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imagineswelcome · 4 years

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Beauty and the Beast

Joker (Heath Ledger) x reader

Events take place during the 2nd Nolan movie, The Dark Knight.

Prompt : You meet the Joker, he kidnappes and you end up to take part of almost all his crimes. How did you come to that?

You’re Y/N L/N, a famous physicist in Gotham. You work for the Wayne Compagny on sustainable energy sources, you have a great job, a great flat in Gotham and basically a great life !

You wake up as every morning but you realise you already have receive a letter. You are invited to a party at the Wayne penthouse, yes, the billionaire burn his house to crisp, who does that ? Anyway. The party is a found raising for Harvey Dent. The name seams to ring a bell but you’re not sure. But the party is this evening, you reaaaally need to do some shopping, fortunatly it’s Saturday and you’re not working. You go to your favorite shop and you find a black dress which seems to be made for you. It perfectly suits you and you look incredible. You already know that it will match perfectly your Louboutin heels you offered yourself for Christmas. You will be stunning even if you are not a billionnaire as probably all of the other guests.

The time has come. Party time. You don’t know what you expected but definitely not that : you’re « talking » with an annoying billionnaire who isn’t even listening to you and believe that the earth might be flat. As a physicist you have loads of strong points to prove him wrong but he is a rich white man who don’t care about what you have in your head since he likes what he sees. An helicopter sound saves you from this terrible conversation. It seems that Brune Wayne is really a drama queen, you believed he is brilliant but never thought he would be the kind to be late and showing off with three top-models. After a very little speech on Harvey Dent, the party start again, this time you rush to the barman to enjoy a well-deserved drink. This man was such a pain. You were enjoying your free drinks when a gunshot was heard. The terrorist from the TV has come out of the elevator and is asking for Harvey Dent. You don’t know why but you wanted to see the man, the Joker, with your own eyes so you come closer to the scene. Harvey Dent girlfriend has the courage to come to the Joker and to tell him that Dent isn’t here. But he starts to come closer to her with a knife. You don’t know why, maybe you has a sorority instinct, but you call out for the Joker, he turns back to you and Rachel kicks him. And everything went so fast. Batman was here and starts to fight the Joker men but the Joker grabs Rachel and throws her out of the window. Batman jumps to safe her. But if Batman just jumps, who stays to protect you ? Once the Batman jumped, the Joker comes directly for you. You are paralized, all the courage you had just vanished. He grabs your arm and says « You come with me, beautiful. » You try to fight but there is no way for you to escape the Joker and his men push you in the elevator and in their van. You’re being kidnapped, of course you left your phone on the bar and you have no way to call for help. After a long enough moment, the van stops. Someone opens the back door and you hear : « Hi. I’m the Joker. Nice to meet you Y/N. Very nice indeed. I’m following your work at Wayne Enterprises and I can say that I’m, uhm, very impressed to have you here with me. » You were expecting everything but that. The Joker is a fan of physic ? Moreover a fan of you ? You must have look surprised because he adds « Don’t worry, I won’t hurt you. I just want to talk to you. Let’s have dinner. » And you find yourself answering ackwardly « uhm, ok. »

And you actually spend a really good evening, the Joker is a gentleman, he likes quantum physic and to make jokes (as his name made you guess). But it seems to be too good to be true. He is a killer and as charming as he wants to be with you, he kidnapped you. He told you you needed to stay at his place for a few days, that he can’t bring you back just now. People will think you’re part of the plan but he doesn’t want you to get involved in all the chaos. He shows you an incredibly cosy bedroom, there were several outfits in the closet. Not that bad for a kidnapping. You spend three days in this mansion/warehouse : it was a warehouse, at least you believed since you never saw the outside but the inside was a mansion with staircase and rooms. It was simple decoration but the place in itself was curious in the good way. You could discover it even if there were guards at every entrance to prevent you from any kind of escape. Every evening you had dinner with the Joker, he never talked to you about his evil plans, never screamed at you. He was nice but it was wrong.

The fourth day, a bodyguard came to you and told you to go on a truck but like a big big truck, the ones that usually have huge cargots inside. The Joker was at the back with an arsenal and something that looked like a bazooka. You were on the passenger sit. The Joker told you that he had something to do before bringing you home. You understand that it is definitely something dangerous and illegal probably involving murder and explosion. Great. You’re in the same car as a murdering psychopath. You don’t seem to have been kidnapped. You hope that the GCPD will not think that you are an accomplice or something like that.

But it was only the beginning of your problems, the Joker just shot an officer so he can drive through a closed road and he is now targetting a GCPD van with the bazooka. Oh lord. Is it the Batman outside ? Damn. An helicopter just fell on the ground. This is chaos. Batman is charging the truck you’re in now. Did he miss ? Oh god, he did n…

You blacked out for a little and wake up, you seem to have been thrown through the windscreen. Every muscles and bones of your body hurt. Several pieces of glass have cut you. You try to stand up and you see the Batman on the ground, lying like a dead man on his back with the Joker on him. Suddently you feel someone grabbing your arms on your back. « You’re under arrest, you fucking cop killer ». He pushes you against the reversed truck and handcuff you. You’re incapable of saying something, everything hurts.

Once in the GCPD department, the not-so-kind officer take your prints and your belongings and threw you into an interrogation room. You try to explain several time that you really need to see a doctor, you are in so much pain but they aren’t listening to you. The female police officer in charge of your interrogation comes closer to you and press her finger on an open wound you have on you arm. « Now you talk. Tell me everything you know. » It hurts to much. Maybe the only way to make them call the doctor is to force them to make you see a doctor. Because they don’t care about what you have to say. The female officer is still close to you, since you’re sitting on a chair with only handcuff on you wrists, you rise up and block her neck with your handcuffs. « I. Want. A. Doctor. », you run out of the room with the officer as your hostage and head for a big place where there are a lot of people. They probably can get you a doctor. They are celebrating something or what ? Is it applause that you’re hearing ? You scream out of despair « I need to see a doctor ! » They all turn out to you and start reaching their guns. You repeat with a softer tone « I’m really injured, all of my body hurts, I really need to see a doctor, please. It was the only way for you to hear me. She wasn’t trying to help me, she hurted me even more. » As you were explaining the situation, you saw that the Joker was in the room too, behind bars. And his gaze was full of compassion and a bit of anger but it wasn’t because of you. It was because of the police-men. An officer with a mustache and glasses start to talk « It’s ok Miss, let her go, we will help you ». « I won’t let her go before I see the medic in this very room. I don’t believe you » was your answer. The officer order to bring the medic here. And you finally let the woman go. The medic bring you into a cell for more privacy and also because you were a suspect and you will probably not get out of the GCPD any time soon. The medic was actually pretty kind to you, he diagnosed a broken forearm, four broken ribs and several contusions all around your body but there may be more, he couldn’t tell exactly how broken you were without a radiography. He took care of your wounds and left you to sleep. He told you that you’ll go to the hospital tomorrow and that you should rest now. You almost instantly fell asleep.

You have been waken up by an explosion. You try to see something through the little window of your door but everything was dark. You sit on your bed, listening to everything, trying to understand what happened. A little after that, you heard footsteps and a key in the hole of your door. When the door opened, you realise that it is the Joker. You start with visible confusion « How… did you… ? » The Joker cut you « We don’t have much time. Come ». The Joker wasn’t alone, an other prisonner with handcuffs and several of this complices were there too.

The Joker let his men go with the prisonner and ask you how you were. You told him what the medic said. « You’re going to see my doctor » he said. With a stolen police car, you were now heading to where the Joker lived in town and see another doctor who, this time, could do some bandages for your broken arm.

The Joker actually lives in a mansion. Maybe he is a guy of simple taste but when he can, he choses comfort. He brings you food, clean clothes and show you a room where you can rest. You took a shower and inspect you body. You never have been this injured before. And you promess yourself that you will never be this injured expect if you chose to be in a dangerous situation. Noone will ever hurt you again. You’ll not let them. Even if they are the police. Even if they are supposed to do the good. What’s good ? Does this word still have a sense in this world ? The Joker is a bad guy but he was good to you, he respected you, was interrested in what you had to say, listened to you while the « good » policemen did not. The Joker may be a mad man but he could be very kind, and funny, and he sometimes makes sense. Deep sense. When he talks about the established order and all the hypocrisis of the world.

After all this thoughts, you decide to sleep and you sleeped for a whole day. Your body and your soul needed it. When you wake up, your first reflex is to turn on the TV to check the news. The Joker has blown up an hospital. But it was actually an empty hospital. Everyone has been evacuated before the explosion.

It was dark outside. You dressed up and went downstairs to find something to eat. You were starving. You were surprised to discover that you were alone in this house, no one was there to guard you, no one was here to stop you from getting outside. Incredible. You were free. Again ! And you made another promess to yourself, you’ll be free forever. When you arrived in the kitchen, you saw a note on the table. It was from the Joker :

« Dear Y/N,

I am sorry for all the trouble I caused you. I truly am. Tonight is the final act. We’ll probably never see each over again but I had a great time talking with. You are a truly amazing person. Never let anyone make you think you are not. You are capable of everything you want to accomplish.

Love.

J »

But. But. But you don’t want not to see him again. You realise that you actually care for him, that you want to know him, to talk to him. As a friend first but maybe you are ready for more.

You turn on the TV with the hope to find where the Joker is and to join him. And it worked. He is filmed fighting Batman. He’ll never win. You know it and you know he knows it. He must have an ace in the hole. You check on the internet where this tower is and it is very close from this house. You run in the house to find where the arsenal is. There must be one. It has to. And you found it. There are all sort of guns and accessories. You check the infos again. The Joker is in the air upside down with one feet tied. You have to rescue him. Even if that means that you become a criminal. You want to do it therefore you have to. You’re looking for a huge safety net of something like that. The thing that is used in circus. He must have one. You are incredibly lucky because he actually does. You take it and walk as fast as you can to put it just under the Joker since this is pretty heavy. The SWAT is helping the hostages and arresting the accomplices. They don’t notice that you were installing a big net. You have also bring with you a kind of sniper. You never shot anything with a weapon like that but you have so notion of how to use a gun. You’re an american afterall and even with a broken arm you can use a weapon. After one missed shot, you manage to cut the wire which was holding the Joker. His fall seems to be eternal laugh. But the net does its job and you save him. You help him to get out. He seems surprised to see you. « Thank you Y/N. I am impressed. But for now take my hand and run.»

So you do and you both disappear in the darkness of Gotham small streets.

GIF not mine, credit to the owner.

#joker #joker x reader #joker x you #heath ledger #heath ledger joker #dc #dc villains #joker imagine

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purplebutterflywriting · 5 years

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Day 6 - Pocket

From @hiddendreamer67 ‘s inktober prompt list.

Word count: 1028 words.

Characters: all of em, including Thomas.

Warnings: Sympathetic Remus and Deceit.

“Hey Patton, you in here?" Thomas asked after he knocked on the doorframe.

"Over here, Kiddo!" Patton waved from where he was playing chess with Logan. Both players were on pillows so they had an overview of the playing field, while Roman and Remus were down on the board, moving the pieces and hurling taunts at each other. Roman moved Patton's pieces because Logan was the only one who could keep Remus on a figurative leash. The last and only time Patton had tried ended with Remus doing unspeakable things to the white horse piece while wearing far too little clothing.

The four of them looked up when Thomas entered the room. Before he could speak, Remus let out a joyful cry. "You're wearing the shirt! It's my turn! Let me in!"

"No!" Thomas' shirt pocket wiggled and then Virgil's face popped up. "You don't get a turn until you've properly atoned for sabotaging the list, so it's my turn."

"I've atoned enough, it's been so long since it was my turn!" Virgil plopped back into the pocket without another word. "Thomas, tell Virgil to stop being mean to me!"

"I mean, he kinda has a point," the human replied. "Besides, aren't you busy playing chess?"

"Death to the king!" Remus yelled before he ran towards the king piece and sending it flying off the board with a flying kick.

"Remus, those are our own pieces!" Logan yelled to no avail. He managed to kick, roll and shove almost half the pieces off the board before Roman tackled him and they started wrestling.

“Welp,” Patton chuckled, looking a bit disappointed. “Looks like we’re done playing. Did you need me, Thomas?”

“Oh, yeah.” Thomas tore his eyes away from the wrestling duo and gave him a smile. “I have these two old shirts I want to get rid of, and I figured you might wanna scavenge the stack for any fabric you can use.”

Patton clapped his hands, jumping to his feet before jumping on the hand Thomas offered him. “Lead the way!”

Thomas walked him to the kitchen table, where Patton’s eyes positively lit up when he saw the two shirts. His expression fell considerably though when the topmost shirt started moving on its own. Dee popped his scaly head out from underneath, looking none too pleased. “Touch these and you’re dead.”

Patton pushed his chin forward. “Thomas said I could have them!”

“Play nice,” their human warned.

“Fine, what can you give me in return for them?” Dee huffed.

“Dee.”

“It’s not like I’m freezing out here or anything!” He popped his head back under the shirt. “These rags are at least somewhat warm. Unless you can offer me some other warmth?”

A tiny hand with its middle finger extended raised up from Thomas’ chest pocket. “You’re not getting into my warm and cosy pocket, snake! It’s my turn.”

“I could hold you in my hands?” Thomas offered, knowing Dee was quite the fan of that treatment.

Unsurprisingly, the tiny head popped out again. “Are your hands cold?”

Patton touched a finger and hesitated. “Nooo?”

“I’ll make some tea,” Thomas sighed as Dee’s head disappeared again. “Don’t fight.”

Three minutes of cradling a far too hot teacup later, Dee was snuggled up on his palm, mostly covered by his other hand. While the other five hated that hold because it made them feel trapped, Dee loved it. He was a rescue, taken away from a laboratory when tiny testing became illegal a few years back, and the cold and sterile environment had made him nearly addicted to gentle human touch when he finally got it. Not only that but the scales that littered the left side of his body lost heat more rapidly than his normal skin, which was why he was almost always cold. Thomas rubbed his back a few times with his thumb and smiled when the tiny almost purred.

Patton was on the table, pulling the shirts along so he could better envision what he could do with them. A big smile was on his face, and Thomas’ heart melted a little. “I’ll leave you to it then, Pat. Let me know if you need me.”

“No peaking, Thomas!” Virgil warned from where he was laying on his hair. When it wasn’t his turn in the pocket or when Thomas didn’t wear a shirt with one, that was his favourite perch. The human made sure to move carefully into the kitchen, which wasn’t easy when he had to keep his eyes closed.

“Okay, ready aaaaand… You can look now, kiddo!”

He opened his eyes and looked at the five tinies in front of him. Before them laid… something. Something oddly familiar. “This… this is for me?”

“It sure is,” Logan smiled. “Patton worked really hard on it.”

“Hehe, do you like it, kiddo?”

“Well, it’s certainly… something, alright.” Thomas held up the shirt he had given to Patton two weeks ago, only with a few... additions. The other shirt had been reworked into pockets. Six pockets on his chest area, each with a name neatly stitched on the rim.

It looked hideous.

Patton clapped his hands, oblivious to his apprehension. “Try it on! See if it fits!”

He bit back a sigh, not commenting on how the shirt would definitely fit him because it was his old shirt that he had worn millions of times before. After putting Virgil with the others, he pulled off the shirt he was wearing and put on his ‘new’ one.

The six tinies all gave appreciative comments and noises. He turned to the mirror on the wall and tried to see what they saw. Well, when they all went in their respective pockets it was probably very cute. He could imagine Dee curling up in the warmth of his extra stuffed pocket, or Logan reading along with him over the edge of his. They were adorable moments that he usually only got to experience one at a time.

His smile became a little bit more genuine. Maybe the shirt wasn’t as hideous as it first seemed.

Then he frowned.

“Patton, why is Remus’ pocket upside down?”

“...No reason.”

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btswrckd · 5 years

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Hunting a Hybrid III

Black Panther!Hybrid Jungkook x Fem!Reader

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

Warnings: Violence, past abuse, eventual smut, poorly written light smut at the end, thigh riding

A/N: This chapter isn’t a lot of dialogue, it’s more of what reader and those surrounding her feel. There’s mention of past abuse but nothing too heavy, it’s just a warning in case you guys are uncomfortable with it. Hope you like!

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The three of you shuffled into Taehyung’s apartment with Jungkook trailing in last, checking his surroundings once more to see if anything had been disturbed since departing earlier. Taehyung’s deep laugh caught his attention and he made his way into the living room to join you.

“If anything had changed, Y/N would have noticed the second she walked in,” Taehyung pointed out as he plopped onto the couch, leaning his crutches against the side. “Trust me, Jungkook, if you didn’t know she was actually human, one would think she’s a hybrid too. Acute observation skills have kind of been drilled in to Y/N since before I met her.”

“You’re gonna stay here for now,” You said to Jungkook after giving your best friend a well deserved slap on the back of the head, “it’s the safest place until I can figure out what to do with the information I gathered from Dr. Kim’s office.”

“What are the rules?” Jungkook asked, keeping his place on the other side of the room as if he thought he wasn’t allowed onto the carpet lining the floor.

“Rules?” Teahyung questioned with a tilt of his head before it clicked that Jungkook was so used to being told what he couldn’t do that he didn’t expect any sort of freedom. “There aren’t any---.”

“There’s one,” You gestured him closer, eyeing the way he took cautious steps towards you. “You stay inside. Don’t go anywhere unless one of us is with you.”

“Well,” Taehyung interrupted and gestured to his bandaged leg, “more like, you can’t go anywhere without Y/N for now. I’m hobbled and with Suho’s guys still looking for you, I won’t be much help. Not that you’ll need it but now that they know you’re a full shifter, they’ll have upgraded their gear and game plan.”

“Neither Ye-Jin or her father knows this place exists so they can’t just pop in whenever they want,” You stood on the tips of your toes to hang a leather band around his neck, letting it dangle loosely against his chest.

“A collar?” He reeled back, his lips curling up into a hiss and his eyes flashing emerald.

“A tracking device,” You corrected and stopped his hands from ripping the object apart, “if Taehyung or myself have any reason to believe anything is wrong then we can find you with this. Jungkook,” You cupped his face to keep his focus on your eyes, “trust me with this, okay?”

Taehyung watched Jungkook study your face, glancing between the two of you and almost smiling at how hard you were trying to convince the panther to trust you. His eyebrows shot up in surprise when Jungkook pulled you close, burying his nose in the crook of your neck and your body actually relaxing in to it. Jungkook was obviously scenting you and Taehyung couldn’t help but wonder how close you and he had actually grown in the last 12 hours.

“You know, at this point,” Your arms dangled at your sides and felt the small brush of Jungkook’s lips against your skin, “I’ll need at least 4 showers to get your scent off me.”

“And?” He asked, almost pleading, his fingers twisting the material of your jacket and you actually grunted at how constricting his hold was. “Is that honestly a bad thing? Every other hybrid will be able to smell a predator on you and they’ll leave you alone.”

“Yeah, well,” You twisted out of his hold and pushed him to arm’s length, “I think I can handle it, Jungkook.”

“He’s not going to be happy to see you, you know?” Taehyung warned, a smile twitching at the corner of his mouth in amusement.

Rolling your eyes, you shouldered past Jungkook to make your way towards the door, swearing you could feel the brush of his fingers against yours in an attempt to make you stay. His touch lighting up your nerves and goosebumps erupting along your skin made you jump away in shock, quickly yanking your hand from his with a hiss and you frowned when he physically flinched away from you, as if he expected to be slapped for doing such a thing. “Jungkook, wait, I didn’t---.”

Jungkook turned away from you and stalked down the hall to the empty bedroom you’d pointed out earlier that morning, slamming the door shut in the process and ignoring your pleas for him to let you explain.

“Smooth.”

“Shut the fuck up.” You snapped at Taehyung’s sarcasm and followed Jungkook down the hall, raising your hand to knock on his door but hesitating, your knuckles hovering just inches from the wood. Sighing heavily, you dropped your forehead to the door and rested your palm against it, as if it were to help you think. “Jungkook, I didn’t mean to react that way. I just...all of that walking around on the carpet and...you shocked me, that’s all, I was just surprised.”

You heard Taehyung’s deep chuckle echo down the hallway, clearly amused at your bumbling apology to a hybrid you hadn’t even known for a full day yet.

“I...” You could make out the shuffling of his clothes; he was walking to the door, that much you knew, but just like you, he stopped just shy of the doorknob. You knew he was listening to more than just your words, he was picking up on your heart rate, your breathing, and even the way you swallowed down the saliva building up on your tongue. He was assessing your every action no matter how small it may be and you let out a slow breath to calm yourself. “I have to go. Tae’s fridge is full of food so eat something, okay? I’ll be back late.”

Taehyung was still sat on the couch with crossed arms when you came back into view, a questioning look on his face at your clear frustration. He couldn’t help being amused by the way you handled, or mishandled, the situation. In the past, it was easy for you to brush off a hybrid’s feelings towards you, but with Jungkook, it was like you didn’t know how to conduct yourself. Gone was the confident and headstrong Y/N he knew and in her place was a frazzled girl that practically tripped over her own feet.

You shot a glare at the smirk on his face, pulling your hair free from the elastic band holding it together and pulling your jacket off your shoulders to replace it with your leather one, the material seeming to have either stretched out more as it hung loosely around your frame, or you had lost even more weight by forgetting to eat in the midst of all the chaos. He’d bet his life on the second option, taking the time to eye you from head to toe and noticing the way your cheeks hollowed slightly. Any stranger would think you were perfectly healthy but Taehyung knew better, having spent half his life with you, and it worried him.

Before he got the chance to call you out on your nonexistent eating habits, you were already pulling the front door closed behind you, bidding him goodbye and throwing out that you’d be back rather late. He bit the inside of his cheek and heard Jungkook twisting open the door, the hybrid poking his head out and coming to stand at the edge of the carpet lining once more. Taehyung patted the couch in invitation and smiled when Jungkook carefully shuffled to sit next to him, both falling into worry filled silence as Taehyung turned on the T.V. in hopes of distracting himself and Jungkook.

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The bar you charmed your way in to was busy with people and you really wondered why the hell you even still lived in the city anymore. Your dislike of people should have sent you running from it long ago but Taehyung insisted on staying without giving you an honest to God good reason. You caved when he pouted and gave you his best “lost puppy” look, and then joking about how you were becoming soft with how you gave up so easily. His joke also got him a good slap to the head and he no longer thought you were finally coming around to being nice.

The Element was rather small, cosy, and one of the seediest places for hunters to gather and exchange information. A place where they felt comfortable being themselves; rowdy, loud, and handsy, every so often trying to put their greasy fingers on a waitress but the owner was quick to throw them out. You’d never really been inside, only ever observing from a good vantage point from across the street and catching two or three of these poor excuses of hunters drunkenly stumble their way down the street after being kicked out.

“What’s your poison?” The bartender asked when you took a seat on one of the empty stools, a smile on his face so bright that you wondered if he knew what kind of business he was in.

“Water.” You gave him a soft smile in return as he nodded and was called away by another customer. A snort made its way past your nostrils, catching the reflection of one of Suho’s hunters in the mirror behind the glass bottles lined along the shelf. He was trying to sneak up on you and you had to laugh at how poorly he was doing, watching his nostrils flare in irritation at being caught. The clinking of a glass of water being placed in front of you didn’t distract you the way he’d hoped, his eyes narrowing at the bartender in a silent threat.

“Manners, Minseok,” You tsked and grinned at the small laugh you earned from the bartender before he walked away to leave you to your business.

“You know I hate that name.” Minseok hissed, taking a seat next to you and nodding to his companion to flank your other side to keep you from running off. “Our boss is looking for you, you know? He knows Sehun tipped you off, sneaky little son of a bitch that he is. Suho caught him just before he could skip town.”

“Killed the fucking cockroach,” Minseok’s friend barked with laughter, his hand coming down to slap the bar top, “Man, it was about time too. Sehun was such a sissy, had no balls whatsoever, and he proved it by ratting out Suho’s plans for you.”

Feeling a nudge to your shoulder, you played with the straw in your glass, “Minnie, your friend should really be careful with what he chooses to do next.”

“Don’t call me that!”

“Why?” You faced him with a teasing smile, one you knew he hated ever since you first met him, having told Suho to toss the pipsqueak from his squad before he dragged everyone down with him. “Afraid I’ll embarrass you in front of the idiot next to me? Come on now, Minnie, I thought you’d gotten better at not throwing temper tantrums.”

“Fuck you!” Minseok shot out of his seat, swinging his hand around to slap you but he cried out when you caught his wrist instead and twisted it behind his back.

You were out of your seat with Minseok’s hand bent behind him and your forearm pressing into the back of his neck to push his face into the marble of the bar top. Hearing the scrape of the barstool being kicked away, you pushed off of Minseok to dodge the oncoming punch of his friend. When Minseok swiveled around to face you, he was sent flying back by your knuckles cracking against his jaw, blood splattering across the floor.

“Damn it!” You fell to the ground as his friend tackled you to the floor, his knuckles being driven into the stitches in your torso, no doubt opening them again. Wrapping your legs around his waist, you squeezed his hips in an ironlike grip and pounded against his back with your elbow, your free arm winding around his neck in a headlock to keep him in place. One of you was bound to give in and you’d bleed to death before that person was you. Unfortunately, your body didn’t agree with you as one good punch had you releasing him and giving him the chance to reel back to land another punch to your cheek. His hand was heavy and solid, making the room spin and your ears ring from the assault, a groan coming from you. Your hands came up to shield your face when his fist reared back again but everything came to a sudden stop when a gun was fired into the air.

The owner stood just a few feet from you, his pistol aimed dead center of your attacker’s forehead, his eyes nearly black with rage, “Get off.”

His command sent Minseok’s friend scrambling to his feet with his hands up in surrender and a sneer on his face, “Hey man, she came at us first.”

“Does it look like I give a fuck?” The silver haired man tugged on the collar of Minseok’s shirt to pull him off the ground and shove him in his friend’s direction. “Xiumin, didn’t I already warn Suho what would happen if his hunters kept causing a fucking scene in my bar?”

Minseok panted as he wiped the blood from his lip, glancing down at you still sprawled out on the floor, “Yes.”

“Then why the hell are you still here?” The owner nodded to his bartender who had produced his own shotgun from behind the bar at some point during the fight. “Hoseok, show Xiumin and Kai out, would you?”

“Gladly,” Jung Hoseok’s smile could have easily fooled anyone into thinking he wasn’t packing and you had to laugh at how misled you were yourself. Walking past you to escort the two hunters out, he shot you a wink that had you grinning from ear to ear.

Your breathing was heavy, chest rising and falling rapidly, blood spilling from the open wound in your side, and you could taste the metallic tang of blood from your gums. A shadow loomed over you and blocked what already little lighting there was in the room, but you could make out his figure anywhere.

“Hi, Yoongs,” You beamed up at him, catching the roll of his eyes before offering his hand to help you stand up.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Min Yoongi hissed back in his office, cupping your cheeks in his large hands to examine the damage to your face. His long fingers swiped across your cheekbone and you winced at the sting, the flesh sensitive and already bruising.

“Not even a ‘hi’ back?” You teased and stepped away from him, your arm wrapping around your midriff and fingers coming into contact with a wet patch of blood. “Kinda rude.”

“I greet old friends, not little brats who take off for years without even so much as a postcard.” He watched you scan the room and stop at a familiar picture hanging on his wall, his own eyes dropping to the floor to give you a moment of privacy to study it.

“You knew I was hunting,” Reaching for the frame, you pulled it from the wall and turned it around to show Yoongi as if he hadn’t looked at it everyday. It was a photo of a very much younger you, maybe around 8 years old, and your grandfather standing side by side, a bright smile on your face. “Just doing what dear old grandfather taught me to do.”

“I heard rumors, I just didn’t want to believe them,” He took the picture from you and set it face down on the desk. It wasn’t exactly one of your happier memories, but it was the only photo he had of you from before your grandfather started training you. “You meant a great deal to our family. You didn’t even give us the chance to take care of you before disappearing.”

“You know I don’t like relying on people,” You shrugged as best as you could but it sent a sharp pain through your body.

“You were 15!” Yoongi hissed and had half a mind to clutch your shoulders to shake some sense into you but knew it would get him nowhere. Reaching out to lift the lapel of your jacket, he noted the large spot of blood seeping through your shirt. “We were your chance at having a normal life. No more hunting, no more running from police, but an actual life, Y/N. It broke my mother’s heart when you left, she really wanted to keep you safe, you know?”

“I have a favor to ask,” You ignored his attempt to tug at your heartstrings. The Min family had always been part of your life before your parents’ and grandfather’s deaths, and you knew very well how much you meant to them, but it wasn’t easy to give up everything you’d been taught. Yoongi had thought of you like a little sister and you knew it drove him insane not to be able to find you, and now you’ve shown up at his door asking for help. Damn him for wanting to do just that. “There’s something I want you to take a look at. Some documents I have, but I need to know if they’ll leave some kind of trace even after they’ve been changed.”

“Something always gets left behind, no matter how much altering is done to them. What are they?”

“Just something on someone I used to work for.”

“I really didn’t think you could get any more vague,” He deadpanned, hearing the click of his office door before Hoseok came in to view. “You already know Hoseok.”

“I’ve never seen a girl challenge two guys to a fight,” Hoseok stretched out his hand to shake yours, “and win. You really could have had Kai beat if---.”

“What are you doing?” Yoongi narrowed his eyes at his friend and business partner, shaking his own head, “Don’t encourage this. You,” He pointed to the blood staining your tank top, “you little brat, need to get that looked at before we go any further with this conversation.”

“Yoongs, come on.” You whined and brushed away a piece of hair that had fallen into your eyes.

“Yoongs?” Hoseok snickered at the nickname, a hand coming up to cover his mouth from bursting out in a full laugh. “That’s cute.”

“Shut up,” Yoongi waved him away, all but pushing him out the door before turning back to you, his hand coming up to cup your cheek and his heart melting when you leaned into his touch. “Y/N.”

“I’m sorry, Yoongi,” You whispered with tears springing to your eyes, both from pain and nostalgia. You grew up with Yoongi, constantly treated like his little sister and being doted on by his mother whenever you would run to them after your parents fought. They were your safe haven but after your parents’ death, your grandfather had packed you up and moved you one town over, leaving the safety and comfort of the Min family home in the dust. You’d spent so many nights wrapped up in Yoongi’s blankets, watching movies, listening to music, and reading books before calling it a night and having to return home to the disaster that was your family.

“Let’s get you cleaned up.” He offered, frowning when you stepped away from him. “How much trouble are you in?”

“Nothing I can’t handle on my own.” You assured with a shaky breath, the pain from your open stitches almost becoming too much to handle and your knees buckled. Pushing away Yoongi’s hands that tried to stop your fall, you moved for the door with the excuse of having to check on your injured friend, which wasn’t a total lie. You honestly just wanted to escape the emotions you didn’t even know could still be pulled from you, a gift only Min Yoongi was graced with when it came to breaking down your walls. Without a proper goodbye, you were speed walking to the exit of the bar, slipping past Hoseok who had been occupied with a group of hunters wondering what the fight had been about.

The street lights were much too bright for your liking, your eyes sensitive and vision blurry from your earlier assault. You winced at the loud clanging of a trash can lid being knocked to the ground by a stray cat, bringing your fingers to your temple and your feet having a hard time cooperating with your brain. You stumbled and focused on the faint sounds of footsteps following close behind, assuming it was Yoongi or Hoseok you faced the pair of men and grit your teeth.

“Oh, come on,” You whispered as Minseok and Kai approached you, their figures seeming taller in the shadows, more threatening than you remembered and it dawned on you that you most likely had a concussion.

“You think we’re done with you?” Minseok sneered, pulling what you could only guess was a switchblade from his pocket and Kai cracking his knuckles, knowing full well that his fists would do more than enough damage.

“You stupid bitch,” Kai spit, not noticing your own hand feeling around your pockets for the knife you’d snuck onto your person before leaving Taehyung’s apartment. “I’m gonna kill you.”

“I’d like to see you try.” You smirked and beckoned them towards you, rushing forward at the same time they did.

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

Jungkook’s back straightened at the sound of the elevator dinging, the smell of blood so strong that it overpowered the tteokbokki Taehyung had helped him cook. He would have gagged at the metallic stench if he wasn’t so worried about where it was coming from. Fear hit him like a freight train when he heard the beating of your heart heavy against your ribcage, your hand slapping against the wall to keep yourself from falling.

“Jungkook!” Taehyung scolded when the panther shot up from his seat to barrel towards the door, pulling it open roughly in his haste to get to you. He had to struggle for his crutches, quickly tucking them underneath his armpits and swinging himself over to find what spooked the hybrid so bad. He stopped dead in his tracks when he caught sight of Jungkook holding your bloodied and bruised figure, your head lolling from side to side in an effort to stay awake.

Jungkook cradled you against his chest, studying the bruises on your face, the gash on your forehead, and your busted lip. He knew he should have gone with you. He knew it shouldn’t have mattered what you said, he should have been there. Ignoring the foreign smell of another man on your clothes, he stepped past Taehyung into the apartment, blood running from your shoulder down the length of your arm and dripping onto the floor.

“What the fuck happened?!” Taehyung was in a panic, trying to move around his apartment to find the first-aid kit but wasn’t have much luck with his crutches in the way. He was tempted to toss them aside and crawl around instead when he heard your low chuckle.

“You should see the other guys,” You took the time to joke, hoping to distract him from the mess you must have looked like.

“Guys?” He repeated in shock, his hands curling so tight that his nails bit into the palms of his hands, “As in plural? What the fuck, Y/N?! You’ve done some stupid shit, but nothing, nothing compares to this! Are you fucking kidding me?!”

“I was trying but you didn’t laugh,” You clung tight to Jungkook as he carried you to the bathroom and set you down gently in the tub, his silence making you nervous. Wincing at the cool ceramic contrasting against the burn of your cuts, you dropped your head back to rest on the edge of the tub. “Tae, I need---.”

“A hospital,” Taehyung huffed but you knew it was more out of concern than anger, “you need a hospital with actual sterile instruments and medication.”

“Out,” You demanded through grit teeth and peeled your jacket off to reveal multiple slashes from Minseok’s blade, “Both of you.” Your tank top came off next with much difficulty; whether Jungkook and Taehyung were there or not, you were going to peel off your pants afterwards to let the ceramic cool your heated and stinging skin. The lacerations from Minseok’s knife looked worse than they felt, but it was the bruising on your rib cage from Kai’s fists that burned the most. Taking deep and slow breaths, you reached forward to turn the knob on the bath faucet, allowing the cold water to surround you and wash away the blood so you could get a better look at your wounds.

“Jesus christ,” Taehyung scrubbed his hand down his face, tears threatening to fall from his eyes; you were his best friend and sure he’s seen you in bad states before, but nothing like this. His tub filled with your blood, your body as stiff as a board, and your face so pale that one would think you were dead. It made him sick to his stomach to have to see you in so much pain, trying to play it off as if you hadn’t painted his apartment floor with how much blood you lost.

“Tae,” Your voice was ragged, harsh breaths leaving your heaving chest, “Get a needle and thread.”

“How about I get you to a hospital?” He offered but it was no use when you had vehemently denied being taken care of in a clinic whenever you were beaten up pretty badly. Something about the hospital spiked your anxiety to a level that Taehyung could barely bring you down from, leaving him to assume you had some type of trauma in your past but he never asked about it. “This isn’t a quick patch up job, Y/N, those wounds are deep.”

Jungkook would have butted in and agreed with Taehyung if not for the murderous look on your face, so he instead strode around the apartment to find the first aid kit, bringing it into the bathroom and letting you dig through it. He watched you pull out a needle and thread while Taehyung produced a bottle of rubbing alcohol from underneath his bathroom sink. Taking the materials from you when your hands shook from the pain, he helped Taehyung sterilize the equipment by holding them in his cupped hands so the older man could pour the alcohol all over it. He quickly bent over the tub but because of the amount of blood mixed with water, he couldn’t properly see any of your wounds.

“Shit!” Taehyung hissed and rushed to drain the water from the tub, taking his crutches to swing his way down the hall to find washcloth. “Just start on the stitches, Jungkook, the longer we wait, the more risk there is for infection.”

Jungkook looked to you for permission, pinching the skin on your shoulder blade when you nodded and piercing your skin with the needle. He winced at your grip tightening around the edge of the tub as he tried to work swiftly, tying the thread on one end of your gash before proceeding to stitch the rest of your tissue together. Having done this himself many, many times, he frowned when you clenched your jaw to keep from crying out in pain. With one suture out of the way, he let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding in; how his hands remained steady and his emotions in check was a mystery to him. Seeing you so hurt and beaten had his blood boiling, the instinct to hunt down and tear those men apart had been tamped down by the need to stay with and take care of you.

Your hair stuck to your forehead in a sweaty and matted mess, your surroundings fading in and out as you fought to stay conscious. You were barely able to make out Jungkook mumbling about killing whoever did this, his voice becoming muffled and angrier with every laceration he stitched up. At some point, you recognized Taehyung’s figure towering over you, a washcloth in his hand to gently wipe away the pools of blood on your body. There was no more resisting the need to stay awake as your eyelids grew heavier and heavier with each passing minute, Taehyung’s and Jungkook’s voices fading out and your world going black, your head thumping against the edge of the tub and your grip loosening to let your hand fall limp against your stomach.

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

There was the familiar sound of skin hitting skin echoing through the house, louder and louder each time no matter how hard your hands were pressed to your ears. Cowering in the corner of your bedroom, hidden as best as you could be, you whimpered with every slap delivered to your mother’s face. One more solid hit had her body falling to the ground with a hard thud and you found yourself tucking your head between your knees in hopes of drowning out her screams.

“I do everything in this goddamn house!” Your father’s voice carried clear through your heavy wooden door. “I work all fucking day, pay all the bills, and all I ask in return is that you keep the fucking house clean and dinner on the table! You can’t even do that, can you?! You’re useless!”

“Please, stop,” You whispered to yourself, rocking back and forth with tears streaming down your face. Hearing your father’s footsteps approach your room, your head snapped up in time to catch him throw the door open, the smell of cigarettes and alcohol making you gag.

“Leave her alone!” It was the first time your mother really defended herself for the night, risking another beating if it meant keeping you safe. “She’s just a baby, please! Donghoon, stop!”

He staggered into the room, knocking your array of stuffed animals from the top of your dresser on his way, his words slurred as he attempted to beckon you closer. “Come on, Y/N, I won’t hurt you.”

“You hurt mommy,” You whimpered and tried to scoot back further but you were already pressed to the wall.

“Mommy deserved it.” He tried to justify his actions and plopped on the floor in front of you, his hands coming up to show you his palms and assure that he wasn’t going to harm you. “She did a bad thing, remember? What’s the rule in this house, sweetie?”

You peered over his shoulder to find your mother leaning against your doorway to keep herself from collapsing, her face covered in blood, bruises, and tears. Your heart stopped at the sight, your stomach dropping, and your breath caught in your throat, a strangled sob leaving you. You jumped when your father slammed his heavy palm against your floor, a shriek leaving you.

“What’s the rule in this house?!” He demanded an answer, his voice booming so loud you were amazed the neighbor’s hadn’t called the cops yet.

“Al-Always listen t-to daddy,” You hiccuped between your sobs, “and you w-won’t be punished.”

“Very good,” The way he switched from angry to calm in a manner of seconds scared you more than when he was just outright angry. His arms stretched out for a hug and you had no choice but to crawl to him, being scooped up in his embrace and gently placed back onto your bed. He brought your blankets over your small body, tucking you in tight and placing a gentle kiss to your forehead, a stark difference from the man who had just beaten your mother near death.

“Come on now, let’s make sure she rests.” Your mother tried to coax him out of the room, but instead, sending him into a blinding rage at the sound of her voice.

He was on his feet and charging at her faster than you could blink, screaming that she couldn’t tell him what to do and how to treat his own daughter, slamming your door shut on his way out and pushing your mother to the wall so hard it left a dent.

Her wailing filled the house once more and you pulled a pillow over your head, soaking your sheets in sweat and the endless amount of tears. Your muffled screaming matched your mothers as she took heavy blows and a few kicks to her stomach.

“Stop, Donghoon, please! Stop!”

You woke with a start, gulping down huge breaths of air, feeling like your throat was on fire as you tried to take in your surroundings. The empty room save for one dresser sitting in the corner, becoming familiar after you were able to refocus your blurry vision. Dropping your gaze to the gray sheets and oversized t-shirt covering your body, you pulled them back to reveal a pair of sweatpants that were also too big for you, swinging your legs over the side of the bed and letting out a large groan from the sharp pain hitting you like a brick wall. Your arm came up to wind around your torso as you stood up slowly, limping your way to the door and flinging it open to glide along the wall to an awaiting Taehyung in the kitchen.

“Hey,” Taehyung greeted you with a warm smile, crutches long gone and giving him the freedom limp around the apartment. “You’re finally awake, huh? You hungry?”

“How long have I been asleep?” You asked, ignoring his question and sitting at his dining table, your stomach grumbling from the aroma of eggs cooking.

“Couple days,” He plated a generous amount of food and set it down in front of you, knowing damn well you were hungry and just being stubborn. He smirked in victory when you dug your fork into the eggs, probably not even chewing it before you swallowed. “How do you feel?”

“Sore,” You reached for the glass of orange juice also set next to your plate and whimpered at a simple act even hurting, bringing your free hand up to rub at your bruised wrist. “Shit.”

“Oh, you’re awake.” A familiar voice made you jump and your mouth part in surprise when you were met with the smiling face of Kim Seokjin. He eyed your plate of food and nodded, “Good, you’re eating so you can start on your antibiotics.”

“Antibiotics?” You parroted as he pulled a bottle of pills from his pocket and handed them to you. “What are these for?”

“Precaution, mostly,” Seokjin clarified and sat next to you, thanking Taehyung when he was handed a plate of food as well, “I don’t know the state of the blade that pierced your skin, so they’re just to fight off any kind of infection that may have developed while you were sleeping. Take them once a day with food for two weeks. You’ll also need to rest a few more days before you go out and pretend to hunt for Jungkook.”

Your body tensed at the mention of the panther that was seemingly nowhere to be found. Had he left? Taken off before you could really help him? What if he’d been caught by Suho and his men and taken back to Hyungsik?

“He’s upstairs,” Taehyung informed you before you lost your mind with worry. “Dr. Kim rented out the top floor of the building to give him some privacy.”

“Privacy for what?”

Taehyung pursed his lips in amusement while Seokjin cleared his throat and shoved a forkful of food into his mouth. “He’s in heat.”

“O-Oh,” You weren’t sure why you blushed, or why you suddenly looked to your hands in disappointment that he hadn’t been there to see you up and about after that whole episode the other night. “So he can’t---?”

“It’s best if you don’t interact with him right now,” Seokjin finally gulped down his food, “his heat cycle isn’t regulated so his actions can be a bit unpredictable. Once his cycle goes back to normal, he’ll be able to handle it a little easier around other people.”

“So you guys haven’t seen him in a couple of days?” You quirked a brow, twisting open the pill bottle to drop one into your hand and tossing it into your mouth, taking your orange juice and downing it along with your antibiotic.

“Well,” Taehyung scratched the back of neck and let out a small chuckle, “we’ve seen him, yeah, but you can’t.”

Your eyebrows drew together in confusion and you were about to question why the hell not when the beeping of his keypad had your senses on high alert, quickly grabbing your fork in defense and Taehyung had to slap his hand over yours to keep you from killing the person walking in.

“Goddamn it,” You heard the grumble of one Min Yoongi as he came into view, examining his torn jacket, “stupid panther, stubborn son of a bi---oh, hey, you’re up.”

“Since when does the whole of the city know your passcode?” You asked Taehyung, irritated at the sudden intrusion.

“You scared the living shit out of me, Y/N,” He argued back with a pointed look, “I needed help taking care of you and Dr. Kim was kind enough to do it free of charge.”

“And him?” You nodded to Yoongi and he scoffed at your tone, shaking his head at your stubbornness.

“You know, you could be just a little grateful,” Yoongi growled at you, shaking his jack from his shoulders to show you that it had almost been torn to shreds, “this is the way I get treated after that damn panther upstairs nearly mauled me?”

“What happened?” You tried to stand but moved too quick and gravity decided it was against you, almost falling to your knees if Seokjin hadn’t shot up from his seat to catch you. His arms gripping your sore body had another groan tumbling from your lips and he apologized for being too rough, but you thanked him anyway because your fall would have been much worse if not for him.

“Your hybrid tore up my jacket,” Yoongi explained after lurching forward to keep you steady as you sat back down, “I guess he heard you up and moving around and demanded to come see you. Guy’s got a real hard on for you.”

“Shut up!” Your cheeks burned bright pink at his teasing, “He’s just worried after what happened, is all.”

“Speaking of which,” Yoongi glanced around to Taehyung and Seokjin, almost hesitant but knew you hated that, “Xiumin and Kai were found dead that same night you guys fought.”

“I didn’t kill them,” You were sure of it. Yes, they were worse off than you were but you swore you left them breathing before stumbling your way back to Taehyung’s apartment.

“I don’t think anyone would blame you if you did.” Taehyung shrugged, still very clearly pissed about what happened.

“It’s Suho.” You clarified for the three men when they didn’t seem to believe you. “He’s pretty desperate for that money Ye-Jin’s offering and with me in the way, he doesn’t think he has a shot at catching Jungkook. He’s sending his hunters after me and killing them when they fail to take me out.”

Yoongi snorted, sitting across from you and burying his face in his hands, his voice muffled against his palms, “You said it was nothing you couldn’t handle. Not even a full day later I’m getting a call from Dr. Kim that you’ve been badly injured. You’re such a stubborn little brat. I have half a mind to drag your ass away from all this and put you under lock and key.”

“How exactly do you know Dr. Kim?” You narrowed your eyes at Taehyung and he ducked his head sheepishly. You couldn’t and wouldn’t stay mad at him; if he hadn’t called Seokjin to come look at you, you would have felt a hell of a lot worse than you already did.

“Yoongi and I went to university together, we just took different career paths.” Seokjin side eyed Yoongi and smiled as if they were sharing a private joke. “Taehyung called me the minute you passed out the other night and Yoongi always talked about this girl he’d spent most of his life searching for. When Taehyung told me where you’d been coming from, I put two and two together and called Yoongi. I apologize if I’ve overstepped.”

“No, it’s okay.” You gave Seokjin a warm smile, running your fingers through your surprisingly clean hair. Last you checked, it had been tangled and covered in dirt and blood. “Yoongi was like my older brother when we were kids. Who washed my hair?”

Taehyung, Yoongi, and Seokjin all pointed up to the ceiling to indicate the hybrid upstairs. Taehyung shook his head with a small laugh, “I couldn’t do much with my leg still injured so Jungkook took care of you. He stayed by your side the whole time until his heat came and even then we pretty much had to drag him away from you.”

“Tae,” You brought your hands together to rest on the table top, your stare locked on your intertwined fingers, “I’m sorry about that night. I never meant for any of that to happen. I just needed Yoongi’s help.”

“I guess with Hoseok keeping an eye on Jungkook for the next few days, I can take a look at that file you wanted to show me.” Yoongi caved much faster than you thought he would, a frown settling on his lips at the way you curled your fingers into a fist when another deep breath brought on a jolt of pain.

“Ah, you must mean the papers I gave her,” Seokjin shook his head slightly, now feeling guilty that you’d been beaten simply because he asked for your help, “they’re records I kept of Hyungsik and the hybrids in his possession.”

“You’re involved with Nam Hyungsik?!” Yoongi hissed and had to get out of his seat to pace the length of the kitchen, one hand on his hip and the other tugging at his hair in frustration. “Had you said that two nights ago, I would have never let you leave my bar alone!”

“Relax, Hyungsik is so afraid of me that he doesn’t even leave his house without making sure I’m not close by.”

“That’s not the point!” His rant was cut short by the ringing of his own phone and he dug it from his pocket to growl into it, “What? He what?”

You perked up at the sound of what you figured was Hoseok’s voice on the other end, clearly speaking of Jungkook with the way Yoongi’s jaw ticked.

“No, not right now.” The silver haired man huffed into his phone, “it’s too risky, Hoseok, he has to stay up there another few days. I don’t care if he’s going to rip your head off! I’m going to rip your head off if you let him down here!”

“I’m going to see Jungkook.” You announced without room for argument and Seokjin scrambled to keep you seated, but it was Yoongi’s voice that stopped you.

“Like hell you are. He’s in heat, Y/N, that means his first instinct is going to be to get to you no matter what or who he has to go through. I know you think you’ve got some kind of handle on him, but he’s still part panther, still part of a wild animal. You’re not going up there, not yet.”

“But I---.”

“I said no.” His tone dangerously low and maybe in the past it would have frightened you, but now it had your jaw setting in a way that Taehyung knew was not going to end well.

“Years of being on my own and handling myself pretty fucking well, and you think you can just come in and big brother me?” You seethed at the older man who didn’t seem like he was going to be backing down any time soon. “Stop trying to act like my father.”

“I would never!” Yoongi snapped and you bowed your head in shame at accusing him of being anything like that monster. He was honestly hurt that you’d ever think such a thing and even more hurt that you’d tell him as much. Your childhood was spent curled up in his arms on the nights your father would be out drinking, trying hard to keep yourself from that home but never wanting to risk the chance of being hit. You’d voiced many times that you didn’t care if he hurt you, you’d much rather your father lay his hands on you than your mother.

“Listen to me, little one,” Yoongi’s voice was soft as he approached you, kneeling down to see your face and push the hair from your eyes, “it’s not a good idea to see him right now. You’re hurt and Jungkook won’t pay any mind to that when there’s only one thing he’s really focused on. He needs a few more days and you need to rest up and get better. Hyungsik will come looking for you soon and if you want to handle him alone, like you said you can, then you need to be ready.”

Taehyung was nervous, his brows shooting up in surprise at the way Yoongi was so easily able to handle you. He was jealous that he could never calm you down like that, jealous that Yoongi shared a past with you that you weren’t willing to share with him and concerned with how you flinched at the sound of Yoongi’s raised voice. He watched you nod your head in understanding before you were up and stalking slowly down the hall to your room.

“What was that?” Taehyung asked as soon as you were out of earshot. “What did you do to her?”

“Excuse me?” Yoongi narrowed his eyes at the younger man, “What the hell are you insinuating?”

“I’ve never once seen Y/N respond to anyone like that,” Taehyung’s voice was cold, hard in the same way he’d speak to any stranger. “So what the hell was that about?”

“Y/N’s past is a lot more complicated than you think, kid, and if she wanted you to know about it, she would have told you. I’m sure you have your own share of secrets so if you want to know more about Y/N, then I suggest you fess up too. I didn’t mean to scare her the way I did, it just happened and when she’s feeling better, I’ll apologize, but right now I don’t owe you a damn thing.”

“Alright enough, both of you.” Seokjin interjected before the argument escalated any further, “I don’t think fighting’s going to help the situation. Yoongi, it’s best if you go up and make sure Jungkook hasn’t tried to kill Hoseok.”

Yoongi said nothing, didn’t even spare his senior a glance as he turned on his heel and left, letting the door slam shut behind him. He muttered about Taehyung not knowing a damn thing as he pressed on the buttons of the elevator a little too rough. He knew he was acting like a child, knew that he’d overstepped with you and brought you back to the days you’d lived with your parents, but there was no other way to drill into your head that being around Jungkook wasn’t the best idea at the moment. Truthfully, he was concerned that Jungkook seemed to be quite attached to you after only spending a few days together, and you were equally reliant on him, something Yoongi was having a hard time wrapping his head around when you obviously never cared as much for a hybrid as you did Jungkook.

Walking into the rented apartment that stored said hybrid, he found that everything was still intact, no claw marks anywhere and certainly no blood from Hoseok. “Hobi,” He called into the room as his friend popped out from a bedroom with Jungkook in tow. “Jungkook, you doing alright?”

“No,” The younger snorted, dropping onto the couch with a huff, his tail whipping back and forth and his ears twitching. “Is she okay?”

“She’s fine,” Yoongi promised and took a seat on the coffee table across from the panther while Hoseok was busy in the kitchen. “Kid, why are you so attached to Y/N?”

“Why am I what?” Jungkook’s nose scrunched up in distaste at the smell of Yoongi’s cologne, not that it smelled bad, just that it wasn’t the scent he was hoping to catch.

“You’re so dependant on her and I don’t understand why. You know what she’s done and who she’s done it for, but you trust her completely.”

“She’s trying to save my life.” Jungkook tried to keep his temper in check, feeling as though Yoongi was trying to challenge him but he knew that wasn’t the case. Yoongi was simply fishing for a reason to trust him as much as you did.

“Which brings me to my second question,” Yoongi kept his voice soft so as not to set Jungkook’s instincts into overdrive and have a bloodbath on his hands, “why you? Y/N’s never once tried to save a hybrid. So why are you so important?”

“I don’t know,” Jungkook answered honestly and wrung his hands together as his body grew hot, “I just...always need her. I didn’t think it would be this way when I first confronted her, I thought maybe it was because my heat was coming soon and I just needed someone to…”

“I got it,” Yoongi held his hand up to ask Jungkook to move on from that part of his thoughts, “What changed?”

“She’s different. When Hyungsik would talk about her, I pictured some monster, cruel and cold to anything and everything in her path. But that night I followed her home,” Jungkook thought back to when he’d found your office and watched your humanity slip through the further you were from the Nam family, “I saw a side to her that I don’t think Hyungsik knows about. She was human.”

“Wow, you got more out of him in the past few minutes than I have all morning,” Hoseok interrupted to place a plate full of tteokbokki in front of Jungkook. “You know I could probably get something a little better for you to eat. Y/N would kill me if you starved to death.”

“No, this is fine,” Jungkook swore, his stomach growling as he devoured the rice and fish cake. He let out a content hum at the taste hitting his tongue and Hoseok smiled proudly because he was really only good at cooking one thing and it was tteokbokki.

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

“So,” Taehyung cleared his throat while he sat on the edge of the bed, “I don’t want to say I’m jealous of Yoongi, but that’s exactly what I’m saying.”

“What?” You laughed at your best friend, the most important person in your life, and shook your head. “Tae, what is there to be jealous of?”

“The way he spoke to you in the kitchen,” He clarified with a small shrug of his shoulders, “you just seemed...compliant, I guess is the word.”

“Excuse you?” You narrowed your eyes in a glare.

“You just seemed, I don’t know,” He was scrambling for an explanation that didn’t make him sound like an ass, “like if Yoongi were the hunter, and you were his prey, right? And you...submitted...to him...in a way.”

“And you want me to do that for you?” You rose a brow, bewildered at the thought. You knew Taehyung had some strange kinks but you didn’t think dominance was one of them. Then again, you really weren’t as surprised as you thought you’d be; Taehyung exhibited dominant traits in his everyday routine, so it shouldn’t have been a shock to find out that he’d be the same way in the bedroom.

“No!” Taehyung blushed a deep shade of red and knew you were getting a kick out of watching him become flustered. “I’m just saying he knows more about you than I do, that’s all. He was able to talk you down from doing something irrational and I’ve never been able to help you in that way.”

“Yoongi knows more about my past, Tae,” You reached for his hand and gave it a gentle squeeze, allowing yourself to show him how much you cared for him before he started to seriously doubt how thankful you were to have him in your life, “You know more about me now. The person I was when I was a little girl is not that same person I am today. And yeah, maybe having Yoongi around after so many years has triggered a lot of my past self, but you should never think anyone knows me more than you do. You may think you haven’t helped me, but the truth is that without you, I don’t think I’d be alive. I need you, Taehyung, more than you’ll ever need me so don’t let Yoongi get into your head.”

Taehyung wasn’t sure how to respond except to pull you into a gentle hug, his face buried in your hair. It wasn’t often that you were so open and forward with him apart from the nights he’d woken you from a nightmare and you had asked him to stay and sleep next to you. Only then would you allow yourself to be that broken little girl you’d grown from. He loved you more than he thought possible, the only person in the world he’d gladly give his life for and to hear the validation of his importance to you was everything.

“Better now?” You teased as he pulled away, stopping to brush his lips against your forehead before pressing his own to it. Your hand came up to wrap your fingers around his wrist when he cupped your jaw, his thumb skimming along your bottom lip. Taehyung had always been an affectionate person, something you had to learn to get used to, and eventually found yourself sometimes longing for his touch.

“Hey.” Seokjin didn’t bother knocking since he was under the impression that you’d been napping, but he really should have after watching Taehyung scramble away from you. “Oh, sorry. Did I interrupt something?”

“No,” You and Taehyung answered in unison while Seokjin cleared his throat to keep from laughing at how awkward the two of you seemed.

“Um, so Yoongi called and he thinks maybe a phone call from you to Jungkook would help. I personally don't think it would, but you try arguing with him.”

“No, you’re right.” You shook your head, scooting your body down to lay flat on your back, pulling the blankets up to your chest. “He needs a few more days so that’s what we’ll give him. Hyungsik will come sniffing around soon and I don’t need Jungkook smelling him on me in the middle of his heat.”

“Okay,” Seokjin nodded and strode towards the bed with a medical bag in hand. “If I may, I’d like to check on your wounds, maybe redress them, depending on what they look like.”

You nodded your permission and shooed Taehyung out the door, blushing when he offhandedly stated that he’d seen you half naked before. “I will murder you, Kim Taehyung.”

“Love you too.” Taehyung waved goodbye before closing the door behind him. Outside, he dropped his head and allowed himself a minute of listening to your groans of pain. His hand tightened on the doorknob, wanting so badly to run in and comfort you, but your threat to kill him was as real as any threat you made to Hyungsik. He dropped his head back to lean against the door, a heavy sigh leaving him as your groans turned to whimpers and he hoped Hoseok and Yoongi were doing a damn good job of keeping Jungkook distracted.

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

“Something’s wrong.” Jungkook paced the living room, his eyes lighting up and his claws growing, frustration quickly surfacing as he heard your cries.

“Nothing’s wrong, Jungkook,” Hoseok assured from his spot by the door, unwilling to let the younger man anywhere near it. “Dr. Kim is just cleaning her wounds. We don’t want her getting sick from an infection, do we?”

“Jungkook,” Yoongi interrupted the panther’s pacing, “Sit down and relax. Do you think she’d want you to barge in there and see her the way she is?”

“I don’t care,” Jungkook growled, his ears twitching with every sound you made, clear as day as if you were in the same room. He was so attuned to your every move and sound that his ears went flat against his head when you let out a particularly loud yelp. Moving for the door, he shoved Hoseok aside and sent him flying to the ground, grabbing the brass knob and hearing the click of a gun before a bullet pierced the doorframe, wooden shrapnel slicing at his cheek. Jungkook ducked away from the door and scrambled to the corner of the room, baring his canines at Yoongi and his pistol.

“Yoongi!” Hoseok hissed and stood from the ground, his hand gripping Yoongi’s outstretched one and slowly lowering both of their arms. “What the hell is wrong with you?!”

“He could have killed you, Hoseok!” Yoongi looked at his partner like he’d grown a second head, trying to understand why Hoseok was defending Jungkook when he could have been hurt.

“Stop it. Now.” Hoseok scolded him and turned to find Jungkook with his knees pressed to his chest and his head buried between his knees. “He’s still just a kid, you idiot. You’re forgetting that he’s spent most of his life in captivity and this is his first heat without suppressants. He needs time, Yoongi.”

Jungkook’s ears had stayed flat against his scalp, his tail coming around to wind around his ankles, the memories of previous owners stepping on it when they couldn’t hit his face. He could hear Hoseok reprimanding Yoongi for firing at him, but the sound of your footsteps rushing upstairs cut through their arguing and he found himself looking at the door expectantly when it swung open.

“What the hell happened?!” You were breathless, the strain of running up three flights of stairs because you didn’t have the patience to wait for the elevator finally catching up to you. You doubled over and fell to your knees when standing became too much, raising your hand to stop Hoseok and Yoongi from coming any closer. Arm shooting out to steady yourself, you peered over to Jungkook and frowned at his cowering figure. It was the first time you’d truly seen him afraid and you knew exactly who was to blame for it. You stood carefully and limped over to the hybrid, crouching down to sweep the hair from his face, using the cuff of your long sleeved shirt to dab at the sweat forming on his brow.

“What happened, Jungkook?” You asked softly, seeing a boy rather than a panther, a boy who’d been locked up for his life as a pet or God knows what else.

“I…” His rapid blinking was a sign of him trying to get his bearings, but you’d seen and done so yourself enough to know that he was having a hard time trying to piece together where he was exactly. All he knew was that he’d done something he shouldn’t have and was being punished for it, “I disobeyed. I’m sorry.”

Hoseok reached out to slap at Yoongi’s arm for being so cruel, his stupid attempt at keeping Jungkook from leaving obviously taking the young man back to his days as a hostage. He’d seen Yoongi pull his gun from the back of his jeans, but he wasn’t quick enough to stop Yoongi from actually pulling the trigger. Looking at his partner now, he wasn’t sure he’d ever seen Yoongi immediately regret anything more than what he’d just done, especially since it caused you to disregard your own well being and come running up to check on them.

“Y/N,” Yoongi tried to pull your attention but instead was met with the most vicious look you’d only ever reserved for your father. He froze in his place, swallowing harshly to parch his dry throat but it proved to be useless. His peripheral vision caught Hoseok throwing his hands up in surrender and take two giant steps away from him.

“You,” You sneered, facing him and standing toe to toe with the man you used to trust with your life. “What the hell did you do, Yoongi?”

“I was just trying to stop him from leaving, I-I,” Yoongi stuttered out his own version of events, “I didn’t know what else to do, Y/N, he practically dislocated Hoseok’s shoulder!”

“So you shot at him?” You glared up at him, clenching your jaw and taking note of the heavy footsteps of Taehyung and Seokjin finally making it up to the apartment. “Have you lost your mind?”

“Jungkook,” Taehyung was at the hybrid’s side in an instant, giving his shoulders a light shake to gather his attention, but Jungkook could only focus on the rapid beating of his heart, fear striking him in a way he hadn’t experienced since he was a child. “Hey, Jungkook, are you okay?”

“I have half a mind to kill you, you know?” You shoved at Yoongi’s chest hard enough to send him stumbling back. “No, fuck that, I am going to kill you.”

“Y/N, enough,” Taehyung’s tone was demanding, knowing full well that you didn’t give a damn how injured you were, you’d soon be breaking every bone in Yoongi’s body. “Let’s get Jungkook back to the apartment, alright? It’s obviously not doing any good to keep him apart from you.”

“What about his heat?” Hoseok made a good point; once Jungkook calmed down and reverted back to himself, you still had his heat to deal with. “Look, Y/N, I’m sorry. This was my fault for not doing a better job of keeping Jungkook calm. He heard hyung cleaning up your stitches and it set him off, he got scared that maybe you were in trouble. I should have handled it better.”

“You should have handled your friend better,” You turned away from Yoongi to approach Jungkook once more and help Taehyung get him to his feet. Shuffling to the door, you stopped to look at the Yoongi, Hoseok, and Seokjin over your shoulder, “If I see the three of you again, I’ll put a bullet in your heads.”

“Aish,” Seokjin sighed and ran a hand through his hair after you left, turning to Yoongi and reaching out to slap him over the head. “She needs treatment, stupid. How can I make sure she heals properly if she doesn’t want me near? You really screwed up this time, Yoongi.”

“What the hell was I supposed to do?” Yoongi pinched the bridge of his nose, already thinking of ways to apologize for his massive fuck up. “He could have shifted and killed the both of us.”

“Let’s go for now,” Hoseok suggested, shaking his head at his friend, “I have a feeling Y/N will make good on her promise to shoot us if she catches us still here.”

“I’m going to try and smooth things over,” Seokjin brought his hand up to massage at the back of his neck, “and if I can’t then I have someone who can hopefully come over and treat her wounds. If I do manage to calm things down, it’ll take awhile before she’ll want to see you again. You understand that, don’t you?”

Yoongi poked his tongue against the inside of his cheek but didn’t argue. He knew what he’d done wasn’t the best course of action. He also knew that if memory served him correctly, you weren’t going to be forgiving him any time soon. Seeing Jungkook push Hoseok like a ragdoll had him panicking, thinking Jungkook’s animal side would cause more harm if he managed to get to you. He would be kicking himself later for using the force of a deadly weapon on Jungkook and not only scaring him, but traumatizing the panther in the process. He should have known better, should have handled the situation with reason and logic instead of the instinct to protect you when you were very capable of doing so yourself.

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

“Jungkook,” Taehyung waved his hand back and forth in front of Jungkook’s face once he’d sat him down on the couch. He looked to you as you sat on the floor in front of them, shrugging his shoulders when he couldn’t get anything out of the hybrid. “What do we do now?”

You shook your head, not knowing what else to try and Taehyung scrubbed his hands down his face, standing to head to the bathroom to splash cold water on his face. He didn’t think he could dislike Yoongi anymore than he already did, but here he was, wishing he’d never stopped you from murdering Min Yoongi. Jungkook had been mistreated his entire life and Yoongi knew that, so it pissed Taehyung off that Yoongi would pull such a stunt. Drawing and firing his gun on an already nervous hybrid was one of the stupidest things a person could do and yet, Min Yoongi hadn’t a second thought as he did just that. He knew Yoongi only thought of protecting you in that moment, but the second they all heard the gun go off, you were on your feet and darting up the stairs so fast that both he and Seokjin had a hard time keeping up.

You’d barely gotten your shirt over head when the sound of the gun rocked you to your core, scaring Seokjin as he jumped and looked to the ceiling, the same thought running through him. You didn’t bother listening to his pleas for you to slow down, adrenaline pumping through you with each heavy step you took, rounding each flight of stairs with determination to get to Jungkook as quick as you could. Breath coming out in puffs and body aching, you ignored the way your muscles screamed for you to stop moving and instead burst through the apartment door to find Yoongi’s pistol at his side, Hoseok scolding him, and Jungkook curled into a ball by the coffee table. Seeing nothing but red, your first instinct was to go after Yoongi, lash out at him and maybe even shove his ass through the window but Jungkook’s quivering shoulders kept you from doing any of that.

“I didn’t mean to disobey,” Jungkook kept muttering the entire time, expecting to be severely beaten for breaking the rules as had been done in his past. He flinched away from your hands when you reached up to cup his face and you drew back quickly, dropping your hands to your lap. He watched you pick at the cuticles of your nails, wanting to comfort him but torn because you didn’t want to upset him even more.

“You didn’t do anything wrong, Jungkook,” You assured him with a soft voice, rising to your knees to look him in the eyes, trying once more to cup his face, your shoulders relaxing when he allowed you to touch him. Your thumbs caressed his cheeks while his eyes closed and he leaned in to touch his forehead to yours. Hands moving from his cheeks to his hair, you scratched at his scalp lightly, hearing a soft purr and you chuckled at the sound. He was still a cat, after all. “You’re okay now, understand? No one’s going to hurt you, I wouldn’t let them.”

Jungkook nodded his understanding, his eyes slitting open to find your concerned ones before he surged forward and closed the gap between the two of you. The soft press of your lips against his had his hands coming to gently rest on your hips, still very aware of your wounds as the smell of antibiotic ointment hit his nostrils. His knees came to rest on the ground in front of you, pulling your chest flush against his and teeth sinking into the soft flesh of your bottom lip, drawing a whimper from you as his tongue ran along your lip to soothe the sting.

You gently nudged him to sit with his back to the couch, your legs falling on either side of his thigh and feeling the rough pads of his fingers skimming along the skin of your midriff, drawing patterns with his thumb and carefully avoiding the stitches. Your weight sat fully on Jungkook’s thigh, the lean muscle flexing in time with every rock of your hips, the dampening of your panties causing you to bury your face into the crook of his neck in embarrassment. “Maybe this isn’t a good idea.”

“No,” Jungkook insisted, squeezing your hips to encourage your movements, his hands sliding your clothed core against the material of his jeans. You gasped into his skin, your clit getting that little bit of attention you desperately needed and your hands fisting the cloth of the couch behind him. “Fuck, please don’t stop. You look so good, Y/N, coming undone like this.”

“Shit,” You whimpered, grinding down on him and feeling the raise of his knee to plant his foot firmly on the floor, effectively trapping you against his chest as he lifted the heel of his foot to press his thigh into you harder. “Jungkook,” you let out a choked moan against his neck, the heat of your breath giving him goosebumps.

“I can only imagine,” He whispered against the shell of your ear, taking it between his teeth with a playful nip and feeling the wet patch on his pants grow wetter, “what you’d look like riding more than just my thigh.”

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” You cry out as he applied more pressure to your hips, his dirty whispers making you clench around nothing and you whined at the feeling of being empty. You gasp loudly when he drops his heel and you bounce against his leg, your orgasm coming unexpectedly and soaking his jeans.

“Good girl,” He praised, hooking a finger under your chin to pull you into another kiss, his body growing hot at the smell of your arousal and really tempting him to continue. His fingers moved up to tangle in your hair while your own wound tight around his wrist and your other hand moving down the length of his broad chest.

“So,” Taehyung’s deep voice had you jumping away from the panther in attempt to look as if he hadn’t just caught you, “you look like you’re feeling better.”

“Taehyung, out!” You shrieked at your best friend, mortified that you’d let it go so far when just a few minutes ago Jungkook had been completely out of it. “How long have you been standing there, you perv?!”

#jeon jungkook #hybrid au #jeon jungkook smut #hunting a hybrid fic #bts imagine #jeon jungkook imagine #bts fic #bts smut #kim taehyung #jung hoseok #min yoongi #kim seokjin #gif not mine

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toyboy-molloy · 7 years

Note

11 for the drabble challenge, if you're up for it! Please and thanks 🙂

11. “If I die, I’m going to haunt your ass.”

Mollytwirled in front of the mirror, placing her hands on her hips as she analysed theeye-wateringly short mini dress worn by her character, Veronica Smith, avivacious and feisty businesswoman. She was to play the part of her partner’s ‘ladyluck’ in the underground gambling world in Brighton and Molly was alreadybeginning to have reservations; she’d never been involved in such a large-scalecase before, let alone gone undercover with Sherlock Holmes.

The manhimself knocked on the bathroom door of their hotel suite, his concerned voice travellingthrough the slight crack she’d left, “are you alright, Molly? The suspects willbe meeting soon.”

“Yeah,”she breathed, fanning herself in an effort to calm down, “just a littlenervous.”

“Good. It’swise to be wary,” he replied, a little distractedly, “these are dangerous menbut we’re professionals. We’ll be fine.”

Mollynodded to herself, giving herself one more look over in the mirror and taking adeep breath. She teetered on her enormously tall heels into the lounge to findSherlock texting rapidly on his phone. He’d dressed in his white shirt and darkjeans, slicked his hair back and dumped an entire bottle of aftershave overhimself if the overwhelming scent was anything to go by. His cover, EmmettSmith, was cocky, confident and a bit of a show off, perfectly at home in the gamblingcircuit. She recalled Mycroft’s comment about his brother hardly having to actat all resulting in a dirty look from his younger brother.

Sherlockhad spent most of their week in the seaside town cosying up to his targets,sucking up to and brown-nosing drug dealers and illegal gamblers. Eventually he’dbeen invited to the elite circle of the most dangerous and connected of thetown’s criminals. Molly was invited, too, on the condition she ‘looked good’and ‘kept her mouth shut’ which was more than fine with her.

Theyapproached their destination, Molly tugging awkwardly on the bottom of herdress despite Sherlock’s assurances she looked fine. His arm wound its wayaround her shoulder as they reached the door, the bouncer nodding them through;he squeezed her shoulder supportively. Two hours later, everything seemed to begoing according to plan – he had names and locations, evidence recordedsecretively on a secure device. Molly played the part of the airheaded ladyluck to the letter, clapping hysterically and draping herself all over himwhenever he won a hand.

Soon,Sherlock became accustomed to the case and began to enjoy the attention Mollyshowered him with, craving her touches and sultry kisses. He started to losetrack of his playing, winning as often as he could. The men sat around thetable flew into a rage, drawing weapons and accusing the detective of cheating.Shielding Molly, he backed them towards the door, pointing his own gun at theoffenders; they hurried out into the alleyway, finding it empty.

“Where’s Greg?”Molly panted, adrenaline pumping through her body. She still held tightly toSherlock’s hand, “he- he said he’s be here. He’s late.”

Sherlocklooked around, spotting the long pier before them. The shouts grew louderbehind them and he nodded towards their goal, “the pier.”

Mollykicked off her heels and gathered them in one hand as Sherlock tugged her alongtowards the pier, a small group of angry felons following behind them; thankfully,they weren’t as fit as the detectives. The ran until they reached the end ofthe pier, peering over the side at the stillness of the freezing water. WhenSherlock began to climb over the railings, Molly gasped in shock.

“You can’tbe serious!”

“I’mbuying some time,” he hissed back, watching the distance; their pursuers weregaining on them, brandishing knives and swearing. Sherlock turned back toMolly, “they’ll be here soon. We need to go.”

“I-I…”Molly glanced over the side, swallowing at the velvety smooth surface of her possiblegrave, “I can’t swim.”

“You don’thave a choice,” he said sympathetically, assisting her to clamber over the side.He never let go of her hand, “I’m not going anywhere.”

“If I dieI’m going to haunt your ass…” she breathed frantically, bringing her free handup to hold her nose. Sherlock chuckled.

“Howexactly is that a problem?”

Mollyfocused on his dazzling smile as she closed her eyes and let go of the railing,plunging into the icy cold water of the sea. She pushed and kicked against thewater, surfacing and spluttering, struggling to stay above water. Blinkingwater out of her eyes, she panicked when she found herself alone; she was justabout to begin hysterically calling out Sherlock’s name when he reappearedbeside her, leading her towards the shore where a line of blue and red lightsawaited them. Molly had never felt so relieved in her life.

“That wasa little dramatic,” Greg Lestrade commented when the heroes of the hourtraipsed through the sand towards him, “sorry I was late. You seemed to handleyourselves pretty well, though.”

“Did youget them?” Sherlock demanded, reaching into the ambulance and removing anorange blanket and wrapping Molly up in the soft article.

“Yeah. We’regoing through the CCTV now. Should be enough to put them away,” the DI watchedas Sherlock pulled Molly close, rubbing her arms furiously as she shiveredbeneath her blanket. He cleared his throat, “err, I’ll take your statements inthe morning. Can I give you a lift back to the hotel?”

“We’ll takea cab. Thank you, Greg.”

Gregnodded, watching as the pair headed towards the town, arms around each other;Sherlock leaned close to Molly, his lips pressed into her hair as she snuggledcloser to him. The DI sighed, murmuring to no one in particular, “if that doesn’tdo it, nothing will.”

#waitingtobedistributed #sherlolly #mollock #I know it's ridiculously out there but...no that's about it XD #'jesus all this adrenaline…what shall we do what shall we do'#*the next morning*#greg: *knocks on their hotel room door*#molly: *answers the door wearing sherlock's shirt; embarrassed* oh greg...I-I thought you were room service #greg: *awkward* I just came to check on you both #sherlock: *appears beside molly; grinning* no need to worry gavin. I’ve examined every inch of molly. no injuries…other than the odd scratch #...bruise...bite mark-#greg: *quickly* I get it *shudders* see you at the station #my writing #answered asks

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sceaweretemp · 7 years

Text

ar maidin | alfie solomons

my first ever fic has found a new home here

based on my headcanon that alfie never fucking sleeps until he just conks out at his desk

he is the odd nap king

Camden didn’t have a cycle to the day and night so much as it had disorienting, sudden switchovers. There was the bustle of work in the day, the burst of fun in the evening, the outright chaos of the night. There was never really a lull, except a clear hour before the dawn when everything seemed to stop. Too late for revellers, too early for workers, peace found a home here, nestled up to the buildings and slumbered.

You should have been slumbering too, wrapped up in the outrageously expensive sheets Alfie insisted on but never fucking slept in. Yet here you were, heels clacking down the damp steps of a goddamn illegal distillery.

The bakery was near pitch black underneath, the lamps off or burnt out. The light coming from the office tucked against the back wall threw everything into relief and made you squint, hands coming to rub tired eyes. Why couldn’t you just love some normal boring office boy? A gasp of a laugh came from you at the thought and only grew when you saw Ollie tucked up in a huddle outside the office.

Back to the wall, knees to his chest, leaning against a barrel with his head back and mouth open. A gentle kick to his leg did little to rouse him, casting a look to your side to see Alfie bent over the desk inside. Another kick.

“Ollie”

Another.

“Ollie!”

He jumped awake, hand swinging out to grab a weapon that wasn’t there.

“It’s just me”

A sleepy grumble, hands trailing over eyes.

“What time is it?”

“God knows, late…early. Get yourself off home, I’ll get someone in to cover you tomorrow. Today. Fuck it, I dunno, just go”

“No, I’ll go when Alfie does”

“Awww, Ollie, that’s sweet. Now piss off. Seriously. Get gone”

He pulled himself up, all gangly limbs and sleep filled, like a baby animal trying to right itself for the first time. He cast a look through the window too, turned to you with uncertain eyes, and then saw himself off into the shadows. Whether Alfie liked to acknowledge it in public or not, you were as much the boss as he was now, and Ollie at least knew how to pick his battles by now.

The office was warm and bright in comparison to the warehouse, almost cosy in its close air and dimmed lamps scattered around like stars in a constellation.

“Alfie”

He was studying multiple ledgers, scratching away at columns and numbers, a jumble only he could decipher.

“Alfie-“

“Ollie!” he bellowed off into the darkness and you felt almost hungover in your drowsy state, the noise rattling around your skull.

“I sent him home”

His brow furrowed for a moment, continuing away at his scratch, before his hand stilled and he looked up at you.

“You did what?”

“He was sleeping outside the door like a bloody puppy, Alfie. It’s ain’t right”

“He was where I needed him”

“Alfie, when’s the last time you slept?”

He pulled his face into an expression that read ‘stupid fucking question’ and went back to scratching at numbers.

“Right, get up”

You set about turning the lamps off, lowering the light in the room until only his desk lamp was illuminated.

“The fuck you think you’re doing, darlin’?”

“I-“you marched over to him, snatching the pencil from his hand and chucking it off somewhere across the desk. He made a noise at you, watching it fly away. “Am making sure you get some goddamn sleep”

“I’m fine, I am, sweetie, I promise”

“You haven’t been back to the house in 2 days, napping in your chair for 20 minutes in between threatening people isn’t healthy, Alfie”

You perched yourself on the armrest of his chair, bringing your arms around him and leaning your forehead against the side of his head.

“I miss you”

He sighed, bringing one hand up to wrap around your forearm, his rings glinting in the low light.

“I need to get these books done”

“You have a fucking accountant. I know, I sort out his pay stubs”

“I like doing ‘em myself, I like-“

“Being a bloody control freak, I know” you pressed a kiss to his cheek, his scruff scratching against your chin.

“Careful”

“Or what, you’ll spank me? I’d be surprised if you had the energy”

You felt him smile against you as you nuzzled your nose into his cheek.

“Although, if you were to come home, we have this giant bed…”

He grunted at your teasing tone and you trailed your hand up the side of his neck. His hand clenched around your arm and you thought for a second he might try to pull you into his lap.

“That we could just…conk the fuck out in. I mean, honestly just, be unconscious for days”

You pulled yourself back to sit straight on the armrest, looking at his with tongue in cheek, eyebrows raised.

His expression made you laugh out loud and swipe your hand back over his cheek, thumb tracing the shadows around his eyes.

“Mmmm…grumpy Alfie needs a nap”

“I will fucking shoot you, woman”

“No you fucking won’t” you pushed your hands down on his shoulders to steady yourself and swung yourself round to stand in front of his chair, blocking his view of the ledgers.

“Get up, I’m taking you home”

He slumped back in the chair, dimming eyes staring back at you.

“What? What’s that look?”

“Thank you”

“For what?”

“Looking after me”

“Oh piss off, you sap. Get your fine fucking arse out of that chair before I tie you to the goddamn couch already”

His eyebrows raised at that, a sleepy smirk crawling over his face.

“We’re not fucking over the desk again, I nearly broke a rib last time, I swear to God, Alfie”

“You were fine” He heaved himself out of the chair with a groan, wincing and rubbing both hands over his hair. You flicked the lamp off and pushed away from the desk.

“God, I love such an old man”

“Yeah, yeah” he waved you off as you went over to retrieve his coat from where he’d chucked it on the seat next to the doorway. You could see him storming into the room, probably screaming at some poor lackey, chucking shit all over the place and then complaining to Ollie when he couldn’t find it again.

“It’s my sciatica, ain’t it, always fucking plays up when-“he started mumbling to himself, flicking bits of paper around the desk.

“Your keys are here, love” you dangled them over your finger, leaning against the doorframe, and waited for him to amble over to you. He retrieved them with a scowl, fitting them in the lock before taking his coat from you.

“And if you slept in a proper bed once in a while, your back might be a little better”

“I’m going aren’t I, yeah, do you see me leaving the office?”

“I see you”

He closed up the office, tugged his coat on, realised he’d left his hat and cane, unlocked the office, locked it again and then swung his arm around you. You stumbled off into the shadows together, and you realised as you went that you were making a slow march towards the light at the end of a fucking tunnel.

“How d’ya get here? If you were walking round the city by yourself-“

“I got my bodyguard to drive me, given that I have one of them now”

“I like knowing you’re safe”

The sharp ring of his cane against the damp floor punctuated the journey the rest of the way as you climbed up into the dawn together. By the time you made it up, the sky was tinging pinker and a few people were dotted around, shifting shapes in the distance, rising as you fell. You leaned further into Alfie’s side and savoured the warmth of him, lips pressed against your temple.

Once your guard/chauffeur came into sight he pulled away a little, releasing you enough for you to climb into the car, hand swatting lazily at your bum as you bent into the seat.

“I’m having you over that desk again”

“Alfie!”

“What?” his goddamn smirk as he crawled in after you, slouching back against the seat, half out of it already. The guard kept his head down and set off, driving you closer and closer to the big bed with the silky sheets and hopefully a few days of bloody peace.

You leant back against his shoulder, hand scratching at eyes as the growing sun stung at them, before you whispered.

“Only if I get to tie you to that bloody couch”

#peaky blinders #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders fic #alfie solomons #|writing

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sceawere · 8 years

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ar maidin | alfie solomons

Built around my headcanon that Alfie never goddamn sleeps, someone save this man and bring him some warm milk and a blanket already.

Camden didn’t seem to have a cycle to the day and night so much as it had disorienting, sudden switch-overs. There was the bustle of work in the day, the burst of fun in the evening, the outright chaos of the night. There was never really a lull, except a clear hour before the dawn when everything seemed to stop. Too late for revellers, too early for workers, peace found a home here, nestled up to the buildings and slumbered.

You should have been slumbering too, wrapped up in the outrageously expensive sheets Alfie insisted on but never actually seemed to sleep in. Yet here you were, heels clacking down the damp steps of an illegal distillery.

The ‘bakery’ was near pitch black underneath, the lamps off or burnt out. The light coming from the office tucked against the back wall threw everything into relief and made you squint, hands coming to rub tired eyes. Why couldn’t you just love some normal boring office boy? A gasp of a laugh came from you at the thought and only grew when you saw Ollie tucked up in a huddle outside the office.

“Ollie”

Another.

“Ollie!”

He jumped awake, hand swinging out to grab a weapon that wasn’t there.

“It’s just me”

A sleepy grumble, hands trailing over eyes.

“What time is it?”

“God knows, late…early. Get yourself off home, I’ll get someone in to cover you tomorrow. Today. Fuck it, I dunno, just go”

“No, I’ll go when Alfie does”

“Awww, Ollie, that’s sweet. Now piss off. Seriously. Get gone”

The office was warm and bright in comparison to the warehouse, almost cosy in its close air and dimmed lamps scattered around like stars in a constellation.

“Alfie”

He was studying multiple ledgers, scratching away at columns and numbers, a jumble only he could decipher.

“Alfie-“

“Ollie!” he bellowed off into the darkness and you felt almost hungover in your drowsy state, the noise rattling around your skull.

“I sent him home”

His brow furrowed for a moment, continuing away at his scratch, before his hand stilled and he looked up at you.

“You did what?”

“He was sleeping outside the door like a bloody puppy, Alfie. It’s ain’t right”

“He was where I needed him”

“Alfie, when’s the last time you slept?”

He pulled his face into an expression that read ‘stupid fucking question’ and went back to scratching at numbers.

“Right, get up”

You set about turning the lamps off, lowering the light in the room until only his desk lamp was illuminated.

“The fuck you think you’re doing, darlin’?”

“I’m fine, I am, sweetie, I promise”

“You haven’t been back to the house in 2 days, napping in your chair for 20 minutes in between threatening people isn’t healthy, Alfie”

You perched yourself on the armrest of his chair, bringing your arms around him and leaning your forehead against the side of his head.

“I miss you”

He sighed, bringing one hand up to wrap around your forearm, his rings glinting in the low light.

“I need to get these books done”

“You have a fucking accountant for that. I know, I sort out his pay stubs”

“I like doing ‘em myself, I like-“

“Being a bloody control freak, I know” you pressed a kiss to his cheek, his scruff scratching against your chin.

“Careful”

“Or what, you’ll spank me? I’d be surprised if you had the energy”

You felt him smile against you as you nuzzled your nose into his cheek.

“Although, if you were to come home, we have this giant bed…”

He grunted at your teasing tone and you trailed your hand up the side of his neck. His hand clenched around your arm and you thought for a second he might try to pull you into his lap.

“That we could just…conk the fuck out in. I mean, honestly just, be unconscious for days”

You pulled yourself back to sit straight on the armrest, looking at him with tongue in cheek, eyebrows raised.

His expression made you laugh out loud and swipe your hand back over his cheek, thumb tracing the shadows around his eyes.

“Mmmm…grumpy Alfie needs a nap”

“I will fucking shoot you, woman”

“No you fucking won’t” you pushed your hands down on his shoulders to steady yourself and swung yourself round to stand in front of his chair, blocking his view of the ledgers.

“Get up, I’m taking you home”

He slumped back in the chair, dimming eyes staring back at you.

“What? What’s that look?”

“Thank you”

“For what?”

“Looking after me”

“Oh piss off, you sap. Get your fine fucking arse out of that chair before I tie you to the goddamn couch already”

His eyebrows raised at that, a sleepy smirk crawling over his face.

“We’re not fucking over the desk again, I nearly broke a rib last time, I swear to God, Alfie”

“You were fine” He heaved himself out of the chair with a groan, wincing and rubbing both hands over his hair. You flicked the lamp off and pushed away from the desk.

“God, I love such an old man”

“It’s my sciatica, ain’t it, always fucking plays up when-“he started mumbling to himself, flicking bits of paper around the desk.

“And if you slept in a proper bed once in a while, your back might be a little better”

“I’m going aren’t I, yeah, do you see me leaving the office?”

“I see you”

“How d’ya get here? If you were walking round the city by yourself-“

“I got my bodyguard to drive me, given that I have one of them now”

“I like knowing you’re safe”

Once your guard/chauffeur came into sight he pulled away a little, releasing you enough for you to climb into the car, hand swatting lazily at your bum as you bent into the seat.

“I’m having you over that desk again”

“Alfie!” You swung round to face him, eyes flicking between the driver and him.

You leant back against his shoulder, hand scratching at eyes as the growing sun stung at them, before you whispered.

“Only if I get to tie you to that bloody couch”

#peaky blinders #alfie solomons #imagine #peaky blinders imagine #|writing #*shrugs* ya know

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jellybean-daydreams · 7 years

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Womb to world

Explanatory Paragraph My mum is a great mother to my older sister and I. She had three other siblings and wanted her children to also have many siblings. When my sister was born she developed a mental disability that caused her to stay at the mental age of five. My mum blamed herself for not giving birth to my older sister better and causing my sister’s sufferings. She also pities me for not having a ‘real’ older sister or someone that I am able to look up to and be friends with. Ever since having me she has tried many times to fulfil her dream of having many children and so that I wouldn’t be ‘alone’. In order to write this piece I interviewed her a few times and translated what she had said since she’s not a confident English speaker. I’ve also consulted various pregnancy websites in order to properly document the progression of a foetus. The piece is dedicated to my mum and my lost siblings. First trimester: Weeks one to twelve At six weeks the embryo develops a brain and spinal cord. A heart begins to grow. Arm and leg buds are visible. Its eyes and nose are forming. It is about five or six millimetres. It looks like a tadpole. Dusty dirt roads twist and turn, tracing the veins of the Cambodian countryside. The roads are yellow sand sprinkled with small stones, pebbles and trash. Follow a particular road and it will lead you to a small town with rows and rows of dilapidated straw houses. Keep going and you’ll find a well. Take a few steps back and you’ll notice a cosy little home. It’s a hut really, with wooden flooring, bamboo thatched walls and a cheap roof. Inside you’ll find two shy newlyweds. Together they run a small illegal lottery. The year is 1990, she is twenty-three and pregnant. It is her first pregnancy, she is so excited, ecstatic even. She doesn’t mind the morning sickness whenever anything sweet or aromatic wafts her way. And takes care with her every movement. They’ve run away from the city to live happily ever after in the countryside, away from judgemental eyes. It is a classic romance story where the boy is from a middle-class family and girl is country-side poor doing her best to swat off poverty. He falls for her deep brown eyes and cascade of black hair. She likes his boyish grin and his shy attempts at chivalry and romance. His mother disproves of the girl. ‘You can do better than her. Look at her skin, it’s a disgusting tan. She has no money, what can she do? She is nothing, let her go and you will love again’ she says. She is six weeks into her pregnancy. In six brief weeks, she was ready to love her baby, a minuscule dot. A dot that was erased and suddenly gone. Her husband doesn’t show much emotion. He looks like he doesn’t care, but he wasn’t ever an expressive man. During the pregnancy the reality of a future son or daughter hadn’t settled on him. She is horror-stricken. The feeling of loss will envelope her and for months she will be in a deep void of sadness and despair. Release. There is a brief window, an opening where she is able to escape her pain. She has started to busy herself with work, trying to forget about her past sadness. She starts to clean the house rigorously. The taste of food returns to her as she cooks with a new found strength. She does whatever she can to stop thinking about it. Her mind on every and any other task and eventually she is better. But she doesn’t forget. A miscarriage is when a foetus is spontaneously or is unexpectedly expelled from the womb before it has developed enough to survive on its own. They are more common during the first few weeks of pregnancy. Almost one in five women, who are knowingly pregnant will have a miscarriage before their pregnancy reaches twenty weeks, after twenty weeks it is termed a stillbirth. Week twelve At twelve weeks the foetus will start to move by stretching, kicking and twisting. Its bone marrow starts to produce its own white blood cells. Its pituitary gland makes its own hormones. The foetus’s placenta is filtering oxygen and nutrients to assist in its growth. It is around five to six centimetres and can suck its thumb. Across the equator past a sea and a few countries, there is the island country of Australia. Keep heading downwards south easterly and there’s Melbourne. In one of its suburbs in Springvale is a cemetery. Tread lightly to find a gravestone that marks the death of an unborn foetus. This foetus would have been her sister-in-law’s future daughter. Unlike her own loss, this foetus at twelve weeks would have had hands and feet. It would have had shape. It would have been a person. A ritual prayer and small ceremony was made to honour the foetus. It is performed in the hopes that in the next reincarnation it would be reborn again and come to a full term. It is performed in the hopes that it will not leave half-way. So that it will not leave the mother. So it will stay. It is believed that it will take many reincarnations for a mother and her lost child to be reborn as mother and child again. In a lifetime a person will have to perform many good tasks for good karma. How many life-times exactly is unknown but there is a strong belief that mother and child will eventually be together. In Cambodian culture miscarriages are not talked of. They are tragedies that are respectfully left silent, for if they are talked about then neither the mother nor child can move on. Vegetables and etiquette There is an old wives tale in Cambodia, that says that if you crave sweet things when you are pregnant than you will have a girl. An angel would have descended from heaven and taken form as your future daughter, the angels in heaven only eat sweet things. In their small village out in the country, word travels fast. Grandmothers, mothers and aunties all share their words of wisdom to the new couple. They tell the couple, ‘don’t chop your vegetables the wrong way’. If you’re cutting a cucumber you should chop it from the top to the bottom that way when you give birth it will be easier. They say a pregnant woman should always sit in a respectful manner, keeping her legs together at all times. She shouldn’t open or close things half-way, that if she were to open or close a door she should do it all the way. She should not sit in doorways or at the bottoms of stairs, or she would be blocking the exit for her baby and have a difficult birth. The couple listen to the advice and follow it to the dot. She is especially obedient having already miscarried. Along with her husband she goes to the village fortune teller to see whether her child will be a girl or boy. The fortune teller is a revered elder of the village. He is renowned for his ability to communicate with the spirits and see beyond. He says that she will have a son. Third Trimester: Weeks twenty-nine to forty At forty weeks the baby is perfectly folded up and is ready to come out. The baby will weigh around 1.4 kilograms. The baby will move the most during this time. Its lungs will develop further, the bronchioles and alveoli increasing. The uterus is very cramped. In the dirty desolate countryside doctors are an uncommon sight. Even rarer if you are poor. She worries about her baby still, she’s heard stories of how other women have pregnancies where their babies face the wrong way sometime in the fifth or sixth month. She’s heard that sometimes babies are born feet first, where the mother and baby both die. In the absence of a doctor there are midwives, ឆ្មប: ‘yey mawp‘, directly translated as ‘old lady who assists in birth’. She’s heard that there are unskilled midwives, who push up and down on the mother’s belly too much killing the baby. She hopes with all her heart that her midwife is skilled, that she will not lose another. Her midwife’s first instruction is that she should pick a fallen gourd bud and stew it to drink before the birth. The midwife says, ‘the drink will help the baby come just as easily as the bud fell to the ground’. The next instruction is that she should pick flowers from the Bodhi tree. It is said that Buddha’s mother had given birth to Buddha underneath the Bodhi tree. Queen Maya was travelling to Devadaha her childhood home way to give birth to her son. Along the way her procession passed Lumbini Grove, which was filled with blossoming trees. Entranced the Queen asked her courtiers to stop, so that she may leave her palanquin and enter the grove. As she reached up to touch the blossoms, her son was born. That is why women believe that if they eat the Bodhi’s flower they too will have easy births. On the 13th of January of 1993, she endured the long and difficult birth of her first daughter. The long birth caused a swelling on top of her baby’s head, a sack of water that would not deflate and disappear for many weeks. Her baby would sleep for most of the time and was rarely hungry. She would later find out that there was something wrong with her baby. Second Trimester: Weeks Thirteen to Twenty-eight At twenty-eight weeks, the baby’s muscles will develop more. It will spend more time holding to its umbilical cord and sucking its thumb. It will also hiccup or practise its grasping reflex. The baby has fingernails and is about the size of a small doll. Sometime in April three years later she is on a plane with her family of three. Her hair has been cut short to just below her ears and she is secretly pregnant. It feels like a boy. The baby kicks so strongly that sometimes it wakes her up in her sleep. Her morning sickness isn’t as bad either. It is the first time she will be on a plane and she is afraid, but she will be bound for Australia where life will be better. The plane lands and she is safe. The first few years of her Australian life will be lived with her brother and sister-in-law. She has hidden her pregnancy well, disguised herself in loose clothing to hide her form. It is not until she is changing that her sister-in-law notices ‘Sister you aren’t pregnant are you?’ Just a little over five months into her pregnancy and her in-laws are astounded. It is as though the baby had snuck onto the plane in the womb, her brother-in-law jokes. There are fortnightly visits to the doctor, regular tests and check-ups to track the health of mother and baby. In an ultrasound it will be the first time that she will see her baby. The outline of the baby is so beautiful and adorable to her all of her fears that she will lose the baby have vanished. She will have a daughter. Third miscarriage Miscarriages happen when a foetus hasn’t developed properly. They are more common in older women since the chance of a chromosomal abnormality increases with age. She is thirty-seven and a proud mother of two daughters. Her eldest is thirteen but has the mental capacity of a five-year-old, a delayed cognitive mental disability she suspects occurred due to the difficult birth. Her youngest is ten and perfectly healthy. She pities her youngest since she feels she’s failed by not giving her a ‘real’ older sibling. She wants her children to enjoy the company of each other, like herself and her three siblings or her husband and his thirteen. ‘Baby guess what?’ she exclaims to her youngest. ‘What?’ ‘I’m pregnant!’ ‘How do you know?’ ‘I had a dream. I was standing outside and staring up at the sky. And then an angel came down and gave me the moon. The moon became my baby. I woke up and I knew I was pregnant.’ ‘An angel gave you the moon and that’s how you get babies?’ her daughter curiously asks. ‘Yes.’ At the ultrasound, she is excited to see the face of her next baby. But there is something wrong. Her baby doesn’t have a neck or much of anything else. It is just an egg. A few weeks later she will lose her foetus. In Cambodian culture after each birth or miscarriage each woman must undergo a week-long traditional spa treatment to restore her body. She should boil a massive pot of specific herbs and spices, then sit with her torso or most of her body above it cloaked in a towel to soak in the steam. In the pot she should there are a number of ingredients. Boiled leaves, roots, branches of a Kaffir Lime. A green lime or fruit that is bumpy or wrinkled, typically found in south East Asia with a distinctive double leaf. មើមព្រង់ល: ‘merm pro-lie’ a prong tuber similar to ginger but with a yellow inside. Lemon grass, salt and alum salts. Once or twice a day the woman should undergo the steam treatment for the duration of an entire week. After the steam, she will not shower but wear thick clothes and sit in a warm room to rub a mixture of white wine and the crushed tuber from earlier onto her skin. The entire process is to restore the woman’s body to its youth so that her skin becomes tighter and stays youthful for longer. Alongside the process the woman should not have sex for three months or sickness will befall her. Fourth miscarriage: the last and final A recurrent miscarriage is when a woman experiences three or more miscarriages in a row. It occurs in one in every one hundred women trying to conceive. Each miscarriage increases the chance of another miscarriage. It is 2009 and she’s about six or seven weeks pregnant. She’s taken great care with this pregnancy, just like every other pregnancy. This time, she hopes she’ll be fine although she might be slightly complacent. It feels like it might be a boy, but if she were to have another girl she wouldn’t mind either. The elders would say that having three daughters is like having ‘three roses’. That night she dreams, she dreams about her unborn baby. She’s nursing the naked baby and he’s beautiful, with a light pale skin tone and long pale limbs. He’s the most beautiful child she would have. Suddenly he stops nursing, gets up from her lap and walks away. He walks away with his back towards her, not once turning back. She calls for him but he doesn’t seem to hear. “Come back my child! Come back, come back!” He just keeps walking, away. She wakes up and she’s scared. A few days after her dream she is lying on her bed watching TV, her nightly ritual before bed time. There is a pain in her lower abdomen. Something similar to an intense stomach ache. A visit to the toilet and all looks fine. When she returns to bed the pain hasn’t disappeared. It hurts, much worse than before, excruciating even. It is a struggle to reach the toilet again, as she claws at the walls grasping at nothing. There is blood. She isn’t worried though. It is common that mothers who have had children before have a little bit of blood in her later births. It is a small amount of blood or ‘spotting’, similar to the remnants of the last period. She sits on the toilet in pain and agony, tears stream down her face. There is something wrong. The pain intensifies and spreads. Then there is no more. Something has fallen and with it, faith and her hope in the child have fallen as well. It is a long wait at Dandenong hospital before she even gets to see her doctor. She has been there overnight with an IV drip and no food. There are few doctors in the hospital since they have all been reassigned to help with the great bushfire that started just a few days before her accident. She is weak from her ordeal. When her family comes to visit she puts on a brave face although the pain and weakness are still etched in her face. Her movements are slow and lethargic, there is a frailty to her. Her doctor makes a brief appearance and is gone before her family can ask any questions. But he is followed by a nurse who stays for much longer. Her youngest daughter is eager to ask the nurse why there was a miscarriage. The nurse doesn’t have the answers. She isn’t the doctor. So instead she has a generic reply. ‘Sometimes these things happen. Sometimes it looks good and then all of a sudden it goes bad.’ The days that were Her husband listens to the radio in the dining room while her daughters either watch TV or searching the fridge for snacks. She is close to fifty and nearing her final years of fertility. Her period is a few weeks late. ‘My period is late, I wonder if I might be pregnant!’ she exclaims to her husband. He scoffs. ‘I could still have a baby, you never know.’ she says ever hopeful. Her period would come and she would reminisce about her babies. The ones that stayed and the ones that went.

#mothersday

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misshowel-blog · 8 years

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The Blue Wolf - Chapter 3

A Grey Vixen

It was a chill night for downtown Zootopia. The normally mellow nightly weather had given way for a brisk breeze sent by the cloudless night sky. There were no stars up in that vast void, none that could be seen anyway. The city's own ever changing rainbow of lights swallowed those little flickering bodies of star shine. Nick had popped the collar of his thick, cosy jacket in an attempt to keep the crisp wind from slithering down his spine. His hands were buried in his pockets, ears low, shoulders high up and relatively tense. From a passerby point of view, he simply looked keen to avoid the cold. Huddled and hurrying to get home. Perhaps to kick his paws up. Watch a show. Have a beer. Scratch an itch.. For Nick however, those tense shoulders weren't the symptom of the breeze nipping at him as he shuffled down the street. They were caused by a horde of thoughts thundering through his mind. Of a thousand troubles weighing him down. Of one little bunny's fate, resting on his shoulders.

Needing an escape, his eyes found their way to the darkness above. That jet black ceiling of a sky. The endless nothingness seemed so solid, as though one could touch it and feel how heavy it was. That sky had seen millions of years pass. It was a thought daunting enough to give him a fair amount of pause; definitely enough to make him stop trudging through town. Drawing a slow, deep breath, he could feel the chill air fill his lungs. He needed to sort this out. He'd jumped - or rather stumbled over - the first hurdle. No doubt there would be reservations and doubts from the ZPD. He'd stretched it out time-wise. He'd gotten progressively worse to be around and work with over the course of roughly a week. It had been draining enough that he'd not done much else but sleep when he got home. Mostly nightmares. Some good dreams though. Enough to keep him going. That's what he had to do, no? It was done, he was out of the ZPD. No one outside of the ZPD would know he and Judy are friends. Were friends? No, are. Are friends. Despite everything.. Or because of everything. Or everything, is because they're friends. A sigh followed a quick grunt as he continued down the street. He had to get his act together. He needed to get to Alexei. From what he'd heard in the past and from what he'd gathered on his own now, there was no doubt that the wolf in question had his fingers in enough criminality to warrant putting him away for life. That was a given. However, the trouble was that Alexei had 'friends' in just the right places. Circumstantial evidence, witness reports, hearsay - it never stuck. That wolf was no courtroom virgin, he'd been on the stand plenty; and he'd always walked away a free mammal. However, no amount of judge friends could keep a criminal on the street who has been caught red-handed. Who can be proven, without the shadow of a doubt, to be a criminal. Video and audio was the way to go. If he could just somehow slip into Alexei's empire - unnoticed - and catch him on tape doing or saying something that proves how much of a criminal he is.. A small twitch of a smile ghosted over his lips. Taking down a notorious criminal on his own was absolutely terrifying; yet sort of exciting. He could enjoy it, if it hadn't come with such high stakes. Taking a sharp turn, Nick then pushed a door open to enter a pub. It was a dingy old place. Dimly lit. Dust in the corners. Dodgy guests. The atmosphere was heavy with aggressive tension, cigarette smoke and dark chatter. His eyes stung slightly as he moved about in the somewhat toxic air, sneaking past tables and slipping through crowds. Finding a small empty table in the corner, he took a seat and put up shop. Good old game swindling. It was second nature to him. These pebbles, these cards, they bent to his will. It was the most lucrative form of magic. The trick was to let them win, just a little. No one likes an unbeatable game after all. They have to decide to play again, you can't force them. Confidence is key. Generosity is rewarded with answers. Every night, Nick went to different places to hustle and ask questions. He'd laugh with them, comfort them, offer them drinks and advice. In return, he got answers. Just not the right ones. Sure, he got snippets of general information about places where general illegal dealings went on, and that's what happens when you have to ask fairly open and wide questions. Too straight forward and the wrong mammals find out, guaranteed. It was slow, tedious work. Occasionally his mind would drift off and wonder what Judy was up to. It usually didn't last long, as the thought was tainted by shame of how he'd treated her. He needed to move on. He needed answers. The fourth night rolled in and Nick found himself in the corner of a rather large and busy bar. It was fairly well-kept for this part of town. These neighbourhoods weren't the nice ones. Barely half decent. Here criminals bled out in the gutter and muggings were simply a part of life. This pub was in slum territory. The other places he'd been to hadn't exactly been fine-dining, but this had an entirely different air about it. There was suspicion everywhere. Vixens and lionesses served drinks and flirted with the customers. Money changed hands without drinks being involved. Eyes everywhere. Ears everywhere. However, he had to endure. They didn't know him. Hopefully. "Hey there young lady, fancy a game?" Nick asks cheerfully, gesturing towards a small grey vixen with a sour look. She'd been observing him the past three games with customers. Him, not the games. That was key. He'd take any lead by now; once this was over, he never wanted to see his old bag of swindlers' games again. "Come now, don't be shy. I don't bite." There was a tease in his voice and he could see her roll her eyes. At least she got up from her seat, that's something. It was a fairly grim looking vixen. Ripped jeans, white top and black leather vest with a popped collar. Not at all like the other vixen in the place who were quite dolled up and presented as eye-candy for drooling males. She took a seat by the table, firmly folding her arms on it. She was a tad short for the chair she was sitting on, but somehow he felt like he really shouldn't comment on that. "What's your bet?" "Fiver." If he wasn't absolutely sure he'd never seen her before, he couldn't sworn she had a grudge or something against him with that cold, piercing look she was giving him. There was even a hint of a crinkle over the ridge of her nose. Contempt? Disgust? He couldn't tell. Maybe it was simply her resting expression. The vixen had shifted to place a crumpled and slightly torn fiver on the desk. Nick resisted a chuckle and instead drew a breath. "Hookay, a fiver it is!" Nick moved to place the cups on the table, presenting a pebble. "Keep an eye on this little bugger," Nick tapped the pebble with a cheeky smile. "And you'll earn yourself ten bucks." His hands moved quick as a breeze, eyes locked on his customer. There was no need to look at the cups, he'd done this so many times before, it was all muscle-memory. The customers were always too busy trying to keep track of that one cup that they simply couldn't notice the pebble switching cups, or disappearing completely. "So," He started as he'd finally set the shuffling cups down, presenting them to her. "Which one will it be?" The wide smile vanished in the blink of an eye as the vixen help up two fingers, the pebble lodged between them, and a quite intensely irritated look in her lime eyes. "I don't like it when folks try to trick me." Putting the pebble down on the wooden surface of the table, she flicked a finger into it, skipping it over to Nick, over the edge and onto his lap before leaning in ever so slightly, her voice hushed. "And there's a lot bigger canines out there, who like it even less." Sliding off her chair, the small vixen headed out the door, her bushy tail swaying from side to side. Nick watched her leave, his ear twitching at the sound of the bell at the door jingling as she stepped outside. His eyes followed her through the window, ears perked, and it was only when he almost tumbled off his seat that he leapt down, pulled on his jacket and headed out the door, not bothering to gather up neither the fiver nor his swindlers' bag. Outside the air was brisk and the wind rather strong. Squinting against the wind as headed down the street, he wore his ears flat against his head. She took a turn. Slithering around the same corner, he only just caught glimpse of her hand in a passerby's pocket. Another turn. Rounding the corner, he froze for a moment. Gone. Rushing to the next alley, he peered down it, relieved to see that bushy tail slip around another corner. His paws barely made any noise as he quickly made his way down the alley, keeping up with her while keeping out of sight. Even as she entered a 24-hours grocery store, he kept up. If he hadn't been so focused on keeping his eyes on her, he probably would have felt silly, ducking under stacks of bananas and hiding behind shelves of canned foods. She hadn't noticed him yet. Good. The vixen was helping herself to all sorts of food - amazing what she could fit in that vest of hers. Outside again. He could feel his eyelid twitch as she screeched a claw against the side of a car while sipping her stolen juice. Not a care in the world. It didn't seem as though she had a plan with where she was going. Neither did he, really. It was just that phrase. Bigger canines. What did she know? Did she know anything? Was it a warning or a threat? He had to know. Picking up his pace, it was getting more difficult to keep up. She'd practically race down the street, swiftly diving into alleyways. Nick is forced to run in order to keep up. In and out of view. Sudden turns. Climbing over fenced off alleyways. Narrow streets. As he was just about to climb another fence, his chest heaving from the strenuous chase, he's stopped dead in his tracks as a figure thumps down in front of him. He could feel a pressure and tug around his neck as he's forcefully yanked down, finding himself eye-to-very-much-angrier-eye with the grey little vixen. A low rumbling growl echoed in the narrow alley and he could feel a sharp claw up against the soft underside of his jaw. Nicks' hands instinctively went up to the typical 'I surrender' stance, eyes wide as he stared at the angry fox. "Keep followin' me and we'll both find out if I can jam my finger straight up through here into your mouth." A silence fell, as if she was waiting for a response. Her ears were pulled back, her tail twitching irritably. "What the hell are you followin' me 'round for? Speak!" As much as it was tempting to simply pull out an easy-to-reach sly comment, he had to play this smart. Letting out an almost unimpressed snort, he gave her as stern a look he could muster. "You probably want to put that finger down, miss. I'm an undercover police officer, and I've got plenty of evidence to put you behind bars if I feel like it." The vixen frowned in an irritated, yet confused kind of disbelief as she let go of him and all but pushed him away from her. "There's no fucking way." Crossing her arms over her chest, she shifted her weight onto one paw. "Proof. Now." There was a soft patting heard from her tapping her paw against the concrete below. Nick huffed a bit as if insulted that she wouldn't believe him. He opened his jacket just enough to slip a hand into the inner pocket, fishing up and holding out his badge for her to see. He'd kept it as a keepsake of sorts. Probably against the rules, but what did he care. Dishonorable discharge and all.. Not officially, but, still. Officially it was just a normal discharge. A good, old, normal 'you're fired'. "Happy now? I am a cop." He put the badge away again, zipping the inner pocket closed. Better safe than sorry, he didn't want to lose it. It seemed to convince her well enough. "Alright. So, what do you want. To, you know, not feel like putting be behind bars." Even if it was slight, she'd relaxed a bit. A cop was just a cop after all, and not a crazy stalker or murderer. Not that she'd ever had a stalker, but still. She'd heard enough stories to last a lifetime. "How about your name." It just slipped out. That, was not his priority. Perhaps that was just his mouth telling his brain he found it a hassle to refer to her as 'the angry grey vixen' in his mind. "Abigail." She raised an eyebrow at Nick, looking quite indifferent. What was even a cop doing out here, and why was an undercover one bothering with her? Perhaps all her endeavours had started catching the wrong kind of attention... Which was any.

"Nick. Nice to meet you, Abigail." All he got for that was a look that said she thought the exact opposite. Well, she had been the one to stare at him for half an hour, so it was basically her own fault she was there with him right now. "You said something about bigger canines." Nick observed her closely, his tone a bit more serious. "Were you threatening me?" Watching her with narrow eyes and slicked back ears, his tail swept along the concrete and gravel of the alley. Abigail shook her head with a roll of her eyes, a light snort leaving her. "No you idiot. I was warning you." A quick shrug. "Ya know, fox to fox." She didn't look at him as she spoke, instead she was strangely focused on a graffiti tag on one of the walls. Nick threw a glance at the tag on the wall before turning his focus back to her again. "Do you know Alexei Volkov?" He took a small step towards her, almost looming over the smaller fox. "It is, very important that I find him." There was a darkness in his voice even he wasn't used to. In the moment, it felt like he could do anything to pry information from this mammal. If she withheld information, she was an obstacle he needed to clear. "What, know him?" Abigail seemed appalled by the thought. "He's a fucking maniac! I don't run with that. And I sure as hell ain't a snitch." She moved to walk past the other fox, only to have him step into her way. Sending a glare up at him, she snorted. "I don't, know him. Now get out of my way." "But you know of him. And only someone involved can be a snitch!" By now Nick was holding out his arms to keep her from walking past him. "You know, we have really tiny jail cells over at the ZPD. I think you'd fit pretty snugly." There was no amusement in his voice as he spoke through a snarl, not caring that she gave him a deadly glare. That struck a nerve, apparently.

"Look." She crossed her arms over her chest again, a disgruntled look on her face. "I met him once or twice. Happened to be nearby, sort of. He's a real piece of work." Her arms slipped down, her hands burying themselves in the pockets of her vest. It was getting a bit cold - this getup wasn't especially warm. "He was chattin' 'bout how he was moving to Zootopia, how it was a viable market, or target, or whatever. Probably both." Abigail crossed her arms again, not able to decide which position was warmer. "Owns a couple of shady businesses. That's it. That's all I know, alright?" Nick seemed as though he didn't know if he ought to be squealing with joy for his first real lead, or terrified over the fact he's just found his first real lead. It was a bit conflicting, and it showed on his face. Snapping himself out of a whirlpool of worry and excitement, he looked down at Abigail again. "Where is he?" There was urgency in his voice. "Where, is he? Where is his business? What is he doing? I need more information!" Met with silence, a quiet snarl left him. "We have mouse-sized cells and I swear to all that is holy that I will cram you into one!" "Easy chief! Easy!" Abigail's hands had gone up in surrender, her sour expression exchanged for a more uneasy one. She didn't like being trapped, and the thought of a mouse-sized jail cell was enough to make her queasy. "I, know a guy. I do some work for him. He oughta know more." Once the other fox had relaxed, she felt enough at ease to light herself a cigarette. This was too much stress for one evening. Even heists were more relaxing than this bloody circus. Taking a drag, she sighed out the smoke through her nose. "But you ain't getting no information for free. You gotta work for it." Looking him over closely, she then raised an eyebrow with the tiniest hint of a smirk. "Also, you can't go 'round as Nick bloody Wilde, the only fox cop in town. You need a new identity. And a new outfit." Nick frowned as he looked down at himself, stroking down his jacket, shirt and tie. "I suppose I am a bit recognisable." He buttoned up his jacket. "New clothes it is. As for the identity.." He thought about it, scratching the back of his head before perking up with a smile. "How about Luke Pawton?"

#Zootopia fanfiction #zootopia #the blue wolf #fanfiction #nick wilde #judy hopps #abigail gray

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