems like something you’d tell a friend.” Penny kept silent, unable to think of a witty retort. Harry sighed. “Whatever, I’ll see you when you get back. If you even bother to let me know.” He turned his back to her.

“Harry, wait!” He stopped. “I didn’t mean to not tell you,” Penny said. “It’s just we hadn’t been in touch and I assumed you didn’t care or want to know.” It was mostly the truth.

“Well that was your first mistake,” he said. “I’ll always want to know. I’m your…friend.” He stumbled on the last word.

Penny ignored the butterflies in her stomach and the voice in her head that was screaming at her that this was a bad idea. “Meet me at the airport?” she asked. “When I’m back? I’ll treat you to an apology dinner. Since friends don’t ghost friends.”

“Deal.”

“OK then.”

They stared at each other, neither daring to make the first move. The standoff was only broken as someone walked over to pull Harry into another conversation.

“Are you two all caught up?” Penny jumped at the sound of Tom’s voice.

“Something like that,” she murmured.

***

“The hardest part of this whole thing is that the person who inspired all of this isn’t here to see it. I know he’s just a phone call away but it’s hard to be apart from him. That’s the only thing I’d change about this life…that the thing I love most keeps me away from the person I love the most.”

Penny slammed the space bar on her laptop, pausing the audio recording she’d been listening to. According to the digital map on the seat in front of her, she was somewhere over the Atlantic Ocean and had at least seven more hours on the plane in front of her. She’d fallen asleep earlier than she had planned and was now faced with more waking hours than she’d like.

In an attempt to be productive, she’d decided to continue working on her article so it would be ready to file later that week, but a quote she’d gotten from the band’s lead singer and primary songwriter was still haunting her. “The thing I love most keeps me away from the person I love the most.” Wasn’t that her exact dilemma?

Frustrated, she closed her laptop and turned to her phone, waiting for it to connect to the in-flight wifi. When it had connection, she watched her notifications roll in. Work emails, instagram messages, a message from her doctor reminding her she was due for her annual exam, and a text from Harry.

I’ll see you in a few hours, he’d written alongside a gif of an excited puppy jumping in circles. He’d been texting her regularly since their awkward encounter at Tom’s, and despite the significant time difference, she’d done her best to keep up her end of the conversation. She’d expected things to still feel strained, but had been pleasantly surprised to realize that chatting with Harry was once again the highlight of her day.

One night, late in her hotel after a couple of overpriced cocktails, she typed out a message to him. So I know I’ve given off the vibe that I hate you since the day we met but it turns out I might actually love you and feel like you’re the thing that’s been missing from my life all along. She’d conveniently left out the part about attempting to use him. Thankfully, she’d fallen asleep before she sent the message, and when she woke the next morning, she deleted all traces of her confession before it accidentally wound up in Harry’s hands.

Soon. She’d tell him soon. She couldn’t keep living like this. Suppressing her feelings was giving her serious anxiety, as was Darren breathing down her neck finding all sorts of ways to bring up Harry in pitches, tempting her to play her hand in front of the rest of the editorial staff. She closed her eyes and took a breath.

When she opened them, a flight attendant was standing next to her, gently reminding her to put up her tray table and stow her electronics as they prepared to land at LAX. After clearing customs and collecting her checked luggage, she made her way to the parking lot where Harry had said he was parked in in the lot by Terminal 3. She scanned the lot for his car and launched into an awkward walk-jog when she saw it.

Harry was in the driver’s seat, head bent over his phone, thumb scrolling up and down the screen. “Hey!” She rapped her knuckles on the window and she could see Harry jump, turning towards the noise, a smile spreading over his face when he saw her. He unbuckled his seat belt and climbed out of the car.

“Trying to scare me?” he asked.

“Did it work?”

“Come here.” Harry pulled her into a hug, leaning down to rest his head on her shoulder. “Did you have a good flight?”

“Eh.” Harry pulled back and looked down at her, worried. “Nothing like that,” Penny quickly corrected. “I fell asleep too soon and now my clock is even more messed up. I’m going to need to kill time so I don’t fall asleep again and screw it up even more.”

“Want to get some food? We can probably get a table at that diner I mentioned.”

“That would be great.” Harry picked up her suitcase and put it in the back of the trunk before opening the passenger door for Penny. As she sank into the plushy seat, she felt exhaustion overtake her, only realizing in that moment just how much the past couple of weeks had worn on her.

“Maybe we should skip the meal?” Harry asked, eyeing Penny’s slumped figure.

Penny shook her head. “No, I’m good to power through. I need to get back on some sort of schedule before I head back to the office tomorrow.”

“Not even a day to recover?” Harry asked, putting the car in drive and pulling away from the curb.

“Nope. There’s too much to do. I need to finish my first draft of this profile and it’s better to talk things through in the office instead of over Slack or email if people have questions. And then I got assigned a couple of other pieces that I need to start prepping on.”

“They don’t let you breathe, do they?”

“No, but it’s OK. I mostly like it.” She suppressed another yawn and turned to look at Harry. “Thanks again for picking me up. I didn’t actually intend for you to provide curbside service at the airport.”

“I’m happy to help,” Harry said, smoothly switching lanes. “It’s good to see you again and I feel like we have so much to catch up on. Or at least I feel like I have a lot to tell you and you probably have stories too. From like your trip in stuff.” His speech was quick and rushed, far from the usual slow and precise pace he spoke at. “I’ve missed you so much.” He tensed. “I mean I missed so much of what’s been happening with you.”

Penny tried to ignore the swooping of her stomach and the pattering of her heart. “Yeah, there’s a lot to discuss.”

When Harry had pulled into a spot in front of the restaurant, she stepped out of the car and stretched, fighting another yawn.

“You sure about this?” Harry asked. “Because I can just take you home.”

“Yes, I’m sure so stop asking. I’m hungry.”

“OK,” Harry said, raising his hands in defense. “I was just asking.”

Inside, they paused at the entrance, waiting for the host to seat them. “Table for two and make it quick,” Harry said lightly. “This one’s a little hangry,” he added in a stage whisper, jerking his thumb towards Penny.

“You are such an ass,” she hissed.

“I know, but it’s so fun to mess with you.”

When they were seated with waters in front of them, Penny skimmed the menu and determined what she would order in under a minute, possibly a record for her, and when their waiter returned, she rattled off her order – a grilled cheese with tomatoes, chips on the side – in front of an impressed Harry.

“A woman who knows what she wants,” he said with a grin. “Did they not have grilled cheese in Austria?”

“Not that I could tell. But to be fair I didn’t have a lot of time to take in the sights and sounds of the city.”

“Oh?”

“No. I was basically following the band around the entire time and when I wasn’t with them I was transcribing interviews and trying to write. I want to go back though. Actually see things.”

“That is the hard part of this,” Harry said. “You get to live out your wildest dreams and travel the world, but half the time you can’t spend time soaking it in.”

“Speaking from experience.”

Harry nodded. “It was worse when I was with the band. I try to be better about that now.”

“That sucks. It’s hard to complain in a situation like that but…”

“Yeah…”

Their waiter deposited their food in front of them and as Penny started to devour her sandwich, Harry filled her in on everything she’d missed. What he’d been up to, how his time in the studio had been going, and what he was planning to do in the coming week.

Penny tried to pay attention as she listened to Harry talk, but the combination of exhaustion, jet lag, Harry’s voice, and being somewhere that felt kind of like home for the first time in weeks, was lulling her to sleep. She felt her eyes grow heavy and fought with all of her might to focus on Harry and nod along with what he was saying.

“Penny?”

“Yes?” Her eyes flew open and she blinked against the bright light. “Sorry, what did you say?”

“Am I boring you?”

“No, I swear. I’m just a little more worn out than I thought. Did you ask me something?”

Harry shook his head. “Don’t worry about it. We can talk about it once you’ve settled back in. Come on, let’s get you home.”

Harry led her towards the exit, bypassing the cashier and Penny made a mental note to pay him back for the meal later. She nodded off in Harry’s car again and when she opened her eyes, he was parked outside of her apartment building. He escorted her into her apartment and placed her bags on the hall floor. He stood there sheepishly, hands in his pockets. “Well, I’ll let you get to it. Get comfy and get some sleep.”

“Thanks, Harry. For everything. And I’m sorry for falling asleep on you,” Penny said. “We can do drinks or something later this week?”

Harry nodded. “Yeah, just text me. I’ll be around.” He stepped out of Penny’s apartment and into the hallway, walking backwards as he waved to her, only stopping when she closed the door.

He punched the button for the lobby and pulled his phone from his pocket. A new text from Jeff sat in the center of his home screen.

Did you ask her?

Harry unlocked his phone and tapped out a reply. Not yet. It wasn’t the right moment.

The elevator dinged and with one final look at Penny’s door, he stepped inside.

***

Penny hadn’t been back in the office for more than a few days but she was already dreaming of when she could escape next.

Darren had only grown more difficult during her time away, assigning her more stories than she’d ever had on her plate before and taking issue with every word in the stories she filed. Skylar, who could usually be counted on to intervene when things got tense between editors and reporters, was mysteriously absent, leaving for long lunches with her superiors.

“That’s never a good sign,” Sam, one of the newsroom veterans said under his breath as Skylar waved goodbye to her assistant before catching up with the CSO in the lobby. “Editors talking to upper management usually means major cuts are coming.”

And to make matters worse, Chloe, Penny’s one piece of salvation in the office, had all but disappeared, flitting off to premieres and interviews.

Sitting at her desk, she checked the time on her phone. Just three hours left until she could stop working at the office and work from the comfort of her own home instead. She rested her head in her hands, taking a moment to reset before diving into her next task.

“Penny. Have a minute to chat?” Darren poked his head out from his office and gestured for her to follow him.

“Fuck,” Penny muttered under her breath, grabbing her laptop.

Darren closed the door and sat down across from Penny. “Now that you’re back I thought you could give me a little update on what you’re working on and where we stand on some outstanding items.”

“Sure.” Penny cleared her throat. “I’m wrapping up my first draft of the Clementine profile and should have that to you by the end of the day. After that, I was planning to tackle your edits on the ‘What’s Ahead’ piece and then start on the other items you assigned me...” She trailed off as she looked at her notes. “A piece on podcast ads and another on music video directors. I also have to do some prep for some media hits I have next week with Track After Track and Hitmakers.”

“Oh, I didn’t know you were booked for those.” He sounded irritated. “Whose decision was that?”

“Uh…” Penny tried to think of who emailed her with the meeting invite. “I think someone in comms set it up with Skylar.”

Darren pursed his lips, giving her an indiscernible look. “Just keep me in the loop next time.”

Penny bit back the urge to say that he had been included on the email, something he would know if he took the time to read, and instead gave him a terse “Sure.”

“That all sounds good,” Darren said, shuffling papers on his desk. “But I think you’re forgetting something.” Penny looked at him trying to think of what she had missed. “The piece you were working on about Harry Styles?”

“Right…” Ever since he’d seen them at the coffee shop, Darren had been relentless, like a dog with a bone, continually pressuring her for updates and samples of what she had written. She’d managed to fend him off so far but was running out of options. “Um, yeah that kind of fizzled. You know how some stories just don’t pan out.”

“Well, that’s a shame. I was expecting something after you said you were working on that. And it’s difficult to see you not meeting expectations with performance reviews coming up.”

“I’m sorry? In what ways am I not meeting expectations?” Penny tried to keep her tone even, but Darren’s words hit her where it hurt. She prided herself on her work ethic and attention to detail. She was a great writer and a supportive co-worker. Fuck Darren for insinuating anything less simply because he wasn’t getting his way.

Darren didn’t even pretend to have heard her question. “I’d like to see some notes early next week. Feel free to send Chris in on your way out.”

***

Penny drove home in silence. She didn’t need any more noise when her thoughts were racing a mile a minute.

She’d texted Chloe and some of her other female reporter friends after she was freed from Darren’s office, asking them if they’d ever experienced an encounter like that. None of them had, and they all encouraged her to go to Skylar for help. Penny didn’t know if she wanted to do that just yet. She should be able to figure this problem out on her own.

As she shifted lanes on the freeway, her thoughts turned back to the notes doc she’d started about Harry so long ago. She hadn’t touched it in weeks, but couldn’t bring herself to delete it either. There had to be something in there she could use. Even if it was just a fluffy “What’s on Harry’s playlist?” piece. Next time she saw him, she’d ask him. He’d do her a favor like that, wouldn’t he?

When she arrived home, she threw on some sweats and heated up a frozen Trader Joe’s entree she’d found in the back of her freezer. She hadn’t been grocery shopping since she returned back to the US and she made a note to add it to her weekend to-do list. The microwave beeped and she pulled out the plastic tray, dropping it unceremoniously on the table and cracked open her laptop.

She clicked through all of her open documents until she found the one subtly labeled HARRY. She skimmed through it a couple of times, bolding and highlighting certain sections on her second pass until she came to the conclusion that there was no way for her to move forward and feel good about what she’d done. She’d just face Darren's stupid consequences and pray she still had a job at the end of it.

Ding dong. Ding dong.

The rich tones of the doorbell echoed through Penny’s apartment. She looked towards the door, puzzled at who it could be. Her friends weren’t the kind to stop by unannounced and she wasn’t expecting any deliveries. She abandoned the makeshift workstation she had set up at her kitchen table and made her way to the door, lifting up on her toes to peer out of the peephole to see Harry standing on her doormat.

What was he doing there?

“Hey,” she said slowly as she opened the door. “What’s up?”

Harry looked at her, head tilted to the side and brows furrowed in confusion. “You said to meet you here and we could ride over the bar together. Something about parking being a nightmare.”

“Fuck! That was tonight?” Penny gently banged her head against the doorframe. “I clearly forgot.”

“Clearly,” Harry said with a gentle teasing smirk.

“Come on in,” Penny said, remembering her manners. “I’ve been drowning in edits and pitches and interviews the past couple of days, everything else has fallen by the wayside.”

“I don’t want to intrude if you’re busy,” Harry said, eyeing the mess on the table. “We can reschedule to another night.”

Penny turned around. “Are you sure?” As much as she wanted to see Harry, she really could use a night to gat caught up.

“Absolutely.”

“You’re the best! Thank you for being so understanding.”

“Before I go though, I did have a question for you.”

“Ask away,” Penny said, gesturing for Harry to join her at the table.

“So, the album is coming out in December and we’re starting to think about promo and media coverage. And Rolling Stone called. They want me on the cover again.”

“What? That’s amazing!”

“I know! And the best part is, you’re going to get to write the profile.”

Penny felt hot all over. “Why am I writing it?”

“Well, they offered up some of their staff writers but said I could also bring in someone else if I wanted and I started thinking and you were the only name running through my head.” He paused, before looking at Penny straight on. “I think you’re the first person to see who I really am, and that scared me when we first met. But in a weird way that’s exactly what I need. It’s fucking terrifying to be known by someone in that way but I think you are the only person who can tell my story.”

Penny raked her hands down her face. “Wow, um I wasn’t expecting this.”

“It’s the September issue so they’d need something soon. I figured you could draw on some things we’d talked about earlier. I know you’re busy but I was also thinking we could meet up this week and do something more official if you want.”

“No.”

“Oh, well the week after might be pushing it, but I’m sure you could make that work.”

“No, I don’t want the job, Harry.”

Harry frowned, puzzled. “It’s not a handout if that’s what you’re worried about. Like I get to pick who I want and you’re the best writer. I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

“It’s not that, Harry.”

“Well, what is it?”

“I can’t.”

“Why not? All you do is talk about how you need a chance to prove yourself, get your name out there and I’m giving that to you.”

“We’ll come back to how condescending and fucked up that is later, but I just can’t do this.”

“Why?” Harry pressed.

“Because I think I might love you, OK?” The words were out of Penny’s mouth before she knew what she was saying. “And if I do this, that puts me in a tough position. I doesn’t look good when the media fucks the talent. I take enough heat in the comments section already. I don’t need more. So no, I can’t do this.”

Harry’s jaw hung slack as Penny slapped her hand over her mouth, almost as if she was trying to shove the words back in. “What?” he asked. “Y-you what?”

“Shit, I didn’t mean that.”

“No, it’s fine,” Harry said, still shell-shocked. “It’s just a lot to process right now.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No, no, don’t apologize.” He looked up at her. “Can we talk about this though? Like us.” He gestured between the two of them. “Not the profile.”

How Harry couldn’t hear her heart thudding in her chest, Penny didn’t know. Her voice sounded so soft compared to the thump, thump, thump that was echoing in her ears. “Sure. I just need some water.”

Harry nodded and Penny disappeared into her small kitchen. When she was sure she was out of his sight, she gripped the kitchen counter as if she was hanging on for her life. So much was happening and it felt like her life was spinning out of her control in slow motion. But based on Harry’s reaction, it didn’t seem like he was turned off by the prospect of their relationship becoming something more. She took a couple of deep breaths as she filled a glass of water. She downed it in one gulp and then refilled it. She turned to head back to the living room, but grabbed water for Harry on second thought. She rounded the corner, glasses in hand.

She didn’t know what had happened in the few minutes she’d left Harry alone, but it was like he was a different person now. He rested his head on his hands and when he looked up at her a cold fury was written all over his face.

“What’s wrong?” Penny asked quietly.

“What’s the real reason you don’t want the Rolling Stone piece?” Harry asked. He wasn’t yelling, but anger radiated from every word.

“What I just said. That’s the real reason.”

Harry frowned and the crease in his forehead grew even deeper. “That’s it?”

“Yes.”

“Then what’s this?” He gestured to Penny’s open laptop on the table next to him.

She bent down to see what he was pointing to and when she was able to read the document name it felt like the floor had dropped from under her. “Harry, I can explain.”

“I don’t think I need an explanation, Penny. It’s pretty fucking clear.” He read from the screen. “‘Harry Styles new album coming this year…what date?’” He scrolled. “‘Lots of time in studio, seems to be doubting himself. What does that mean for album? Taking risks? Experimenting with new sounds?’” He looked at her. “But that’s not the best part. ‘Heard new song. It sounds really good. Vulnerable and real, but still likely to get good radio play.’”

“At least I liked that one,” Penny said quietly, hoping a small moment of humor would diffuse the situation.

“That’s all you have to say? What the fuck Penny?” Harry ran his hands through his hair. “I trusted you,” he said, voice breaking. “I thought you were my friend. I opened up to you. I spent all that time apologizing and trying to make it up to you for being such an asshole and misjudging you but it turns out I was right all along.”

“Harry, please sit down so we can talk. Here, have some water.” She stretched out her hand to offer him one of the glasses she was holding at the same time he tried to push her hand away. They collided, the glass of water crashing to the floor. They both ignored it. “Harry, let me explain. If you let me talk, you’ll understand.”

“No, I get it. I have my own set of notes on you. ‘Hateful. Mean. A snake. Will use anyone’s name for clout. I thought I could trust you, but it turns out I was wrong.” He chewed on his lip before he spoke again. “That whole thing about you caring about me…was that all part of…whatever the hell this is?”

“No, Harry I swear.”

He nodded thoughtfully. “I see. But how am I supposed to believe that when you’ve been using me this whole time.” He stood up from the table, sidestepping the pile of water and glass that lay between them on his way to the door. “You know what the sad thing is, Penny? I thought I could feel the same way about you. I’d been waiting weeks for some sort of sign that I wasn’t imagining things, that there was something here and then you finally gave it to me. But I guess that was too good to be true.”

He left, slamming the door behind him without another word.

Penny didn’t know what to do. Everything had blown up around her, but she wasn’t ready to sort through the debris of her life yet. She cleaned up the mess they had made, disposing of the glass and mopping up the water. When the floor was cleaned, she turned her attention to her laptop where she navigated to the home page of her Google account and pressed delete on the document Harry had opened. Emotionless, she closed the computer and laid on the sofa, closing her eyes and praying that this had all been a dream.

***

When she awoke on the couch the next morning, it was clear that her prayers hadn’t been answered. She had a headache and crick in her neck but the greatest source of pain was the burden of the knowledge that she’d not only hurt Harry, but lost him too.

Realizing she couldn’t put it off any longer, she climbed into the shower and got ready on auto-pilot, not even stopping for coffee on her way into the office. Miraculously, she arrived at the office on time only to find everyone heading into the central conference room.

“What’s going on?” she asked Chloe, taking a seat next to her.

“Monthly editorial meeting. It’s been on the books for weeks.” Chloe looked at her curiously and immediately could tell something was wrong. “What happened?”

But before Penny could ask, Skylar called the meeting to order. The agenda was standard – each vertical went over their editorial calendar for the month, determining when stories would run and who across the site’s various departments would be working on them. It was usually interesting, a time for everyone to come together and see what they missed when they were caught up in their own assignments, but Penny couldn’t focus.

Over the course of the meeting, each department head took their turn speaking, allowing reporters and designers to chime in as needed. When they’d finished going around, Skylar stood at the head of the table.

“It’s great to hear what everyone has been working on and I’m so excited about what the month ahead offers. I did want to discuss something new I’d like to try in the coming weeks. If it’s a success, we might be able to expand it and have some fun.” She looked around the table at everyone’s expectant faces.

“I think I speak for many of us when I say we’ve found ourselves here because of love. We love writing, creating, talking about the things we’re passionate about. I think sometimes that can get lost in our writing though. It’s important to be objective, but oftentimes we forget about the purpose and drive behind what we do. So…” She clapped her hands. “I would like to launch a new vertical, name TBD, that will focus on just that. Personal essays and intimate interviews that will give readers a chance to better connect with us and the creatives they admire, in addition to letting all of you have another opportunity to expand your brand and establish rapport with readers. There will probably be some sort of social initiative involved alongside this and if it’s popular, we’ll likely expand. I’m just excited to see what we all come up with. The thing is, we will need someone to oversee it.” She paused. “Penny, if you have the bandwidth, I’d like you to spearhead this initiative.”

Penny felt the eyes of everyone in the conference room on her. To be handpicked by Skylar to lead a new vertical was a massive win and basically guaranteed that Skylar was on your side. She opened her mouth to respond, but Darren’s loud voice beat her to it.

“I don’t think Penny should be handling anything now. She’s having enough trouble keeping up with things as it is.”

In an almost cartoonish moment, everyone's eyes turned to Darren and then back to Penny as if they were watching some sort of verbal jousting match. The silence after Darren’s accusation lasted a moment too long.

“Darren, with all due respect, fuck you,” Penny said. Gasps erupted all around her as she stood, collecting her laptop, notebook and coffee, and left the conference room. She knew she couldn’t go back to her desk – it would be more to sit there with everyone watching her through the windows. Instead, she made her way to the hiding spot she’d carved out during her first week of work. A small conference room on the third floor that she’d initially discovered when looking for a quiet place to take a call. It was now her go-to spot whenever she needed to escape the busyness of the newsroom.

She unlocked her phone, praying for a message from Harry, but found nothing other than a reminder to pick up her birth control pills from the pharmacy. She bit her lip trying not to cry. What felt like hours later (but was more like 40 minutes), there was a gentle knock at the door.

Skylar was standing there, two mugs in her hand. “May I come in?”

“Of course.” So this is how it was going to go down. Skylar firing her. At least it wasn’t in front of the whole newsroom. “I’m sorry,” Penny began. “And I won’t be mad at you. I deserve it after what I did.”

“Penny, you deserve a gold medal after that.”

“What?”

“I don’t think you understand how many times a day I want to say that to Darren.”

Penny blinked. “Seriously?”

Skylar nodded and offered Penny one of the mugs she was holding. “I brought you some tea. It always makes me feel better when I’ve had a rough morning.”

Penny gratefully accepted the cup, taking a tentative sip. It was sweet, probably something herbal. “Thank you.”

“Of course, honey. Is there something you want to talk about? It seems like things might be a little tough right now. My guess is it’s some combination of work and a man.”

“That’s scarily accurate.”

“I’ve had years of experience counseling young women like yourself in hidden conference rooms.”

Penny laughed. “It’s been a weird couple of months. It all started when I met this guy.”

“Barry Tiles?” Skylar asked, with a knowing smile.

“You heard that?”

“I hear a lot more than you all think I do.”

“Well fuck me,” Penny said with a laugh. “But yeah, I met him through a friend, we didn’t really hit it off but things have changed recently.”

“Feelings?”

“Feelings.” Penny took another sip of her drink. “And to make things worse, I had kind of been thinking about using my proximity to him to get a story. Like something big that would put me on the map. But then that just felt wrong after everything played out.” Skylar nodded knowingly but remained silent, giving Penny the space to continue. “Darren saw us getting coffee one day and then decided that essentially extorting me to write about Harry would be his latest way to torture me and then Harry found out about everything last night and was rightfully pissed and now I’ve probably lost my job so…yeah.”

“Well, I can’t speak to your situation with Harry, but in terms of your job, I can say with certainty that you’re safe here.”

“Really?”

“I mean, I wouldn’t make a habit of telling people to fuck off in the middle of a meeting, but what you did today was stand up for yourself. Sure, you probably could have been a bit more eloquent, but I promise you that you’ll unfortunately have many more opportunities to practice that in your life. And between you and me, I’ve had some problems with Darren and his behavior in this office for a while now. Let’s just say I’ve been having some conversations, and Darren might be looking for new opportunities soon.”

It suddenly clicked. “The lunch with the CSO…?”

Skylar nodded, lifting a finger to her lips. “You didn’t hear it from me.” She placed her hand on Penny’s shoulder. “I know things feel difficult right now, but I promise they will get better for you. You’re smart. I know you’ll figure it out.” And with that, she left Penny, once again, alone with her thoughts.

When Penny had calmed down, she returned to the newsroom, feeling the weight of everyone’s eyes on her. Chloe shot her a knowing glance across their desk and Penny just nodded. She picked up her phone.

The good news…I still have a job. The bad news…I think Harry hates me. :(

Chloe pouted. That SUCKS! Do you want to talk about it?

Not right now. Still figuring out how I feel.

Well I’m here if you need me.

Penny smiled to herself, feeling a little better that she had at least two people on her side.

***

Later that night after she’d closed her laptop and curled up into bed with some sitcom on in the background, she tapped on her phone, opening Instagram for the first time that day. She clicked through some stories from her friends and some from celebrities and reposted some things on her own. While she primarily used her Twitter as a professional tool, she had a little more fun on Instagram, trying to cultivate her own personal brand as reporters were often encouraged to do. Her own carefully curated profile was a mix of concert photos, coffee shops, and whatever else she found grid-worthy.

She was about to close out the app when her thumb accidentally shifted, pulling open her own story that she’d just posted. She moved to close out the app again, but paused when she caught a glimpse of the list of accounts that had viewed her most recent post. It had been posted less than five minutes ago and someone had already watched it. Penny didn’t keep track of all of her followers and was used to random people, bots, and spam accounts showing up, but this profile picture was different. It was an artsy black and white shot, though she couldn’t exactly tell what it was supposed to be. The username made no sense either and she didn’t know why but she suspected that was because it wasn’t in English.

Intrigued, she clicked on the account in an attempt to enlarge the profile pic and learn more about this mystery viewer. The account was private, but a list of mutual followers gave her all the info she needed.

Mitch. Tom. And of course, Jeff. It was Harry. Creeping on her with some sort of finsta.

“Busted,” she said under her breath, trying not to think about him sitting in his own bed across town, watching her live her life via Instagram, keeping up with her even after their fight. Maybe he hadn’t met those awful things he’d said. Maybe they had another chance.

***

Penny slowly monitored Harry’s burner account over the next couple of weeks, paying more attention than she ever had before to her likes, views, and followers. Like clockwork, Harry would watch or like whatever she posted. It was then that she had an idea.

It was almost 2:30 and Skylar would be returning from a late lunch any minute. Penny kept her eyes on the door, craning her neck to get a glimpse whenever it opened.

“Hot date on the way?” Chloe asked, after Penny had jumped up for a fifth time.

“No,” Penny said, picking at a chip in her nail polish. “I just need to ask Skylar something.”

As if on cue, the door opened, and Skylar walked through it, carrying her leftovers and an iced tea.

“Skylar!” Penny called out, a little too loud and drawing the eyes of her coworkers to her. “Uh, do you have a minute?” she asked at a softer volume.

Skylar titled her wrist and her smartwatch lit up. “I have about 15 minutes until my next meeting. Is that enough?”

Penny nodded and followed the editor into her office, closing the door behind her.

“What’s up?” Skylar asked, as she placed the plastic takeout container in the mini fridge behind her desk.

“That column idea you mentioned a couple of weeks ago…” Penny trailed off, praying she wasn’t about to make a mistake. “I finally have an idea.” She stopped talking and stared at Skylar, waiting for her judgment to be handed down.

“Great. When do you think you can have it filed.”

“Tomorrow, end of day.”

“Perfect.” Skylar smiled. “I can’t wait to see what you come up with Penny.”

Penny nodded her thanks and tried not to skip back to her desk. She opened her laptop and pulled up the draft she had been tinkering with the past couple of days, her fingers flying across the keys, unable to keep up with the speed of her thoughts.

“Wow, that’s some aggressive typing,” said Chad, the new intern that had been seated in the same desk pod as Chloe and Penny.

“Hey, Chad, do us a favor and shut up,” Chloe called.

Penny chuckled, but didn’t look away from her screen. She had a relationship to fix.

***

A/N: Well, it’s finally here, with just one part left! Thank you to anyone who’s still reading this. It means the world to me. Would love to hear what you think!

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