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atzfilm · 2 years

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clair de lune (m) - part three

genre; yandere, vampire!au, reincarnation! au angst, smut

pairing; ot8/f.reader (wooyoung/jongho/yunho focused this chapter)

word count: 17.9k

summary; you’ve finally gotten the chance to enter “clair de lune”, a infamous night club to see the band hiraeth. but why did you feel like their eyes only watched you?

note: this first deals with the subject of yandere. with that being said, a lot of the things happening in this fiction will be manipulation, gaslighting, and various other techniques displayed by the characters. if you are not comfortable with that, please do not read. warnings under cut

please don't reblog with harsh criticism!! not needed or wanted ♡

part two | part four

warnings; manipulation, explicit scenes, murder, blood (bloodplay, drinking blood), death mentions, cussing, gaslighting, age gap, injuries, dark subjects, emotional manipulation, lying, wounds, gunshot/wound, anxiety, smut: fingering, oral sex (f.receiving), unprotected sex, no aftercare

Chapter Three:

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” he whispers against your lips, kissing the curve of your chin.

“It’s not right,” you respond back. He pulls you off the counter, your legs wrapping around his waist. “Should we stop?” You say through a breath, the grip his arms on you only making you more aroused. His arms only squeeze you tighter, a low moan spilling out of you.

“Fuck no.”

Yeosang’s lips run along your neck, pressing lightly against your skin. His fingers dig into your back as he guides the two of you down the hallway with ease. Neither of you think about someone stumbling into the hallway and seeing you, too occupied with one another. Before you know it you’re in his room. He lets you fall to his bed, holding himself above you. His lips are red, gaze roaming over you. Taking you in. He rests his knee on the bed as he touches your cheek, fingers still trembling. You cover his hand with yours, his eyes widening briefly. You lean forward to finally press your lips against his but he pulls back, shaking his head.

“I’ll taste like blood.”

“I don’t mind, Yeosang. I just want to kiss you,” you murmur.

He laughs in disbelief, running his fingers through his hair. “You’re going to drive me mad, pretty.” He presses his lips against yours, persuaded within an instant. You expected them to be cold, chilling. But it’s oddly warm, soft against yours. His tongue drags along your lips, hand slowly sliding beneath your shirt. He stiffens when he feels your fingers tug his hips, pulling him closer.

“Pretty,” his voice is frantic, hands everywhere on you. “You don’t need to do this-“

“Your hands aren’t dissuading me at all,” you grin against his mouth. He pulls back slightly to look at you. His eyes stay on yours. As if he’s looking for a drop in your expression, something that’ll make him stop. But you only stare up at him, chest rising and falling quickly, cheeks warm. “I want you, Yeosang. Why are you trying to find something wrong?”

“I…” his irises shake, hand trembling as it touches yours. You fold your fingers into his, humming in acknowledgment. “I don’t want to hurt you. And I don’t want to ruin anything that we have right now. I care too much about you to muddle our relationship.”

“Well,” you rest your eyes on him, trying to make him see that you’re fine. To somehow calm him down from his worries. “I do want you in any way that I can have you. When you broke the counter that was kind of hot,” you admit, moving your eyes away for a moment. “Makes me wonder a bit about my morals.”

His laugh breaks the tension, head resting against the curve of your neck. “You’re silly.”

“I like your laugh,” you add in, and he only groans into your neck in response. “It’s cute.”

He lifts his head at that, eyes narrowed. You can tell it’s mocked annoyance but the grin that threatens to break through the facade. “I’m not supposed to be cute to you, pretty,” He punctuates his sentence with a hard thrust into your hips. Your breath hitches as you feel his hard on through his pants. “Am I cute?”

“I don’t know, ask me again,” you tease. He slowly rocks himself into you, your hands digging into his shirt as he humps against you. “Yeo…”

“Hm?”

His pace does anything but slow down, picking up each time a moan comes from you. His hand slowly tugs on the loop of your pants. You let him lift them off, pajamas thrown somewhere across the room. His lips drag across your skin as he leans over you. His fingers are cold, ghosting against your thighs. He slowly pulls them apart, eyes on yours as he does so. Kisses pressed against your shirt-covered stomach, belly button, thighs. Just above you, until he stops. He closes his eyes, pressing two fingers into you slowly. His tongue drags down your lips, before dipping below, sucking your clit. You throw your head back, the cold making you shiver. He moves his fingers in and out of you. You moan, his eyes flicking back to you in concern. But you smile back, encouraging him.

“You’ve always been pretty,” he mumbles, slipping in a third. The sounds of your moans echo around the room as he pleases you, fingers curling against the familiar patch within you with ease. His plump lips wrap around your clit as you sucks in his fingers with little resistance. Your fingers slide into his hair, tugging it. He stops for a brief moment, groaning into you. The vibrations make you tremble, sucking in a breath.

Just as you’re about to fall over the edge into pleasure, he pulls away from you. The immediate empty feeling makes you whine, lids heavy. Yeosang stands, lifting his shirt. Your eyes flick to his body, seeing very prominent scars scattered across his body. It’d be a matter of concern if you didn’t remember that he was a pirate. He dealt with a lot in his life.

“Can I?” His fingers rub the lining of your shirt, eyes flicking between yours. You nod, and he slips it off slowly. His eyes immediately land on the scar on your chest. You see something strange flick in his expression. Self-consciousness rolls through your body. He meets your eyes, smiling. “You’re pretty.”

“Doesn’t feel like it,” you say softly. Without another word, he slowly leans down, placing a kiss on the hand that covers the scar. “Yeo…”

“You’re pretty, y/n. A mark on your skin isn’t going to change that,” he slowly wraps his arm around your hand, moving it out of the way so he can see it. Without fail, his tongue drags along the mark, a moan falling from your lips. He pecks the end of it, small kisses leading back to your lips. “Always pretty for me.”

You’re not sure when he took off his pants in the middle of the haze. But you can feel how his cock rubs against your leg, precum decorating your thighs. He slowly moves off your body, hand wrapping around his length. It’s a little above average, though it is pretty just like the rest of him. He rubs his thumb across the head, licking his lips slowly as he looks at you.

“Ready for me, pretty?” He tilts his head as he looks at you, slowly stroking his cock.

“You’re beautiful,” You say, smiling up at him. His eyes widen slightly at the compliment, cheeks coated with pink. He matches your grin, leaning down and pressing his lips lightly against yours. “You’re always so pretty for me,” you say. You can feel how his body shakes at the compliment. His cock twitches against your cunt and he groans, pecking the curve of your neck.

“I’ve wanted you for a while,” he whispers, “Right when I saw you in the red room. I’m happy that I finally get to have you.” You try your best to concentrate on his voice, feeling the ridges of him brush lightly against your clit. “Do you want me, pretty?”

“I want you,” you whisper. He slowly lifts himself up, caging you between his arms. “I want you, Yeo.”

Yeosang’s red eyes darken, almost pitch black. He presses himself into you, and you tremble. He continues his slow descent into you, eyes on yours. He presses his lips against yours, trying his best to distract you from the stretch. He shuts his eyes, shoving himself into you in one even stroke. You feel full, clenching your cunt. He lets out a shaky breath, gaze moving to where you’re both connected. You can tell by his expression that he’s holding himself back, swallowing slowly.

“Ease up on me, pretty,” He mumbles, rubbing your arm. You let go of him after a moment, and he lets out a breath, slowly dragging his cock out of you. His eyes look back down, seeing your arousal coating him. Your hands reach up, pushing him against you again. He chuckles slowly, a slow kiss pressed to your temple. “Can’t wait to make love to you.”

Before you can say a word, he sinks back into you. Your soft moans fall off your lips as he moves in and out of you, the rolling of his hips hitting yours with ease. He runs his tongue along your neck, hips not faltering once. You can feel how much he’s pacing himself, the clench of his brows and the strained veins in his neck.

“You can go faster,” You breathe, and he shakes his head.

“I don’t want to go faster, I can hurt you.”

“You won’t hurt me,” you say simply. The words strike him, concern flashing in his eyes. You furrow your brows, reaching up your hand to touch his cheek. “You won’t hurt me, Yeo.”

“I won’t,” he whispers. He leans down, grabbing both of your legs and placing them on his shoulders. His pace quickens, hips becoming bolder as he collides with your cunt, the squelching sounds echoing around the room. Yeosang doesn’t seem to care about how loud he’s being, groaning as he stares at you, filled with him.

“All of this, just for me. No one can ever have you, see you like this,” He whispers. His fingers drip your thighs, lips sucking on your skin. “No one else sees you like this,” He grunts, stroking relentlessly. “You’ll look so beautiful filled with me, smelling like me.”

“Yeo,” His name falling from your lips only encourages him. You struggle through your gasps, and he smirks as drool falls down your cheeks, your eyes moist and head thrown back. “Don’t stop.” His teeth bite your skin lightly. You notice how sharp they are, different from how you see them. Canines almost twice the size they usually are. But he doesn’t puncture the skin, presses his lips to your leg, pace quickening. You hear the strain of the bed, hoping that it doesn’t break.

His muscles strain, veins prominent as he revels in the feeling of you around him. His hips seem to only go faster and faster, cock moving in and out. The slap of his skin against yours echoes around the room, his moans loud. You can feel how hard he is inside of you. If you weren’t so filled with the thought of him, you’d be scared that he’d rip you apart with how fast he’s going. Though you know that he wouldn’t. Yeosang cares too much to do such a thing.

“Pretty,” he whispers, gaze meeting yours. He’s panting, gaze on your neck. “Can I…” he trails off, thinking. “I…”

“Drink from me,” you say simply. He shakes his head through the cloud of arousal, tongue dragging across his pointed teeth. “You won’t hurt me, Yeo. I know you won’t.”

“I…” He meets your gaze, moving between your neck and your lips. “I won’t hurt you.”

“I trust you.”

His chest rises and falls. He keeps up the merciless pace with ease, mouth open as he pants, eyes not leaving yours. The slapping of his balls against you only pushes you closer, the rise of your arousal coming once again. It’s much quicker this time. He seems to sense it without your words, letting your legs fall, pressing himself into you.

“Cum for me,” Yeosang says. He grips your hips as he slams into you, his pumping pace making you see stars. His teeth brush against your throat, and you moan as you reach your high. “I love you.”

The breeze stings your cheeks harshly, the wind tasting of salt as you climb up the steps. You know it isn’t your own body, it’s her, but the feeling is jarring. You stomp loudly on the last step, letting out a brief breath from tiredness and glancing to the side. It’s quite dark, the skies clouded. You dig into the pocket of your vest, a small blade resting between your fingers. It’s warm from your skin, shining from the lanterns that line the bow.

“We told you to rest,” A voice next to you says.

You turn to him, your gaze shifting upwards to meet his eyes. Despite how daring Yunho’s look is, the scarlet shocks you momentarily. You don’t let it show in your gaze though, expression cool. It is still Yunho, you ponder. Even if he has changed. So, you reach up to trace his chin, pulling back promptly when you feel how frigid it is. He furrows his brows at that, taking a step forward. Without pause you take one back, holding a hand up so that he does not follow.

“Are you well, Rose?”

“It is I who should inquire that,” you say, swallowing deeply. “Is this… choice of yours irreparable? Are you unable to be as you once were?”

"Why?

The question is simple. How a one-word answer can hold so much is beyond you. But you can only stare up at him. The feeling of love is oddly mixed with fear, hurt.

Disgust.

"You're not you any longer," you say, voice hushed. As if you were keeping it away from the others. Just between the two of you. Yunho's expression drops as your words settle, flicking between your eyes. You don't dare catch his gaze, knowing that it will only hurt more. "I cannot love you when you are not even alive."

"Look at me."

"No."

"Rose, please look at me."

"Your eyes aren't the same. I can only look at you with terror, Jeong Yunho. And I fear that is the only emotion I will feel until you are well again."

"Rose," His scoff is a bit amused at your wording. You take a sneaking glance at him, watching as he runs his fingers through his locks. You look down just as he looks back at you. "I am well. I won't ever feel better than I do at this very moment. Will you never accept me as I am? Will you never accept the rest of us?"

You know your answer. You know how it will hurt him so, the words that you're about to say. But it will only wound him more if you do not meet his gaze while uttering the confession. So your eyes flick to his, wavering at the color staring back at you.

"I cannot love people who are dead, Yunho. I will mourn you. Mourn who you once were. But I will not stay on this ship longer than I must. The next stop will be my last."

"You... you don't mean that."

You nod solemnly. "A lie has never fallen from these lips."

"You might change your mind. I am sure that you will," His voice is persistent, desperately trying to peel your resolve. "Being together forever can change your mind, you can join us. The others wouldn't hate the thought either. Please think it over."

"Everyone I love is dead, Yunho. And I am not ready to join them in their fate," You're lumping them with your family, all who've perished terrible ends. "And I did not come out here to debate you. I am walking to take a breath, without onlookers."

His fist relaxes as he takes a breath. It's not what he wanted to hear, that you know, but he doesn't try to dig any further. Instead he nods, stepping away from you. You sigh in relief, the beating of your heart slowing down. The admittance of being afraid of him would never be said. But from his fallen expression, sad eyes, you might not even need to say the words. He knows already. It hurts to see how much it affects him, knowing that you'd never touch one of them again. But it is for the better.

Since they will be dead by your blade soon.

You straighten up in bed, shirt damp and body trembling. The strange glimpses of past memories continue to flicker in your head but it isn’t as coherent as your dream. You wipe your sleeve against your face, breaths shaky. She never wanted to be a vampire. That you could feel in your bones. But what changed? What made her switch her ideals, push her reasonings aside? Her decision was so resolute that you don’t doubt it for a moment. So why did she say yes later? Did she actually say yes?

Or was she forced to?

A cold hand touches you and you jump at the change of temperature, eyes moving to Yeosang resting just beside you. His eyes are open now, brows furrowed as he looks at you. He didn’t choose this life either. He wanted to die, to live normally. And he stayed because he wanted the chance to see her, you, again. His fingers tug you slightly, pulling you closer to him. You slowly lie down, letting his chilled arms wrap around you. They cool you down, making the hot room less so.

“Nightmare?” he asks softly, lips brushing your forehead as he speaks.

“Something like that,” you say, closing your eyes as your head rests against his chest. You shiver involuntarily, his arms stiffening. “Don’t pull away,” you add at the end of the sentence, already knowing what he’ll do. “I’m alright.”

“I don’t want you to catch a cold,” he murmurs.

“I won’t.”

There’s silence between you both again. For a second you think that he’s fallen asleep, until one of his hands reaches up, brushing your cheek lightly. You lift your head off him, shifting it to see his face. He still looks concerned, eyes flicking between yours. At this moment, if his eyes weren’t so piercing, you’d think he was normal. Hair messy, bags deep under his eyes. The pretty birthmark that you can’t help but admire.

“What was it that you saw?”

“Yunho,” you start. “She was speaking to Yunho about reversing his condition.”

“And?” It’s odd how easily he can read you, knowing that there’s more you’re not saying.

“And he didn’t give her an answer. He wanted to be that way forever, and he wanted her to join,” you shake your head, blinking quickly. “She wanted to kill you all, Yeo. She loved you, and yet she planned on killing you when she got the chance. I don’t know what to think.”

“Perhaps if she was successful in her plan, we wouldn’t be here any longer,” Yeosang says softly, picking a stray strand of hair off your cheek. “Some of us desire to be this way. The benefits don’t outweigh the cons for me, but the rest think differently. Yunho is one of the few who doesn’t mind living like this for the remainder of existence. I, on the other hand, once I enjoy this last life with you I’ll be leaving permanently.”

He says it so innocently, so simply, that you wonder if you’re hearing it correctly at all.

“You don’t have to keep your visions to yourself, pretty. I’ll be here to help you get through them, alright?” he asks, a soft smile on his lips. “I don’t want you to be burdened with the past without an outlet. The others might be a little hesitant, especially our Hongjoong, but I’m fine with speaking about it. Things happened that we can’t change. We just have to accept it and move on.”

“Then tell me about Hanse,” you say. Yeosang’s smile drops at the name, face hardening. “You all are hiding the past from me. I need to know it so that I can make my own decision on whether I want to speak to them or not.”

“They aren’t good, yn,” he says your name this time. His grip on your cheek is tighter now. It’s not enough to hurt you, but enough to keep you locked on his expression. “Speaking to them will only result in you being hurt. And we’d rather not have that happen.”

“What do you want me to do, then? When I leave here-” You’re looking away, not noticing how his eyes change at your words- “I will need to know how to protect myself. I can’t stay vulnerable and rely on all of you. I have to make the decisions on my own.”

“In due time,” Yeosang whispers. Your gaze moves back to him, his hand softening. He presses his lips against your forehead, “We will all discuss it together before you leave, so that you’re not blindsided by them.”

You sigh in relief, “Thank you.”

Fear crosses his expression once you turn away, tucking yourself into his body.

“You weren’t supposed to,” Wooyoung says, rubbing his elbow. “We talked about it, Yeo, nothing like that was supposed to happen for a while. At least not until she trusts us completely.”

“I don’t see the others walking on their toes around her,” Yeosang takes a sip of coffee, frowning at the taste. “And you expect me just to reject her because of a silly promise that we’ve made together? It happened, Woo. I didn’t think it would, but it did. Move on.”

“She’ll find out we’re lying about so many things, she’ll think you used her,” Wooyoung looks at him with worry. The thought of you staring in horror at what they’ve done doesn’t sit well with him. They want you, but not this way. Not without you knowing everything. Well, mostly everything. “What’s going to happen when she starts remembering things? None of us are good people, Yeo. We did fucked up things when she was with us.”

“We were pirates, we didn’t have morals,” San enters the kitchen, throwing his arm around Wooyoung. He shakes his body, tugging him further beneath his shoulder. There’s not much of a difference in height between the two, but San takes advantage of those centimeters often. “She’ll understand. That was hundreds of years ago. We’ve changed, gotten better.”

“Not entirely. What happened to that guy at the club?” Yeosang raises a brow, eyes on Wooyoung this time. “You talk of our past but you’ve just done something not even a few nights ago.”

“He looked at her,” Wooyoung narrowed his eyes. “Was I supposed to let that go?”

“Like you said, we left that shit in the past. Going around and killing everyone isn’t really going to help our case. And I slept with her not to manipulate her, not to use her. We just did it because we were both feeling the moment, and we had fun.”

Wooyoung purses his lips, “But killing that guy was fun. And now he’s not going to mess with anyone else. I’ve freed the world of a sinner.”

San laughs, letting go of his friend. “The others are going to be pissed. Can’t believe you killed a human because he looked at her. I can only imagine if he spoke to her.”

The conversations cease for a moment, until Yeosang speaks up. His voice is free of teasing, eyes on the counter as he says it. “I saw her chest.”

“Thanks for bragging,” Wooyoung snickers. San nudges him harshly, and he frowns, but says nothing. “What about it?”

“There’s a scar, right in the middle. The same place from before.”

Both of them look at Yeosang sharply, San the first taking a step forward. “She’s in a different life now. Why the fuck would she have a scar there?”

“Have you told the others yet?” Wooyoung asks. Yeosang shakes his head slowly. “Good. Don’t. We ask her first, see where she got it from. Then we take it from there.”

“Hongjoong would want to know.”

“He wants to know a lot of shit, doesn’t mean we’re going to tell him,” Wooyoung rolls his eyes, glancing at the pile of peaches on the counter. “Not now, at least. Not until we figure it out.”

“Then we’ll tell him?” San murmurs, Wooyoung nodding.

“Then we will.”

"Hi, pretty."

You barely give the man a glance, outstretched against the grass. It tickles your nose a bit as you stare up at the cloudy sky, waiting for the sun to beam back down. His footsteps get closer, stopping just next to your body. Seeing him from this perspective is jarring, especially when he already towers over the other men in this home. You haven’t spent much time with Yunho, often exchanging quick nods through the hallways, light touches whenever he walks around you to grab something in the kitchen. But words were rarely exchanged, small thank you’s or good morning’s. Nothing you can point out.

Yunho peers down at you, a brow raised. Still, you can’t help but admire him. He’s beautiful just like the others. "I take it that you're bored?"

"I haven't left for a few nights. So yea, just a bit." You rub your neck nonchalantly. Yeosang promised that there’d be no trace of his bite and he’s telling the truth. But you still worry a bit that the others can see a bit of it.

He laughs lightly, crouching down next to you. "You can leave whenever you want, you know. You’re not trapped here."

“There’s some creepy ass men out there trying to grab me, so I think it’s best to keep hanging out around here for a while, yeah?”

He shrugs, “Your choice, not mine.” He keeps your eyes, a small grin crossing resting on his lips. “I’m here if you ever need me.”

The memory from before flashes in your eyes. You can understand the fear that she felt, seeing those eyes for the first time. It makes you uncomfortable despite his kindness. Was he the one that turned her into a vampire? Did he orchestrate it all? He tilts his head, brows furrowed as he stares at you. You must be showing that same fear you felt before.

You swallow softly, moving your gaze away from his. "Don’t wait up on me."

“Are you alright?”

“Fine.” It comes out more aggressive than you’d like. You hope that Yunho doesn’t notice, but he does. He always does.

“Then why are you looking at me as if I’ll hurt you? What happened?” His words are calm, but his expression isn’t. “Please tell me. Was it a vision? Did it involve me?"

“It was nothing.”

“It was something for you to look as if you want to jump out of your skin-” he let out a breath, looking away from you. “I don’t want you to be afraid of me, y/n. That is the last thing I want from you. So please tell me what’s going on. I want to help.”

“Some things you just can’t help with, Yunho. And I’m not afraid of you, I’m just… afraid of the future. Of the past, of everything. I didn’t realize on that night how involved we would all be, and it scares me. I’m seeing things I’ve never imagined, seeing all of you in flickers of things I don’t remember but you do. So if I’m a bit reserved then please forgive me, I have emotions.”

“That’s not what I meant, I don’t want you to hide your emotions,” he says softly. “And I know this may be a lot. There’s nothing I can do but be here to help whenever you need.”

His response bothers you, but you don’t have the energy to argue. So you only nod. He stays only for a moment more, before standing and wishing you a good evening. You let out a breath once you hear the glass door close behind him, leaning up and off the grass. You eye the bench a few feet away, taking occupancy there instead. Perhaps it’ll give you enough of a distance from the house so that no one sees you.

“Oh.”

You look to the side, Jongho holding a book between his fingers. He rubs the back of his head, gaze away from you. In all honesty, you’d rather run into him than the others.

“I can leave, if you want. You look upset,” he murmurs, eyes still kept away.

His care is endearing, and you can only laugh. “I’m fine, Jongho. You can sit next to me if you’d like.”

He hesitates for a moment, before nodding, moving to the swinging bench. He sits on the very end of the opposite side. “Are you okay, y/n? You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, but it’d feel a bit strange to sit here and read my book while you look like you’re on the verge of a breakdown.”

You laugh, shaking your head. He waits for a response though, patiently.

“It feels wrong,” you start, the bench suddenly feeling a bit too crowded with the two of you sitting there. You’re thankful that Jongho gives you space to breathe, to think. His presence isn’t all consuming like the others, but a comfort. Even with the fear rising in your chest. “All of this between me and you all. I feel like I’ve been pushed into this situation without much of a way out. I could leave, but then they would find me. And I don’t trust Subin, not even a little. But being here with all of you, trying to create relationships in this isolated environment makes me feel like I’m being forced to like you. Like it’s a last ditch effort to save myself.”

“I understand,” Jongho says softly. “The others are a bit excited that you’re here, so they don’t really understand the meaning of personal space. I’ve noticed how they crowded you, so I haven’t been spending that much time with you.”

“I thought you weren’t interested,” he looks at you strangely. “Not that there’s anything wrong with that! You’re not obligated to be anything to me, Jongho. I hope my words don’t make you think that.”

His lip curves at your panicked state, laughing softly. “Is that what you think? That I dislike you?”

“Well not dislike, just not interested in getting to know me. Which, again, is fine. No one is obligated to like every single person they meet.”

“y/n–”

“I’m serious Jongho.”

“And I’m serious too!” He laughs, shaking his head. “I don’t want to overwhelm you with eight strangers suddenly in your life. It’s a lot, especially with everything else added to it. I know how I am, and I just took the same consideration with you. And even in this conversation I can see that you’re overwhelmed with everything that’s happening. I’m not pushing you into anything, and you’re not pushing me into anything. We can be friends in due time, and something more if you’d like. It’s up to you, okay?”

You blink.

“Jongho?”

“Hm?” He tilts his head, flicking to the next page of his book. He glances up at you once, before moving back to the text. It’s refreshing.

“Do you want to be friends with me?”

He chuckles softly, “I’d love to be friends with you. But you still look hesitant,” he says, passing you your fallen phone. You thank him, tucking it back into your pocket. “What’s up?”

“I just want to know how you feel, really feel, about me. Is there anything else? I mean, what are your thoughts?”

He closes his book, placing it to the side. “My thoughts about you. To play it safe, I do care about you, y/n. I know I’m not like the others, not outward with my feelings so easily. But I do like you. I like your presence around the house. I like how you fit in so easily with the rest of us. It’s like you’ve always been here, nothing has changed except the amount of groceries in the cabinet. But you, you’re good. And with a house full of killers and blood-suckers, it’s a nice change of pace,” he has a grin on his lips as he says the last sentence. “I want to be friends with you. I want to go anywhere you want. I want to be there for you. And if you want I’d like to be something more in the future. But that’ll come in due time. First, I need to know more about you.”

He holds up his book, “And I want to know if you like to read.”

His words melt over you, comforting your heart. “I love to read, Jongho.”

“Good,” he passes you the novel. “Because I just so happen to love to be read to.” You take it from his fingers, opening up the page that he dog-eared.

“Well I just so happen to have an excellent narrator’s voice,” you grin, moving your gaze back down to the page. You glance at him briefly. “The serial killer thing-”

“Was a joke. You’d think I’d actually admit that if we were?” he says, and you roll your eyes.

“She likes him,” Hongjoong says softly, sitting on the seats of his bay window. He looks down at the two of you, Jongho’s eyes closed as you read to him. There’s a smile on your face, stolen gazes every once in a while as you read. “What did he do?”

“Jongho isn’t hard to love,” Seonghwa says softly, resting against Hongjoong’s sheets. “He’s easy to talk to too. I’m sure he hasn’t gotten angry in his entire life. She needs someone like him to ground her. It’s good that they’re spending time with one another.”

Hongjoong doesn’t comment on it. Perhaps if he went about it a different way. If he just spoke to Yeosang alone, without her in the room, things would be different. He might be the one on that bench, the one you’re smiling at as you read. He knows that somewhere in the future you’d grow to care for him as well, but he can’t help it. He’s bitter. And it doesn’t taste all that good when he murmurs the word.

“She means the world to us and she doesn’t realize it,” he says. You laugh at something Jongho says, hitting his arm lightly. He pretends to be hurt, and you only laugh harder.

“I think she does,” Seonghwa pulls the blanket beneath his chin. He sighs as the fabric touches his skin. “At least some semblance of an idea. She wouldn’t be here otherwise. It will take time, Hongjoong. Now come back to bed, we have a long night ahead of us.”

“Ah,” Hongjoong glances once more. He hesitates just as he’s about to close the curtain. Your gaze is suddenly up, eyes on him. He can’t read your expression despite how easy it was before. You’re not angry at least, no, that he can tell. He wants to look at you longer, but it is early in the morning. So instead, he bows his head slightly at you. And what you respond back is so strange, he almost throws the curtains back open.

You smile.

The next few days were odd to say the least. Yeosang is still himself if not more so, his hands always lingering next to yours, quick winks and glances when you enter the room. In complete opposite to the way San interacts with you. The playful personality seemed to vanish since that night. He walks on his toes around you, avoiding you whenever the two of you enter the same room. Often kept himself with Hongjoong on purpose, knowing that you wouldn’t dare approach the man. That resulted in the others spending more time with you. In particular, Jongho. His soft personality compared to the others calmed your heart, helped you ignore the feelings that bubbled in your chest about San’s avoidance of you. In all honesty you should be glad for the reprieve, for a chance to have some time for yourself. There’s no reason for you to be so upset about it.

None at all.

"Peach," Wooyoung leans forward, hand holding the pick between his fingers. Your gaze is glued to them as he strums, humming. They curl around the frame of the bass guitar, long and slender. His hands are large, spreading across the surface of the instrument with ease. Then they snap. Your gaze immediately moves to his eyes. A wide grin rests on his lips, brow quirked. "I called you. Didn't you hear me?"

You did, just a bit. Your mouth just decided not to respond. Or you completely missed everything after his one word. "What's up?" Wooyoung asked you to join him in his room, listen to him practice. In all honesty you were just stuck in your thoughts, filled with too much going on around you to focus.

"I asked," he wipes off a piece of dust. "If you'd like to come watch us play tonight? Hongjoong, San, and Yunho aren't going to be there until later. Need a bit of motivation since half of us will be gone in the beginning."

"Why aren't they going?"

"Blood bank. Jongho is running low. He can't go because he's still a bit iffy when it comes to blood. It does him good to avoid those places. And someone needs to watch over you.”

“I’m not a kid.”

He laughs, rolling his eyes. “Trust me when I say that I know, completely. After the last time you were out, everyone’s been on edge. Just want to make sure you’re alright. And I doubt Jongho will let you leave his eyesight now,” he shrugs, placing his bass back on the stand. You try to ignore the way he slowly takes off his rings, placing them in a ceramic tray sitting on the side table.

“So what do you say? I’ll even teach you some chords,” he wiggles his brows. You purse your lips, thinking. You’d feel bad making them feel bad, so you nod, sinking deeper into your seat. He lifts his fist, laughing. “Amazing. Now,” he waves his hand. “I gotta practice this song just for you, peach. Don’t want you hearing it until tonight.”

“What do you have up your sleeve?” You ask, pouting. “Don’t want to spend time with little ol’ me?” You’re joking of course, but he takes it differently. His fingers almost crack the wood, eyes stuck on yours. “Wooyoung?”

“You…” he sucks in a breath, rubbing his face. He looks into your eyes again, his groan louder. “Hell.”

You snicker, shaking your head. “You’re something else alright. I’ll see you tonight, yeah?”

“Right. Tonight.”

“What’s going on with you and that guy?” Mingi is the first to say a word to you, entering your room. You don’t pester him, the door is wide open for anyone to enter. You look up from the novel Jongho gave you, shrugging your shoulders.

“Which guy? There’s eight of you.”

“San, y/n. The one guy that was glued to every word you said. He doesn’t hang around you anymore. It worries me.” You appreciate his honesty in comparison to weeks ago, where he would just speak in we’s rather than I’s. But his truthfulness isn’t exactly what you were prepared for; blunt and without thinking twice. “Hongjoong asked me about it too but no one really knows. We usually fix problems within a day but it’s way past that now. Did something happen?”

“No…?” You phrase it as if it’s a question, thinking deeply. “I don’t know? I mean, we were fine. Then something happened to him while we were talking about Hongjoong. All of it is just odd, and I still can’t wrap my head around it. I do want to speak to him, but he’s with him all the time. Just haven’t gotten the opportunity.”

“I can ask for you. San is stubborn sometimes, but I’m sure he’ll come running if he thinks you’re worried.”

“No, no. You don’t have to, really. He’ll come to me when he’s ready. And if he doesn’t that’s fine too, I only have a week left and the magic will be gone. Then I’ll be able to go home and we don’t have to worry about broken relationships,” you say simply, giving him a small smile. The worried look on Mingi’s face slips, something strange residing in its wake. Something you can’t quite pick out. “Mingi?”

“We’ll work it out,” he says simply, standing. “I have to prepare for the show. And I heard you’re coming tonight,” he smiles. The odd look is gone, a part of you wondering if you just imagined it. “So I have to make sure I’m up to your standards.”

“I have none,” you snicker, shaking your head.

“And that is a standard in itself,” he turns on his heel, leaving you alone in your room.

Something strange is going on, with all of them. It wouldn’t bother you as much as it does if you weren’t so in tune with their patterns. Everyone is acting normal, too normal. The slip in Mingi’s facade makes you wonder what exactly you’re missing. Sure, you’re going back home soon. But they can meet you whenever they like. But what exactly is happening? You tuck your book in your bag, standing up to shut your door to get dressed. Should you even go to their concert? A bad feeling just bubbles inside of you at the thought of being there tonight. Though, the safest place is with them. So you look through the closest, hesitating at the outfits. They’re all…

“Got I was fucking sexy as hell,” you murmur, grabbing the first one you see. It’ll fit perfectly with the venue, a bit too perfectly. You sigh and without another word, get dressed.

It fits a bit snug but you aren’t surprised by that. It’s unlikely that you’ll be the exact same size that you were then. You walk through the halls, the tapping of the steel toe boots echoing through. You hear the guys in the kitchen and follow their voices, hands sweaty. You stand next to Seonghwa as he speaks to the others, unaware of your presence for a brief moment. Just as he stops laughing, Yunho is the first to spot you across the room. He drops the cup in his hand, eyes widened. You’re surprised to see him at all, Wooyoung telling you that they wouldn’t even be there until later.

“Fuck me,” his voice is low, blinking quickly. The others follow his gaze, many of their expressions matching his own. It’s an old pirate outfit of yours, most of it tight leather that hugs your body. You grabbed the overcoat to hide at least some of it to appear decent enough while traveling to the club, but their expressions tell you that it didn’t exactly hide everything. The stares start to get to you, hands clamming up.

“You’re beautiful, doe,” Seonghwa says softly, hand reaching up to brush against your cheek. “Don’t take our silence for distaste.”

“The complete opposite,” Mingi agrees. His outfit is quite similar to yours. In fact, you’re sure it’s almost an exact replica, except he wears looser slacks compared to your tighter ones. He knows it too, a small smirk lining his lips. “You’re always pretty to me.”

“Missing one thing though,” Wooyoung reaches over the counter, walking over to you. His fingers tremble as he hands you the pirate hat. You take it, placing it on your head. He groans, running his fingers down his face. “I… I need to go. To Clair de Lune before I explode.” He turns on his heels, his face burning. You hear the front door slam, leaving you with the other men. Hongjoong and San aren’t in the room, probably already gone.

Jongho’s eyes linger on the jewels resting against your neck, saying nothing. Their silence is a bit overwhelming. Yunho moves around the rest, his fingers entangling with yours and leads you out of the room.

“She’s mine tonight!” he shouts to the men still stuck in the kitchen. You hold his grip tight, letting him walk you out of the home. The awkwardness from before is still there, but he pushes past it.

“Did I fuck up with wearing this? It’s too much, isn’t it?” You whisper. He laughs loudly, shaking his head.

“Oh no love, you just broke us. All of those men in there short-circuited seeing you this way. And I’m not faring any better in comparison,” he guides you to the driveway. A motorcycle sits there, two helmets resting on the seat. He holds out one to you but you widen your eyes, ignoring the gear. “And since you’re mine tonight, you’re also my partner on the bike.”

“Yunho, I am not going to die on a bike.”

“And I won’t let you die on it,” he rolls his eyes. “Too many things I want to do with you now for you to hurt yourself on it. I’ve been driving for a while. You can trust me.” He takes your hat off your head, tucking in the storage of his bike.

“How long is a while?” you slowly take the helmet from his fingers, trying to linger how small it looks in his hands in comparison to your grip. He smiles softly.

“The late 1800s. And they’re safer now than they were before,” he admits, putting on his helmet with ease. You haven’t worn one in forever, and this one is a full head one, completely different from what you’re used to. Yunho sees you struggling and takes it from your hands. He places it on your head with ease, a laugh falling from his lips when he sees you glaring at him through the front visor. He lifts it up, bending down so his sight is leveled with yours. “Kept an extra just in case you showed up again, love.”

“How romantic,” you’re sure he spots the sarcasm in your words, laughing loudly as he situated himself on the bike. He pats the back of his seat, gesturing for you to come closer. You hold a breath, slowly swinging your leg over the back seat. It’s large, you have to almost hop on the seat to get on the back. You’re not sure where to put your hands, fingers still sweaty. He grabs both of them with ease, wrapping them around his torso. You hold him tightly.

“You hear me?” His voice echoes in the helmet. You laugh, nodding quickly. “Can’t hear you if you nod, baby.”

Your heart tightens at the nickname. “Roger that, captain.”

“Hongjoong wouldn’t like that you’re calling me captain.” You can almost hear his grin through the words. “I don’t mind it though. Now hold on tight, it’s gonna be a jerk when I pull off. I’m going to try to drive as slow as I can, but we’re in a bit of a rush. Almost late to the party. Ready?”

“Ready,” You say back, pressing your body against his. His frame is significantly larger than yours, but you lock your hands together, closing your eyes. He starts the engine, revving it up before pulling off. You’re thankful that he stays true to his words; you’re used to cyclists speeding down streets, not a care in the world for anyone else around them. Yunho drives carefully for your sake, asking you over and over again if you’re okay. Soon, you’re laughing at the jokes he tells you through the helmet, his speed slowly increasing.

“Are you ready? Gonna speed up now so we can get there on time,” it’s still a request, an option for you to opt out if you’re too afraid. You appreciate the gesture.

“Speed on,” You say back. His laugh echoes in your ear. Without another word, he presses on the gas, speeding around the cars. Your grip is tight against him as he drives through, weaving in and out of traffic. Surprisingly not one car beeps at him, letting him cut through without protest. You feel how your hands aren’t as sweaty now, the adrenaline pumping through you, wind hitting your body.

Soon you’re in front of Clair de Lune, Yunho slows down as he parks in the back of the place. Patrons are lined up at the entrance still as you hop off the bike, stumbling slightly once you situate yourself. Yunho helps you take off the helmet, resting it on the seat. He passes you your hat. You thank him, tugging it back on your head.

“You handle it well for a first timer,” he says, running his fingers through his hair. He surprisingly doesn’t have helmet hair. Unlike you of course, your hands are not doing much to fix it. Thankfully they gave you the hat in the first place.

“Still pretty,” he says, eyes glazing over you. You feel your face burn at his gaze, dark red eyes finally resting back on yours. “Thank you for being my date tonight, baby.”

“Yunho…” you scold him, voice shaking. You’re not sure you could handle another ‘baby’ coming from him without collapsing. And that’s you being as not dramatic as possible. “Let’s get inside.”

He hesitates for a moment. “Before, when we were outside-”

“We’ll talk about it,” you assure him. He nods.

Yunho leaves you behind, squeezing your hand before running off to another room to get ready. You stand at the front of the stage, waiting patiently. Who would’ve thought that just a few weeks prior, you had no idea what this bad was, who these men were. Not that you know them well enough now, but it just feels different. Your hands grip the gates in front of you, watching as the lights dim low. They appear on stage in the blink of an eye. You spot Seonghwa as the main singer tonight, Hongjoong still on the drums and Wooyoung on the bass. San is to your far left, holding his guitar steady. His gaze flicks over the crowd, stopping once it meets you. Glance over your outfit, fingers gripping the instrument tightly, His jaw clenches, eyes darkening. There’s so much in his eyes, too much, that you have to look away just as they start the song.

The lyrics are sensual, Hongjoong eyes steady with yours. He keeps his rhythm with ease, drumsticks moving quicker than you can keep up. His pupils are dark as they linger on you. It’s overpowering enough that you’re the first to break his gaze, attention elsewhere. Seonghwa grips the mic, eyes closed as he hits a higher note. They open, moving to you. As intimidating as Hongjoong’s, you look away. An immediate glance over the ground makes you realize that all of them are trying to catch your eyes. The audience doesn’t seem to realize it either, their screams loud in the area. You move from the front, pushing through everyone to get to the back. Before you can get all the way back there though, a hand grabs your arm, stopping you. You think it’s one of the guys trying to get your attention until you notice how warm their hand is.

A man, very drunk, holds you tightly. You try pulling away from him but his grip only tightens, shouting something at you. It’s too loud to hear as you tug.

“Get the fuck off me!” You finally yell, struggling to remove him. His eyes seem to grow angry, fingernails digging into your skin. Before you can scream for help, you’re pulled away from his hold into another’s. The cool skin of theirs comforts you, eyes moving up to see who it is. Jongho stands there, holding you against his body as he glares at the man who was touching you. Mingi’s on the other side, pulling the man away from the crowd. They disappear in the masses, Jongho guiding you back into the red room. He shuts the door behind him, eyes looking over your body.

“He hurt you,” he utters, hands hovering above where the man’s fingers created crescent cuts on your upper arm. “He’s dead.”

“I’m fine, you guys pulled me out of it,” you reassure him. But he seems to only be seeing red, gaze stuck on your arm. You’re not sure what to do so you touch his cheek, trying to make him focus on your face instead. Almost instantaneously, his head leans into your touch, eyes finally meeting yours. “I’m okay, Jongho.”

“We weren’t watching you closely enough. We messed up.”

“Don’t blame yourself for a drunk asshole’s stupid behavior. Because I don’t.”

“We were supposed to be protecting you.”

“And you did. I’m safe.”

“Not as safe as you would be if we stayed by your side. That could’ve been anyone yn, that could’ve been one of Subin’s men. We overlooked you for a moment and messed up,” Jongho says softly, hand rubbing your arm. He doesn’t touch the cuts, just staring solemnly. “Your skin.”

“It’ll heal,” you say simply. “And it wasn’t so you don’t need to let that thought stay in your head, Jongho. I’m not angry with you. I’d never be. Just don’t go around killing people, okay? Be smart. You’re passed that phase of your life, right?”

His breath is shaky, taking in your words. “We don’t kill anymore.”

“You don’t. And you don’t need to, because I’m fine. And even if I wasn’t you don’t need to kill anyone.”

He doesn’t respond to your words, eyes flicking back to you. “The others are worried. I don’t want to leave you--”

The door slams open. Seonghwa is the first to enter, fists tight. His gaze is sharp, softening once he sees you. It tensions up, his nose flaring when he sees the blood staining your skin. Jongho takes a step back from you, the vulnerable man you’ve glimpsed gone within a moment. Seonghwa doesn’t seem to see him at all, pulling you into his arms.

“You’re okay, doe. You’re okay.”

“I’m fine, there’s no need for this whole show--”

More of them enter the room, overcrowding it. You just don’t see San, Mingi or Wooyoung. Yeosang is nowhere to be found either but you haven’t seen him since last night, so you’re not even sure if he even came to the club tonight. It worries you for the absence of the others, especially the way Mingi gripped that man as he dragged him away.

“You’re all making this a bigger deal than it is. You can continue to perform, I’m fine. I’m being serious,” you slowly let Seonghwa go, staring at the others. “I can bandage it up. Go back on stage, they paid to see you.”

“We give two shits about those humans,” Hongjoong scolds you, frowning. “Putting your hurt below entertainment is insulting. They can wait all night and I would care less. You are important to us, not them.”

You’re not sure how else to convince them that you’re fine, that you don’t need their coddling. So you move closer to Jongho, a bit away from them. “Fine. I will stay next to Jongho all night. No one else will mess with me then, and he’d be the first to stop them if they tried. Satisfied?”

“y/n…” Hongjoong sighs.

“She’s right,” Yunho murmurs. “Not that I prefer it, but we can’t do anything now. As long as she’s with one of us, it should be fine. We have to perform, we can’t just drop everything because we’re worried.”

Hongjoong’s eyes linger on your figure briefly. He doesn’t say anything, eyes flicking to yours, holding them. He only looks away when you do, nodding slowly. “Alright. Yunho, get Woo. We’ll continue the show. Don’t… don’t leave without telling us?” He waits for your nod, turning on his heel and walking back out. Jongho takes your hand, squeezing it lightly.

“Ah,” the impression on his face could be considered a deep pout, only if he didn’t look so irritating with it. Yunho avoided his gaze, even as the shorter man tugged on his biceps. They’re just outside the club in the gated alleyway, the cold air not affecting them in the slightest. “Yunho why aren’t you paying attention to me…” his whine echoed into the night. Yunho pulled away harshly, glaring down at Wooyoung.

“You fucked us over.”

“It was a mistake-“

“We didn’t need to kill him, Woo. And you know that. This was the farthest from a mistake.” He could only imagine how Hongjoong would react, seeing the blood staining their shirts. Yunho glances at the man in the alley, body paler than themselves. He lets out a deep sigh, looking at his hands. “And you made me dirty.”

“If it makes you feel better his blood was anything but tasty,” Wooyoung frowns, moving away from Yunho. He walks over, crouching over the body. “If it was tasty I’d at least feel a bit bad about killing him. Hey,” he turns around, eyes widening. “You ever think about y/n’s blood? How it tastes?”

Yunho’s disgruntled expression only deepens.

“Don’t give me that look.”

“We can’t drink her blood, Wooyoung. You know that.”

“Things might be different-“

“They aren’t. We made up those rules for a reason. Stop fantasizing about things that won’t happen.”

Wooyoung swallows slowly, grabbing the body’s arm and dragging it with him. “You’re going to hate what I have to say, then.”

“What?”

“Yeosang, he…” he trails off, grunting as he throws the body into the dumpster. Yunho knows it’s only to delay his response, he’s pretending to struggle. Yunho steps forward, grabbing Wooyoung’s arm and turning him to meet his gaze. “Hey-“

“What did Yeosang do?”

A lazy smile slowly forms on Wooyoung’s face, “He drank from her. And had sex with her. But you probably already know the second part.”

Yunho’s brows furrow, “He hasn’t. They haven’t done anything. You’re just saying things-”

“Am I?” Wooyoung tilts his head, still grinning. “He fucked her when we were gone, Yun. He told us. And he told us how he saw a familiar scar on her chest while doing it. And it isn’t hard to guess that Yeosang drank from her as well. He’s always been the weakest when it came to that. But if you don’t believe me you can ask them yourself. Not sure how well that’ll bow over with y/n, she’s a bit more sensitive in this life.”

Yunho lets go of him harshly, Wooyoung stumbling back. He still keeps that same expression on his face, watching as Yunho lets the information sink in. He can’t help it; it’s entertaining to see Yunho be himself. The persona that he’s been keeping up for so long shifting. Yunho’s jaw tightens, ignoring Wooyoung as he enters through the back doors. It hits the doorway harshly, a crack appearing.

Wooyoung pouts, walking over and running his finger along the aftermath. “Damn, someone seems upset.”

The night passed quickly. Jongho stayed by your side the whole time, not bothering to perform on stage tonight. Despite how quick you pushed away their worries, you were a bit rattled at what happened. The performance changed tonight, their notes sharper, mistakes made every so often. The crowd didn’t mind though, screaming their lungs out. Jongho escorted you out just as they were about to feed. The thought still makes you queasy, but at least they don’t kill them. You can almost scoff to yourself. Does that make it any better?

“You’re now my date tonight,” Jongho says, a small smile on his lips. You grin back. “Ready to go, y/n?”

You nod, sliding off your chair. He holds the front door open for you and you thank him, walking outside. The cool breeze prickles your skin, condensation mists only exemplifying it. You wrap your arms around your body as you follow him close behind, a sympathetic look on his face.

“I’m sorry I can’t warm you up, but the car heats up pretty quick,” he opens your door and you thank him, letting him shut it lightly behind you. The seatbelt clicks just as he enters his side. He presses the start button and immediately the heat hits your skin. You sigh softly, holding your hands up to the vents. He gives you a quick smile, clicking his seatbelt on. You can’t help but laugh at that, glancing at him from the corner of your eye.

“Think you need the seatbelt on?” you ask. He rolls his eyes at your teasing, the car slowly rolling down the driveway. He pulls out on the street, taking the familiar route home.

“It’s a force of habit. You would never guess how many times we’ve all gotten tickets for not wearing them. Seonghwa tinted the windows, so now we’re always being pulled over. Sucks,” he murmurs, hand wrapping around the stick shift as he adjusts, leaving the club behind.

Jongho isn’t much of a talker like the rest, singing softly to the song on the radio. You enjoy being around him; sometimes you need quiet. It’s a bit hard to get in a crowded home. You lean back into the seat, the heat finally sinking into your skin. You slowly turn your head, eyes on him. His features are soft, skin a bit tanned. His eyes flick to yours, matching the dark red hair of his. It’s long, tucked behind his ears. You’re getting used to their gazes, the scarlet not as frightening as it was before. Jongho’s isn’t as prominent either, a darker burgundy. He raises a brow, looking back at the road.

“Do I have something on my face?” he asks.

“No,” you start, adjusting yourself in the chair. “I was just thinking. If you, no, that’s not how I wanted to start it.”

“Take your time,” he adds. You side eye him, continuing.

“What I was thinking was that if we weren’t in these circumstances, if you were a normal human, I think we could have gotten along well. I’m not out there like other people, and you ground me a bit. Make me see things that I really can’t with the rest. Not that being with them is bad, but…” How could you tell a man that he comforts you without it sounding like it alludes to something else? You scoff to yourself, shaking your head. “I don’t know what I’m saying, just forget it.”

“y/n, I know you don’t like being reminded of the past,” he says, turning down a street. “But back then we were best friends. You were the first friend I had. No one wanted to talk to me. I was always alone. You spoke to me first and it was over after that. I couldn’t remember how my life was before you. You’ve always been kind, yea, and I enjoyed that. So please listen to me when I say that I prefer you now in comparison,” he furrows his brows. “Would that be… rude to say? I mean, it was you but not really. But you were very mean back then when you spoke about certain things. I loved you, yeah, but I like you now. You comfort me. It’s like I can speak to you about anything and won’t feel judged about it. So I understand what you’re saying when you say that you feel that way around me. Because I feel the same.”

His words are sweet, sure. Very sure. There isn’t one break in his words that make you think he’s not telling the truth. It scares you a bit, how easily he can express himself to you. You lean your head back against the car rest, staring at the side of his face. You can see home with him, if you just think about it. He glances at you, brow quirked.

“You alright?”

“Yea.” And it’s true. You feel safe with him, secure. He continues to glance, brows still furrowed. After the brief silence, he turns the opposite way from where the house is. “I thought we were going home?”

“Home can wait. I want to show you something.”

The drive is only a few minutes longer. He parks on a sidestreet, quick to open your side door and let you out. You thank him. It’s still a bit chilly as he hands you his own coat. You almost slip and tell him that you don’t want him to catch a cold before realizing it. The walk is only a couple of minutes more. His hand reaches for yours and you let him take it. He guides you to a platform. Slow steps you take, until your eyes stare forward, watching the city from where you are. The city lights sparkle in your eyes, Jongho gesturing for you to sit on a bench. All of it is old, very old, but you slowly sit down. It creaks a bit but thankfully doesn’t break. He keeps space between the both of you as you stare out at the city. Everything felt so small, so miniscule.

“We were on the ship most of the time,” he starts, eyes on the city. “Back then, we didn’t have the infrastructure we do now. When we arrived here, you took me to the top of this mountain and showed me the view at sunset. The way the lanterns lit the sky, the way the sun fell. It was one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever witnessed. Up here, on this rock,” he points to a rock just beyond the fence in front of you two, “You told me that you loved me. And that you were afraid. Afraid to care for someone so deeply that you couldn’t breathe. That night you confessed that you were in love with me, yelled it to the sky. Once you passed, I never came back to this rock. I stayed away because it reminded me too much of your death. Too much of what our love became. We didn’t think you’d come back, y/n. We thought that you were lost forever. So when I first saw you in that club again I felt that same scared feeling again. Of the unknown. But then you told me that you feel comforted by me.” Jongho turns to you, tears falling down his cheeks. “I.. I can’t imagine losing you again. I feel like the numbness will come back again. I’m fucking terrified of it.” He laughs dryly, wiping his cheeks. “I know this might feel like nothing to you because it’s your past life, but I don’t know what the hell to do. All I know is that I care about you, and you care about me. So that’s enough. Seeing that guy grab you, I wanted to hurt him. I wanted to but you said not to. It felt like I was going to lose you again in that moment, I could barely breathe-”

Without hesitation, you slide over, wrapping your arms around Jongho’s body. He tucks himself into you, sobbing into your shirt. You can feel your tears rolling down your cheeks. “I’m not leaving you anytime soon, alright? I don’t know what this feeling is between us, but I’m not going to abandon it because I’m scared of what it might mean. You have memories that I’ll never have, but we can make our own. I won’t be like that again, you won’t lose me like that again.”

“You can’t promise that,” he says, “It’s possible.”

“It is, but don’t cry stupid,” you laugh, matching the same one he forces out. “I’m serious, you’re breaking my heart. The past is just the past. We have to live now, Jongho.” You pull back, holding his face in your hands. It’s broken, completely. “So don’t cry, okay? Look, the whole world changed and yet the both of us are here now hundreds of years later. That has to count for something, right?’

He nods slowly, hand reaching up to cover your hand. He leans into your touch, your thumb wiping the tears. They’re hot, almost too hot against your touch. But you don’t mind it, you’re a bit cold anyway.

“The whole world changed and I still love you,” he admits, not meeting your eyes. “It has to count.”

You smile, “It has to.” You wrap your arms around him again, your sobs matching one another’s. “Now let’s go home.”

“We can’t kill him,” Seonghwa merely sighs at the suggestion. “That won’t end well for any of us.”

“We’re older than all of them. We can take them on,” Wooyoung shrugs, taking a sip of the hot chocolate you left behind before leaving for the club. His fingers are a bit too tight around the cup, holding it a bit too close to his body. “And it will finally end everything we've been stuck in. There's only a few of them left, it shouldn't be that hard."

"Any existence of vampires outside of us is solely my fault," Hongjoong says simply. "I bear that responsibility because it will never lie to one of you. I was lonely, and I made mistakes. And that's resulted in what we're undergoing right now."

"That doesn't matter," Mingi shakes his head. "They're loose ends. We will forever be in limbo as long as they're alive. It's an unfortunate fate, but if they didn't involve themselves then it wouldn't happen. They can’t take her away from us. I could care less about the promise that we made.”

“She’s going to remember everything at this rate,” Yeosang says. “She’s getting closer to the truth with each passing vision. Closer to how and why she was turned into one of us. It might make her distrust us again. A repeat of hundreds of years ago.” He can remember how your body felt, trembling in his embrace. You only let him hold you because you weren’t afraid of him. Soon, you might not even want to look at him again.

That’s the only thing that terrifies him.

His gaze moves up, noticing Yunho across the room. His hands are crossed, eyes stuck on his. It’s a bit eerie, expression blank. Yeosang looks away, perturbed.

“We won’t let that happen, but we can’t stop her memories,” Mingi says. “She’s going to find out how her family was killed.”

“Ah yes, let’s just say it out in the open, Mingi,” Seonghwa sneers. “Might as well yell out how exactly he did it. Shouldn’t be that hard.”

“Now’s not the time to argue,” Hongjoong points to the two of them. They glare at one another but don’t say another word, waiting for him to speak. “We figure out a way to get rid of them. But first, we have to prevent her from meeting with Subin again. Have her stay here longer.”

Wooyoung widens his eyes. “And how will we do that?”

You hang up, eyes still glued to your phone. There's no way. In your last week of being here your chance to finally be on your own is gone. Just like that, after a two minute phone call. You swallow slowly, thinking. You don't have enough savings to sustain yourself and find another apartment with a down payment. There's enough to help you survive a few more weeks without straining yourself on food, but after that… nothing. All of your applications for work have fallen short even with your experience. You're stuck where you are, and you hadn't the slightest idea on how to get yourself out of this. You're so stuck in your own head you forget the others are in the room, watching patiently.

"The water main break flooded my apartment," you confess to them, eyes flicking up to meet theirs. You just so happen to meet Hongjoong’s. He looks at you with empathy, the expression odd on his face. You're sure that he lacked that emotion until now. You rub your face, hands trembling. "I have nothing but the shit that survived the flood. Everything that isn't above two feet of water is destroyed. They'll let us back in within the week to grab our things, but I can't live there. I have no apartment."

"I'm sorry y/n," Yunho says. You feel his hand on your shoulder, squeezing it lightly. The cold does wonders to your body, your skin hot as you try to process what just happened. "We can go back with you, grab the things you need."

"I don't have a home anymore," you murmur. "I have nothing."

"As I've said before, doe, we'd do anything to help you. Just say the word," Seonghwa stares at you, biting his lip. "It's been a difficult month for you. But we will drop everything at the blink of an eye to assist."

"I don't know… would you mind if I stayed? A bit longer until I figure things out?" You already know the answer, know how much they've wanted you to.

"Of course pretty," Yeosang responds for the rest, nodding. "You can stay as long as you'd like."

“It won’t be long,” you add, glancing at the others. “But I can’t get into the apartment for the next week, so I’ll have to go and grab some things from the store-”

“I’ll join you!” Wooyoung interrupts, grinning.

The piles of fruits just seem to grow each time you enter the kitchen. You pluck one of the peaches off the top, taking a bite as you walk to the foyer and wait for Wooyoung. You didn't mind him coming with you; having company isn't the worst thing that's happened to you. And you haven't gotten the chance to spend time with Wooyoung. He remains an enigma, just like a few of the others. But there’s still that lingering thought. You know you shouldn’t get close to them, moreso since you’ll be leaving soon. But being friendly isn’t such a bad thing, right?

"Ready?" You lean against a pillar next to the front door, eyes on Wooyoung. He's barely dressed. Pajamas rested against his figure, a black cap tugged over his hair. You glance at the tattoo on his ribs, peeking through the sleeve hole. Without a word from him, he lifts his shirt. You turn away, almost choking on a piece of peach.

"You can look now, Peach," His voice is teasing as he says it. You know men, know him, so you don't turn back around. You can almost feel the pout staring at your back, the sound of fabric of clothing being pulled on his body. "Not even a peek?"

"Not one glance," you say, taking another bite. Before you can swallow, his hand appears in front of your face, taking the fruit away from you. You glare as he takes a bite for himself, several, before tossing it in the trash. Your hand is sticky as he pulls you through the door.

"I can't believe you ate my peach," you mutter.

“You might as well look like one since that’s all you eat,” he says back, passing by the garage. You’re a bit surprised that he’s not taking one of the many vehicles parked in their driveway, skipping right past it. Yes, he’s actually skipping and dragging you all at once. You’d find it annoying if he wasn’t grinning the whole time, laughing at the expression on your face. The atmosphere of the home was down because you are down, but being around him just brightens you up a bit. He exits the driveway, stopping at a nearby bus stop.

“You’re taking the bus?” You raise a brow, and he nods quickly.

“I haven’t taken public transportation in decades. So I just did a quick search and found some routes we can take to the center. It’ll be a while, but it’ll be fun.” You can tell he’s excited by the way he’s almost jumping where he stands, hands tucked into his front pockets.

“Do you own one of the cars in the garage?” It’s small talk, but you haven’t the slightest idea on how to start a conversation with him.

“Not really, I just borrow one of the other guys’. Yunho’s the one that has the bike and he doesn’t let anyone go near it. I rarely drive so,” he shrugs again, looking at you. “The bus seems fun enough, right?”

The ride was long. Wooyoung talked your ear off, commenting on everything that he saw. You barely get a word in, though you do enjoy the time with him. He’s more talkative than the others, filling the silence with a brief comment. Soon, you’re at the mall. You hesitate to step off the bus, realizing that he led the two of you to a luxury area. He pays no mind to your hesitance, taking a free sample of food, humming to himself.

“Wooyoung…” You look around the shopping center, the wallet in your pocket feeling heavier as you gaze at the stores. All of them are luxury brands, not one item from their fronts you can afford. Wooyoung chews on his gamja hotdog, a brow raised in your direction.

“Hm?” he says between chews, holding out the hotdog to you. You wave him off, taking out your wallet and showing it to him. His brows furrowed as he stares at it, glancing back at you. He hasn’t bothered to hide his eyes, the bright red blinking at you with confusion. “Why are you showing me your wallet?”

“I have barely enough to cover that hotdog, let alone a high-end store,” you gesture around the both of you. “Do you usually shop here?”

He shrugs, chucking the wooden stick into a nearby trash can. “Hwa-hyung brings me here sometimes to buy clothes. I thought it’d be the best place for you to get some things you need.”

“When I said shopping, I did not mean this,” you gesture around again. Your hand almost hits a woman walking pass and you apologize, bowing quickly before turning back to Wooyoung. He’s already several meters away from you, hands tucked in his pockets as he looks at a display. You rub your face before following him. Does he not… understand the concept of money? Hundreds of years and he just spends it on anything?

One day you wish you’re wealthy enough to just toss it away on useless things.

Wooyoung turns to you, pointing at the display in the window. Despite the mask covering his smile, his eyes scrunch up as he jumps on the balls of his feet. It’s endearing to say the least, and you can’t help but match his enthusiasm. It’s a display of a very pricey outfit. Without another word he pulls you into the boutique, letting go of your hand to find a shop attendant. You meander around the front, your body wincing when you see how expensive the clothing is.

"I found something for you, peach," Wooyoung says, fingers holding fabric between them. He hands it to you. "Try it."

"I don't want to," you try to hand it back to him, but he frowns, pushing your hand back against your body. "I told you I can't afford it. There's no use in me trying it on." Your eyes flick to the attendant standing just behind Wooyoung, her hands folded in front of her as she waits patiently. He follows your gaze before taking the clothing from your hands, pulling you deeper into the store. He throws the clothing on a seat next to you, gesturing for you to sit next to it. You hesitate for a moment, before following what he wants.

He rests on one knee, taking both of your hands in his. You're used to the coldest of their skin, a bit of a comfort more than you'd like to admit. His eyes crinkle as he looks at you, his pretty mole following their lead.

"I came shopping with you to find things you need. I never said you were paying for it," he whispers softly, tilting his head. "Why would I bring you to a place like this when you're unable to buy anything? I'm here to treat you, peach. That's why I wanted to come along."

"I can't–"

"You're struggling and you want me to pretend everything is okay with you?" His expression seems to break at his sentence. "I don't want to watch you like this. I know it's expensive. I brought you here so that you can find a few staple pieces for your wardrobe. I've been here dozens of times. The quality lasts for years, so you won't have to shop often for more and more things."

"This is too much," you say softly. "It's too much money."

"My pretty peach," he lets go of one of your hands, pulling down his mask. "We were pirates. We have enough money to cover anything you want, and anything we desire. And right now, I desire you–" he presses his lips against your knuckles– "to be cared for. So, let me take care of you."

His thumb rubs along the back of your hand, waiting for you to decide. If it was anyone else, you'd still refuse. Leave him abandoned in this mall and go back home– no, their home. The house. But he's staring up at you with hopeful eyes and you can't help yourself. So you cave.

"Not too much," you say. His grin widens. Using the leverage the seat provides, he pushes himself up with the cushions and sneaks a quick peck against your lips before standing. You're sure he knows the effect it has on you, your mind dazed as he helps you to your feet. He hands you back the clothing, pushing you into the fitting room and shutting the door.

"I'll be waiting out here~!" He sings the words. You stare at the dress in your hands, eerily similar to the outfit you just wore to their concert. It's nothing like the basics he said it was, probably just something he wants to see you in. You're not sure why all of your walls go down when you're around Wooyoung. They just do. So to only satisfy his curiosity, you undress and slip on the black dress. It flows against your figure, flattering. If anything he's very good at picking outfits. You take a deep breath, turning the knob and stepping out. Wooyoung waits patiently, his expression changing the instant he takes in your outfit.

"You look lovely, miss," the attendant says, smiling at you.

"Do you mind giving us a moment?" Wooyoung doesn't turn to the woman as she bows and leaves the room. Right as the door clicks behind her, Wooyoung stands, eyes roaming over your figure. “You’re pretty, Peach.” He says it so simply, keeping his distance. You notice how he clenches and unclenches his fist, eyes scattered. “Very pretty.”

“You think?” You turn around and look into the mirror. Your eyes flick over your body, until they land on Wooyoung.

“Of course, you’ve always been pretty, Rose,” Wooyoung stands just behind you. His hair is wispy against his cheeks, skin covered in grease marks from working in the orlop. His wear is more used, holes lining the seams. He steps closer as you gaze at him, approach hesitant. He’s always been reserved in his affections of you, as if you’d crumble beneath his touch if he dared approach you. Even now, your eyes wander to his, his deep brown ones flicking away from your gaze. A light pink coats his tanned cheeks, hand rubbing the back of his neck.

“Have you rested your eyes on me? It doesn’t seem like you can, my dear Wooyoung,” your tone is light, a smile resting on your lips as you stare at his reflection. “Is the dress that I wear dreadful? What a pity,” you pout, looking away for a brief moment to stare at your figure.

Your words pull him out of his embarrassment, concerned eyes widening as he moves closer. “Rose, you could never be anything but pretty. I am just… it feels like I am undeserving of your presence. I can call one of the others inside-“

“Now why would I desire to see one of them when I am with you?”

“Your words make me faint,” he admits, anxious laughter adorning his words. “It's because they’re much bolder than I. They can recite poetry and I can only express to you that you will never be ugly.”

His small speech leaves you at a pause. You’ve often pondered what he thought of you. Despite how garrulous he often was, Wooyoung never told you what he felt about you. It was sensible enough to assume that he adored your company from what he did express, but seeing him now flounder over his actions made him all the more charming.

Still, you laugh a bit. His cheeks flushed a deeper crimson from the reflection, a part of you feeling bad that you even made the sound.

“Can you come closer?” You say, turning around to look at him. He’s a bit fidgety in his approach, tensioning up when your hand touches his cheek. His eyes look at you. Wooyoung carries himself as if he isn’t one of the most alluring men you’ve come to know. Some semblance of yourself is glad he doesn’t know. He could use your weakness with ease and you would fall to your knees in front of him. Between all of the confidence you’ve built upon yourself, you would do anything for the eight men you’ve come to know.

Your thumb brushes against his high cheek, kissing the mole beneath his eye. His eyes flick to the mirror before looking at you.

“I’m filthy. You shouldn’t stain your pretty hands with me.”

“Wooyoung,” your smile slowly grows. “You’ve stained much more than my hands.”

“You’ve always been pretty.”

You blink, eyes moving back to present Wooyoung. He isn’t as unkept as the one you’ve just seen in your head, more confident in the way he stands behind you. Though despite the red of his eyes, you can still see a bit of the softness within them. He smiles when he notices your gaze. You can’t help but return the favor, thinking back to the words your former self said in her thoughts.

You suck in a breath, smiling. “You’re one of a kind, my dear Woo.” Somehow he makes you less confident in your words. Much like he was back then. His brows furrow slightly. Should you even have said it? Was it too much of a tug on his heart? You wanted it to tease him, but you’ve forgotten for a moment how much you mean to them. He might take it a different way than you planned.

“You remember?” he asks softly, moving closer to you. “You remember what happened back then?”

“Not entirely,” you watch as he's barely a few centimeters behind. He keeps your gaze as you speak, his hands slowly wrapping themselves around your waist. You breath hitches. “You were not as forward then as you are now.”

“Is that so?” He rests his head against your shoulder, careful to not let his weight burden you. “Well, I myself then didn’t quite know that I would lose you in just a few weeks. I told myself that I had more time, that you would fall for me once I learned how to be alluring.”

"You didn't know how charming you were, did you?" His hands stop moving, resting against your hips. You keep his gaze. "You're quite attractive, Wooyoung. Even with the shyness of before, " you turn around slowly, his head lifting from your shoulders to make your movements easier. You see how his focus moves to your lips, before flicking back to your eyes. As if he’s asking permission.

This is silly. You shouldn't be doing this, shouldn't let his words get to you. You’ve already overstayed your welcome in their home. Involving yourself deeper into their lives will only make it hurt more if you leave. No, when you leave. But even as your mind tells you this is wrong to do, his heavy gaze and the way his hands just rest against you--

This is bad.

A knock on the door interrupts you. Though Wooyoung doesn’t dare move from where he is. You’re the one that has to pull away to see what’s wrong, his fingers holding you tighter. The woman from earlier stands there, her eyes averted. You nudge Wooyoung harshly. He lets go slightly, the push a bit harsh in itself but he doesn’t seem to mind as he moves back. The woman finally looks up at the two of you. You’re a bit embarrassed to say the least. You rub your hands down the fabric, itching to run out of there as quickly as you can.

“I apologize for intruding, but someone said that they’re here to see you.”

“I booked the boutique for a few hours, there’s no reason for anyone else to be here,” Wooyoung insists, pulled out of his fog. He booked the place? You don’t get the chance to get angry though, waiting to see who joined you. “What’s their name?”

The door swings open, slow footsteps on the marble. The attendant bows, taking a step back to give them room. You don’t recognize him once he appears from around the bend, his hands tucked in his pockets as he glances between the both of you. Wooyoung does though, without a pause pushing you slightly behind him, eyes narrowed as he meets the man’s gaze. A playful grin rests on his lips, brow raised.

“Long time no see, Wooyoung. And y/n,” he nods at you, a slight bow. “You look well.”

“What the fuck are you doing here, Sejun? Did Subin finally let you off your leash? I can see that tearing off your limbs did no good since you’re still as cocky as you were before,” Wooyoung’s hand on your arm only tightens as he speaks. You’re not sure if this Sejun sees it, but you can feel how his grip quivers. Out of distress or fury, you’re not too sure. But whoever the man is, he’s indubitably part of your past. Which only means he’s bad news.

Seems like none of you will ever get a break.

“Treating your brother this way after not seeing me for hundreds of years? I mean, what feels like hundreds, of course,” he glances at the attendant standing in the back. Her body shakes, gaze stuck to the floor. You’re afraid for her, wishing that she wasn’t here while this was happening. The fear rises when you see how Sejun beckons her closer to him. He rests his arm around her shoulder, looking back at Wooyoung. “I’ve missed you, kid.”

“How are you alive?” He asks. “You were burned. I saw your body burning. I was the one that lit the match.”

Sejun pouts, head tilting. “You were always just a little bit thoughtless, huh? You really believed that a little fire could hurt me? It’s sad that your own family could just throw you away like that. But you should know, your little group is good at tearing apart families. Right, y/n?” His eyes move to yours. “Oh, you looked so jumbled up. Haven’t they told you what they’ve done?”

“Stop talking to her, you have no right.” Wooyoung’s jaw clenches, “And fuck off. You’ve already stepped out of line. I’m sure Hanse won’t be too pleased.”

This time Sejun laughs, pulling the woman closer to him as he does so. She pleads with him, rubbing her hands together. Sejun’s laughter slowly fades. You watch as his fingers slowly wrap around her neck, tears falling down her cheeks as she begs again and again.

“Hey,” you tug on him, anxious. “We’ve got to do something.”

“We can’t,” he says back simply. His eyes are unnerving as he looks at the scene, expression empty. You try letting go to go to her, but he pulls you closer to him.

“Wooyoung-“

“I’m not letting you anywhere near him, peach. Trust me when I say that he’s bad news. I’m sorry, alright?” His words go over your head as you look back at the two of them.

Sejun looks between you, fingers digging into her neck. She screams, clawing at his grip. But he doesn’t let go, even as blood spills to the area rug. You close your eyes, yelling once you hear her neck crack. The sound of her body thumping against the floor echoes in your ears, Wooyoung whispering apologies to you over and over.

“Hanse doesn’t give a shit about anyone but himself,” Sejun says. You still keep your eyes averted, tears rolling down your cheeks. “You were always pretty, even when you cried.”

“What do you want,” Wooyoung says again, holding you against him. “You’re crossing the line.”

“Oh, you have a line? Didn’t even know that was possible,” he snickers. “Just one thing I want, and you’re holding her in your arms right now.”

“Over my dead body.”

“Ah, do I really have to kill you too? Already got my hands bloody enough. I didn’t really plan on messing around with you today. She was supposed to be shopping alone,” Sejun sighs, shaking his head. “There’s always a problem with you.”

“She’s not going with you, Sejun. So leave, now.”

Sejun’s teasing grin drops, expression solemn. “I’ve been nice to you because you’re my brother. But I’m not asking again, Wooyoung.”

“Ah, and what do we have here?” Wooyoung takes a step back with you in his hold, eyes moving to another door. You follow his gaze, breathing in relief once you see who’s there. Hongjoong has his hands tucked in his pockets, Jongho and Mingi standing just behind him.

Hongjoong doesn’t look at you, but at others. A small smile from Mingi before he moves is gaze to Sejun, Jongho stepping around the body on the floor, moving next to Wooyoung and yourself. He doesn’t say anything, resting his hands on the small of your back.

Sejun eyes move around the room, a scowl forming on his lips. “Brought back up? Couldn’t handle your brother on your own?”

Wooyoung doesn’t say a word, Hongjoong slowly enters the room with Mingi by his side. There’s a strange look in his eyes as he stares at Sejun. “Still want to fight about this?”

Sejun narrows his eyes for a moment, before looking at you. “You’re going to be alone one day, y/n. They’re not going to be around forever. I hope you learn the truth about them, sooner or later. See you,” he turns on his heel, pushing Hongjoong’s shoulder harshly. You all watch as he exits the store, disappearing into the crowd. Just as you’re all sure he’s gone, Wooyoung’s hold on you drops, his body falling to his knees.

His fingers dig into the rug as sobs rack through him, almost dry heaving on the floor. You try to reach him but Jongho pulls you back, shaking his head. “He’s not himself when he’s like this. Just give him a second.”

You nod, moving away from Wooyoung. He lifts his fist, pounding it against the rug. You can hear the tile beneath crack as he hits it over and over, yelling. The sound is chilling, seeing him so distraught. Hongjoong is the one to move closer to him, crouching. Wooyoung wastes no time in grabbing Hongjoong’s jeans, ripping the fabric as he grips him. His eyes are red as he looks at him, body tremors rolling through him. You look away.

“Take her home, Mingi. Jongho, stay with Wooyoung and I. He’ll be okay, y/n,” Hongjoong looks at you, the look in his eyes making you believe the opposite. “We’ll see you later, yeah?”

Mingi moves to you, slowly taking your hand in his. Jongho lets go, giving you a small smile before moving next to the others.

“Want to get changed?” Mingi gestures to the fitting room. Your eyes move to her body only a few feet away from it. Stomach twisting, you shake your head. “Wooyoung paid for it already, just stand there for a second. Turn to the windows, love. I don’t want you to look more than you have to.”

You follow his instruction silently, looking out into the mall. There must be something that they did to stop people from entering. No one paid any mind to the boutique, not even glancing at the displays. Mingi is back in almost an instant, holding your clothes in a bag as he guides you out the shop. You hear Wooyoung’s pleas as the door shuts behind you. The music in the mall almost makes you feel sick when you listen, knowing that just a few steps away someone died because they were in the wrong place, at the wrong time.

“It’s not your fault,” Mingi says, squeezing your fingers. You look up at him. “There’s just bad people out there. It’s not on you what he did to her.”

“He came there for me, Mingi. This… this guy came there to take me. Why does everyone want me so badly? I…” your voice shakes, the image of her stuck in your head. Mingi listens attentively, guiding you through the parking garage. “I don’t know what to do anymore,” A thought runs through your mind. One that frightens you. But there just seems to be no other options. “Maybe if I-“

“No.” Mingi stops walking, turning around to look at you. He leans down so that your eyes are at his level. “Whatever you’re about to say, don’t. We will protect you, y/n. You know that.”

“I know that people are dying because of me, Mingi. That’s what I’m certain of. I can’t let this continue.”

“This was our mistake, not yours,” he touches your cheek. “I need you to understand that. We didn’t even know Sejun was alive, y/n. But we should’ve kept up with them, should’ve noticed something changed. That’s our fuck up, not yours. No one was supposed to die like that,” Mingi’s expression breaks as he looks at you. “She wasn’t supposed to die, alright? We know that, we do. But I don’t want you to put that on your shoulders when it’s not your fault. We… made the error of involving you in our lives again. There’s no turning back now, but that’s how it started. If we left you alone, they wouldn’t have found out. And things would be different. I know that you probably regret meeting us, and I’m sorry that we ruined your life. None of us wanted that to happen. I never wanted that to happen.”

You don’t like that he’s putting the fault on them, but you can only imagine how it feels hearing it from you. So all you can do is wrap your arms around his torso, tears staining his shirt as you embrace him. He matches your gesture, head resting on top of yours. The moment is brief, your arms dropping once he does. He wipes the tears from your cheek, a dry laugh falling from his lips.

“Feels like every time I speak to you there’s something wrong,” he sighs, closing his eyes for a moment. “It’s draining.”

“Guess that’s what happens when you’re friends with vampires,” you shrug, only causing him to grin. “I… I hope it was quick for her.” You don’t want to talk about it at all, want the memory to disappear though it just happened. But you can’t help it. “Who’s going to tell her family? What’s going to happen to her?”

Mingi opens the door for you, closing it softly once you enter. He walks around the opposite side and joins you, locking the doors. “It’s complicated. The others deal with this better than Jongho, but they’re preoccupied right now. We will leave the human there and call the police on prepaid numbers we bought several years ago under different names. They investigate. Our DNA isn’t traceable because of how old we are, and it comes up as an animal more often than not. We don’t clean up the scene, it’s too risky. I’m sure the three are already long gone from the boutique. Hopefully the police show up sooner rather than later; I’d rather not keep the body there longer than necessary.”

“Thank you Mingi,” you say simply. He nods, squeezing your hand once before putting the car in drive. You glance at him before focusing on the road, fear now still lingering in your heart. Sure, you’re afraid of Sejun. Of what his presence means now. Especially with Wooyoung’s reaction once he left. He looked as if his heart was torn from his chest. But the way Mingi answered your question bothered you. The way he spoke about her as if she was an object, so easily detached from what happened. Calling referring to her as just human, the body. Even speaking to him about how hurt you are, his empathy didn’t feel… authentic. As if he fabricated it to make you feel better. Or maybe you were just looking too deep into it.

You had to be looking too deep into it, right?

“Don’t lose yourself in there,” Mingi glances at you. “The mind can be a heavy place. It’ll spin you out of control if you don’t let it out.”

You’re not exactly in the position to tell Mingi that you don’t have confidence in his words. Especially being trapped inside of a car with the man. So you ask something else instead out of genuine curiosity. “I didn’t know Wooyoung had a brother.” Mingi’s fingers grip the steering wheel hard, blinking. “I know it’s a bit forward of me to assume otherwise, we all have families. But hearing that from Sejun was a bit surprising.”

“It wasn’t any less shocking to us,” Mingi’s voice is low now as he speaks. You’re only a few more miles away from the house, his speed increasing a bit. “I shouldn’t talk about him when we’re alone. It’ll only make the others angry.”

“All of you say that,” you suck in a breath. “This hive mind you all have isn’t reassuring, I’ll tell you that. Makes you seem untrustworthy.” You let your feelings slip slightly. “Not just you, the rest too.”

“We’d rather everyone be around when we tell you things. That’s it.”

“Or do you want them around so you don’t let anything strange slip?” Your voice is harsh, eyes still out the window. Your emotions are spilling out now, anger rising. “I really think you think I’ll just go along with anything you say, like I don’t have a mind of my own. I’m getting tired of this act of being kind to me so that I trust you. It’s not really holding up well.”

He pulls over to the side of the road, pressing harshly against his breaks and putting it into park. You turn to look at him, and his expression is no longer sympathetic. He looks angry, to say the least.

“Why the Hell do you think we’re manipulating you?”

“Take a wild guess, Mingi.”

He takes a slow breath, “I’m not trying to make you angry, y/n. I just want to know what’s going on.”

“Everything,” you turn to him. “The fucking house, the weird ass room with faces crossed out, the club, the other group of vampires, my past, the lying, oh my God the lying,” you laugh dryly, shaking your head. “It’s nonstop. Each time you all speak I feel like you’re just sugarcoating your words, dancing around the truth. I can’t even look at you. I mean,” you laugh louder this time, gesturing around. “The only one I actually believe is telling me at least some semblance of truth is Jongho, maybe Yeosang. Or San? It’s making a bit of sense why he’s been keeping his distance now. Maybe he doesn’t want to tell me the lies that Hongjoong’s been feeding you.”

Mingi stares at you, clenching and unclenching his jaw. He runs his fingers through his hair, eyes on the road. “I told you that Hongjoong isn’t some mastermind that you’re making him out to be—”

“Alright, say I believe that. Then who made the rule about not speaking to me about questions I ask? You? Yunho?” You press him.

“I’m not going to answer that.”

“Because you fucking know it’s Hongjoong. You know…” you shake your head. “Forget it. I’m done. I don’t care anymore about your feelings. You all can go cry about it in your fancy house with your expensive furniture. I’m getting my shit out of there, and I’m leaving.” Where? You haven’t the slightest idea. Your family isn’t in the city, you moved out here for a better life. One that just seems to be crumbling every hour.

For the first time, you see true shock on his face. He reaches out to you but you’re already opening the door, stepping outside. It’s cold, your body immediately tensing up as you walk down the sidewalk. Admittedly, it would be quicker to let Mingi drive you back. But you can’t even look at him without wanting to punch his face. The road is vacant though, your nerves rising.

“Let’s just talk about this when we get home, y/n. Please. Give me that chance.”

“No,” you stop, turning back to look at him. “No. And don’t try to convince me because it’s not going to work. I don’t--”

“Shit, y/n move!”

You don’t have a chance to figure out what’s happening. Mingi stands in front of you, a split second later, a loud pop echoes in the street. Mingi tries his best to cover your body completely, but you feel the bullet drag across your side, the two of you falling to the ground. You stare down at your hands, blood seeping through the cracks between your fingers. It’s bad. Even shuffling would cause it to open more, but you don’t have a choice. Mingi isn’t in better shape. He’s completely unconscious, dark red, almost black, blood seeping from his mouth. You feel the tears springing to your eyes as you move closer to him, shaking his body. He doesn’t move even slightly, eyes closed. There’s no way that you can tell if he’s alive or dead, the coldness of his body giving you no indication. But he has to be okay. He’s a vampire. A bullet hitting him shouldn’t have done as much damage as it did. You look around, eyes moving to a familiar bar just across the street. Without another word, you struggle to your feet, moving across the quiet road and in front of the bar.

The door to the bar swings open, his familiar tattoos lined across his arm. Your chest rises and falls, the growing realization that this is the choice you’re making. Your mouth runs dry as you meet his eyes, hand pressing against your stomach as you cough. He crouches down, head tilted as he glances at the wound on your side. Your breath hard, consciousness in and out as you meet his gaze. It’s odd how brown his eyes are in comparison to the others. You wish you could call one of the guys, but they’re too far for you to run to them. You might fall unconscious before then. His hand reaches up, brushing away the tears riddled on your cheeks.

“Mingi, he… I didn’t know where else to go,” you confess, gaze wavering.

Hanse’s smile stretches across his cheek. Without another word, he lifts you from the cement stairs, holding you against his chest. Your free hand wraps around his neck as he guides you inside. Your chest is throbbing, fear pulsing through you. You look over his shoulder, Mingi still lying on the ground across the street. Still, not one car has driven by. Leaving him alone in the dark night.

“I know, rose. I’m glad you’re finally back home.” Your eyes flick to his side, a silver pistol shining back at you.

No.

You look at him. His smile is eerie, laughing when he meets your gaze.

No.

He shuts the door with a kick.

tags: @revehosh @mrcarrots @belletiny @sansblkgirlfriend @hwadump @honeyedtalisman @atzcoke @glitterhongjoong @whatudowhennooneseesyou @marievllr-abg @arkive78 @dysftopia @kpopnightingale @wxnderingthoughts @jenniee-tm @hongshines @atinytease @multidreams-and-desires @yla-aira @wommypeaches @avantalem @youre-a-wallflower-charlie @toxicccred @xciiiomwliah @madelinelina @kirooz @a-tiny-teez @tenebrisirae @ageofjade @n0v4t33z

#fic: clair de lune #ateez x reader #hongjoong x reader #seonghwa x reader #yunho x reader #yeosang x reader #san x reader #wooyoung x reader #jongho x reader #mingi x reader #completely forgot the tags....#:D #me when you like instead of rbing: 🤬🤬🤬🤬👹👹👹👹😡😡😡

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noteguk · 4 years

Text

be quiet | jjk | m | drabble

[ ! ] this is a drabble for bad influence. It can be read as a stand-alone.

— summary; in which jungkook is the best at picking the worst possible place for a quickie.

— contents and warnings; smut, pwp, the endless adventures of badboy!jk x goodgirl!reader, enemies with benefits, public sex (library), doing the nasty in the theology section, dirty talk, unprotected sex, mid-sex arguments, jk is a mean lil shit (nothing new), kind of dom!jk, creampie, oral (female receiving), cum eating, cum play

— words; 3.1k

— author’s note; this was requested by anon and I thought it would be a nice thing to drop before the angsty parts begin 😌 also, for time context, this happens a bit after “bad behavior”

You were pretty sure that Jungkook had chosen that section on purpose. Because he hated you, that’s why.

Never once in your life had you wondered so far into the university’s library, past the known biology and chemistry shelves, and into the dusty alleyways of the humanities courses. And that was the shameful reason why you didn’t even know that there was a religious section in the first place.

The realization was obvious if you actually stopped to think about it: there were so many classes related to theology in your university that it would be ridiculous not to have books on that. And yet, you couldn’t help but feel like the old, hardcover bible was staring at you in endless disappointment as Jungkook turned you around and threw the hem of your dress over your hips.

“Shhhh, baby, keep it quiet,” he shushed you after a small whimper had escaped your lips, his palms spreading over your ass cheeks. “Someone’s gonna hear you.”

Because Jungkook hated you (as previously established), he instantly contradicted himself with a loud slap against your ass.

“You’re such a fucking idiot,” you hissed, fumbling closer to him as he tugged your underwear to the side. The cold air hit your wet folds instantly, spreading goosebumps through your skin. Jungkook was an expert at noticing the most timid, basic ways that your body reacted to his touches, so the clear asymmetry between your rough speech and the shivers running through your body was enough to make him snicker. “Keep it down. This isn’t funny.”

Jungkook chuckled behind you, the sharp noise of his zipper opening sounding like a gunshot inside that quiet building. “No. It’s hilarious, actually.”

You sighed, praying to all the books around you that no one would stumble across that erotic spectacle. You had no idea if there was another living soul wandering around the library so late — in fact, the place was like thirty minutes away from closing and you were positive that the librarian was already dozing off on the front counter when you arrived, so she was probably balls deep in REM sleep by that point. There was no one cramming for midterms, no night owls to interrupt the two of you and, just to top it all off, it was a fucking Friday. The library was so empty that you didn’t even know why you went to that place.

Okay, that was a lie. You went there because Jungkook had booty called you — yeah, yeah, boo-hoo, shame and disgrace — but, in your defense, you honestly thought he was just in desperate need for some extra help with his project (which was what he had initially told you). Turns out, “extra help” in Jungkook Dictionary didn’t mean the academic one. It meant that he was pathetically hard and he wanted somewhere to stick his dick in (instead of doing it like a normal person and using his hand).

Regardless, your position was equally embarrassing. You could’ve just walked away when you realized his true intentions, and not followed him into the theology section of the library, for fuck’s sake. You really needed to start exercising some self love and put some limits in that chaotic situationship before you got yourself in serious trouble.

Still, all those mental promises turned into silence when you felt his fingers playing with your folds, teasing their way between them. “So fucking wet,” Jungkook’s horniness dripped from his voice like honey, so soft and deep that got your knees buckling, back arching so he could reach your heat better. “Such a needy girl. Always begging for cock.”

“I didn’t beg for anything,” you weren’t in the mood to deal with his bullshit; looking over your shoulder just so you could stare him down. Somewhere along your messy make-out session and the Bible-induced guilt, Jungkook had already moved his pants and underwear halfway down his thighs, his cock standing erect and proud. His timing was fantastic when he was actually interested in something. “You’re the one that can’t keep it in your pants.”

He scoffed. “Don’t ruin the mood.” Jungkook punctuated his sentence with the plunging of two of his fingers inside your pussy, making a surprised whimper fall from your mouth — which you suppressed a second too late. “And of course I can’t, not when you’re dressed like this.”

You rolled your eyes, fighting the pleasure that started to build up at the pumping of his fingers in and out of you. “My knee-level dress is neither sexy nor an open invitation, you troglodyte.” You had chosen to wear that dress because it was a deliciously warm afternoon, not because you wanted to get railed while staring at religious texts. Jungkook, however, seemed to stare at your choice of clothing like he was looking at an “all you can eat” bouffet. You groaned. “But if you’re gonna do it, can you rush? I don’t wanna get caught.”

It was Jungkook’s turn to roll his eyes, a sigh escaping his lips as his digits left your heat. You knew he’d tease you endlessly if you didn’t say that, and you two were on a tight schedule. “You never do,” he mumbled.

“Duh,” you said, watching as his hand curled around his cock, pumping it a few times. You placed your own hands on the shelves and refused to look at the books any longer. “I have a future, you know. Don’t wanna get expelled halfway through the—”

“Shut up,” he interrupted you, holding onto your hips. Jungkook aligned himself with your entrance, coating his crown with your wetness and grunting at the sensation. “Fuck. Don’t wanna talk about your stupid high marks right now.”

Jungkook made his point clear with a swift roll of his hips, his thick length gradually entering your pussy. You bit down on your lip, closing your eyes as you marveled at the aphrodisiac sensation of his cock opening you up. “Shit,” you moaned — a whispered, breathy moan that wiped all your fierceness away. “You’re so — fuck — so annoying.”

“I said shut up,” Jungkook hissed, his cock hitting deep inside you with a strong hit of his hips against yours. You could feel him everywhere, mercilessly pushing his way inside your tight walls and stretching them wide for him.

Your eyes instantly fell shut, eyebrows raising as he started to set a rhythm, moving in and out of your soaked heat. The sounds of your bodies meeting was dirty and, worst of all, it was super perceptible to any one passing by — however, in typical Jungkook magic, you quickly forgot about most of your worries. “Oh my… Jungkook,” you gasped, feeling his grasp on your skin grow tighter at the uttering of his name. “Someone’s… someone’s gonna hear us.”

But you had successfully managed to piss Jungkook off, which was a terrible sign in that specific (public) situation. “Shit, you’re always like this,” he groaned, raising the force of his thrusts. A desperate moan died on your throat at the feeling of his cock drilling in and out of you, your breath shallow. That couldn’t be good. “Can’t stop fucking talking.”

Thinking was starting to get difficult, and speaking was even worse. “That’s not what I—”

Another whimper broke your sentence, your trail of thought long forgotten, and he used that opening to his advantage. One of Jungkook’s hands slithered from your hip to the front of your body, moving between your breasts before, at last, settling on your neck. There was no strength on his actions when he pulled you backwards, making your back press against his chest. “Why can’t you understand when I tell you to be fucking quiet, uh?” His voice was a rough growl close to your ear, filled with so much hunger that you almost lost your balance. Before you did, however, the tap of two of his fingers on your lips made your focus shift. “Do both of us a fucking favor and put your mouth to good use.”

For the first time that night, you were obedient. Without hesitation, you parted your lips so his fingers could move inside your mouth, a deep exhale leaving his chest once you started sucking on them; muffling your whimpers.

“That’s it, fuck,” he praised, his momentaneous anger slipping away from his grasp. You could feel Jungkook throbbing inside you every time you swirled your tongue around his digits, his length splitting you open like no one else could. “You’re so fucking tight. The only reason why I don’t stuff your mouth full of my cock right now is because this pussy is too good.”

You clenched around him, tried to say something that sounded like gibberish with his fingers still in your mouth. Amazingly so, Jungkook understood what it was.

“Are you gonna cum, baby?” He asked, breathless. You could only nod, your body bouncing up and down with the force of his precise thrusts. “Yeah?” He chuckled. “You know, I should just leave you like this, see if you learn to shut up for once.”

“Pfflease, no,” you struggled to get out.

“No? Now you listen to what I have to say?” Jungkook kept teasing you, watching as your initial petulant attitude was washed away. Doing that to you seemed to be a habit that he couldn’t let go, no matter how hard he tried. There was something about the way you fumbled and whimpered under his grasp that inflated his ego more than anything. “You only listen when I have you like this. Don’t you think that’s funny?”

Jungkook pulled his fingers out of your mouth, using that hand to press your body closer to his; tattooed arm wrapped in an iron grip around your waist. “Sorry,” you didn’t even know why you were apologizing at that point; you were just trying to grasp at anything that could bring you some sort of salvation. Maybe if you tried to appease his pestering spirit, he wouldn’t be so cruel when it came to your release. “Jungkook, please.”

“Please what?” He asked, his breath ragged against your ear; sounding like he was almost getting lost in your pussy.

“Please let me cum, please,” you begged. You didn’t know how he managed to do it: to make your entire personality crumble down into a desperate, needy mess with little to no effort. He knew just the right buttons to push; just the right way to fuck you. It was a dangerous game that you were playing and the score clearly wasn’t in your favor.

“I’ll think about it.” He groaned, a particularly loud moan ripping itself from his throat at another hash buckle of his hips. He was fucking your so well that you couldn’t even remember where you were for a second, all inihibitions pushed aside as your mind turned into a hazed, disconnected mess. “First, be a good girl and let me fill you up.”

You nodded desperately, not trusting yourself to say anything else. The heat in your stomach was building up at a worrisome speed, threatening to spill over at any given second, and yet you didn’t think it would happen quick enough.

Just as you expected, Jungkook was cumming a few thrusts later, spilling himself inside your pussy as he groaned against your shoulder. “Fuck, baby,” he was fighting for air, trying to keep his moans as quiet as he could manage them. And yet, when his mouth right next to your ear, you could hear with divine clarity the beautiful, airy sighs he gifted you as he continued to fuck you through his high. “Take it, come on. Fuck.”

You were almost pleading for your own body to hush and allow you to cum before Jungkook pulled away but, once again, you weren’t that lucky. You were left with shaky legs as he removed himself from your heat; feeling awfully empty as he swirled you around before crashing his mouth against yours in a messy kiss.

Yes, Jungkook fucked you like no one else could, but kissing him managed to be even more heavenly sometimes. Time and time again, he would surprise you with kisses that left you seeking for air; the slow drag of his tongue against yours matching perfectly with the way his hand cupped your cheek, thumb delicately caressing the skin. It was the eye of a hurricane, the tranquil skies before the storm hit, and you could get lost in it with such ease that it scared you sometimes.

But then he pulled away, and the magic left you just as quickly as it had arrived. “J-Jungkook, I didn’t—“

“Shh, baby, I know.” Another tender kiss against your lips, and his mouth moved to your jaw, nibbling on the skin. “Gonna clean you up, princess. Don’t worry.”

Brain too overwhelmed to react, you were left speechless as Jungkook trailed a path of sloppy kisses down your neck, sending shivers down your spine before, at last, getting down on his knees before you. A question got trapped in your throat, rapidly forgotten, when he raised one of your thighs and placed it over his shoulder. “Hold this up for me.” He signed at the hem of your dress, and you did as he requested, pulling the fabric to the level of your breasts. “That’s my girl.”

A shivering sigh danced on your tongue as you waited for him to move, his eyes eagerly taking in the way his release dripped between your folds, mingling with your own wetness. Jungkook loved to watch his work. “So pretty,” Jungkook mumbled, as he always did; sounding like he was trapped in a daydream. Like you weren’t actually supposed to hear that. “Always so pretty for me.”

You got lost in his praise for exactly two seconds before he was leaning in and pressing his mouth against your heat. Your hips buckled forward, barely held in place by his strong arms around your thighs. “Jungkook,” you called his name, making his dark eyes snap towards yours. His tongue prodded against your opening once, twice, teasing your pussy a few times before he licked his path up your slit, lips wrapping around your clit. “God, so good.”

Jungkook hummed against your heat, lapping between your folds like he was a starved animal, not caring about the fact that his own cum was mixed with your arousal. You were starting to consider that maybe he had a bit of an oral fixation, because you never saw him so focused as when he had his face buried between your thighs; his tongue playing with your sensitive spots so eagerly that you couldn’t help but whine out his name.

“Oh— Fuck,” you whimpered, feeling as that familiar pressure started to build on the base of your spine. Your hands were sweaty, clenching onto the fabric of your flowery dress as Jungkook continued to moan and lick his way around your pussy. “Fuck, I’m so close.”

Jungkook was looking up at you through the thick curtain of his messy hair, his devilish eyes sparking up in a silent dare for you to make a mess on his tongue. At the same time that he told you to keep quiet, you knew that he got off when you were loud — especially in a place like that, where the two of you could get caught. He was a fucking demon when he wanted to be, and he seriously didn’t have any trouble dragging you to hell along with him.

The worst part was that you liked it. You liked it since the very first time he had you, liked the way he took your precious control away from you. You liked when he had you like that: a shivering, desperate mess hanging by a thread; dwelling in the fantastic sensation of his wet muscle prodding your entrance, fucking it open as he stared up at you like he could eat you whole.

It was always the sight of Jungkook like that — between your thighs, eating you out like you were his favorite sweet — that pushed you over the edge. You pressed the back of your hand against your mouth, muffling your needy cries as you finally reached your high, his tongue still playing with your clit as you came down. Jungkook groaned as a small wave of your arousal dripped on him, his mouth expertly cleaning it up, just like he had promised.

“S-Stop,” you whimpered, a violent shiver overtaking your muscles as you started to feel the effects of your sensitivity. “Too much.”

After a final stroke of his tongue against your slick, Jungkook tugged your panties back in place and removed your thigh from his shoulder before, finally, he moved back to his feet. Your hand, weak, let go of the fabric and allowed your dress to collapse back into place, covering the mess between your legs.

He smirked at your overwhelmed, fucked-out state as he tugged himself back inside his pants. The sound of his zipper was once again a noisy interruption, which brought along a new wave of panic as you remembered your location.

You grabbed Jungkook’s wrist, twisting it around so you could look at his watch. “We have five minutes until closing time.” You sighed heavily, looking up at him with your typical irritated stare. His magic didn’t last for long, after all. “Why are you always like this?”

“Like what?” Jungkook raised one eyebrow, unable to hide the entertainment in his voice as he watched your expression. He ran one hand through his dark hair, pushing it back. “Incredibly handsome? Charismatic? Good at everything? Including eati—”

“I was going to ask why do you have the inherent need to defile religious places, but whatever helps you sleep at night,” you interrupted. “By the way, this,” you pointed between you two, “is not happening again. So I hope you had a good last time.”

Jungkook chuckled, holding your chin with his fingers. “This is like the third time you’re saying that, baby.” He pulled you in for a quick kiss, barely a tender press of his lips against yours. “But whatever helps you sleep at night.”

Check out the rest of the bad influence collection!

Taglist: @youurkryptonite @taehyungieskith @fan-ati--c @btstrasht @crazy4myself @sashimi-mochi @ft-multi @kooafraid @dianaaviny @ggukkieland @cryinginmypromdress @kissestothesky @imluckybitches @gyukult @jinsalpaca @0901-1230

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quetzalpapalotl · 2 years

Text

More Optronix VA! Another request by @bitegore, as always from PUE by @lord-squiggletits, chapter 11. SG Optimus gets a visit from his ember-brother :). This one was short and very fun since I too, have a brother, so I know what this is like.

----

One day, the hallway door clanked open. Optronix was still rebooting his disused vocalizer to snap an insult about how he had already drunk his fuel for the day so leave him the hell alone, when the guard said in a clipped voice, "You have a visitor."

Optronix's optics shot online. "Megatron?" The incomplete reboot made his voice crackle.

"No. Your ember-brother, Ultra Magnus." The guard tromped away.

Oh. Ugh. Optronix considered turning up the holoscreen and his radio even louder, just to show his brother what he thought of his presence... but Magnus would probably gladly shout at him to make himself heard, and Optronix didn't wish to subject himself to that cacophony. He sighed and turned off his datapad, but left the holo on.

The door banged open, feeling like a gunshot reverberating around the inside of Optronix’s helm.

"Optimus Prime!" Magnus boomed. "Or should I say, Optronix, since you have been sadly divested of your precious artifact?"

"Magnus. I'm surprised they let you out of your cage without a muzzle on."

"As insufferable as being your brother is, it does give me visitation rights after medical emergencies. My apologies for that, incidentally; it's a shame your operation was successful."

For once in my life, I agree with you. Though Optronix would never tell Magnus that he was right about anything. He groaned softly and forced himself upright on his berth. "Speaking of the operation, look at this." He opened his mask and gestured at his face. "See? Now you don't have to be the only ugly brother between us. Though I can confidently say that I did a better job on your face than they did on mine."

Magnus growled, facial components twitching in a vaguely infuriated way. "Reminisce on your past victories; they are all you will have left. My rehabilitation is progressing at a swift pace!"

"Oh?" Optronix smirked, feeling his face crinkle, and raised a brow ridge. "So what you mean is that you're doing very well at bowing and scraping before your captors. You've only ever been good at being beneath others."

"Cut your slag!" Magnus jabbed at the surface of the forcefield, punctuating every sentence with a sizzling tap. "Unlike you, I have intentions to get out of the dump heap they call a rehabilitation facility. I have no need to cling to old allegiances or loyalties when a new Cybertron awaits! Once I'm out, I will have the freedom to start gathering influence once more. I will be a figure of standing one day, and you will still be stuck here to rot. Then you will know how it feels to be the inferior sibling!"

That was, hmm. Not entirely expected. "Abandoning the truth of Primus so easily, brother? I thought you understood the futility of our struggles in the universe."

"Futility! Bold words for someone who spent more than a million years hoarding power and influence to himself!" He thumped his fist on the forcefield. "Get out of your idiot berth and stand up to me!"

"No," Optronix said. He laid back down and rolled over, pointedly turning his back on Magnus and snapping his mask shut again.

"Let's talk about futility, then." Magnus' footsteps paced back and forth in front of Optronix's cell. "Do you want to know what else is futile? You! You and everything you've ever accomplished! You lost the Matrix and, judging by the complete lack of panic by our captors, you're completely incapable of ever getting it back! We were ripped from the other universe just as we were on the cusp of victory, and now we have come back to a universe where all our destruction has been built over again! Congratulations on falling for the same trick twice, brother!"

Optronix sighed serenely. "Ashes to ashes, dust to dust. Everything we worked for has indeed turned to nothing. That's what the way of Primus is, brother. Congratulations on admitting that I am right yet again. And by the way, your plan isn't going to work. You're completely delusional if you think that you of all people are going to be accepted anywhere on Cybertron."

"I won't be insulted by someone who can't even get out of his own berth," Magnus retorted. "Primus, you're disgusting. I never thought you would let yourself be degraded to such a state."

Optronix's optics onlined, but he didn't face Magnus. "I will not degrade myself by complying with my captors. Society holds nothing of value to me. I have no need for society or rehabilitation, therefore I do not pursue either. Have fun being an experiment, little brother."

Magnus' stomping ceased. He was silent and still for a long time. Finally he said, "You should have just killed yourself. You would be less pathetic than you are now. I'm going to tell all of them, Optronix. I'm going to go back to my prison and I'll tell all of the Autobots how pathetic you are. I'll go on the streets once I'm free and tell everyone that the legendary Prime is so soft and desperate that he does nothing but lay in berth all day calling it 'resistance.'"

"Interesting story, brother." Optronix offlined his optics and burrowed more comfortably against the berth. "Well, you will be the first between us in one thing at least. The instant you step onto the streets, you'll be the first to have your processor blown out by the nearest Decepticon who sees you. Goodbye."

#pay unto evil

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elsa-writes · 4 years

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Alfie Solomons x Reader: Beauty and the Beast

Part 1

Authors note: this is my first time writing for Peaky Blinders, and my first time writing a fic in a while, so please feel free to bully me for my inaccuracies! also I might change the title later cuz idk what else to title this. Enjoy!

—-

Polly pretended to disapprove of you and Arthur’s shenanigans. Reality was, she knew with you around, Arthur couldn’t get into too much trouble. True, it was not the most respectable of hobbies for a lady, to be playing cards and hanging around bars every Friday night. However, Arthur couldn’t be getting any whores pregnant when he had to watch over his young cousin. And he’d make sure you’d stay out of trouble, too. Tommy had a similar line of thinking. Although with this latest scheme, you weren’t sure you had his full support.

“Are you sure this is the best idea?”

“I think,” Arthur paused for a beat, stroking his mustache. “It will go smoothly. You want to prove yourself, that you can function in this line of business, this is it.”

“And what did Tommy say about it?” You questioned. He’d sent Arthur in his place for a meeting with Mr Solomons. You were sitting in the car outside of the distill- bakery. Arthur insisted that you come along to this meeting. Camden Town was a bit nicer than Birmingham-though not by much.

“You know Tommy, he’s, well, you know,” he blustered. In the back seat, Billy coughed.

So Tommy was not aware of this arrangement. “Right.” But you were not going to NOT go in.

You’d bumped into Mr Solomons once. He’d been leaving after having a conversation with Tommy. You scampered away before he could say anything to you. Not out of fear of him; you ran away because you were afraid Tommy would know you’d been eavesdropping. Though Mr Solomons had made a reputation for himself, from what you’d overheard, he sounded like a bit of a clown.

“Are you coming or are you going to stay in the car like a baby?”

“I’m not a baby,” you protested and stepped out into the cold air. “Finn is a baby.”

“Yeah, and I didn’t invite him for a reason.” Arthur punctuated the sentence with a slam of the automobile door.

You adjusted your outfit, making sure you looked proper and professional. “Let’s get this over with.”

A man awaited you by the door and led you inside the distillery. It was dark, and damp. The odor of rum-er, bread, permeated the air. The smell made you light headed. Your shoes echoed on the cement, the loudest sound in the room.

As you descended into the labyrinth, a man appeared from behind a corner. Mr. Solomons himself.

His hat cast an ominous shadow over his face- definitely planned for theatrical effect.

He did not react to your presence. If he recognized you he gave no sign. “Welcome, welcome! You must be Arthur!”

“Mr. Solomons,” Arthur greeted, offering a hand.

“I’ve head so much about you,” Mr. Solomons said. The amusement in his voice was evident. He wasn’t taller than your cousin, but he was stockier and way more intimidating. Billy stood on the opposite side of you, wary of the large man.

Arthur replied, “Shalom.”

You cringed. Mr. Solomons gaze flickered to one of his men behind Arthur.

“Let me just say, Shalom,” Arthur repeated, painfully serious. You felt ill. If it were a less tense situation you would have smacked him over the head.

Solomons tilted his head just enough for you to get a glimpse of the look of incredulity on his face.

“Shalom!” He said. “So glad you could join us for this most joyous of celebrations! And I see you’ve brought friends for the occasion.” Solomons nodded in your direction. You’d been instructed by Arthur to not speak too much or get involved. The same went for Billy.

Arthur shifted on his feet. “This is my cousin, and my associate. Shall we discuss business?”

“Cousin, eh? From the sounds of it, there’s a new Shelby every fucking week.” Mr Solomons chuckled. “Come along, come along.”

He lead you into a room with a table in the center. Something was off. Perhaps it was the comment Arthur had made. It had surely offended them. The Solomons men hadn’t even looked at you. Not that you wanted to be looked at. It was unusual, though. They weren’t even looking at each other.

Something else in the room caught your attention; a goat tied to the leg of the table. It bleated sadly at you. You resisted the urge to pet it.

Mr Solomons circled the table and gestured. You took note of the pipe in his hand that also seemed to function as a cane. “Take a seat, why don’t you?”

Arthur hesitated, both you and Billy watching him before making a move.

He took the chair on the end. Some of the Solomons boys were standing behind the three of you in a perfect line. Another one took a chair next to Mr Solomons, still not looking at you.

Mr Solomons himself remained standing, studying Billy like he was the most fascinating thing on the planet. “And you’ll be...”

“Billy,” Billy said.

Mr. Solomons focused his attention on you. “Shelby?”

“(Y/n),” was your answer as you sat down at the table. There were plates and cups arranged before you. You kept your hands in your lap, careful not to touch anything.

“(Y/n)...You know, out there in the sand, out there in the desert where me forefathers come from... started out as a little speck...”

“Is everything alright?” Billy leaned over to whisper to Arthur. One of the men lurking around had shut the door behind you while Mr. Solomons rambled on. Arthur tried to dismiss Billy’s concerns with a wave.

“Billy, don’t worry mate, yeah, if you want you can leave. If you need to go to the little boys room or something you can leave.” Mr. Solomons interrupted, sounding a little too much like a school teacher.

“He’s alright, he’s alright,” Arthur grinned, rubbing Billy’s shoulder. “Billy boy.”

Your stomach churned. Something was wrong. This was not the kind of conversation that Tommy and Mr Solomons had had the day you eavesdropped. This was not the simple meeting you were promised.

“You want to stay?” Mr Solomons asked Billy; staring at him so intensely you had to look away.

“I’ll stay.”

“You stay there, then, treacle.” Mr Solomons grimaced, and his voice suddenly became much louder. “So! The pharaoh! Have you heard of him?”

Without thinking, you nodded, and he pointed in acknowledgement at you.

“He kept my people, the Jewish people, in slavery for thousands of years.”

“Persecuted, right,” Arthur interjected, pleased with himself for making this astute observation. Mr Solomons eyes lit up with amusement.

“He did, he persecuted my race. killing the innocent, right. So this feast that we’re having here , is basically the day what when the Jewish angels decided the evil fucking Egyptians had pushed their fucking luck!”

“Right,” Arthur added.

“It’s part of our tradition to do this, for in order to make it good with god to kill a king.”

Oh fuck. You glanced towards your cousin. By the look on his innocent smiling face he had not come to the conclusion you had. Okay, keep it cool. From the rumors you knew Mr Solomons was an intelligent man who spoke in idiotic riddles. You could have been misreading things. Sabini could be the pharaoh in the story.

“Right,” Arthur said again. What was Tommy doing at this moment?

“That is the ritual of the sacrifice of the pass over goat.” Mr Solomons said.

Everyone at the table turned to look at the bleating creature.

Arthur looked ill. “A goat?”

Mr Solomons gestured to it. “Yeah, we’re gonna sacrifice it. Tonight. That’s part of the reason why we have to shut the doors as well.”

You wished Arthur had let you keep a gun. You were a sitting duck. Every muscle in your body tensed, ready for the action. No, Tommy wasn’t the pharaoh.

“But this year we thought we’d give the fucking goat a name!” He grinned.

“You named it.”

“We fucking did.”

You averted your eyes as a man put a knife to the goats neck. “Arthur?”

“You named the fucking goat.” He shifted in his chair. It seemed as if he was catching on.

“Evil fucking Egyptian pharaoh-“

“The fucking-“

“And you know what we called it?”

“What’d you call it?”

Your hands balled into fists.

“Tommy Shelby,” Mr Solomons answered with a hint of triumph.

As the blood of the goat spilled on the ground you dropped to the floor. Chaos ensued; a gunshot fired so loud your ears rang. It took a few seconds for your hearing to return. Arthur was screaming. You looked up to see poor Billy slumped in his chair, covered in blood, not moving. You brought your knees to your chest and covered your head to avoid any potential stray bullets. Three of the men had to restrain Arthur, who thrashed and cursed.

Heavy footsteps approached. You scooted back further under the safety of the table. Trying to help him would be useless; you were outnumbered and they had guns.

Arthur went quiet, his freckled face pale.

The back of Mr. Solomons came into view.

“That’s that. So, and the evil Egyptian scum was finally cleansed by the blood of the Passover goat. Mate.”

You covered your moth with a hand.

He kissed Arthur’s cheek twice. “That’s for Sabini.”

Then he promptly bashed Arthur over the head. Funnily enough, it brought back memories of all the times you’d seen Arthur do the same thing to someone else. The urge to laugh overwhelmed you.

Mr Solomons dropped into a squat and placed the gun he’d shot Billy with into Arthur’s hand.

While he was in this position he noticed you under the table.

“Ah, hello there,” he grunted, eyes looking you up and down.

You wanted to swear, or grab the gun from Arthur’s limp hand, or do something very impressive.

He stared at you, waiting for a reply.

“Hi,” you sputtered out. “Is he dead?”

“Oh, nah, that would ruin the fun. You were not supposed to be here tonight.”

“I know.”

“Right. What the fuck am I going to do with you?”

“Let me go?” You suggested. It was worth a try.

He scratched his beard, lost in thought. “Cute, but I think not. That wouldn’t exactly wrap things up nicely, would it?”

A heavy pause lingered in the air. You pulled your knees in even closer, in an instinctual effort to protect yourself.

“Ok. Well! Lads, why don’t you take our guest upstairs?”

“Excuse me? No, no way.”

One of the men grabbed your arm, yanking you to your feet.

“Hey!” You struggled to get your arm free.

Mr Solomons stood up and turned away from you.

“You’re gonna kidnap me and you can’t even look me in the face! Fucking coward!” You shoved the man off but slipped in the blood on the floor, letting him get the advantage.

Another grabbed your other arm and despite your best efforts you couldn’t elbow him off. The near tumble had discombobulated you.

Mr Solomons glanced over his shoulder, as cool as a cucumber. “My good friends the London police are here if you’d prefer to go with them.”

The shock of what he’d said made you forget to fight. “Wait, what?” He didn’t have police on his payroll. Oh, Sabini did, how could you forget?

“Get the fuck off me!” You screamed.

The two men dragged you out the same moment as the doors flung open. A group of police stormed the room.

“Fucking animal came in here with a gun and he shot him in the face!” Mr. Solomons gestured with his cane, ignoring your pleas for help. “And my lads restrained him. Look at him! He’s dead! Is he dead! He’s fucking dead!” His false astonished voice followed you down the hall.

You fought back with all your effort.

“Stop fucking fighting, you’re lucky he didn’t shoot you too!” One of them said.

“Oh, how kind! How generous! Please be sure to thank him for me! Arthur! Arthur!” You didn’t know why you were screaming for him. They were carting him off to jail. Fuck. Would Tommy know? How long would it take for him to find out? “Bastards!”

Going upstairs was the worst part; you managed to slither out of their grip and ran up a few steps before tripping onto your face. They at least had the decency to not laugh.

The upstairs appeared to be some sort of flat. The two assholes threw you into the closest room, probably out of desperation to be free of you.

“What are you going to do with me?” You demanded, although you were scared of the answer.

They exchanged glances. They had let you free but blocked the door.

“Well, we’re not sure. He didn’t really give us instructions.” One said.

“I could give you some instructions. How about you go shove a-“ the threat was enough. Without rhyme or reason you charged at them like a bull.

Before you could spring your attack, they slipped out, locking the door behind themselves.

Slamming your fists on the door, you swore at them, every word imaginable.

Once you exhausted yourself you switched gears. Taking in the room; you noticed a bed shoved against a wall, a large, messy desk, and a small window. The style of the room was at least ten years out of date, and was covered in what looked like ten years of dust. This must be where Mr Solomons slept. For someone who had money he didn’t live like it.

You moved to the one window in the room. Here was a potential escape route. Except for the crowd of men huddled outside smoking. They wore aprons, like the others you saw. There was no way you could get past all of them.

But you could once they left. The only issue was making sure nothing happened to you in between then and now.

Who knew what upsetting plans he had for you? He fucking shot Billy. He could have shot you. Maybe the only reason he did it was because the police were nearby. He could be on his way up here at this very moment.

You needed to block the door. Anything to stall for time.

There was a coat rack in the corner that you used. The large cabinet full of decorative China plates looked easy to push; after a few tense moments of pushing you abandoned it and went for the desk. You investigated your work. The door could still be opened a few inches. Anything more than that would be blocked.

It should be enough. It didn’t feel like it. You were becoming aware of the heavy, dull ache in your muscles. Your ribs hurt from you dropped to the floor and bruises had begun to appear on your arms. You sat down on the creaky bed. If you were trapped in here, you might as well enjoy the “comforts” of this place.

A few hours passed. It had to be the next day already. Your thoughts were with Arthur, wondering if he’d woken up from the bashing yet. And Tommy, if he knew you were being held hostage. He was smart. He’d get you out of this. Unless he’d finally had enough of your antics and disowned you. No, no. Polly, John and Ada wouldn’t let that happen. You were spiraling and tired but too paranoid to sleep. Laying back on the bed, your eyes closed as you strained to listen for any sound. Why in the ever loving fuck had you let Arthur do this? When had he ever done anything smart?

Someone knocked at the door.

“Fuck off.” You said, a conditioned response from years of your cousins barging in on you.

Mr Solomons huffed. “Yes, yes. Listen. I’m not going to shoot you-well, I might if you get on my nerves- I have actually come to the conclusion that you may be quite useful to me.”

You sat up. “What?”

Mr Solomons opened the door, and to your relief, it got stuck on the desk. “Moving my fucking desk around?”

“I doubt I’m any use to you,” you said in your bravest voice. “Tommy will be looking for me. And he will want revenge for your betrayal with Sabini.”

He jiggled the door again. It didn’t budge. “Yeah, exactly. Revenge and all that. And I know he’s fond of you- you were at his house that day- so if I have you, right, as leverage, he’ll be less likely to put a fucking bullet in my head.”

“Did you really put Arthur in prison?”

“Yes, and I’ve just gotten word that Michael...Gray, is it, he’s been locked up too. So Tommy is probably a bit busy at the moment.”

Michael? That was probably a lie. A bluff. Polly would be in shambles.

“So are you going stay in there forever or are you going to come out?” Not taunting. Curious.

“I’ll stay in here.”

“You can come out, I’m not going to fucking hurt ya-“

“I saw you shoot Billy in the fucking head! And nearly kill Arthur!” You barked and flung the nearest object you could find, an empty bottle, at the door.

He cursed and shut the door before the bottle could slam into his head. “Didn’t you listen to a fucking word I said? Tommy Shelby would really come after me then.”

“Fuck the fuck off!” Another bottle flew through the air for good measure. This time the liquid contents splattered on the papers on the desk.

“Fucking hell,” he growled. “Stay in there as long as you want then, yeah?”

Your voice wavered. “He’s gonna come for me! And you’ll be sorry when he does!”

#peaky fucking blinders #peaky blinders #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders x reader #alfie solomons #alfie solomons x reader #alfie solomons imagine #arthur shelby #Tommy Shelby

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can-youimagine · 4 years

Text

Bracelet (Diego Hargreeves x Reader)

Requested by @irenne-stans: I’d like to request a Diego Hargreeves x reader Set in season 2 the reader is close friends w/ the academy (especially Diego) and gets sucked into 1963.when the reader first sees Lila very close w/ Diego her first instinct is to fight and Lila would say like “he’s clearly over you is even made me a bracelet” the reader responds w/ “shitty bracelet he made me his girlfriend” or something like that oh and the reader wins the fight or Diego pulls the reader off Lila. while the others just watch

TW: season 2 spoilers (but you read the request), feminine reader, swearing, hella canon-divergence, poorly written fight scene, wound description

Word Count: 2,333

A/N: I started writing and realized I changed the request a bit (I have horrible reading comprehension), sorry!

Masterlist

It wasn’t like Diego to be this clingy. Ever since his father’s death, he started spending every moment he could with you. You chalked it up to be some sort of existential crisis, especially when he asked, “What would you do if you knew the world was ending in less than a week?”

You furrowed your eyebrows. “I don’t know. I guess I wouldn’t do anything differently.”

“The whole world is ending, and you aren’t going to do anything different,” he asked in disbelief.

“Fine, I’ll play your game. I’d spend more time with you.” You punctuated your sentence with a quick kiss. ”Now, shh. This is my favorite part.” You settled back into his chest and turned your attention back to the screen.

“I’ll spend more time with you, too,” he whispered into your hair.

He kept to his promise, going so far as to drag you with him into a portal to God knows where with much protest from his siblings. The last thing you remember before crashing to the ground was Diego telling you he loved you.

Now, you sit on a rather stiff couch, while the man who graciously let you live with him. He goes on and on about a secret alien race, ‘just like you’. You nod. It was easier to tell him what he wanted to hear than to try to do anything about it.

Luckily, Five showed up not too long after you. He explained everything, from the last apocalypse to this one. While he went off to find his siblings, he left you to listen to one of Elliott’s crazy rants.

“I got an update on another one of them. Escaped from the mental hospital,” Elliott says, as he tosses the newspaper in your direction. “Know him?”

You gasp when you see the picture. “Diego.” Your voice is barely more than a whisper.

“You know him,” Elliott presses. “He’s like you.”

You ignore him. Diego is here. He’s alive, and he’s here. His hair is much longer than it was, but he still looked exactly the same. “Oh, God. I have to find him.” You threw the paper back to Elliott before grabbing your shoes. “How far away should he be?”

He doesn’t have time to answer before you are out the door. “My God, Diego. What the hell have you gotten yourself into?” you wonder, heading down the street. You don’t have much time to wonder before you see him sitting in a definitely stolen car. You shout his name, causing him to turn to you. As soon as he sees you, he clambers out of the car.

“(Y/N)!” The joy on his face is unmistakable. Though, you don’t get to see it for long, as he immediately wraps his arms around you, pulling you as close to you as he can, before kissing you. When he pulls away, he holds your face in his hands. “You’re here.”

That’s all it takes for you to start crying. Every emotion the two of you have felt since arriving comes pouring out of you. He gently brushes away your tears, ignoring his own. You almost forgot how good it feels to be in his arms, to just be with him.

Unfortunately, you don’t get to stay there for long. A woman, who you hadn’t noticed in the car earlier, clears her throat. “Are you going to introduce me to your friend?”

“Fuck off,” Diego groans.

“You’re no fun,” she pouts.

Diego rolls his eyes. “Killed the mood, didn’t she?”

You chuckle. “A little, but God, is it good to see you again.” You look passed him to the girl in the car. “I’m (Y/N).”

“Oh, so you’re (Y/N). I was starting to think he truly was insane.”

You give Diego an inquisitive look, which he dismisses. “I was in there for a while. I could only think about you. Where were you?”

You explain where you were and everything that Five had told you, to which Diego can only respond with, “Again?”

“Looks like you gotta be a hero again.”

“So you’re where he gets it from?” the woman interjects.

Diego closes his eyes. It takes all of his self-control not to snap. “Lila-” Luckily for her, Five manages to find you before he has a chance to finish his sentence.

“See you’re pulling your weight around here, (Y/N).” He turns his attention to his brother, “And you are making my life incredibly difficult. Now let’s get you inside before someone sees you.” He turns on his heel and heads back toward Elliott’s.

“Ooh! I’m coming, too!” Lila says, hopping out of the car. Before anyone has a chance to stop her, she bounds up the steps. “Well, you comin’?”

You shrug and lead Diego into the building, but not before stealing another kiss. By the time you get in, Elliott is screaming at Five about the film he asked him to about earlier. Five, rather uninterested in the whole conversation, allows Lila to knock Elliott out before instructing you to tie him up while Five sets up the projector to watch the “Frankel Footage”.

You and Diego are too wrapped up in, well, each other to pay attention to the film. However, when you hear the gunshot, you both turn your attention to the screen.

“Is the guy with the umbrella…” you trail off, uncertain of if you really want to accuse your boyfriend’s father of murder.

“Dad,” Five and Diego say in unison.

“What the hell was that?” Lila asks, backing away. “What the hell was that?”

None of you know how to explain what happened. When you don’t answer immediately, she rushes off to hide in the makeshift darkroom.

“I’ll go calm her down,” Diego says.

“(Y/N), help me find Dad,” Five commands.

“We’re just gonna leave him?” You point to Elliot.

“We’ll just be in the next room.”

You nod and grab the phonebook. You flip through the ‘H’s. “No Hargreeves. Any other suggestions?”

“D.S. Manufacturing.” He moves to look over your shoulder. “There it is! Diego and I are going to see if we can get anything out of him. You need to stay here either to calm down Elliott or Lila. I’m not sure who needs your help more.”

You nod. “Be careful.”

“I will be. You may want to tell your boyfriend that.”

“I will.” You walk over to the closet. “D, we found him.”

“I’ve got to go, Lila. Family thing,” he explains to her before turning his attention back to you. “She’s starting to get some of it. Just keep her sane.”

“I will. You be careful.”

He rolls his eyes. “I always am.”

“Yeah. It’s not like I’ve ever had to stitch you back together right before I go to work.”

He kisses the top of your head. “I’ll be careful. Promise.” He holds his pinkie out, something the two of you started doing early in your relationship.

You lock yours with his. “I can’t lose you again.”

“You won’t. You’re stuck with me.”

“Good. Now, go, be a hero.”

He kisses you again before heading out the door.

Once he leaves, you tell Lila that you are going to make something to eat since she probably hasn’t had anything. She just nods, obviously uncomfortable with you. Eventually, hunger wins, and she comes into the kitchen with you.

“Y’know,” she says between mouthfuls of pancakes, “I thought that that man was insane -- daddy issues and all that -- but now,” the rest of her sentence is drowned out by the food. “So, what’ the deal with you?”

“What do you mean?”

“He just kept telling anyone who would listen about how great you are, how much he missed you, all that shit. So, what’s so great about you?”

You grip your glass a little tighter and plaster a smile onto your face. “I-”

“Not that it matters. You never bothered to look for him.” You try not to let her get to you. You try to be the bigger person, but as soon as she says, “Besides, we were basically a thing at the hospital. Why else would he take me with him? He even made me this bracelet.” She waves her wrist adorned with a string of beads in front of your face.

“Quite a shitty bracelet,” you respond, taking her empty plate from her. Once you turn around, you mutter, “He made me his girlfriend.”

“Oh yeah. Seems to be working well for you. You couldn’t even be bothered to-” Something takes control over you. You slap her as if on instinct. Surprisingly, she seems rather unphased, coming back at you twice as hard. You try everything Diego taught you, but it doesn’t seem to be enough. It’s almost like she grew up in a bootcamp.

Just as she moves to hit you again, the door opens, and Five whistles. “As wonderful as it is to see you two bonding, your boyfriend needs some help.”

She hits you one last time before running down the stairs. You follow her to a horribly wounded, but conscious, Diego.

“Fuck,” you both say.

“I’m fine,” Diego says.

You roll your eyes. “Stand straight.”

He tries but fails. “Fine. Patch me up, Doc.”

You take his shirt off and lead him to the couch. You inspect the wound, which doesn’t seem to be too serious.

“I need disinfectant, bandages, some clean cloths, water, and some sort of painkiller,” you instruct. Lila and Five get to work gathering what you need, while you stay with Diego.

“Seems like I should have warned you to be careful,” he jests.

“I’m not the one bleeding out on a stranger’s couch,” you counter.

“You were the one almost pushed over a banister.”

You keep your eyes trained on his stomach, looking for any other scratches.

“You gonna tell me what happened?”

“It was nothing. I was being stupid.”

“No shit.” He laughs bitterly. “You can either tell me now, or I’ll ask her.”

“All out of painkillers,” Five interrupts, “but I’ve got everything else. Lila is untying Elliott.”

You thank him before telling him to go supervise her. Once he leaves, you get to work and hope that Diego has forgotten about the fight.

“You’re really not going to tell me?” he finally asks once you’ve cleaned most of the blood.

“You’re going to laugh.” You put some rubbing alcohol on the wound, causing him to hiss.

“I’m not much of a laugher.”

You roll your eyes. “Fine. I was jealous.”

As if to prove you right, he laughs. After an unamused look from you, he stops. “Sorry, but why? You know I love you.”

“I know.” You throw the cloth onto the couch. “I know. She was just talking about being with you and the bracelet and-”

“(Y/N), that bracelet is shit!”

“I know! I just -- I guess I just thought -- I thought I lost you, and the thought of you having this life that I couldn’t be a part of killed me. I know it’s stupid and selfish, but I just didn’t want you to have moved on so fast.” You didn’t realize you were crying until you feel Diego wipe away a tear.

“I will never move on from you. I love you, (Y/N), and I will make you a million bracelets to show you that. You have nothing to worry about.” He kisses you gently, ignoring the pain in his side. “I love you, and if we were back home, at our home, I’d show you.” You smile slightly. “Thatta girl. I told you, you’re stuck with me.”

“Good.”

You finish patching him up in silence. He has quite a few bruises that will still be there for a while, but there’s not much you can do about them. Since he doesn’t feel up to walking upstairs, the two of you stay on the couch. With Diego next to you, you sleep soundly for the first time since you came here, but he can’t stop his mind from reeling.

He feels horrible about everything that happened. He just wishes that he could have been there as soon as you first became jealous to hold you and tell you that you had absolutely nothing to worry about. He can’t stop thinking about the bracelet. You both know that the bracelet is the least of your worries, but something about it keeps eating at him. He suddenly gets an idea.

He climbs off of the couch, careful not to wake you, and moves over to the pile of cloth. He digs through the pile, looking for some sliver of white fabric in the pile, but he comes up empty. Instead, he grabs one and washes it until the water runs clear. He rips it into three small strips and begins braiding it the way he’s seen you and his sisters do a million times. When it somewhat resembles a bracelet, he ties it around your wrist, cutting it so that it fits perfectly.

When he tries to lay back down next to you, his elbow knocks against you, causing you to wake up. “Diego?”

“Yes, doll?”

“What’re you doing up?”

“I wanted to make up for earlier.”

“Diego-” You move your hand up to rest on his cheek, but you stop when you see the cloth. “What’s this?”

“I thought you deserved your own bracelet. This one is a bit more personal, though, not some mandatory arts and crafts project.”

You examine it. It’s lumpy and poorly braided and a rather ugly bronze color. “Where did you get this?”

“Before you freak out, I cleaned it.”

“You got it from that pile, didn’t you?”

He nods sheepishly, feeling rather foolish for thinking that you would like a blood-colored bracelet. “I’m sor-”

“I love it, and I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

You curl back into him, laying the arm with the bracelet on his chest where you can both see it.

#diego hargreeves x reader #diego hargreeves imagine #tua imagine #tua x reader #tua spoilers #the umbrella academy imagine #the umbrella academy x reader #umbrella academy x reader #umbrella academy imagine

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kumoriyami-xiuzhen · 3 years

Text

Hakuoki Shinkai: Ginsei no Shou - Saito Chapter Four

Well, this is probably my 2nd favourite chapter from Ginsei no Shou... Final edits will be done later as always. Need to go over the punctuation and some of the sentences which were compounded in the translation I used so I also need to review that... though it’s probably going to take a while before i get to the subtitled video for this since my finals are literally next week, with the last one being on friday and im only about 3/5 done with the timing for the first chapter.

Chapter 4 occurs in Edo.

enjoy!

Hakuoki Shinkai: Ginsei no Shou - Saito Chapter Four

Translation by KumoriYami

Twelfth month, third year of Keiou.

The Shinsengumi was very busy following the aftermath of the Battle of Toba Fushimi and other political affairs, and was very busy......

However, in comparison, the current political situation has undergone even greater changes. [check jp mtl. reword later].

The Edo Shogunate which had been provoked by Western vassals, had been unable to completely suppress them, finally accepted the Imperial Restoration Order [check jp mtl].

In name, the shogunate was abolished and a new government was established [reword later].

However, the Shogunate, which had held power for so long, naturally refused to give it up [check jp mtl].

At the end of the third year of Keiou, many soldiers had been stationed in Kyoto and Osaka in order to prevent the Sat-cho's forces/armies/troops from entering the capital.

The Shinsengumi which had been stationed at Toba-Fushimi, also confronted the Sat-cho's forces.

Then, on the third day of the first month, before the atmosphere of the New Year had yet to dissipate——

A single gunshot started the Battle of Toba-Fushimi.

Until now, the Shinsengumi which wielded blades, could have been regarded as invincible.

However against the Sat-cho which with the latest weapons and equipment, they had been unable to make up the gap in performance granted by guns [reword later.].

The warriors fell down one after another before they even stepped into the attack range of a sword, and their dead bodies piled up like a mountain.

Watching how he was no longer able to rely on his battle-honed swordsmanship, could only watch as Kyoto, which he had guarding with all his heart, turned into a sea of flames, I had no idea about what Saito-san had been thinking [reword later].

I had always viewed the Shinsengumi as samurai, and so, their defeat felt like it signified the end to the age of samurai......

I wasn’t able to put this into words, and was only able to watch in silence.

After, in order to avoid pursuers, we decided to retreat to Osaka Castle.

In addition to Amagiri-san, who had been repeatedly fought against.

because I was the target of that male oni——Kazama-san, we ended up being obstructed once again.

The fighting with the Sat-cho forces had ended up [with them] being completely suppressed by the latest firearms [check jp mtl].

Yet even the katana that he had always believed in was unable to resist the strength Kazama-san wielded as an oni......

Even so, Saito-san was like a well-tempered steel blade, completely unyielding——

In order to fulfill his orders to protect me, he drank the Ochimizu, became a rasetsu, and was finally able to drive back Kazama-san.

Afterwards.

We arrived at Osaka Castle, and met up with the rest of the Shinsengumi.

We followed Yoshinobu who retreated to Edo [check jp. pretty sure this is Yoshinobu being mentioned here], and vowed to make a comeback from Edo.

The reason why I was living with the Shinsengumi was originally to find my missing father.

Now, since there wasn't much meaning in doing so, I didn't seem to have a reason to follow them anymore......

After pulling myself together, I took [my] sword [check jp for kodachi] from Saito-san, and decided to follow the Shinsengumi.

This must have been because of being in contact with them all the time , the Shinsengumi had become my home.

First month and a half, Fourth year of Keiou [uh... reword later.].

We finally returned to Edo, and borrowed a hanamoto's residence/mansion [check game for the term they use] to use as our headquarters to regain our strength.

But, it wasn't easy to restructure/reorganize a severely damaged organization.

Kondou-san and Hijikata-san, in order to negotiate with the Shogunate, were attending meetings all day.

Inoue-san and Yamazaki-san had sacrificed their lives, and Okita-san was still recuperating......

The greatest burdens naturally fell onto Saito-san.

After turning into a rasetsu, he would feel unwell from simply being awake during the day, but he still never complained and devoted himself to working all day and night/tirelessly working.

Second month of the Fourth year of Keiou

One day during the second month of the Fourth year of Keiou, when I saw deeply distressed over how Saito-san was working and reluctant to even sleep, the following story occurred.

Second month of the Fourth Year of Keiou

During the first month of the year, the former/old shogunate army, which had been defeated at/in the/during the Battle of Toba-Fushimi, retreated to Edo, was waiting for the opportunity to make a comeback.

The Shinsengumi, who had also returned to Edo, first stayed at a hotel in Shinagawa, then borrowed a hanamoto's residence in Edo to use as their headquarters.

In order to revitalize/restructure the situation [reword later. think that reads oddly], every day was very busy.

About a month after returning to Edo......

Yukimura: Um, I remember that this box should have......

I was in the middle of hastily organizing all sorts of things that had been bought for the/at the new headquarters/I was at the new headquarters and arranging all sorts of things that had been purchased [check jp mtl].

However, I couldn't waste too much time on this.

Because I still had to go shopping, and there were many other things that had to be done——

Yukimura: Ah……!

Because of how flustered I was, I accidently knocked down a pile of luggage.

Yukimura: Ah……

Those things need to be put back/returned to their original positions as soon as possible.

Thinking this, I quickly/hurriedly picked up the luggage. Just then/At this moment, someone opened the door, and a cool/clear/cool and clear [check jp mtl] voice came [echoed].

Saito:……Yukimura.

Yukimura: Ah, Saito-san. I thought you went out, but it turns out you were here [reword later].

Saito: I just returned....... putting that aside, I heard a loud noise just now.

Yukimura: Ah...... I'm sorry, I wasn't careful and knocked some of the luggage down [reword later?]. I'll clean it up right away, so don't worry about it.

Saito: It'll be difficult for you to do this by yourself, so I'll help you.

Shortly after he spoke, he picked up the luggage and returned it to their original positions [reword later].

Yukimura: But, Saito-san, shouldn't you be very busy……？

Saito: I'm not so busy to the point that I don't have time to put these back.

Yukimura:……Thank you, Saito-san.

Shortly after, we finished packing the luggage [thesaurus later].

Saito: Anyway, Yukimura.

Yukimura: Nn, what's wrong/what is it?

Saito: Are you the only one sorting out the luggage here?

Yukimura: Yes. It's because the other warriors have their own work to do. In the past, Inoue-san would help me clean up, but——

After saying that, I quickly stopped myself.

Yukimura:…………I'm sorry.

Saito: No, you don't need to apologise.

Yukimura:…………

Inoue-san and Yamazaki-san, they died during the Battle of Toba Fushimi.

During such normal daily circumstances, to suddenly think of……

It was depressing/I couldn't help but feel depressed [check video].

However Saito-san and the other warriors would never publicly express their grief.

That's why...... I try to not to mention Inoue-san to them as much as possible.

Saito: Anyway, Yukimura. I would like to take you somewhere later....... Do you have anything you need to do?

Yukimura: I was planning to go buy food for dinner after....... I was just thinking about which of the warriors I could go with.

Saito: In that case, I'll go with you. Afterwards, I hope that you can accompany me.

Yukimura: Alright, that's fine, but where are we going?

Saito: Matsumoto-sensei. So I can see the circumstances of the wounded.

Yukimura: Ah, so it was like that....... But, is that okay for you? It's still early.

Having become a rasetsu, Saito-san would feel unwell in the sunlight [check jp mtl 'during the day'?]

But, he still......

Saito: That doesn't matter. Please get ready as soon as possible.

Although I was very worried about him, but...... [check game]

Yukimura:.......I know.

I'm afraid that telling him to rest now, would instead be more painful.

I silently convinced myself, and decided to go with him.

Afterwards, we visited Matsumoto-sensei, confirming the/Matsumoto-sensei to confirm the circumstances of the wounded......

Yukimura: The majority of people seem to have recovered from their injuries, which is good [check jp mtl].

Saito:......Yes, it can be said that this is good luck/blessing despite misfortune. In order to prepare for the next battle with the Sat-cho, it is necessary for as many soldiers to recover from their injuries as soon to regain [their?] combat effectiveness.

Yukimura:......Nn.

Saito: Unfortunately, Souji......

Yukimura:......!

Hearing Okita-san’s name, I froze.

Just now, according to Matsumoto-sensei, Okita-san's seems to have seriously/significantly deteriorated——

In the future/From now on, I'm afraid that/perhaps he will never be able to hold a sword [ever] again.

Saito: The Chief and Vice-Commander hope that they will be able to fight against the Sat-cho again soon, but I do not know if they will be able to fight alongside Souji the day that hope becomes a reality...... [check jp mtl. difficulty with translating]

Yukimura:…………

Even Saito-san, who rarely expresses himself, couldn't help but feel extremely regretful when he thought of never being able to fight alongside Okita-san again.

Shortly after, he shook his head.

Saito:......Sorry, I’ve upset you by saying that. [check jp mtl. Tl is more literally: Sorry, for saying that, hearing that upset you]

Yukimura: No, how could that be…...

Saito: [We’re going] back to headquarters [check jp mtl], there is still work that needs to be done.

Just as Saito-san finished speaking, and was about to move [tl is “to take a step”. Check jp mtl].

Saito: Guh……!

Suddenly, he winced and groaned in pain.

Yukimura: Saito-san!?

I rushed forward to support him.

Saito:......No, you don’t need to worry, I was just feeling dizzy [check game for punctuation].

Yukimura: But......!

After Saito-san turned into a rasetsu, even/just walking in the sunlight would cause pain beyond imagination/would be accompanied by unimaginable pain.

Yukimura: After we return to headquarters, why don't you go rest for a bit? You've recently been busy with work, and don't seem to have enough rest [reword later.].

Saito: There is no time to rest now.

Yukimura: But, if you continue like this……!

Saito: I said that you don’t need to worry. Now, we’re going back to headquarters.

Yukimura:......

From the bottom of my heart, I could not accept Saito-san's words.

But, I also knew that the work he was doing, was something only he could do.

For that reason, I didn't say anything, and returned with him to headquarters.

Following that, it seems that Saito-san seemed to be reluctant to spend any of his time on sleeping/reluctant to even sleep, and buried himself in his work.

It wasn't like visiting the injured soldiers yesterday, or dealing with various trivial matters, such as allocating the necessary supplies for headquarters, would do anything to raise the funds that were needed to pay for the expenses during this period of time, or anything/and so on [check jp mtl. had difficulties with this sentence]..

Additionally, preparing money/funds for new clothes and bedding, the purchase of weapons, preparing medicine, arranging for food ingredients [reword later. check jp mtl. "money for clothes." word i have can be translated to a money-related word or "change" as in 'change of clothes']...... There were a lot of things that needed to be dealt with.

Of course, I also wanted to help as much as possible.

Despite that though, I am unable to completely do everything.

If only he would take a day off for his health......

Yukimura:……?

At this moment, I heard some noise from in front of the entrance.

Those voices, it couldn't be......

I hastily ran over to the entrance.

Opening the doors, standing in front of me were——

Yukimura: Nagakura-san, Harada-san, are you heading out?

Shinpachi:: Nn? Ah, yeah. I was planning on asking/inviting some of the soldiers to something good to eat/to eat something nice, to(/and) cheer them up [reword later].

Yukimura: That's it/That's......

If only doing something like that could encourage/cheer Saito-san up. [check jp mtl. Don’t think “cheer” is appropriate for Saito though that’s an accurate translation. thesaurus later?] .

Seeing how I was unusually lowering my head, Harada-san looked at my face.

Harada: What’s wrong? Did something happen?

Yukimura: Actually......

I told them about what I thought when I went out with Saito-san yesterday. [reword later?]

Harada: A way to cheer up Saito…...

Shinpachi: What can we do about that [though?]? Even if you told him to rest, there's no way he would just obediently do that.

Harada: Yeah. There'd be no choice but to use force to get him to sleep, right? [check jp mtl]

Yukimura: Fo-Force/By, by force?

Shinpachi: Hey hey, you're talking nonsense, Sano. How can a girl compel Saito with brute force? [check jp mtl]

Harada: We also should be helping [check jp mtl], but, it's not good to leave the other warriors to themselves......

Yukimura: The other warriors, are they too busy that they don't have time to rest......?

Shinpachi: Well...... we were ultimately defeated in battle. There are a lot of guys who are constantly accumulating resentment [reword later].

Harada: After all, they're all vigorous youngsters/young people, if they aren't allowed to drink and vent their frustrations, I really don't know what they might do.

Yukimura: That’s…...

Harada: Once we come back, we'll take on/share a portion of Saito-san's work. We can't always leave the entire burden on him/all the responsibilities to him...... right?

Yukimura:......Nn, both of you, thank you.

The two men walked shoulder to shoulder.

Watching their backs, I suddenly got an idea.

Yukimura: Letting them drink sake to vent/express their frustrations......

I didn't know if such a thing would work with /if such a method would be effective for Saito-san.

However, compared to doing nothing....... perhaps it was worth trying.

Thus, later that night.

Yukimura: Saito-san, are you/did you fall asleep?

I asked the question from behind the sliding door. [reword later?]

Saito: Come in, Yukimura.

Yukimura: Yes, excuse/pardon me.

Saito-san still looked too busy to pay attention to me/still looked too busy to me...... [check jp mtl]

Without looking away from the/his desk, he remained focused on writing a letter.

Saito: It's very late, is something wrong? [reword later]

Yukimura: Saito-san, are you busy right now?

Saito: There are still matters that must be completed [reword later]. Western-style training and weapons must be arranged for as quickly as possible.

Yukimura: Then when that is finished, will your work for today be done?

Saito:......?

Saito: No, after that's done, even though that is finished, there's still work that needs to be done and it is best to start sooner——

Turning his head, when he saw me, his expression instantly hardened/froze.

Saito: Yukimura, what is that?

Seeing how speechless he looked, I replied with a smile.

Yukimura: It's sake——I'll wait for you to finish that letter, there will be drinks tonight [check jp mtl. had difficulties with this sentence]! I'll be accompanying you too!

Saito:……What……?

When Saito-san's work finally came to an end......

I hurriedly explained my intentions, and poured the sake into a cup.

Saito:.......What is this/this for. What on earth are you thinking?

Yukimura: The letter's done. You can finish the rest of your work tomorrow.......

Saito: Even if it's not urgent/an emergency, it's better to finish this early.

Yukimura: But, can't you have a drink? It's important to rest properly.

I pushed the cup of sake in towards him/in front/before him.

He hesitated doubtfully for a moment, [but?] he still took the cup.

Saito:…………

But he still didn't drink.

It was difficult for someone to drink by themself, I thought, so I poured myself a cup, and drank it without the slightest hesitation.

Yukimura: Ah...... It's, it's good sake! Saito-san, please [check jp mtl. word i have is "please" but it can also mean 'to ask/invite' or 'request'. maybe change to 'please have some'?]!

Saito-san’s brows furrowed tightly, as if he was thinking for a moment......

Saito:......In the end, what is your purpose? [reword later? i don't like how that reads]

Yukimura: Actually, I——

How should I answer that?

Choices:

[It's to get you drunk] <-

[I just wanted to drink with you]

Yukimura: Because…… it’s to get you drunk.

Presumably it was because my answer was too startling, that Saito-san fell silent/was speechless [probably change to the latter].

Saito: To get me…… drunk? Are you able to drink a lot [tl is more “hold your liquor/have good capacity for drinking. reword later]?

Yukimura: Th-That's......

How was I supposed to say that I almost never drank, but was I being too bold to try and get Saito-san to be drunk? [reword later]

But......

Yukimura: If I don’t do this/If this isn’t done, you’re never going to rest. If you continue like this, you’ll definitely collapse one day. Please, just for tonight, please listen to my request and drink this sake/drink this [check game]!

Saito: Wa-Wait. You're not making any sense. Considering that....... you're not actually drunk, are you?

Yukimura: I'm not drunk! I only had one cup. Rather than me, you should be drinking this, Saito-san! This sake was specially prepared for you!

Saito:......Apparently, you won't let me go if I don't drink [reword later?].

He finally raised the cup of sake to his mouth.

Yukimura: Saito-san, did you drink it......?

Tonight's goal was to get him to rest properly.

If I was the only one that got drunk, then it was meaningless.

While I only had one drink, I wasn't sure if he actually drank anything......

Yukimura: Saito-san...... what do you think of this? [how is it]

Saito: Ah, aah......

Although I felt dizzy, I felt comfortable, like I was soaking in a warm bath.

Yukimura:.......By the way, Saito-san, you always, always...... act recklessly. Do you know how upset I get watching you...... No, you don't know.......

Saito: Even if you say that you are suffering/upset, as a member of the Shinsengumi, I must follow the Vice-Commander's orders.......

Yukimura: Then, when you were fighting against Kazama [check for -san], your entire body was covered in blood...... At that time, I really thought that you were going to die.......

Saito: I, I see....... Sorry.

Yukimura: Since coming to Edo, you've obviously been unwell, but you've been working so hard...... That's why I hoped you would be able to rest, and at least have a drink.

Saito: I understand.

Yukimura:....... Re-Really?

Saito:......Yes, I ended up drinking. But, you drinking in order to get me to drink feels odd....... For forcing yourself to drink to get me to drink, I apologize. [check game]

Yukimura: No......! I don't need you to apologize to me....... I just....... wish that you would cherish your body a bit more......

After that, Saito-san began drinking, and while I didn't know how much time passed......

I was hit by an intense feeling of drowsiness, and I couldn't even sit properly——

I fell onto the tatami like that.

I felt so weak and couldn't get up. [reword later]

If I relax a bit more, I'll probably fall asleep like this.

It was only out of a sense of duty that I wanted Saito-san to rest, and I then opened my mouth to ask a question.

Yukimura: Saito-san...... how are you......? Are you asleep......?

Saito:…………

I heard quiet breathing from the person sleeping beside me.

Yukimura:......That's great......

Although this method was a bit rough [thesaurus?], Saito-san finally slept.

I felt relieved from accomplishing this and I couldn't help but say what was on my mind. [check game]

Yukimura: I.......

Yukiura: I've always been worried about you....... You drank the Ochimizu, and now have a body that loathes the sunlight, and it's my fault...... that you've become a rasetsu.

Saito:…………

Yukimura: But....... if you didn't drink the Ochimizu and become a rasetsu then....... I would no longer be here...... and I would never see you again.......

Saito:…………

Yukimura: So even though it's painful...... even though I feel sorry...... and even though I feel sad...... I still want..... to thank you....... for protecting....... me.

…………

Saito:……………………Are you asleep, Yukimura?

Yukimua:…………

Saito:……Really……to think that you'd talk to yourself if the other person was asleep....... I don't regret drinking the Ochimizu in the slightest. I only made the right choice for my own honour, and to protect you.

Yukimua:…………

Saito:.......But you're worried about this and my body. However when I think about the Shinsengumi's situation, I cannot rest...... Nevertheless/Even so....... I'm very happy for you to have broken into my heart like this. Thank you, Yukimura.

Yukimua:…………

…………

……That night, I dreamt that Saito-san was saying something into my ear [reword later].

His voice, which sounded more gentle than usual, seemed to whisper [reword later].

It sounded so comfortable, so full of affection/care......

I slept like this until the next morning [reword later].

- The End -

*happy sigh*

Well, in kyoka-roku, during one of saito’s char perspectives, he does say that he might have been attracted to Chizuru since they talked in that alley…

#hakuoki #hakuouki #hakuoki game translation #Saito Hajime #Yukimura Chizuru #hakuoki shinkai #Hakuoki Ginsei no Shou #Hakuoki Ginsei no Shou Translation #harada sanosuke #nagakura shinpachi

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vasiktomis · 3 years

Text

Pomegranate, Chapter 17: Quiet Earth, Part I.

John Seed x Female Deputy

Rating: Explicit.

Read it on Ao3 here!

Notes: Thanks all who have been keeping up with this! I'm so consistently floored by the amount of content creators we have in this fandom corner and the sheer level of workmanship that exists here. This is the first chapter of Pom that I'll be posting to tumblr, and I'm hoping to draw up a little sketch with each update. If you have any suggestions, I'd love to hear them! Big thank you to @shallow-gravy and @consumedkings as always for dealing with my stupidity and being a pair of top-notch angels, and also just like, everybody who takes time out of their day to engage with this? Y'all really sticking with ultra slow burn and I swear after some wicked angst in the next couple of chapters I'll finally be able to throw some well-deserved smut at you. WARNINGS: Forced conversion, descriptions of dissociation and derealisation, explicit language, sexual content, depictions of violence, guns, blood and gore. Canon-typical debauchery.

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“Don’t touch him!”

Mary May lunged with enough force for John to feel the wake of air sweep through him, even with how quickly she was snatched up and yanked back to her place. The soles of her tennis shoes squeaked against the floor as she was dragged to the far side of the room, unable to be trusted with providing audience to Nick’s Atonement.

A shame, really. It was nicer as a shared experience.

The Baptist rolled his jaw, off-setting some of the tension arising from the shrieks that the blonde flung at the back of his head. He righted himself, taking the tattoo gun from one of his faithful with a gracious nod, and turned his attention down to the pilot currently pinned to the floor. Without a word, he sank to his knees, straddling the man, keeping silent as he could just to listen out for any change in his demeanour. Fear. Grief. Defeat. Acceptance. A sign to prove his readiness.

Nick didn't flinch, breathing hard through his nose and watching with hateful eyes. John hovered an indicating hand over the man’s bare chest, bruised from the fight he’d put up against his capture, mentally mapping out placement. Then, he came in with the needle, beginning with the stem of an ’E’, right in the centre of Nick's sternum.

The pilot snorted, masking discomfort with indifference, turning a wince into a scoff. “Figures you don’t use stencils. I ain’t got a hope in hell of this turning out good, do I.”

That casual old Nick attitude. He missed it.

If only he’d let him do this 5 years ago. He wouldn’t have had to miss it.

John feigned offense. “Oh I’m sorry, Nick. Did you want me to do the rest in cursive? Add a feather? Infinity symbol?”

“For fuck’s sake-”

“Talk about tonal dissonance. It’s not meant to be pretty.” He grumbled. “Might’ve gotten a little more practice if you’d-”

A yell from the rear entryway pulled John’s hand away from his canvas. More squeaking. More interruption. Jerome Jeffries getting hauled into the church, held under each arm by the pair of Chosen that John had sent looking for him.

The Baptist cast a look over his shoulder at them, content with the sight of Jerome adequately beaten and bloodied. “Ahh. Pastor. Try to run and hide? It’s no wonder your flock ran astray with a shepherd so quick to leave them to the wolves.”

Jerome ignored him. No reply. No eye contact. A crime John noted to make worthy of capital punishment in the New Eden. The Pastor was set down beside Mary May, who immediately began seeing to his injuries. Murmuring bubbled between them.

“Did you reach them?” The bartender asked. Must’ve been a negative, because the next thing she did was curse.

“The Deputy was calling when they caught me.”

And if she had half the spine to come and broker an agreement for her friends, she’d be inbound.

“Could you at least gag them? I’m trying to concentrate.” John ordered no one in particular, earning another scoff from Nick. “The faster we work, the less we’ll have to get through once she arrives. The quicker we can be out of this heinous town.”

“Stay away from her, shitbag.” The pilot ground out, this time unable to save face when John retaliated, pressing the gun just a little too hard, digging down through an extra few layers of skin.

“Nick Rye, you’re a married man.” John tutted playfully, resuming his work. “That sin of yours again. Take, take, take. Didn’t think the Deputy to be your type. Wouldn’t say you’re hers, either.”

Nick looked downright disgusted at the prospect. Less concerned for the state of his wife - which meant she'd been a likely getaway. “Always been so fuckin’ jealous.”

“Come again?”

“Think folks are stupid? Think I don’t know you?”

“You don't know me, period.” John bit back, skin on the back of his neck flushing between boiling and freezing.

“Anyone else givin’ you this much trouble’d be long dead by now. That shit on the radio? Reckon you’d be talkin’ like that if your family could hear you across the river?” Nick continued, averting his gaze when John shot him a particularly poisonous look. He didn’t, however, find it necessary to respond to such a veiled accusation.

At least until -

“Everybody knows you wanna stick it to her, John-”

As if he’d been awaiting the chance, John’s free hand shot to Nick’s jaw, aching in protest when he squeezed, not stopping until he could feel the man’s molars beneath his flesh. “That’s about enough from you.” He crooned.

John had his desires, yes. He’d accepted that much. Had he not been sworn to celibacy, he might have jumped at the opportunity to respond to Cora’s advances last night. That said, she was still an outsider, and while her Atonement made the prospect less dicey, he couldn’t consciously consider laying with the woman in real life.

No matter how torturous it had become to gear his thoughts toward anything else.

He could be content with just her company, without making any further advances on her. Last night had simply been a moment of weakness, and he’d prevailed by stepping away.

“If you’ll excuse me.” John switched off the little machine once he’d completed his piece and promptly stood to beckon for replacement parts. Mary May might have gotten away with an allergic reaction last time he’d attempted this, but considering he’d be slicing it out of her within the hour, he couldn’t see any reason for her to be complaining. The bartender had been a thorn in his side from the start. While Nick and his wife had once lent John their...whatever a sinner’s closest equivalent was to friendship, Mary May had always been trouble. Wore her heart on her sleeve and trusted no one she hadn’t grown up around. Bolshie. Almost fucking killed him, once.

John busied himself with needle transfers and a pleasant expression. He could feel the woman’s eyes on him.

Did she think what Nick proclaimed? That complete and utter lie?

How fucking crass. No, he did not want to ’stick it’ to Cora. At least, as far as anyone else was concerned. He was fond of her, and - while yes, he had encountered temptation - if one disregarded the cum-stained, stolen panties in his pocket, and the conjured fantasies, and the purely incidental erection he’d maintained after the Deputy stuck her tongue down his throat last night - there was simply no evidence to suggest to anyone else that he was even remotely tempted to break the rules.

Sex was the furthest thing from his mind. It was mere coincidence that today had just so happened to fall on a morning in which he’d needed to trim.

…

If, however, she were to decide that she wanted to continue what she’d attempted last night, then surely he couldn’t be to blame if he only failed to stop her. It wasn’t technically fornication if he didn’t initiate it. Nor was it considered intercourse if -

“Brother John.”

John jumped, heart stopping, whipping his head around to the Chosen standing at the door of the church.

“What?" He asked thickly.

“The Deputy’s arrived.”

Right on cue, the crackling of gunshots drifted in alongside the Chosen’s announcement.

“Tell everyone to hold their fire.” John ordered. “We have them outnumbered tenfold. The Deputy can’t be stupid enough to create a hostage situation. Direct her here, and peacefully.”

The Chosen’s throat bobbed, swallowing back outrage, and John squinted hard at him, trying to dispel the flicker of green light in the mist outside as it settled against the man’s temple.

“John, I don’t think-”

He never got a chance to act on that incoming insubordination.

Instead, he jerked, cut off by a sickening crack as a section of his skull blew out of his head. Red mist and liquified brain matter followed, splattering against the doorframe, and the Chosen slumped lifeless onto the front step.

John wasn’t so much shaken by the killing as he was irritated by everyone else’s apparent refusal to let today go according to plan. Maybe also the pile of brains and hair now sitting on his once-pristine red carpet. He’d made this easy for the woman: kill everyone he could round up, leave her with no one to claim duty to, and get this all over and done with. Have her home by mid-afternoon. Embark on a new chapter and achieve salvation. It was that simple.

Woe to him for trusting in her common sense.

“Fuck’s sake. Wrath begets more wrath.” He muttered, smoothing a hand over his chin. He didn’t have the patience for this any longer. “Fine. Sister -”

A woman stood from the pews as soon as John made eye contact, equally as unshaken by the scene mere feet away.

“Send out word: the Deputy wants to sacrifice her friends for the sake of a fight.” John punctuated the end of his sentence with a click as he returned his focus to jamming the needles into his tattoo gun. “Give her what she wants. Take her by force.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The smokescreen was beginning to clear, but despite the weight it was taking off her lungs, Cora would’ve preferred it remain just a little longer. At least until they’d cleared out the town. Had they been quicker, it might have lasted longer. Covered their approach to Fall’s End. Given them more cover to sneak about unseen.

The streets, while still hazy, were visible now. It wasn’t a difficult task watching Peggie silhouettes run from building to building in search of her team. Resistance members and civilians were either in the process of being rounded up, or littered the road and pavement, dead. The Ryes, Mary May, and Pastor Jerome were yet to be seen amongst either group.

Same went for Boomer.

Aside from the barking of orders from Chosen and faithful, there was little sound. Knowing how much of a fuss her dog had put up the last time he’d been caught by the Project struck Cora’s nerves. He was his own alarm, and he would not go peacefully.

Not hearing him was an indication of the worst.

Some part of her brain argued against the idea. Vouching that John wouldn’t have hurt the creature. That was her dog. He had to be an exception to the massacre, no matter how vicious he behaved.

She had to find him, and creeping through the rear entry of the Spread Eagle was the first point of call.

Luckily enough, the back door had yet to be boarded up. Peggies who rushed past covered windows hardly stopped to peek inside the place for fear of being tainted by the presence of alcohol. Sneaking in was simple enough, too, at least once Jess had picked the lock.

“I’m going to pretend that door was open.” The Deputy murmured her equivalent to praise, passing into the building.

Grace headed straight in after her, taking a left to search for any sign of Mary May while she took a right toward the stairs.

“You pretend the Cook’s head was already gone when we found him?” Jess whispered.

“Freak accident. You all saw it.”

“First floor’s clear.” Grace announced from the serving hatch in the kitchen, clearly unhappy about it.

“Right.” Cora acknowledged, “I’ll check up top.”

The second story was as dead-quiet as the first. Furniture had been knocked over in the hallway and bedrooms had been raided. None of it indicated anything good, but she still had to know.

Cora pushed open the door to her room, and while she held no expectation of what she’d find, her heart sank anyway.

It was empty.

Boomer was gone.

Only his makeshift collar and a tattered bandana remained atop the rug he’d been snoozing on that morning.

Her dog.

John had either taken him or killed him, just like the rest. He’d do the same to the rest of her team. She should’ve taken the Baptist’s offer before the latter had even become a possibility.

“No sign?” Grace affirmed once the Deputy slipped back down to the first floor. “My guess is either they’re in hiding, or John’s giving them special treatment. If they were dead he’d be parading them.”

Sharky and Hurk exchanged a frown when Cora offered only a nod, notably more meek than usual.

“Was he in there, darlin’?” Adelaide asked, a little too gently not to invite a sting to her eyes.

Cora felt her jaw clench. It was a different breed of nausea, trying to keep her composure under the scrutiny of the rest of the team. She managed to shake her head, and Adelaide’s hand found her shoulder.

“Could still be with the others, yet.” The woman offered.

“So how do we find them?” Jess asked.

Find John Seed, of course.

“Finding them’s one thing. Getting to them might be the harder part.” Cora began. “The smokescreen’s only getting thinner and there’s Peggies everywhere. It's grasslands from here to the hills. No way we can herd everyone across a field on-foot, safely. We’ve got to make sure they stay freed, first.”

“And?” Jess huffed. “We’re gonna kill some Peggies, right?”

The blonde considered that.

“We split up. Search the buildings for anyone who hasn’t been caught yet. Round them up and plant explosives as we go. With enough chaos, maybe we can have a shot at turning the tide in the short term.”

Sharky was practically trembling. “Explosives, like, everywhere?”

“Everywhere. The more damage, the better.” Cora replied. “Adelaide, Xander, pair up. Sharky and Hurk, same with you.”

“And us on range?” Jess grinned, trading a look with Grace who maintained absolute stoicism. “I’m so into that.”

“No.”

…

“Say what?”

“No more ranged attacks. I need you and Grace to head back to the van -”

Jess was advancing on her before she’d even finished her sentence.

“You’re pulling me outta the fight? The fuck gives?” The huntress loomed over the Deputy, incredulous. Cora made an effort to stay put, but Jess’s insistence managed to outweigh her stubbornness, forcing the blonde to compromise by leaning as far back as she could without falling.

“We can’t keep running on short-term wins.” Cora insisted. “We have to put our foot down. No more small assaults. No more hoping John gets demoralised enough that he hands himself over.”

Sharky frowned. “What’re you saying?”

She met his gaze, puffing out her chest, retaking her space. “I’m saying the Henbane Bridge is unmanned right now. If we get word to the County Jail, there’s no roadblock to stop them from helping us win this. John Seed’s throwing everything he can at us. I say we try for the same. I say we end it for good. We’re gonna take back Holland Valley. Today.”

“...You really like that dog, huh.”

“That too.”

Jess looked unconvinced. “So the two of us are running errands while the rest of you are holding the fort? Fucking bullshit.”

“I told you. No more range.” Cora bit back, jabbing a thumb toward Hurk and Sharky. “You’d rather send Boshaws and Drubmans to convince Tracey to send us her best people? No offence.”

“None taken, bitch.” Adelaide grumbled.

Grace exhaled, throwing away momentary hesitation. “We’ll be fast.”

Cora traded a nod with the sniper before looking to Jess once more.

Still unconvinced.

“They have cars with guns on them, remember?”

The corner of Jess’s mouth ticked. Temptation.

Mission accomplished.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The tacky fucking carpet was the first thing she noticed, creeping along Main Street. Bliss petals had been sprinkled all over the road leading up to the church.

The carpet ended at the door. An invitation if she ever saw one. Boastful. Arrogant.

A pang of dread ached through Cora's bones, holding her in place while she drew her revolver. It could be an ambush. It probably was an ambush, but there was nothing she could feasibly do to avoid it. If the others were in there, then she couldn't wait around any longer.

She had to do this. At least hold out until Jess and Grace returned, with or without help.

She'd been running for long enough. All other options had been exhausted. At least John offered the least awful defeat.

Drawing close to the entrance, the Deputy pointedly avoided examining a dead crow that had been impaled upon the wall. She inhaled, holding the breath in her lungs, steadying her heart rate.

It was only freedom.

She opened the door, immediately training the gun out before her, following its guide into the room.

About a dozen Peggies dotted the space, leaning against walls, lining the pews - all angled at the pulpit, observing Nick on the floor. He stifled a cry while John sliced through the final remaining layers of skin binding the tattoo to his chest, peeling the word 'GREED' out of his flesh. Blood pooled on the floor around them, and the moment John had stepped away, the pilot was descended on with antiseptic and bandages.

The Deputy waited for nausea at the sight to take its course. It never did. She was all but numbed to the sight.

"Deputy, run!"

Mary May's voice cut through the silence, and the bartender lurched from her own spot on the ground. Guns raised all around the room, swinging around to aim for Cora.

”Hold!” John barked immediately, unconcerned when the Deputy shifted her aim to him. Instead, he busied himself with washing his sullied hands. “Hold your fire.”

His followers obeyed.

Cora, meanwhile, cocked the revolver in her grip. One foot edged into the room, and she glanced around for the Project’s captives before returning her gaze to John. All on the other side of the room. Pinned. Fuck.

“Hope County Sheriff’s Department.” She announced, staring the Baptist down, ignoring the grin that crept onto his face - like he found it fucking funny. “Weapons on the ground. Step away from the hostages.”

“Hostages?” John snorted. He gestured Pastor Jerome, Mary May, and Nick. “These are guests! This is their Atonement. This is your Atonement.”

“Drop the fucking weapons.”

John’s patience thinned. Quickly. “I’m not doing this with you.” He replied simply. “Not today.”

With his own look around the room, John inclined his head. An unspoken order to which everyone carrying a gun turned them on her allies.

“We both know you don’t have enough bullets for everyone. Nor do you have the time. So why don’t you put down my gun and surrender.”

“Don’t-” Mary May was cut off with the tap of steel against her temple. Warning.

John was right. She was outnumbered. There was no chance of getting any of them out with force alone.

She inhaled. Exhaled. Watched the fondness slip back onto John’s face like it had never left, and set the gun on the floor.

“That’s my girl.” John murmured. Then, he motioned. “Get her ready.”

Cora’s stomach dropped as two sets of arms coiled around hers, each pulling and pushing, prickling at her skin with unfamiliar, sickening touch. Biology told her to resist. Escape the sensation. The downward pulling.

“No, stop it.” Escaped her while she squirmed. “Get off. Stop touching me-”

“Her friends can’t be far. Find them.” The Baptist ordered, turning away toward the pulpit.

Cora’s knees hit the floor. There was no holding the repetition of protests, but even as she consciously elevated the volume of her voice, it grew quieter in her ears. Calculated attempts to jerk away and make an escape became automatic twitches.

One of John’s followers - a female - crept into view, fingers tugging at the top button on her uniform collar. John readied a tattoo gun over the woman’s shoulder, and the Deputy’s mind screamed alarm bells. Get out. Escape. Fight back. Regain control.

“I won’t hurt you, sister.”

This time, she sank, curling forward, angling herself away from the woman. Another attempt, and she wrenched away again, snarling. Then, the Peggies around her must have gotten tired of all the fuss, because the tear of cotton clawed at her ears. Ringing through her brain.

Her back felt cold all of a sudden.

Green material slipped down her arms, and at the sight of her own uniform pooling in shreds in her own lap, Cora ceased her thrashing. The shredded shirt was yanked from her belt and tossed aside, and she watched with growing resignation while John turned back around.

His gaze found hers. Then flickered downward, first to the compression bra, then a margin to the right. “Here I thought you’d be unmarked.” He commented, inspecting what was visible of the old ink on her lower ribs while he approached.

Hands pressed against Cora’s shoulders, and she drifted back until her shoulder blades hit the floor.

John continued to loom until he stood directly over her. He sank to his knees, expression softening with his descent until he was on all fours on top of her. He looked almost adoring, and she hated how it comforted her, just slightly. She hated how the hands had disappeared from her limbs, and yet she still made no further attempt to escape. He had every ounce of power now.

She didn’t know she’d started trembling until his free hand swept over her collarbones, mapping out her chest, calming the gooseflesh beading on her from the chill, or the fright, or perhaps just that this whole thing felt so humiliatingly exposing.

A blush swelled over John’s throat, maybe indicating some straying line of thought. He snapped out of it and settled to sit on her hips. “This looks familiar, doesn’t it?” He teased, hovering the tattoo gun right over the centre of her sternum.

“Dont.” Was all she could manage. Weak. Pleading. “I don’t want you to.”

“You have no idea how good you’re going to feel after this.” John cooed.

One of his fingers drifted along her jaw. An attempt at comforting her, but to no avail. He looked equal parts gentle and feral with excitement.

The machine buzzed, lowering pitch when the needles finally pressed into her flesh.

This was it.

She’d lost. There was no going back, anymore. No more normal, no more ridding herself of this family. They’d taken everything, and now they were claiming ownership over her, too.

The others were being hunted. It was only a matter of time. John was working too quickly. They’d be gone before the Cougars even crossed the river.

Cora’s nerves muted. Sound closed to just the rumble of blood in her ears. She receded into herself. Found a backseat in her mind, away from the sensory overload and the humiliation and her own failure while her body quietly continued: ”Dont, don’t, stop.”

She’d lost, and John wouldn’t stop. Not while he was branding the evidence of his victory into her flesh.

Defeat tasted worse than anticipated.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Bullets whizzed overhead while Sharky and Hurk took cover beneath the window, watching helplessly as the aisle of potato chips and bar nuts was torn to shreds by the onslaught. Dorito dust filled the shop like mustard gas.

“Cuz, I think they found us!” Hurk barked, snapping an arm over his head in defence when a stray round ricocheted off the front counter.

“What gives you that impression?” Sharky hit back, hurriedly setting down his shotgun and shrugging his backpack to the floor.

“How many are there?”

“How about you check?”

A moment of quiet occurred while the cousins glared at each other, leaving their standoff to a battle of no blinking. Then the Peggies outside must’ve finished re-loading, because the back wall of the shop was suddenly being shot into swiss cheese.

They were okay. Everything was cool. Addie and Xander had taken their share of explosives and gone the quiet route. Grace and Jess were gone. Shorty had disappeared into the church, and while he couldn't count the best, Sharky was pretty confident that John had caught her.

Could they have kept on looking for survivors and breaking out captives? Sure - but why do that when they could kill, like 40 birds with one stone and beeline for the gas station? It was conveniently across the road from the church, empty of any and all life barring the dormant tanks underground. An explosion that big was sure to fuck up like a good portion of Main Street. Not even the Chosen would be able to resist checking it out.

Disconnecting the safety switches had been easy. He’d been arrested for doing it like 5 times already. Cops, Peggies; it didn’t matter - Sharky knew what he was doing, and without the giant swinging dick of the law hanging over him, the man was on a mission. Cultists shooting at him was fine. He was used to that.

Threat of death or no, he wasn’t giving up the chance to see this place blow sky high.

“We’ll be outta here any second, Hurky.” Sharky assured. “Just gotta sprinkle a little C-4 around the place and we’ll be gone before it even goes off.”

Hurk was sweating. A lot. He was accustomed to being shot at, but normally, he had more than just Sharky to get him out of a tight spot. “Alright, bro. Gimme some. Many hands and what have you.”

“Fuck yeah. First step, toss some at the tanker outside. We wanna get the place as fiery as possible up here to wake up the big boys underground, and-”

Sharky stopped in his tracks, eyeing the backpack he’d just been in the process of unzipping.

“-uhh.”

“Uhh?”

“Hurky, can I be real with you?”

“Is now the best time for a deep and meaningful?” Hurk hissed, crawling toward him nonetheless.

The arsonist stuck his hand down the pack, rifling through fluff and mesh. “I, uh, I think I brought the wrong bag. And by think I mean know without a shadow of a doubt.”

Hurk watched as his cousin tugged the green, furry headpiece of a dragon out into the open.

“You brought-...”

“I brought my fursuit.”

“Not the C-4?”

“Not the C-4.”

“Okay, bro. That's fine. I'm not mad. Human error. Not even a little bit?”

Sharky checked again, just for good measure. “Nope...so, uhm...you got a match?”

Hurk ran a hank through his hair. “Not to poo poo your ideas, but that probably ain’t the best move.”

So just like that, they were fucked.

Jess and Grace still hadn’t come back. The others were nowhere to be seen. Shorty was holed up in that church, and he and Hurk were about to be rounded up by born-again virgins.

Shit, if that were the case -

“Well, if this is gonna be the last opportunity.” Sharky grunted, tugging the suit out and unzipping the back. “May as well enjoy our last minutes of freedom, huh?”

Hurk took the cue, creeping across the destroyed shop floor and reaching for a popped bag of pretzels. He sat back against the wall, leaning against the rocket launcher he’d propped up against the corner.

“Man.” The brunette sighed, staring at the floor. “If only we had some other kind of ranged, explosive device.”

“No shit.” Sharky agreed. “Some high velocity shit would fix this.”

They exchanged a sympathetic look once the arsonist had zipped himself up and crept over and sit beside his cousin, both leaning on either side of the RPG.

Hurk held out the bag.

“Pretzel?”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“Was that so bad?” John asked, placing the tattoo gun aside and framing the Deputy’s marked chest. ’WRATH', in true black, beading with blood. The skin surrounding the text was mottled and inflamed. Excess ink covered the area in patches, gathering in the dip of her cleavage, disappearing beneath her sports bra.

All that sin, already leaking out through the exit he’d made for her.

Gorgeous.

Cora didn’t respond. That was fine. Shock was normal. She’d thank him once this was all over. For now, she just trembled, lock jawed, dissociated gaze searching what John had thought was him until he sat up. No, instead she was watching the ceiling.

John flashed a smile, blocking out a tiny streak of dread at the sight of the woman so vacant. Sweeping a lock of stained hair over her shoulder, he smoothed his fingers past her neck, attempting to gently angle her focus back to him. “Hey. You can come back now. We’re all done.”

You're finally on the other side. React to it. React to me. Look at me-

The boom came first, hollow and deep, and John felt the floor beneath him rumble. Chandeliers and decorations wobbled from the disturbance. Several of his followers shot from their seats, immediately abandoning the Resistance leaders they’d guarded in favour of pacing back and forth, trying to get a look at whatever was happening outside.

“Is this it?”

“Is it the Collapse?”

“It’s time?”

“John, is it the Collapse?”

The panic escalated quickly, forcing the Baptist to break his attention away from the empty woman below him and rein in the flock.

“Calm down.” He exclaimed, “It’s not the Collapse. It’s probably just-”

Another boom. Almost deafeningly loud.

This time, the whole church shook. Windows shattered in their creaking panes and smashed to the floor while pews squealed heavily in protest.

Contrary to his assertion, John dove down, covering the Deputy with his body. Holy shit, was it the Collapse?

The tremor must have been enough to snap Cora out of her trance, because a muffled “Get your tits out of my face.” buzzed against John’s chest.

Tragically, however, the Baptist never got the opportunity to reply to her. Had it not been for the fucking tennis shoe colliding with the side of his skull, he imagined he’d have something very clever to say. Alas, pain shot through his head and he jerked to the side, fighting against the blow to stay put. A snarl from Mary May, his apparent attacker, sounded in retaliation. She dove into him, knee driving into his ribs, throwing him off of the Deputy.

His thoughts left him for the briefest moment, overtaken by ensuing gunshots and shouts and the shrieks of the bartender as she was clawed away from him. Her hand shot forward right as she was yanked up, intended as a punch. It didn’t land, and John couldn’t help but shoot her a smirk for her failure.

“Deputy, gun!”

Nevermind. It wasn’t a punch after all. Mary May had been pointing over his shoulder at the revolver that had been surrendered on the floor. His revolver. The same one Cora was now scrambling toward.

No.

John lurched, heart leaping into his throat.

Not now. Not after he’d won. Not when they were so close.

His hand found the leg of Cora’s pants, wrenching, pulling her away from the weapon, and she kicked against him. Her finger tips slid against the barrel of the revolver, tugging it into her palm.

God wouldn’t fucking undo his victory.

John snarled, catching the Deputy’s wrist when she tried to aim - at him no less. Without her own recovery time achieved, he was able to wrestle the weapon from her easily enough, flattening her struggling body beneath his just long enough to hook an arm around her waist. He twisted around, holding the woman’s back against his belly. Her squirming ceased with the press of the muzzle against her head, and the moment her allies had taken notice of the change, everything went still.

Finally.

A little civility.

Several of John’s followers lay on the floor, either dead or close to it. Only a half-dozen remained, though the pair of Chosen had survived and placed themselves closest to their leader.

Pastor Jerome had procured a handgun from within his own bible - something that pulled a breathless laugh out of John as he surveyed the others. Nick hadn’t been able to arm himself, but he’d still tackled one of the faithful to the ground. His knuckles were bloodied. A familiar sight. Mary May had wrestled a gun of her own away from the woman who’d seized her. She aimed it shakily at John.

Armed but outnumbered, outgunned, and now, they were in check.

They never learned, did they?

“The way you people behave, you’d think salvation was a bad thing.” John tittered. “Right. Now, let’s try this again. Atonement, or damnation.” To punctuate his meaning, he tapped the muzzle against Cora’s head. She grunted in protest, and he ignored her. Of course it was a bluff. No one else knew that but him, though. It was too risky a move for the Resistance to let him do away with the one person that banded their factions.

She was their leader. They couldn’t lose her.

John looked around the room once more, locking eyes with Jerome first - then Mary May. “Are we going to behave?”

The answer was immediate and clear: a gunshot cracking through the Baptist’s ears and the flash of a blast spilling from Mary May’s weapon. Cora’s elbow driving into his stomach and the reaction time of his Chosen snapping to attention, covering him, already hauling John out of the church and onto the street.

Fuck no, he wasn't leaving without his prize.

"GRAB HER!" John howled, struggling against the attempts to get him to safety. "Leave the rest!"

It was a reluctant effort, but the Deputy was yanked along as well, shoved into Johns arms on his repeated orders, with me, with me.

“Mary May, what the fuck!” The Deputy roared over her shoulder.

“Sorry Deputy! I missed!”

Missed?

“You sure about that? Jesus fucking Christ!”

More shots sounded, but only the noise pursued them from the building. It wasn’t until John had shoved Cora into the back of the waiting truck that he realised how warm his hand had gotten. Wet, too.

“Get to the ranch!” One of the Chosen snarled up front, casting a look back at the Baptist while the vehicle took off, watching as he peeled away from the blonde to inspect himself.

Blood.

He was bleeding. But where from? Barring the sting of his scabs and that kick to the head, nothing hurt. There were no wounds hiding under his sleeves or -

A hiss sounded from the Deputy beside him, curling in on herself.

Shit.

She hadn’t elbowed him.

“Cora-” John scrambled for her. "Cora, let me see."

“Told you not to call me that.” The Deputy grit out, kicking at him until she’d well and truly jammed herself into the corner of the seat and the car door. Her left hand gripped her right forearm, just below the elbow and to no avail. Crimson coated the skin on her side, encasing her arm completely and seeping through her fingertips.

She was bleeding. Not heavily, but steadily.

”Deputy.” John bit back, advancing. “You’re hurt. Let me help-”

Just like that, the kicking resumed. “Don’t touch me-DON’T FUCKING TOUCH ME-”

“For once in your fucking life, just relax!”

Only incomprehensible snarling came in response.

John rolled his jaw, brimming with as much irritation as he was adrenaline. The Resistance had made their choice. Regretful, but final. He’d gotten what he came for, and he wasn’t intending on losing her just because she was too stubborn to accept help.

He glanced at the revolver still in his grip. Then back at Cora, rotating the grip toward her. A threat. “Are you going to let me help, or am I going to have to calm you down?”

“Don’t you dare.” Her words came hoarse. She gave scowling a red hot go, but without the rationale to deny him, the Deputy lacked conviction. She exhaled. “Fuck it. We've done this enough already. You get ten minutes. Then you’re under arrest.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Her cheek twitched. A weak chuckle. The slightest flash of acknowledgement as she let him press his weight over her forearm. Thankfully, the wound wasn’t pulsing; nor was there a puncture wound. A gouged strip had been carved into her flesh where the bullet had grazed, but nothing vital seemed to have been struck.

“That - you can keep saying.”

"You're a flirt when you're in shock, Deputy." Had John not been too busy regulating about a dozen other emotions, he might have flushed at her words. For a moment, he just sat there, basking in the borderline friendliness on her face. Then, it occurred to him that they were among watchful company, and he cleared his throat, returning to his task.

Minutes passed. No more words were exchanged. Not until they’d passed the Rye and Son’s sign.

The Chosen in the front passenger’s seat looked over his shoulder, dismissing another over the radio before regarding the Baptist. “The Resistance isn’t making ground. The faithful are still rounding up stragglers, and we’ve taken casualties, but numbers are looking strong. Medic will meet you at the ranch, John. We can deliver our newest sister to the Gate while you recover.”

John inclined his head. “Much obliged. We need this one to stay with us until she’s completed her vows. She can’t be trusted unsupervised, but I won’t put the responsibility of containing her back on our people again.” He looked to Cora, then. Her face had run pale and she’d gone clammy, but she remained upright. Just...woozy. Pacified, for now.

He’d got what he came for. Fuck the rest.

“I have something to say.” The blonde announced, swaying against John’s arm. “I know why Mary May shot me.”

“This another one of your jokes?” John deadpanned.

“This one’s funny, I swear.”

“...go on, then.”

“It’s because I never tip.”

For a moment, Cora looked very satisfied with herself. Then, she retched, slumping forward into the Baptist’s lap when he instinctually jolted out of the potential line of fire. He hurried to steady her, keeping tight hold over her wound, and grimaced while the noise escaped her a second time.

Thank God nothing came out; his shoes would’ve been the first to know about it.

The Deputy didn’t sit back up.

That was fine. So long as she wasn’t dead. So long as she wasn’t fighting back.

“It’s all the sin escaping you.” John explained, off-handed, when a complaining grunt sounded below. “Evil being expelled from your body. You’ll feel better soon.”

“Pretty sure it’s my blood pressure, actually. Soon as I’m good again, you’re history.”

When one disregarded the fact that she’d had a gun trained on him earlier - and the blood drying uncomfortably on his clothes - and the persistent pounding of a headache from Mary May’s heel, this was almost pleasant. The quiet roads. The Deputy, all but atoned with her head on his thigh. Not fighting back. Conceding defeat. Peaceful.

He got what he came for.

He’d won.

He was saved.

Passing his thumb over Cora’s ribs, John’s attention was pulled back to the old ink peeking out from beneath the band of her top. Text, blurred and flattened enough to be years old, and too obscured to decipher.

“Thought I’d be your first.” The brunette murmured.

“Jealous?”

Yes.

“Don’t be ridiculous. What’s it say?”

“‘The Mountains Are Calling’.”

A sickening wave of dread passed over the Baptist. The rock forming in his throat, icy and bitter and seizing him against any reply.

The mountains are calling.

Jacob. Joseph. The Trials. Atonement wasn’t the final step. Handing her over to his brothers was the final step.

He got what he came for, but the woman in his arms wasn’t the trophy intended for him.

He was saved. He’d redeemed himself. He’d completed his task and Joseph would permit him beyond the gates. That was all he was supposed to do. That was enough.

That had to be enough.

“‘And I Must Go’.” John completed quietly.

Cora tilted her head a little, not quite looking at him - almost like she was trying not to. “You know John Muir.”

“Not enough to warrant a photo on the bedside table.”

“Shut up.”

There was nothing convincing about the chuckle he offered. He was too busy observing her, studying the side of her face. Committing her to memory as if he hadn’t spent years acquainting himself with every spot and micro-expression.

“Maybe working for you will be bearable.” She murmured, and John’s heart only sank further. "If I don't manage to arrest you."

The mountains are calling.

She still had no idea that all the promises he’d made her had been fabricated. That she wouldn’t be staying. That he’d lied to her.

The mountains were calling. In a few days time, she’d know it. She’d despise him. She’d be taken off his hands and he’d assume his regular duties once again.

He’d saved both of them.

Cora’s thumb absently grazed back and forth on his knee. Ignorant. “Can I ask something?”

It took everything in him not to mirror the action against her skin.

“Of course.”

“Can I start next Monday?”

"What happened to you being such a workaholic?"

"To be honest with you, I'm really fucking tired."

She’d be incredible. Jacob would love her. Joseph would be proud. John had accomplished something near-impossible for his family, and even if the Deputy hated him - even if she forgot him entirely, he was content with the knowledge that he’d have brought her to salvation.

Even if they never saw each other again, he’d know that she’d passed through the gates. That she’d climb to the surface once the world had been scorched clean. She’d rebuild, and marry, and have children, and he’d do the same.

Hopeful anticipation and the agony of longing had never felt so similar before.

“Fine.” John smiled, giving in, sliding his fingers up her arm and coaxing a stray lock of hair out of her face. There were no promises he’d be able to do it again after this. “But on one condition.”

“What?”

“Spend those days with me.”

Cora stirred, angling to peer up at him out of the corner of her eye. She smiled crookedly.

“Deal.”

#far cry 5 #john seed #cora stammos #far cry 5 fanfic #far cry 5 oc #john seed x female deputy #all hail cora's big fucking muscles #no beta we die like men

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esperosisdoeswriting · 4 years

Text

Prompt #126

Continuation

First, it was amusing, then somewhat annoying, but now [Sidekick] was downright pissed. Someone was tailing [Sidekick] on their way home, doing a poor job of it.

[Sidekick] not only knew exactly where their possible assailant was but also how long they were tailing [Sidekick]. What annoyed them more was that they seemed to think they were good at it, as [Sidekick] had addressed them multiple times. Still, the figure refused to emerge from the shadows.

[Sidekick] gave an annoyed huff.

"Alright, this is your last chance. Come out where I can see you or-" [Sidekick] slipped their concealed weapon and gestured it toward the stalker, "You get a new hole. Got it?"

[Sidekick] stood in the dim light, the shadows unmoving around them for a long moment.

"Ah well!" [Sidekick] said overly sarcastically, aiming low, "Must have been the wind." Their sentence was punctuated by a gunshot and a yell of pain.

#writing prompt #sidekick prompt #badass sidekick #sidekick #gun mention #villains and heroes #heroes and villains #esper prompt

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ot7always · 4 years

Text

Fractured (part 3)

prev / Series Masterlist / next

Word Count: 5.9k

Pairing: Yoongi x Reader

Genre: Mafia AU, angst, fluff, (future) smut

Warnings: objectification, mentions of sex, guns, knives, murder, and death (non-graphic), mentions of blood (not gory, but it’s there several times), non-serious injury, depictions of mental illness in the form of: nightmares, self-loathing, anxiety

Rating: 18+

Summary: You’d always known something was strange and different about your “family,” but it wasn’t as though your environment encouraged curiosity from you. You thought you wanted to know all the answers, but nobody ever told you that the more you learned the more pieces of yourself you would leave behind.

A/N: Part 3 is here! This is going to be the last ‘introductory’ chapter before some more exciting things happen in the series. Let me know what you think!

Let me know if you’d like to be tagged!

It was cold.

Damp.

The floor beneath your feet was solid concrete, drops of water littering the floor, having fallen from the pipes above.

You were unarmed. Only a plain black t-shirt and cotton pants – why was this all you were wearing?

The cold air thoroughly chilled your bones, your teeth chattering together in your skull.

“Pay attention, bitch.” Before the voice even completed its sentence, the deafening boom of a gunshot rang through the room, bullet ricocheting off the wall behind you before clattering to the floor.

It was then that you took in your circumstances. You were standing in the middle of a circle of chairs, seated bodies facing you, faces blindfolded. Your heart stopped in your chest when you realized.

Seven chairs. Seven men. Bound around you as you were unarmed.

You rose your gaze to meet the eyes of a man you didn’t recognize, his pistol dangling at his side. Despite his laid-back demeanor, his men were behind him, and you knew without a doubt that you would surely die before you could even hope of making it to him.

“Choose.” His voice rang through the room, echoing off the bare stone walls.

You blinked in confusion, glancing at the men seated around you. Why was nobody struggling? Surely there wasn’t a tie in the world that could hold Hoseok, right?

Attempting not to show your anxiety, you cleared your throat. “Choose what?”

“Choose which one of your little boyfriends dies, and the rest of you can go free.”

You couldn’t hide the flash of panic on your face at his words, your gut twisting. “My boyfriends?” You schooled your voice, the carefully crafted cold mask returning to your face. You could only hope to stall until you found a way out of this situation.

“Aw, sweetheart, we both know they wouldn’t keep you around if they couldn’t put their dick in you, don’t we?”

Anger flared in your chest, quickly stamped down as you struggled to maintain neutral features. In the corner of your eye, you saw Jimin’s angry grimace, his body shifting beneath the ropes. You elected to ignore it, lest you draw unnecessary attention to him.

But it seemed that the man didn’t miss it.

“That one doesn’t like me talking about his slut, does he?” he laughed cruelly, pointing his gun at his direction.

Your heart rate rose exponentially in your chest. “We’re a family. Surely you understand – or do you not understand anything besides fucking?”

Stall. Stall. Stall.

But it appeared he chose to ignore your latter comment. “Oh, is that what they call it nowadays? My apologies, my lady,” he taunted, sending an ugly grin your way.

“Why are we here?” you deadpanned, eager to get on your way.

“You’re very hated out there, my dear,” he sung mockingly. “A certain someone paid me very generously to torment you, and I thought this seemed fun!”

“You’re insane,” you scowled, eyes darting around the room. But it seemed he did his research – there was only one visible entrance, and he was right in front of it. The distance between you and him was too great to get close enough to stand a fighting chance without weapons. Someone would surely die if you tried. If not you, one of the boys.

“Everyone’s insane in this business, sweetheart. Speaking of business, choose. Don’t think you can stall this out like you’ve been trying to do.”

You didn’t bother hiding your scowl. “Can’t I choose myself?”

“What good would that be? We both know dying is easy. Living with blood on your hands is a lot harder, don’t you think?”

He was right – but it didn’t change the fact that you would exchange your life for any of theirs in a heartbeat.

It didn’t seem like there was any way out of this. He wouldn’t really kill someone here – right?

Wrong.

You knew more than anyone how ruthless everyone in the world could be when it came to money.

He could kill all of you if he wanted.

But you were sure he knew that if he tried something too drastic you’d be able to take advantage of his distraction.

He was too smart to do anything besides what he said. And you were too desperate to try anything else.

You took in the sight of the men seated around you, some biting their bottom lip in an attempt to remain quiet. There was absolutely no way you could do this. Wasn’t there any way you could stall this out?

BANG.

You wouldn’t have known exactly what happened if not for Jimin’s loud scream, blood gushing from his shoulder from where the man had skillfully aimed. Wide-eyed, you had to keep yourself from springing towards him, though upon first glance it didn’t look like a deadly wound.

“You don’t have much longer before I get angry. Choose.”

“Hey.”

You only spun around to face everyone surrounding you, the helplessness washing over you, dread rising in your stomach. Was this a joke?

You paused when you spotted Yoongi mouthing something to you. He was sitting opposite the door, his back to the heartless man, who couldn’t see what he was doing. You stared as he moved his lips, trying to make out the words.

‘It’s okay.’

“Y/N!”

You had to stop the tears from rising to the surface. This wasn’t okay, and would never be okay.

“Particularly attached to that one, huh?”

Before you knew it, the gun was pointed to Yoongi’s head, the man’s chuckle punctuated by the pull of the trigger.

You let out an ear-piercing scream at the same time as the bang rung through the room, knees crashing to the concrete beneath you, your eyes too afraid to look up.

“Y/N!”

Your eyes flashed open at hands grasping your shoulders tightly enough to grate against the bone. Panting heavily, you shot your gaze around the room, heartbeat slowing as you took in the sight of Yoongi’s bedroom and not a windowless, concrete building.

“Hey. You’re safe.”

At the sound of a soothing voice, you fully realized the presence of another person as your senses started coming back to you. At his warm tone, you focused your blurry vision on Jimin’s face, blinking away unshed tears. His brow was furrowed, concern clear on his face.

“You were screaming.” When he realized you were fully awake, his grip on you lessened, but his hands remained in place as he took in the fear in your eyes and the trembling of your limbs. “Hey, are you with me?”

You nodded your assurance, closing your eyes to focus on evening out your breathing. “I’m okay,” you mumbled. Physically you knew you were, your body becoming more awake, feeling more under your control by the second. But you were shaken by what you saw, how real it seemed. How realistic it was.

Nobody appreciated the reminder that the people they loved could die at any moment.

Jimin waited patiently as you struggled to pull yourself together. This wasn’t the first time he’d found you like this, and it almost certainly wouldn’t be the last. He’s witnessed some of your lowest moments, after all. Jimin was arguably the softest and most attentive one in the house – with you guys, anyway. You’d never seen anyone who could flip a switch in the way Jimin did as soon as he stepped out into the field. You admired the way he allowed himself to let loose at home, but could be professional as soon as he stepped outside.

The way he fretted over everyone like a mother hen had endeared you to him since a time before you’d even started kindergarten.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he prodded gently once you’d opened your eyes, vision fixed on an empty spot on the wall to avoid his searching gaze.

You quickly shook your head, burying the mess of emotions deep within you, as though acting unbothered would will your anxiety out of existence. Despite receiving the same answer each time over the past few months and years, Jimin never failed to ask the same question. You both loved and hated him for it, to no fault of his own. You simply didn’t feel comfortable laying out all of your thoughts, and the vulnerability that came with it. Not when so much of your sanity relied upon your mask of indifference and focus on work.

Despite your refusal, he eyed you for several more seconds, hesitantly releasing you and seating himself beside you so that your shoulders were touching. In your peripheral vision you caught a glimpse of his conflicted expression. You couldn’t blame him – he did, you assume, come in here because your screaming was audible from the hallway. You would be concerned too, especially in a house where every room was made to be relatively private, sound-wise.

Images of that dream still floated through your mind, the last few seconds before you woke up playing on repeat again, and again, and again.

“Where’s Yoongi?” you asked, hoping to distract Jimin from your sorry state. But it appeared that your question was most definitely not the right way to go about that, because his concern only grew more noticeable.

“Yoongi-hyung...? He’s out tonight, remember? With Seokjinnie-hyung?” He stared at you incredulously.

Right.

You couldn’t believe it had slipped your mind – and neither could Jimin, apparently. His astonishment made sense, though. If there was one person in the house with laser focus on the job, it was probably you. It was easier that way – your work brain didn’t worry so much about what happened in the field.

But that meant you usually kept tabs on what everyone was doing, especially considering what they were doing was related to what you would be doing tomorrow. Especially considering you could barely sleep without knowing every one of them was back home and safe.

“Are you... sure you’re okay?” he asked at your lack of response.

“I’m fine... just wasn’t fully awake, you know?” you deflected, awkward chuckle falling from your lips. You were fine, right? Your mind was just a little bit too preoccupied to remember something. Something very important, and something that you usually never forgot, but it wasn’t that big of a deal.

But Jimin didn’t seem to think so, the disbelief clear on his face. But before he could open his mouth to say something, you spoke first.

“Do you ever have nightmares?” you asked simply, hugging your knees to your chest, wrapping yourself into a little ball. Of course, you knew the answer already, but a selfish part of you just wanted the reassurance that you weren’t alone in your experiences.

“Y/N...” he trailed off, tone sad. “I think we all do. You’re not alone here.”

“What do you do?”

That seemed to surprise him. The words slipped from you before you could stop them. For lack of better wording – you didn’t tend to initiate conversations about things that really mattered. Things that were important to you personally, things that weren’t surface-level or work-related. Perhaps waking up after an awful dream next to a person rather than your usual empty room brought forth an unusual vulnerability.

He seemed to ponder over a response, taking his time before answering. “I talk about it.” He had decided to answer honestly, cringing inwardly at the answer, knowing how much you avoided talking about your problems with anyone.

You deflated almost imperceptively at his answer, though you were sure he noticed. You didn’t know what you were expecting, and didn’t know why you were disappointed. Did you really think Jimin would have some secret to help you?

No – he just wasn’t a coward like you were.

“Y/N, I know things are a lot harder for you than everyone else-”

“They’re not,” you interjected.

“They are. Everyone else grew up knowing what this house was from birth. But you? They let you become a person and then forcefully replaced you with another version of yourself later. Us? This is all we ever were.” There was a trace of bitterness in his tone, one you chose not to comment on. “I don’t know why they waited so long to tell you. Maybe that’s the reason you’re so-”

He cut himself off before he could finish the sentence, grimacing slightly at his uncontrolled babbling.

But it didn’t take a genius to understand where he was going with that thought.

“So what?” Fucked up? Broken? You weren’t sure you wanted to know what he was going to finish that sentence with.

“Never mind,” he sighed, taking a deep breath before changing the subject. “I was supposed to come get you anyway. Yoongi-hyung told me to make you eat once you woke up.”

“He told you to make me eat?” you mumbled, slightly affronted, but amused nonetheless. Your comment seemed to break the tension in the room, Jimin breathing a laugh at your reaction.

“You know how he is,” he grinned. “But anyway, come join us. Taehyungie is downstairs waiting for me already. Said he wants to watch The Office or something.”

You knew you should eat something, but you really didn’t have much of an appetite after everything. Perhaps being punched in the gut and then dreaming of your family’s death by your hand will do that.

Noticing your hesitation, however, Jimin piped back up. “Please? I think it would help. For me?”

You knew you were helpless the moment he fixed his pleading stare onto your face. Nobody could ever deny that man anything, and you were more than certain he knew that. You were lucky he wasn’t using his powers for worse things than convincing someone who needs food that they need to eat.

Rather than respond, you simply let out an exaggerated sigh, pretending you didn’t know that he was definitely correct. Besides, if there was anyone who could take your mind off things, it was definitely Jimin and Taehyung. On their own you’d almost mistake them for any other 20-something year old, but together they were their own brand of chaos. Chaos that never failed to brighten the mood.

You made to hop off the bed, planning on throwing out an “if I have to” once you did, but it appeared that you’d been so focused on your mental state that your physical one completely slipped your mind.

Not expecting your legs to be so weak, you lost your balance almost immediately, saved from an embarrassing potential fall by Jimin’s quick reflexes. He stood beside you, a hand on your shoulder, luckily not fussing over you too much.

“Hm, Jungkookie didn’t tell me he messed you up that much,” he teased, though you thought there was an ounce of concern somewhere in there.

You scoffed. “I’m fine, I just forgot how sore I was.” You shrugged off his hand, taking a few pained steps towards the door, hiding a grimace at the scream of your muscles. “And Jungkook did not do this to me, by the way,” you added, unwilling to let Jimin prance around the house thinking Jungkook was able to beat the living shit out of you. Even if it was partially true.

As amusing at it was to watch you unintentionally walk around like a newborn lamb, Jimin couldn’t help his wince at the sight. “Are you sure you don’t need help?”

“Let’s go eat, Jimin.”

As expected, dinner and sitcoms with the Chaos Pair (as you and Hoseok liked to fondly refer to them) did wonders to improve your mood. Seokjin had so kindly made some sort of stir-fry before leaving with Yoongi, meaning all you three had to do was warm up some food before settling down on the couch.

But that was several hours ago. It had to be past midnight, and you knew what Yoongi and Seokjin needed to do tonight wasn’t something that should have taken too long. In fact, scouting out the meeting place for tomorrow shouldn’t have taken more than half an hour or an hour at most – any longer and getting seen was too risky.

You couldn’t help but let your mind wander, wondering what could have held them up so much. Surely nothing could have happened, especially when the plan for today wasn’t even that dangerous – right?

Captured within your own thoughts, not absorbing what was on the screen, the transition to the ending credits snapped you out of it. You spoke out before Taehyung could click the next episode button for the nth time that night.

“Hey... do you guys know what’s happening with Yoongi and Jin?” You tried to make the question sound casual and nonchalant, but each of the boys were well-versed in your worry any time work didn’t go according to plan – especially when you were at home while others were out. It was a silent but well-known fact that you were almost always the last to bed on mission days, your body only relaxing enough to sleep once you knew everyone was home safe.

“I’m sure they’re fine, Y/N,” Jimin was quick to reassure you from the opposite end of the couch. “Coming back late isn’t that strange here, you know.”

“Right. This is Yoongi-hyung and Jin-hyung we’re talking about here, remember?” Taehyung added, slinging an arm around your shoulder from his place beside you. “Besides, Yoongi-hyung is a master at doing stuff quickly and quietly. I bet they were done in like 20 minutes and they’re out eating or something.”

“Without any update?” you replied, skepticism clear in your tone. “Not even an ‘all done, see you guys later,’ nothing?”

“Just think about it this way, Y/N,” said Jimin, matter-of-factly. “Even if something went wrong, isn’t it better to have no news at all than for us to know something?”

As much as you wanted to argue the nuances of that statement, you knew in general, he was right. If they were captured, you’re sure Namjoon would have heard something about it by now. People were too impatient in this line of work to wait before leveraging whatever bargaining chip they had – especially when it wouldn’t be unheard of for them to lose their chance before it could be used. And if they were killed? News of such a thing would have spread even faster, considering their status as the two oldest sons.

Jimin was right, in a way – you could be fairly confident that whatever was happening, they were at least alive.

But that didn’t stop you from worrying. Some things were worse than death.

“You’re right, I guess,” you conceded, though you certainly didn’t sound happy about it.

When nobody made to speak further, Taehyung hit play, and you tried your best to focus on the show.

And you did. For another hour, with no word from anyone, and still no Yoongi or Seokjin in the house.

As much as you wanted so badly to call them and demand what was taking up their time, you already knew such a thing wasn’t possible. You knew that by now, if they had time, they would have called you already.

All there was left to do was wait, and you were not a patient person.

You didn’t even realize how much you were fidgeting until Taehyung reached out a hand to rest on your shoulder, the other moving to pause the episode.

“Y/N.” Taehyung’s voice was firm. “Don’t worry so much, they’ll be fine. I think you should sleep.”

“You should,” Jimin agreed. “Don’t you guys have to leave early tomorrow?”

You made a noncommittal noise in response. As much as your muscles screamed with exhaustion, as much as your mind probably needed rest, you knew you wouldn’t be capable of sleep. Not when the last time you’d slept wrought you so much terror, and definitely not before everyone was accounted for.

But you couldn’t focus on the show, and as much as you loved them, you didn’t think you could sit there any longer and hear the same reassurances from Jimin and Taehyung. It wasn’t their fault – you knew they wanted you to feel some peace of mind, but there was only so much that could be said when dealing with very real danger. And at the same time, you felt bad for making them fuss over you.

“I think... I think I’m going to head upstairs. Sorry I couldn’t be very good company,” you said, wincing as you stood supporting your own weight, the dull pain in your abdomen and calves protesting.

They were quick to claim otherwise, each of them reaching out to give your arm a gentle squeeze. As you made your way to the staircase, you could hear their quiet whispers from the couch, though you couldn’t make out their words. You would bet that they were probably discussing Yoongi and Seokjin’s absence, too considerate to worry you further while you were still there.

When you reached the landing upstairs, you were fully planning to head to your own room, lounging in bed, phone in hand until either the boys came home or you passed out from sheer exhaustion. But this late at night, you didn’t expect to see the strip of light coming from beneath Namjoon’s door. Perhaps distracting yourself with work would be your best bet to shift your focus.

You were knocking on his door before you were even fully aware you’d made the decision, entering when a tired voice called for you to come in.

When he saw it was you, he gave you a kind smile from where he was seated at his desk, though the fatigue in it was clear. But you supposed you weren’t one to talk.

“Everything okay?” he asked easily, spinning around on his clear until he was facing you fully. On his desk you could see almost a dozen open folders, sheets scattered around – work-related, no doubt. You were positive there was some kind of method to the madness, though. This was Namjoon, after all.

Though he liked to deny it, Namjoon was something of the leader in the house now that everyone’s parents no longer lived there full-time. Like true important individuals, they lived off in vacation homes now that their children were fully grown and fully capable of doing every bit of dirty work for them. They stopped by sometimes since much of the important technology (read: weapons) and paperwork were here, but for the most part, once night fell you guys were on your own. Not that the 8 of you really had any say in what you’d be doing despite being mostly alone – you were independent in name only, and you didn’t doubt that the parents were keeping tabs on everyone anyway. Namjoon’s father proved that earlier.

Being the son of the head of the entire “operation,” most communications came to Namjoon to relay to the rest of you. Despite never volunteering for such a thing, his father liked to work him to the bone. In watching their interactions, you’d hardly be able to tell they were family – Namjoon’s father treated him more as a servant than anything. As much as he claimed he didn’t mind, the work definitely took a toll on him. The fact that he was alone in his room working at what must be around 3 am was evidence enough.

“I was hoping to talk to you about tomorrow...” you began unsurely. “But if you’re busy, it’s fine. It’s not that important anyway.”

You hated to intrude and ask him to talk about work when he was already clearly so swamped, but in all likelihood what he was doing was about your next task anyway.

“Actually, it’s good that you’re here. I think if I look at these papers any longer, I’m gonna go insane. Talking has always been better for me, anyway,” he replied, and you visibly perked up at the realization that your presence was desired rather than simply tolerated.

“All that stuff is about tomorrow?” you questioned, making your way over to sit cross-legged at the end of his bed. Now that you were closer, you could see that the papers flooding his desk were some combination of floor plans, building sketches, and walls of text that looked much too small to read even if it were right in front of you.

“Right. Everything had already been mapped out already, but my father sent me these about an hour ago saying the first set they gave me was wrong.” He huffed a bit in annoyance at that, before continuing on. “So, I’ve mostly just been double checking whether it changes anything. I think we should be okay, but better safe than sorry, right?” he chuckled humorlessly, a hand raising to pass mindlessly through his hair.

“Lay it on me, Joon,” you grinned, forcing enthusiasm into your voice in the hopes that you could at least make him feel a bit better. It was, after all, much easier to help others than to help yourself. You leaned back on your hands, giving him your full attention.

“You read through everything I sent you already, right?” he inquired, despite knowing that the obvious answer was yes, considering you’d have to set out only hours later.

When you nodded your assent, he continued.

“So you know that this isn’t too complicated of a mission – a go in, talk, come back out type of thing. We’re already at a temporary peace with their family, so you and Jungkook will be there as assurance that they can’t just shoot me dead.”

“Uh huh. So what’s changed?”

“Pretty much just the map of the warehouse we’re going to. The windows are placed differently than we originally thought, and apparently there might be some sort of back door. Yoongi-hyung and Jin-hyung were supposed to confirm those details, but...” he trailed off, his teeth gnawing at his bottom lip betraying his worry. But when he saw your face fall at the mention, he carried on.

“In theory, all we have to do is be a bit more aware when we get there, keep an eye out, especially for that other entrance. But I’ve mostly been thinking about what could go wrong with the added unknowns, especially if someone tried to throw us off intentionally-”

His voice was cut off abruptly by a loud bang from downstairs, followed by voices. You were up on your feet in an instant, out the bedroom door before you could even check whether Namjoon was following. Any semblance of pain was forgotten as you bounded downstairs at a speed that was probably unsafe, skidding to a stop when Yoongi and Seokjin came into view.

Your eyes scanning them over quickly, at first you thought nothing of it as you came closer. They looked ragged and tired, hair sticking to their foreheads, clothes dirty. If you didn’t notice the movement of Yoongi’s hand twitching against his abdomen, you would have gone straight into questioning them about their whereabouts for the past four hours.

But you did notice it, and your eyes zeroed in on the fact that his hand was, very faintly, stained with red. After that, any restraint you might have shown was gone in an instant.

“What happened to you?!” you exclaimed, closing the distance between you faster than they could think to move or respond. Pulling Yoongi’s hand away from his body with one of your own, the other yanked his shirt up before he could protest. There was no such thing as decency in this house when the other person was bleeding.

“Y/N-” Yoongi began in a tone that was definitely about to tell you to calm down.

“Don’t ‘Y/N’ me!” you huffed, holding his shirt up and away from his wound. Luckily, it didn’t look too bad, and wasn’t bleeding all that much. The sight calmed you somewhat, relieved by the fact that this was something that would be incredibly easy to recover from. But that didn’t mean you’d forgotten that he shouldn’t have even been injured in the first place. “Start talking, Seokjin.”

You saw him cringe a bit in the corner of your eye. He was almost never ‘Seokjin’ to you – it was clear to him that you were angry, even if it wasn’t necessarily at him.

He took a deep breath before starting. “We-”

“Hyung?” came Namjoon’s voice from behind you, and a quick glance showed that Jimin and Taehyung were right on his heel. “What happened?”

You could hear Seokjin wind himself up to start again, but a sharp sigh from Yoongi cut him off once again. “Can’t we sit for this?” Yoongi grumbled, irritation lacing his tone. The presence of not one, but four people fussing over him at the same time left him seemingly annoyed.

Instead of speaking, you begun to tug him in the direction of the kitchen table where you’d all be able to speak properly. If he wasn’t injured might have been comedic to see a grumpy Yoongi being led through the house by your grip on his shirt, but those nearby were too concerned to say anything. If you were anybody else he probably would have cussed you out by now – you were the only person here who would try such a thing nowadays.

When you reached the closest chair you pushed him down into it, taking his hand and forcing him to hold up his own shirt. “Hold that there,” you demanded, no-nonsense tone leaving no room for disagreement.

By the time you returned with clean hands and a first aid kit, everyone else was already seated, waiting for your arrival to get into the story.

You crouched on the floor next to where Yoongi was seated, pulling out supplies as Seokjin began. You listened intently to Seokjin’s explanation about arriving at the warehouse, parking in an alley and keeping an eye out from afar while Yoongi went around the building on his own.

“I was surveying as planned, but when I got around to the back I ran into – agh, fuck,” Yoongi grunted when you wiped at his wound with antiseptic, paying no mind to the fact that he was mid-sentence. “Ran into a guy with a mask on who pulled a knife on me,” he finished through gritted teeth, muscles tensing as you cleaned the blood away until you could properly see what you were working with.

You hadn’t fully relaxed until you’d reached that point. When the mess of dry blood was gone, it was clear that despite the cut being long, it didn’t seem deep enough to need stitches. So long as it didn’t get infected, it likely wouldn’t even scar. The fact that it wasn’t bleeding anymore was a good sign, though you cringed at how long he must have gone around with it like this.

You listened to Seokjin detail how Yoongi ended up coming back to the car far earlier than expected, and how whoever was there had chased them down. As you listened to how they’d had to drive around for hours to ensure they really lost them before returning home, you worked on dressing the wound. You pulled the gauze snugly around his narrow waist, pausing when he gave a quiet grunt.

“Too tight?” you asked quietly, searching his face.

“It’s fine. I could’ve done this myself, you know,” he mumbled, not looking at you.

You narrowed your eyes. “Aren’t you the one always telling me to accept help?”

Despite his lack of verbal response, his sigh was enough to signify his resignation as the point you’d made.

You hardly registered Namjoon leaving the table to call his father, more focused on the task in front of you. When you finally secured the gauze with tape, you leaned back to examine your handiwork. It wasn’t your best, and certainly nowhere near as neat as Jin would have made it, but it would do. Before you could move away, however, Yoongi’s hand rose to rub affectionately at your head.

“Thanks,” he cracked a smile at you, grin widening when you batted his blood-stained hand away with a barely-disguised look of disgust.

Rather than ream him out for dirtying your hair, an unreadable look spread over your face. “I was worried about you.”

As much as you’d tried to erase the image from your memory over the course of the last few hours, it wasn’t something that could easily be forgotten. It was irrational to think that your nightmares had any relation to what occurred in reality, but fear didn’t have to be rational.

It must have been obvious that something was troubling you more than the fact that they’d arrived home late and injured. There was no other reason for you to be staring into nothing, face screwed up into an expression that looked something like pain.

“Did something happen?” he asked simply, reaching for your hand and pulling it into his grasp when you didn’t resist. That you let his dirt and blood-crusted hand anywhere near your body without complaint was concerning in and of itself.

“No...” you said unsurely, gaze fixing onto the floor, shaking your head as though to dispel the image from your mind. “Not really.”

You heard an intake of breath as though he was about to protest, but Namjoon’s hurried footsteps returning to the table distracted you both. As you caught the troubled expression on Namjoon’s face, you rose to take a proper place at the table, beside Seokjin and Yoongi and across from Jimin and Taehyung.

Namjoon took a seat at the head of the table where everyone could see him, and the sight of his clear distress, hands running over his face, had you unsettled immediately.

“What’s wrong?” you asked hurriedly, business face on immediately.

“My father had someone look into who attacked you at the warehouse and chased you afterwards. The footage from the warehouse wasn’t clear, but based on street cams and red-light cams...” he took a deep breath, grimacing before his next statement. “It was Lee Taemin.”

The speed at which your brows shot up was impressive.

Lee Taemin.

The man who you were supposed to meet up with tomorrow. The man whose family supposedly had a partnership with yours.

“Excuse me?” came Seokjin’s bewildered voice.

“Lee Taemin attacked you? He had to have known it was you, after however long he chased you,” said Jimin.

You gripped the edge of the table harshly, nails digging into the surface. This wasn’t something to be taken lightly – in fact, you were surprised they had the nerve to double-cross Bangtan.

Were the changes Namjoon was looking at earlier a result of their meddling? What would have happened tomorrow if you’d shown up according to plan? What would have awaited you there?

“There’s no way three of us can just walk in there tomorrow,” you said through gritted teeth, fury rising the longer you thought about how close to disaster you’d come because of their betrayal. How had they managed to keep it all secret? Surely whispers should have made it to you by now.

Unless he was acting alone?

Nothing made sense.

“We won’t be going to the warehouse tomorrow,” Namjoon stated, though the resignation in his tone sent a shot of confusion through you. He didn’t seem very happy about that fact, despite the risks being massive.

“And you’re upset about that, because...?” you prodded, sensing something else laying beneath that statement.

“We’ll be going to a party tomorrow night instead.”

Tagging: @shere-khan-the-lizard @wwilloww @propinqxity

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slytherinbarnes · 4 years

Text

Sub Rosa [70]

xii. damocles, pt 1

Pairing: Bellamy Blake x reader

Word Count: 3.9k

Warnings: death, fighting, injuries, it's a war, baby. language, McCreary is an asshole, mentions of blood.

Summary: The war begins, but the victory that seemed within grasp at nightfall disappears as the new day dawns.

a/n: the season 5 finale is here!!! i can’t believe we’re already finishing up with s5 and will be starting s6 on friday! feels like I just started sharing season 1 with you guys a few weeks ago. regardless, it’s here, and the end of the show is approaching, so buckle up! the taglist for this series is open! I hope you enjoy, please let me know what you think!!!

previous chapter // season masterlist // series masterlist

Just before dawn, the march begins.

You and Bellamy march at the front near Octavia, there to ensure that everything goes according to plan. No one says a word as you move from the desert into the rocky ravine that leads to the edge of the valley. Everyone is silent, in their own heads, working up the nerve to keep going and not run away from the war that grows closer with every step you take.

The sun is up in the sky by the time you reach a vantage point for the pillboxes, but it’s hidden behind clouds that sag with rain, waiting to fall. You and Bellamy crouch behind a rock, Octavia at your back, and peer through your scopes to the entrance into the valley, gaze landing on two small buildings on either side, buzzing with prisoners. Bellamy confirms the information is correct, and turns to pass it to Octavia. “Two pillboxes, just like Echo said.”

Not even a second later, you can hear the distant sound of gunfire, and you add, “That's our signal.”

You and Bellamy watch the prisoners evacuate the two pillboxes and head into the woods, towards the first entrance to reinforce their position. “It's working, they're moving out.”

As soon as Octavia has confirmation that everything is going according to plan, she turns to face Wonkru, pulling out her sword and lifting it into the air. Everyone acknowledges the signal and begins to march towards the valley, Octavia in the lead. You and Bellamy jump back into the group, just behind the Red Queen, and he reaches out to squeeze your hand in reassurance before the fight begins. You look over at him and smile, hoping you look less worried than you feel, and Bellamy gives you a strained smile in return. As you draw closer, Indra comes up behind you, looking between you and Bellamy, “You both did your best to stop this. In the end, if we have to fight, it's better to win.”

You both nod, and you get distracted when you see a young boy run past you to catch up with Octavia. You realize it’s Ethan, the boy that Madi beat in the arena, and you watch Octavia turn to him to say something. And just as soon as the words leave her mouth, everything goes to shit.

Looking back, you would have realized that everything was too quiet, gunshot no longer firing in the distance from the first position. You would have realized the hairs on the back of your neck and arms were raised, warning you before the danger struck. But in the moment, you notice none of that. Your focus is turned on Ethan and Octavia, and then seconds later, you watch as Ethan falls to the ground, a gunshot wound in the middle of his forehead. You instantly turn to look at Bellamy, and he’s already looking at you in alarm, grabbing your arm and leading you over to Octavia. He grabs her arm and pulls her behind a rock for cover, tugging you down beside her. “We should be covered.”

Octavia doesn't stay in place for long, but you barely register her turn and grab a gun from behind you. Instead, your focus is on the pillboxes nearby, and sending your bullets into them, hoping you’re taking some of the prisoners out. As you shoot, a high pitched whine pierces the air, and your stomach flips, immediately recognizing the sound as one of the big guns. Seconds later, your fears are confirmed when a blast hits the ground somewhere behind you, punctuated by screams of pain as it hits a group of people.

You hear Brell yell out, “Retreat! Back to the bunker!”

Octavia, however, immediately yells after her, “No! Advance! It's the only way!”

Bellamy grabs your arm again, and then his sister’s, pulling you both away from the danger. You move willingly, eager to survive the day and not die in a senseless war, but Octavia drags her feet, fighting her brother and slowing all three of you down. “O, it's the only way! We go back, and we find another-”

Bellamy never finishes his sentence, because all three of you get thrown through the air. One of the prisoners fires a blast cannon a few feet from the three of you, sending out a shockwave that sends all of you flying. The force of it knocks the air from your lungs, and just as you start to breathe again, you hit the ground hard, losing all the air in your body in one large rush. Your head cracks painfully against the ground, and you feel a sharp stab in your right shoulder. The pain floods your senses, making everything feel fuzzy, and seconds later, you pass out, everything fading to black.

Bellamy hangs on a post opposite of you, tied up the same way Finn was when he was going to be killed. You can see a collar around his neck, the skin beneath it dark and bruised, and blood drips from multiple places on his body; his face, his arms, his stomach. You can hear him struggling to breathe, and you think at least one of his ribs is broken, though you’re sure it’s more. And as you watch him, calling out to him, you see McCreary walk up beside him, giving you a sinister smile. “This is your fault, you know. You wished him down here on that shooting star, and the Universe listened. Lucky for me though, because I get to have a little fun with him.”

He flips the switch for Bellamy’s collar, and you watch as the man you love screams and shakes with pain. Tears stream down your face as you scream and tug on your restraints, “Stop it, you asshole, just stop! I’ll do anything you want me to, just stop!”

McCreary’s head cocks to the side, interested, and he turns off the collar. He walks over to you, to the pole you are tied to, and whispers, “Interesting. You know, they told me what the savages call you: Wanlida. They say it means Bringer of Death, and I guess I just want to test that theory.”

You feel dread wash over you, and he holds up a knife, your knife, right in front of your face. “Kill him.”

You balk, trying to back away from him despite the restraints around you. “No! Why would I even consider that?”

McCreary smiles, and holds up the controls for the shock collar in his other hand. “Because either you kill him, or I do. Death by your hand, or death by mine. But I know which will hurt more.”

You look at Bellamy in alarm, and his head lifts weakly towards you, eyes begging. “Please. Just like Atom. Please.”

You shake your head, and Bellamy keeps begging, tears streaming down his face, as McCreary watches. “You’ve never seen a shock collar on the highest setting before, have you? Well, neither have I, because the guards were banned from ever using it after they killed one of the prisoners on the first mission by cooking him alive. They said it was pretty gory, and that he felt every second of pain until the end.”

You glance back towards Bellamy, starting to shake and cry, and he nods his head, trying to get you to do it. “Please, natshana.”

His begging breaks your heart, and though every muscle in your body is telling you that it doesn't want to do this, your mind and your heart have mercy on your love, and you find yourself nodding your head at McCreary. “I’ll do it.”

His face splits into the biggest grin, and he cuts you loose with your knife, before holding it up with a serious expression. “If you try anything, you watch him die, slowly and painfully, before I pass you around this camp. When these prisoners are through with you, you’ll be begging for death, but I’ll never give it to you.”

You nod weakly, believing every word he says, and he presses the knife into your hand and steps out of your way. You pull yourself over to Bellamy, your body groaning with the movement, clearly just as injured as Bellamy is, before you finally come to a stop in front of your love. He’s weak, barely hanging onto life, and he uses what strength he has left to lift his head and look at you. “My radiant moon. It’s okay, it’s just like Atom. Just like Atom.”

Tears fall down your face as you look at him, lifting the knife to hover near his neck. “I love you, Bellamy Blake.”

“And I love you more than the stars. In this lifetime, and in the next.”

You whisper back, “Forever.”

And then you start to hum Clair de lune, tears falling down your face, nearly blinding you. You press the knife into his neck, and he winces for a second before blood starts to pour out of the wound, draining the life from his body. It rushes over your fingers and coats your hand, and you sob as you watch the love of your life take his last breath, dead by your hand. You drop to your knees, crying hard, and you feel someone snatch the knife from your hand before you’re restrained again, tied up at the feet of your lover. McCreary drops to his knees in front of you, smiling like a lunatic, and he mutters, “I didn’t think you’d ACTUALLY do it. Rather unfortunate for you, because I never had any intention of killing him.”

You freeze in place, your brain struggling to process the words. “What?”

“I wasn't going to kill him. I just wanted to see if you actually bring death wherever you go.” He laughs out loud, clearly enjoying this. “Looks like you do.”

You lunge towards him, intending to rip his throat out with your teeth, but you’re stopped before you make it close enough, knocked back with a sharp blow to your head. The force of it knocks you to the ground, your head pounding, the angle you’re in giving you the perfect view of Bellamy, sagging against his restraints, dead. The last thing you hear before the gunshot is the echo of words in your head, bouncing around, torturing you. Wanlida, Bringer of Death. Cursed. Threat to everyone she loves, including Bellamy Blake, who now lays dead.

You wake with a start, the movement shifting the injuries on your body, and you groan in pain, starting to reach up to touch your head. But before your hand moves an inch, a hand clamps down on your wrist, and Bellamy mutters, “Don't move.”

You force your body to pull your eyes open, coming face to face with Bellamy, relieved that he’s alive and okay, and the nightmare in your head isn’t real. Both of you are lying a few inches from each other, and you can see Octavia on the other side of him, watching you. “Bellamy, my head-”

You try to reach up again, but he cuts you off and holds you still. “Don’t move! They’re shooting anyone that moves. I have watched 15 people die in the last few hours. The second you move, you die.”

You whisper, “I understand.”

He releases your wrist, and he looks at your head the best he can without moving a muscle. “The bleeding’s stopped for now. In a few hours, when the sun goes down, we’ll move. Until then, we stay still as we can. We’ll check your injuries then.”

You nod your head and reach your hand out for his slowly, both of you side by side in the sand, holding hands. You stay like that for hours, through rainfall and gunfire, watching as people try to surrender and get shot down. You, Bellamy, and Octavia stay silent and frozen in place, watching as the sun sets and the stars rise up, the only light coming from the moonless sky. A spotlight passes over the gorge every few seconds, searching for movement, and after enough time has passed, Bellamy whispers to you and Octavia, “Okay, it's dark enough. Next time the light passes, we go.”

You watch the light get closer to you before it passes over each of your bodies, and as soon as it clears you, Bellamy whispers, “Okay, now!”

You all use your hands to push yourselves up, and you nearly cry out in pain at the tension that puts on your shoulder. But you don't have time to investigate, you just bite back your pain and run forward, following Bellamy and Octavia. The light starts to draw closer again and Bellamy whispers, “Get down!”

You all drop to the ground quickly, the ground shoving something deeper into your shoulder, and you bite down on your lip so hard it draws blood, trying anything to stay silent. After a second Bellamy whispers, “We're clear, come on!”

Octavia starts to run the wrong way, towards a rifle, and Bellamy turns to her in shock. “O, what are you doing?”

She drops behind a rock, propping up the weapon and aiming towards the pillboxes. “We'll never make it past those lights. Grab a rifle, there's one right there.”

“No! As soon as you pull that trigger, we're dead. Come on.”

Bellamy starts to drag her away, back on your original path, but as you move, someone reaches out and grabs your ankle. You call out to Bellamy, “Wait!”

The hand is sticking out from beneath a pile of bodies and you start to shove the bodies to the side, off of the person, as Bellamy and Octavia run over and help you. When you finally reach the hand, you see Indra looking up at you. “Indra!”

“Gaia's hit. It's bad.”

You crouch beside Indra, following her arm to where it is clasping onto Gaia’s leg in an attempt to slow the bleeding. Octavia whispers, “Are you hit, too?”

“No.”

“We have to get Gaia to Jackson. Come on, Indra.”

Octavia pulls Indra away from Gaia, revealing the bulletwound on her daughter’s thigh, and you immediately clamp your hand down onto the wound to slow the bleeding. Indra fights against Octavia, trying to reach out to her daughter again. “No, we can't move her. Wonkru will come back for us.”

You look at Bellamy and mutter, “We need to stop the bleeding.”

“Not here, we need cover.” He points over to a large wall of rocks nearby, making sure you all see it. “They won't see us behind those rocks.”

Just then, the light starts to draw close, and you all drop down, playing dead, until it passes over you. As soon as it’s gone, you help Bellamy sling Gaia over his shoulder, and you mutter, “Now! Run!”

You all take off towards the rock wall, dropping down behind its cover with a sigh of relief. Bellamy lays Gaia out again, and Indra holds her daughter in her arms as you kneel down and take a look at Gaia’s wound. It’s likely been bleeding for hours, a fact that starts to worry you, and you look around for a way to stop the bleeding as Bellamy whispers, “Even if we stop the bleeding, we'll never make it carrying her.”

“Save yourselves. I'm not leaving my daughter.”

You almost smile when you see the belt around your boyfriend's waist, and you reach out towards him, grabbing at the belt, and he looks at you in shock for a second before realizing what you’re doing. He pulls it off and hands it to you as Octavia backs up Indra, “Indra's right, they'll come back for us.”

Gaia’s eyes are closed and her voice is weak as she retorts, “Why are you doing this? A week ago, you threw us all in the pit.”

You pull the belt around Gaia’s thigh, above the wound, and yank it tight, hoping the makeshift tourniquet will work. Bellamy helps you secure it in place as Octavia stares down at the injured Flamekeeper. “A week ago, you were a traitor. Next week, you may be again. Right now, you're Wonkru.”

Bellamy, who is not buying it, quips, “She thinks when Wonkru comes back, you'll tell the followers of the Flame to follow her back through this gorge.”

You look up at him, brows furrowed together, realizing you must have missed a conversation when you were knocked out earlier. He shakes his head, and you know he’ll explain later. Octavia mutters, “If they don't, everybody dies.”

With Gaia patched up the best you can right now, you all lean back and give her some space. As you do, Bellamy turns to you, reaching up to touch your head. “No fresh blood, which is good.”

“When we were getting up, I felt a pain in my shoulder.”

You shift a little, trying to find some light, and when you do, you see something sticking out of your shoulder. You can’t tell what it is, but whatever it is, it’s stopping the bleeding, only a little bit of blood leaking through when you put too much strain on it. Bellamy whispers, “It’s okay for now, but we have to get out of here or none of us are gonna make it.”

Gaia must hear this, because she weakly whispers, “Nomon...”

Mother… Indra looks down at her weak daughter. “Ai kamp hir, ai goufa.”

I'm here my child. Gaia fights to keep her eyes open, getting worse with each passing second. “Yu souda klir ai of.”

You have to let me go. You can see Indra fight back a wave of emotion, the first time you’ve ever seen the strong warrior on the verge of tears. The sight of it brings tears to your eyes, and Bellamy reaches out to grab your hand. When you look over at him, you can see him fighting back tears too. “No. Wonkru na komba raun gon yumi. ‘Mo na throu daun. Jos ste gonen kom liwa mou, en–”

No. Wonkru will come for us. They will fight. Just hold on a little longer- Gaia cuts her off and counters, “‘Mo nou na komba hir. Wonkru ste shada… Ai gonplei ste odon.”

They won't come. Wonkru is broken. My fight is over. You see her eyelids flutter closed and you look at Bellamy in alarm before crawling over to Gaia’s side, nudging her arm. “Hey, no. What about Madi? What kind of Flamekeeper leaves a 12 year old Commander to fend for herself? Keep fighting, if not for you, then for her.”

Gaia nods a little but her eyes stay closed, and you keep your eyes locked on her chest, relieved to see the steady rise and fall of her breathing. Octavia steps closer to all of you, looking at Gaia, reflecting on her words. “Wonkru ste shada. I broke it.”

Her voice is broken, just like her people, and Indra’s reaction is immediate. She takes her eyes off her daughter for the first time since you found her, and fixes her gaze on Octavia. “Yes, you did.”

Octavia turns away, upset, peering over the ridge just as someone starts to stand. “There's someone alive out there!”

Bellamy pulls her back down just as the person is killed, the gunshot echoing in the space of the gorge. “Get down! They'll see you.”

“What do you care if I die? Isn't that what you want?”

Bellamy’s voice shakes with emotion when he whispers, “Yes.”

You look at the siblings as they turn away from each other, both of them fighting back tears for different reasons. But you don't have time to help them, because Indra reaches out to grab your arm. “Her heartbeat is slowing, we need to go now. I'll give them a target. The next time they open fire, we run.”

You look at Bellamy, and he nods. “I'll carry Gaia.”

Gaia, still clinging to life, grabs her mother. “No, you're not dying for me.”

Octavia turns to face all of you, nodding in agreement with Gaia. “She's right. I may never be able to fix what I broke, but I can save you. I'm the one they want most of all. When they open fire, run like hell.”

Tears well up in your eyes as Octavia stands, moving to walk past all of you, into sight, and Bellamy grabs her and pulls her down. They both stare at each other, tears in their eyes, unable to say all the things that have been left unsaid. Octavia looks at him, lifting a hand to his cheek, and says, “My brother....”

She turns to you, putting her other hand on your face, tears in her eyes. “My sister...my responsibility.”

And then she drops her hand and steps away before either of you can argue or stop her. She runs straight into the middle of the gorge, aims her gun at the pillboxes, and starts shooting. As she does, she yells, “You are Wonkru, or you are the enemy of Wonkru! Choose!”

Bellamy grabs Gaia and starts to run, and Indra sticks close by his side. You bring up the rear of the group, grabbing a rifle on your way, protecting your backside. You all run until you hear Octavia’s gun click, now out of bullets, and you stop to watch in horror as she drops her weapon and falls to her knees, the spotlight now illuminating her. She holds out her hands, welcoming death, but it never comes.

Salvation comes instead.

The rover comes barreling through the ravine towards you, the machine gun on the front firing rounds at the pillboxes, saving all of you. It comes to a stop right beside Octavia, and you watch her run towards the vehicle. You, Indra, Bellamy, and Gaia all backtrack and run towards the rover, with you and Indra pushing Bellamy ahead, making sure he and Gaia make it first. As you get closer, Emori yells from the turret, “Hurry up! We're not staying!”

Murphy jumps out of the vehicle with one of the sonic cannons in his hand, trying to shoot the pillboxes, but it fails. You pull your focus away as you reach the vehicle and help Bellamy to load Gaia up inside. Then Bellamy climbs inside and pulls Indra in, followed by you, then Octavia. You step into the vehicle, looking to the driver’s seat to see who came to your rescue, unsurprised to see your niece in the seat, turned around and grinning at you. You get to her the best you can in the small space, giving her an awkward hug around the seat and muttering in amazement, “My dazzling little sun.”

She hugs you back tight, only pulling away when Emori ducks back into the vehicle and yells, “The cannon is gonna blow! Get us out of here!”

Madi pulls away as you hear the door to the rover close, everyone safely tucked inside, and she immediately takes off, putting distance between you and the weapon. It explodes a few seconds later, the blast so large it shakes the rover, and you fall into the seat beside Bellamy awkwardly, the rover shaking and moving as Madi makes quick work on getting you out of the gorge. You look around at the occupants of the vehicle; Madi, Murphy, Emori, Indra, Gaia, Octavia, Bellamy, and Echo. You feel a cloud of awkwardness as the two of you make eye contact, but there’s no time to worry about that now. Now, as you barrel back into the desert, back towards your camp, every single person in the rover is thinking about one thing: how to win the war.

next chapter

#the 100 #the 100 rewrite #bellamy blake #bellamy blake x reader #bellamy blake fanfiction

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physicalturian · 4 years

Text

Why don’t you listen to me? Law x GN! Reader - Part 7

Spoilers for : Punk Hazard and Dressrosa arcs [No gender used for the reader, no physical description, everyone is +18] Words : 6649 Archive of our own Blood, exhaustion, fighting, violence, despair, blood, intimacy, stupidity, innuendos If you feel like I should put more warnings, send me a DM or an ask … Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6

How could he be alive? How could he be there, watching the fight? How did he make it? I felt relief course through my body just from seeing his angry face. He seemed fine, if not better than last time I had seen him. My heart started beating faster in my chest, I could feel tears welling up in my eyes but instead of crying, I went past my limits and focused hard enough to teleport to that roof. I almost did not make it, for my focus was definitely not there, no matter how hard I claimed it to be.

When my knees hit the ground, I looked up towards Law, and he stared right back at me, frowning.

I covered my mouth and stood up really quick, stumbling the few steps that separated us before falling to my knees once more and pulling him into a hug. I held him so tight, I think he had to hit my back gently to ask me to calm down. I loosened my hold just a little bit but did not lean away. If I did, I’d see his face and if I saw his face, I’d break down. “What has gotten into you?” He asked, very confused. I tried to come up with the words but knew that no matter what I’d say, I would cry. Remembering what I saw was enough to make me sick and sad.

“Your arm… it’s back…” I said against his shoulder as I moved my hand over it. He winced and said he still needed some time before doing anything crazy. I hummed but did not move.

“Can you let me go?” Law grunted. I could, but did I want to? I felt like if I let him out of my sight again, he’d be gone for good. I was scared, I was mortified, I did not want to let him go, I thought as I leaned back and looked away. “Sorry.” I mumbled before standing up. I could feel the tears coming back, I asked him to give me a minute and he took that time to watch over Luffy and Rebecca who were still in the middle of the fight.

I moved to the edge of the roof and looked over it too, watching when Law brought Rebecca to us and seeing the defeat of Doflamingo against Luffy. I said I saw it all, but all of it was behind a filter of tears and short breaths. I was trying to get a hold of myself but I couldn’t, I was dead tired, I couldn’t keep the façade up anymore. I was grateful when no one came up to me, I needed to let it all out.

When Luffy got shambled back to us, both women went to check up on him. I wiped the tears from my face and patted my cheeks to hype myself before making my way to Law. He seemed exhausted, but relieved too. In a small voice, I asked, “Are you relieved?” Looking at him, I felt self-aware. How long was staring too much? Could I keep looking at him until I had to go? Could I take a good look at all his features until I had enough? What was the right amount of time someone took, looking at someone else’s eyes before it’s creepy? I wondered…

He shrugged and leaned back on the wall, finally opening his eyes after seemingly dozing off, sitting. “There is still much more that needs to be done-“ He stopped mid-sentence and stared at me in awe before grabbing my hand a pulling me down. “What happened to you?! How are you in a worse state than- stop moving!” I tried to pry his hands off my face but while he was out of breath and tired, he still had energy to be a doctor. And a doctor he’d be.

“To be honest, I’m past the point of feeling anything.” I stated, letting my hand fall to my side when he shooed them once more. Telling me that being a brat was not going to help. I think my cheeks heated up when he said that, but I could put it on the countless wounds I had.

“Do you think it’s something to be proud of?” He asked, touching something on my forehead that made me wince.

“I survived, did I not?” I asked rhetorically.

“You wouldn’t have had to survive if you had stayed on the ship-“ I pushed him away from me and sighed loudly. How long could he repeat the same thing over and over again? He was going to speak again, probably offended that I cut him off, but I spoke up.

“I get it, okay?! I should have listened, but I didn’t and now it’s all over!” I said a bit too strongly. “Seeing you die in front of me was enough of a punishment, I don’t need to feel worse than I do right now. If you want to keep telling me I’m an idiot, do that once I’m rested because I’m this fucking close to do something I’ll regret. Alright Captain?”

He stood there, silent. I repeated my words over in my head and regretted them instantly. Fortunately, we were told to move before he could reply. We were to be guided to Kyros’ house, where we could rest. I was going to get up and hurry away from Law when he caught me and slipped my arm over his shoulder. “Don’t overdo it. Lean on me.”

Huffing, I did as he asked. Not talking.

He chuckled and I felt his hand tighten around my arm and waist, “This, you listen to, uh?”

I felt my face burn up and I looked away, “Who am I to ignore my doctor’s advice?” I said quickly as we followed everyone. “Yours?” I heard him wonder softly.

Facing him quickly, I stuttered, “I mean- mine like, like you’re not Chopper, you’re the Heart Pirates’-“ “I’m kidding, relax…” I felt my heart lighten. For some reason, having him being playful was reassuring. I called it playful but it was more teasing than anything else, not that I minded.

We walked a long while before reaching the house where some medical equipment was waiting for us. Those who were in better shape took care of those in worse states, Law took care of the hunk blonde man he brought back from the castle. It took a lot of time, during that time I was dosing off outside, looking at the field of flowers that was expending in front of me. There were groans inside, but once it all calmed down, Law left the house and closed the door behind himself before plopping down in front of me.

I did not look at him, too lost in my thoughts and perhaps hoping he’d just take care of my wounds without talking. But he did not stay silent.

“I’ll do what I can, but I’ll probably have to take another look once we’re off this Island.” He explained. I kept my gaze off of him. “Look at me.” He ordered. I clenched my jaw and stared straight ahead, not looking at him. Sure, we joked once, but I was still not over his constant repetition of how bad my choices were. I thought I was feeling better but now that we were alone once more, the heaviness in my chest was back and I was trying very hard not to jump him. I wanted to feel him close, I needed him. “I said, look at me.” He grumbled, grabbing my jaw and making me face him.

I was met with his surprised expression, he let the hand that was holding tweezers hit his knee. “Why are you crying? Does it hurt that bad?” He asked.

I chuckled and wiped the tears, taking a deep breath to calm down. “It hurts yeah, but like not- not physically. I mean, yeah it also hurts everywhere but-“ “Is it about the thing you said?” I grabbed his hand and got it off my face, to look anywhere but at him.

“Yes. Yes, it is. But just, just doctor me. Forget what I said.”

Moving his hand to my forehead, he didn’t warn me and pulled out a shard of glass from my forehead. “I can do both, talk.” He stated, throwing the shard to the ground.

“I said what I said, what more can I say-“

“Don’t play with me, just because I’m a doctor doesn’t mean I won’t do everything to get you to talk.” He punctuated his words by grabbing my hand and rolling my sleeve without much care then he started cleaning the wounds. I winced and tried to pull back but he only held me stronger.

“I thought you had died. I saw when… I saw your arm get cut off, then I heard your screams-“ I paused and gulped, feeling a knot forming in my throat. I hissed again when he pressed the alcohol on my wounds before moving to my other arm where the knife wound was.

“Continue, I’m not finished, neither are you.”

Scoffing, I did as he asked. “I thought I’d check your vivre card, but it was gone and then the gunshots…”

“When did those happen, then?” He moved his hands from checking my knife wound to opening my hands and checking the side, with which I had hit the ground, hard.

“I think the knife wound is a bit more important here, Law-“

“How? I’ll treat everything, just tell me how you did it.” He insisted.

“Well, how did you get your arm back? I saw it get cut right off, and I don’t see you talking about it-“ “Leo sewed it back on and the Tontatta princess healed it. Your turn now.”

I did not know how to say it without just telling him how heartbroken it made me to know he was gone. How desperate I was and how much I wanted to cry. I was not going to tell him any of that, I had to find something- “And be honest.” Fuck him…

“I just… I hit the ground, I kept hitting the ground. Over and over again. That was my first reaction, along tears and… yeah, I was just… I-“ I pulled one of my hand from his and wiped the tears again before leaning against the wall, looking at the sky instead of him. “I’m so relieved you’re alive. You were right, I was so fucking useless out there.” I said in a weak voice. He didn’t warn me when he started sewing shut the huge knife wound, I gasped and looked down where his fingers were working diligently.

“I didn’t say that, I said you should stay on the ship-“

I cut him off, feeling a bit annoyed, “Underlying statement being I was weak, wasn’t it?”

He sighed and kept working on my arm, “Not at all, you keep getting things wrong.”

“Keep getting things wrong? I wouldn’t get things wrong if you were clear, Law.”

“I didn’t tell you to leave my crew, let’s start there.” He huffed, cutting the thread he used to put sutures. Then he moved and did the same on the bleeding wound on my forehead.

“Well then, here is what you did do is: you did call me stupid, and you did give me an ultimatum.” He exhaled loudly once more, this time I could feel his breath hitting my face from how close he was looking at his work.

In a low tone, he whispered, “You weren’t supposed to take it.”

“What do you mean?” I was confused.

“You were supposed to choose the crew over this stupid fight, I know how much you like the crew. I thought it’d make you stay.” He explained, this time a bit clearer. I tried to look at him from under his hand, but couldn’t really see him. I could however feel the needle stinging my skin. I could also feel the exasperation building up inside me.

“It was not ‘the crew or the fight’ to me it was ‘the crew or your life’, yours, Law. Your fucking life. I just couldn’t bear losing you if you decided to sacrifice your own life.”

He stopped moving, then cut the thread before looking at me, frowning. “Why would you choose my life over the crew?”

“Because I made a god damn promise to Bepo! Because you were ready to die out there! Because I needed to make sure I could do something about you not dying- which I failed by the way. But also because I-“ meeting his eyes, I stopped and laughed at myself before shaking my head. I did not continue, nor did he. He was frozen on the spot.

“Because what?” he asked.

I chuckled and shrugged. “Why were you so intended to keep me on the ship, Law?”

He sighed, probably ready to ask me once more what I was not ready to tell him. Instead, he started wrapping bandages around my arms. “You can’t fight. I need to remedy that.” “I know I can’t fight, but I can still be useful.”

He chuckled and met my gaze, smiling. “Tell me, what kind of Captain would I be if I sent my crew out there without them being able to fence for themselves?” I shrugged.

“I was worried. While you are useful, in many ways, I knew this was going to need fighting more than helping. But you insisted, and insisted. I had to make you stay, to avoid….” He gave me once over, “This.” He nodded at my pitiful state.

“It’s not your fault-“

“Yes, it is. I couldn’t watch over you, I was too focused on taking him down.”

“And you wouldn’t have had to watch over me if I didn’t come…” I argued back, earning a short laugh from the fruit-user.

“You wouldn’t have come if you did not feel the urge to protect me from my…” Cutting him off, I huffed a laugh, “Tendencies to prioritize the mission over your own life?” He laughed and nodded, I liked seeing him smile again even if it was a small one.

We stayed silent for a moment, until he was done wrapping the bandaged around my arms and making sure it held. “I should have listened to you…” I mumbled.

“You should have.”

“But I don’t regret not doing it.” I said softly.

He breathed my name in a warning tone, before continuing, “Don’t do it again. Look at you, look at all the damage you took-“ he paused he looked at me frowning, “Why did you come to Punk Hazard?”

I choked on my saliva at the mention of the beginning of it all, of my desperate attempt to keep an eye on him. He leaned over, making me lean back and hit the wall. I gasped at the pain in my back but try to cover it with a short chuckle. “I told you, I was worried.”

“Penguin was worried. Shachi was worried, Bepo too, but I don’t see any of them here.” Because they’re not in love with you… I am… But I didn’t reply. He sighed and asked me to turn around and take off the clothes that were covering my back.

“It’s nothing, just bruises. We should go sleep.” I could feel my blood pumping, my hands getting cold and yet sweaty. If I stayed here any longer, I’d do something I’ll regret.

He lost his patience and said my name in a way that half scared me, half turned me on. So, I followed his order and turned around, taking off everything that was in the way before slumping over my knees and keeping the clothes close to my front. I made sure my hair was out of the way too.

“It’s-“ I felt his slender fingers brush over my back and felt a shiver run down my spine but did not say anything. With how delicately he was touching me, it did not hurt, if anything it felt like a caress. So, I closed my eyes, humming.

“You have cuts, and bruises everywhere. It’s not small ones, they’ll take a while to heal- What happened to you?”

“Do you want the truth?” “Yes, I never want you to lie to me no matter how intended you are on keeping things for me, dear-” I heard him clear his throat before starting working on my back. Did I hear him right? Did he call me dear? No, I must be tired, projecting even…

“Mingo did not like it when I jumped on him, twice if I may add. He slammed me into the ground, very angrily, both times.” I tried to shrug but Law had placed a hand on my shoulder, holding me in place. Turning my head to the side, I had his hand right next to it. I contemplated doing something, looking over his tattoos and gentle hands. It felt intimate for some reason, not just a doctor and a patient. Thinking, fuck it I did a thing I’d regret and leaned over just lightly, planting a kiss on the back of his hand before looking back ahead.

I felt his hand tightened right there. I thought he’d move it away but instead he moved it closer to my neck, his thumb brushing my skin ever so lightly. “Why would you jump on his back in the first place? I would scold you but I’m curious…”

“Yeah, well- he was going to shoot you so I jumped him but he dealt with me just as fast as he put… as he… you know, shot you….” I paused a moment, enjoying his palm placed on my back as he put bandages on it. Then I remembered I was talking, and continued, “The second time, I tried to distract him so that he’d let go of Viola and Rebecca, as you can see, it did not go well. I don’t regret any of those things though, in the end everyone’s fine, right?”

I heard him chuckle then pack up the medical stuff before asking me to help wrapping bandages around my form. When we were done, he softly said, “It looks like when I’m not around you’re a wild animal,” I then felt his forehead against the back of my head then his lips grazing the nape of my neck, he slid his hands to rest them over my shoulders, pressing the pad of his thumb like a massage. I wanted to tense, startled by the touch, but instead I melted into it. I let my head lean back against his, then I felt his lips press against my skin I turned around, to meet his eyes in shock. That’s when he realized what he had done and quickly stepped away, swearing under his breath. “It’s done, get dressed. Go rest.” He said quickly, grabbing the supplies from the ground before standing up.

“Hey, don’t leave!” I never dressed so fast, in seconds I was standing up and grabbed his shoulder to stop him. Calling his name, he did not pay attention, “Ignore what I did, it was inappropriate. Avoid sleeping on your back and-“ “Law! Why don’t you listen to me? Stop packing your shit, stay.”

He shrugged my hand of his shoulder and turned his back on me. I felt a twinge, I felt sick, I felt hopeful too, but all together I felt weird. A knot in my stomach, why had he said that? Why was he trying to throw it under the rug?

“Why did you follow me to Punk Hazard?” He asked while turning around, staring down at me with a scowl. I did not want to be asked this right away, I knew full well why, I was worried yes but it’s because I did not want to lose him, because I could not bear through the pain of seeing him die if he ever did.

I opened my mouth to speak, then closed it and looked to the side. Could I trust my mouth right now? Could I even form words? I was embarrassed, panicking and my blood was pumping so hard I was sure he could hear it too. I let out a shaky breath, laughing nervously. “I… you…” how to say it? Did I really want to say it? If he was asking, he must know, right?

He exhaled loudly and rested his sword against the wall, for a second I thought he was going to leave but instead he put the supplies on the ground and crossed his arms over his chest. I stared at the bandage around his biceps, that’s where it had been sliced, I could still hear his screams- “I, what?” He inquired.

Shaking my thoughts clear, I met his gaze for a second but could not look at him longer than that, I never did that. I did not know how to do it, I just felt out of place. How did one confess to their Captain?

Letting out a nervous chuckle, I pushed him away and gave him the best smile I could muster. I was not going to tell that I loved him, nor that I needed him alive, I had to keep this professional. When- no, if he rejected me, it’d be awkward. “I told you, I was worried,” I said. It made him sigh as he moved to grab his stuff once more. “I’m not used to having a Captain that lets his crew behind to do, you know… Pirate stuff. Usually, it’s all of us or none-”

“It’s called being careful. I have to be careful enough for the both of us, considering how prone you are to getting in dangerous situations.” He hissed, grabbing my arm as an emphasis for his words.

I scoffed, trying to pull my arm away from his hold but he kept his hand tight around it. “And maybe I wouldn’t have to leave you behind, if I could trust you.” He finished, before squeezing his hand tightly then letting go.

For a moment, I realized how bad words could hurt. I felt a pang in my chest but kept my expression calm. He shouldn’t know how much it hurt me, he should know that I’m strong and reliable.

And yet, when I stared at him, all my voice could muster was, “You don’t trust me?” I trusted him, why did he not trust me?

His face contorted in a pained expression for a second, then he huffed. “Just tell me why you followed me to Punk Hazard, I need to know.” His tone was strained, but I was not ready yet. I wanted to be honest, I did, but seeing him right now… I thought back on my plan of telling him, and just sighed. “No, you’re right. You shouldn’t trust me, I could be a surgeon that takes people’s heart out of their chest and be known to just murderer people, that would be hard to trust-“

“Fine, so be it. If you want to play that game, let’s go back inside.” He did not even give me time to reply that he stepped back inside.

While scolding myself internally, I followed him; I discretely reached out for his coat to stop him but stopped mid-way and shook my head once more. Stop this, what if he doesn’t trust you? He made it abundantly clear when he told you, you were stupid and that he did not need you. Shove it all away and don’t do anything rash. We went our separate ways, he laid on the ground, using his sword as a pillow which mustn’t have been comfortable. And yet he fell asleep just as soon as he hit the ground.

I would have suggested him to sleep with me like we did back on the ship, but there was this growing tension between us. I thought it’d have disappeared after his almost death, but it was ever present.

At some point during the night, Sabo came in to check up on Luffy. I was not as surprised by learning they were brothers, as his crew was. They seemed caught off guard, but it didn’t stop them from welcoming him. I only half-paid attention to his story, my focus was solely on the wounded man on the ground. Why was he so insistent in wanting to know why I followed him to Punk Hazard, I told him many times one of the main reasons why I did he but he was pushing.

Making sure my back was off the wall, I brought my knees to my chest and crossed my elbows on it, resting my head too. The bandages were a bit too tight around my sternum, but I ignored it. While Law called himself my Captain again, and so did I earlier, I still did not think I was welcomed back. I should listen to him and leave but at the same time… at the same time it was perhaps just my fear of doing something I’d regret that kept me from going back to him.

I couldn’t wake him up now, so I’d have to wait until morning to talk about it again but… perhaps I should follow Sanji’s advice and talk like adults. Yeah, talk like adults but also keep not telling him the truth, you know, like an adult. Fucking idiot. Huffing, I kept myself on high-alert but tried to get some rest nonetheless.

While the Straw-Hat crew seemed nice, I did not spend enough time with them to know if I could let my guard down. Even on the Polar Tang I almost begged to get one solo, even if very small, room to myself. In the end I managed to have one shared with Bepo, but it was mostly just me since Law requested him to sleep with him on rougher nights. But those nights came in more recently, at least before Punk Hazard. Perhaps was it because he was thinking about this revengeful plan, he had concocted to get rid of Doflamingo? Perhaps it took the dust off some old memories that he would have been keen on forgetting.

Whichever it was, I think he was glad that this very night he did not have nightmares. Or maybe he did not sleep at all, like I did, only half-asleep but still very much aware of what surrounded us.

When we woke up in the morning, the Samurais brought food. I managed to sneak and get some for myself and Law, dropping it in front of him before going through the door without a word. I’m sure he wasn’t he a mood to talk, but I was not in a mood to see him sulking around either. So, I sat outside and watched the flower field.

I did not know how long I stood there, but I could feel my whole body was on fire. The adrenaline from last night had worn off and I had a hard time going around, which is why I stayed seated on the ground and did not venture to the centre of town. Even when I heard the Princess was helping the injured one, but when I heard wind of it, I also heard the mention of the Marine. While I wanted to get some of my pain alleviated, it was not worth the risk of crossing path with the Marines.

Hearing the ruckus inside, I had guessed they heard it too, and were probably deciding on what to do.

Soon after, I heard the door open along soft footsteps before being nudged on the shoulder by something solid. Looking at it, it was the tip of a sheathed sword, Law’s. “Is it time to go?”

“Yes, get up we’re leaving.” He grunted, handing me a hand.

Taking it, I hissed and was ready to follow the others when he gripped my wrist. “Stay close to me, don’t wander off and keep running, no matter what. Are we clear?”

“Yeah sure, let’s go.” Before I could go, he pulled me once more and gritted through his teeth, “It’s a yes or no question, are we clear?”

It’s alright, it’s okay, don’t react. He’s on edge, it’s okay. With as much frustration as him, I smiled, “Yes, sir.” His frown disappeared and confusion struck his features, then I rushed to the front and joined everyone when they started running.

I was out of breath pretty easily; I suppose I should maybe work on my stamina and combat skills when I’m back with the crew. Perhaps Penguin would help me, I’m definitely not asking Law since he’s being a bitch. Or maybe it was because of the bandages…

As we ran, I realized we had lost Luffy. I stumbled a bit at the realization but got brought back to the front by Law who pulled me once more, telling me to hurry up.

Rolling my eyes, I would have teleported to the front to show off if we weren’t being shot at. The only thing protecting us being the huge shield, Bartolomeo was holding up, or as he called it: barrière.

But it did not matter, I could keep up, I was in automatic mode the entire time. That is, until I saw Law take a turn.

“Oh, no. He’s not doing this right now.” I said to myself while following him. When I teleported to the street he had turned to, I felt an arm pressed right under my neck. It disappeared off of me just as fast and I was left, a hand on my neck as I looked at Law in confusion.

“I told you to not wander off, why are you here!” He exclaimed in frustration.

“It’s not wandering off, I’m just following you at this point-“

“Don’t do that! Don’t play on words, go back to- fuck they’re too far now.” He groaned after checking the streets before looking back at me with his usual frown. “Why did you follow me?”

“Well, it’s called the buddy system. You’re not going anywhere alone, the only person who’s allowed to do that is Luffy because he can make friends easily.” I said casually, leaning against the wall. As I did, I felt the stinging pain in my back but ignored it, before continuing with my underlying statement, “You, however, cannot make friends for shit. I’m the buddy here.”

Law sighed loudly, his fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. After a few seconds, he held out his hand, “Follow me, but when I tell you to hide, you hide. I’ll be nearby.”

Hesitantly, I took his hand. Sure, it was for guidance, but it still felt nice to touch him in a non-medical way, for the very few times I did. We ran towards an unknown direction; it was unknown until I saw there was one Marine sitting on the rumbles. He wasn’t ready to attack, and nearby was seated a big monkey. A gorilla? An orangutan? I didn’t know, it was definitely a primate. With a gesture of his hand, Law signalled me to stop and hide, which I did. I let my bum hit the ground a bit too strongly, but it felt nice to rest. My muscles were on fire, my lungs were threatening to come out of my mouth and my wounds had probably opened again, the sewing must have been shitty for it to happen.

Placing my head against the wall, I tried to calm my beating heart to eavesdrop the conversation that was happening. No, no, don’t do that, it’s his life. Don’t do that, I told myself before bringing my fingers to my ears and trying my best to muffle everything. It wasn’t hard considering the loud crashing sounds that were happening in the distance. Stones flying in the sky, gathering to a huge one, I think I saw Luffy there too.

My arms were starting to tire, if they weren’t enough already from the gashes on it. But I sighed, and gulped. It muffled the sound even more, I had to fake a yawn to undo it but kept my gaze ahead of me to not get caught off guard.

Without sound, I felt like I had no notion of time. It was strange to say that, but I felt like it had been ages since Law had left. The moment I had that thought, something nudged my shoulder. I gasped and moved my hands from my ears, looking at it and seeing Law with a scowl.

Feeling like he was going to ask, I used his sword as lever to get myself up and groaned, “I covered my ears. I promise I didn’t hear your conversation with the Marine, no matter how suspicious this is.” His only reply was a scoff at first, then he pulled the sword and me with it, catching my bicep before I could fall.

“Don’t grab my sword like that, it’s not meant for that-“ “I don’t see you handing me a hand when my wounded ass is on the ground, chief.” I scoffed, letting of his sword with a huff.

“You have the worst attitude. I don’t have time to deal with you right now, let’s go.” He motioned with a curt of his head before starting running towards the huge ball of debris in the sky. I suppose it made sense to run towards the most frightening thing on the island right now. If that was there, it meant they were trying to block our way, which meant the port was that way.

But the call that is ‘running towards danger’ never ended well, no matter who initiated it. And yet, here I was, keeping my mouth shut and running behind him without complaining.

It might be a lie; I may have complained a bit about the utter pain that I was feeling all over my body but he was pretty good at ignoring it and just told me to keep going. “You seem fine for someone who lost an arm, I should have asked Minsh- Manshi… the princess to heal me, too.” I said out of breath, now running right next to Law.

I almost tripped when he laughed at my struggle and simply corrected me, “Manshelly.”

Chuckling I shrugged, or tried to, it was hard to do while running. “Yeah well, let’s Manshe-leave so that you can take proper care of me.” Was I pouting? It took me a bit of time to realize what I had said, it sounded like I was a brat in need of attention when all I meant was that he did a poor job last night.

Which I was not going to tell him.

He chuckled once more and was about to reply when he put his arm in front of me and stopped me dead in my track. With a huff, I placed my hand on his arm to balance myself and looked ahead where stood our allies. “We’re there, stay by my side.”

“You’re the one who wanders off, not me. You don’t need to tell me twice-“ He cut me off,

“No, I need to repeat it countless more times,” He sighed as we hurried to joined the rest of the people. Looking over at me, he smirked, “Maybe the princess could have healed your hardness of hearing, that would have been a gift-“

“I’m not deaf Law, it’s called selective hearing. It’s necessary when you keep repeating the same shit over and over, you know?” There was a bit too much animosity in my words, but it was too late. They were out now.

Once we had joined everyone and waited for Luffy’s fight to be over, Law continued. “The same shit? Do you mean: the orders you can’t seem to take?”

“Hey, I can take a lot, ok? But I already told you, your orders were bullshit. Not all the time, but sometimes.” I paused and raised a finger, “And I followed all yours orders up until now, just not the stupid ones so… I’m great at this, really.”

He sighed loudly, “If you’re so great, why do I feel like putting you on a leash is the only way to keep you still when I tell you to stay back.”

I turned around and faced him in pure awe, and slight embarrassment. Why did I kind of like what he said? No, no, don’t think that… They say to carve every word before letting it fall, but I just spurt pure raw unthought words, “And I feel like chaining you down is the only way to keep you out of danger, oh- wait no, sorry you can manage getting tied up just fine, especially when the enemy-“

“Alright! Both of you, please, stop with the flirting. It’s annoying, it’s definitely something that needs to be talked about in private and above all,” Cavendish covered his eyes in emphasis for his next words before dramatically saying, “It’s truly painful to see, goodness…”

After hearing the blonde’s words, I felt my face flame up and looked away from both of them, clearing my throat. I did not mention his use of the word flirting and simply waited for the ‘go’ before starting sprinting towards the huge ships that awaited us at the port.

I dared throw a glance at Law while running, he seemed deep in thought. Maybe I should apologize, I don’t even know why I said any of this. I don’t mind his orders, they make sense, I’m just an idiot. I can’t tell him that though, it’d be too gratifying for him… No, he wouldn’t be satisfied by that… Even so, I had to find an excuse as of why I spoke so heatedly instead of staying compose like I usually am. Looks like shoving it all way is starting to have consequences I don’t like…

Focusing on the task at hand, we all ran to the ships and, thanks to Luffy, reached the said ships in one piece instead of all ending up at the bottom of the ocean. Maybe not all of us would have drowned, but fruit users definitely would have.

Lots of people returned to their own ships, but it looked like the most important fighters decided to join the one on which we had all gathered along the Straw-Hat crew. When they started talking about pleading allegiance to Luffy, I snuck off and wandered about the inside of the huge ship. “I should probably find a change of bandages, I can smell the iron-y smell from here, yikes.” I said to myself. Talking to myself eased the eerie feeling of being alone inside an empty ship. Yes, people were on deck, probably feasting at this point, but inside it was empty.

No number of loud laughs could help with that ghost-like sensation of being alone in an unknown place. I felt out of place but kept searching until I found a pretty well stocked infirmary.

Closing the door behind me, the room was muffled. There wasn’t any sound except the creaking of the wood, and for a moment there, it felt peaceful. I stood against the door an unknown amount of time before pushing myself off the wooden door and making my way to the bed.

Taking off my shoes, I sat on the bed and patted the pillows a bit, humming to help with the lack of sound in the room. “If they’re partying, I could nap… I sure … as hell mmm need some… of that nice…” Sleep. I couldn’t help my eyelids from closing and my brain going in pass out mode. I felt my body relax and very slowly, I let myself drift off to an uncomfortable but perhaps restful sleep.

[Part 8]

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minuteminx · 4 years

Text

Revolutionary

Pairing: Preston Garvey/ Female Sole Survivor

Summary: In the aftermath of personal tragedies, Preston and Charlie both seek to make a difference in the Commonwealth and those around them. They could never anticipate the impact that they will have on eachother in the process.

Chapter Eight: Point and Shoot

Chapter Summary: A night in May 2276 turns out to be pivotal for young Preston.

[First Chapter]

[Previous Chapter]

[AO3 Link]

May 2276, Somewhere Near Jamaica Plain

He awoke to shouting outside his house, frenzied and unfamiliar to the typically quiet backdrop of the settlement. However, it was the gunshots and desperate screams, followed by what sounded like his front door slamming open that propelled him upright, heart hammering furiously against his ribs. Shaking away the groggy confusion, he rushed to his feet and out into the hall just in time to see his dad stumble in through the doorway and collapse into his mom’s arms.

Paralyzed, he couldn’t bring himself to do anything more than watch her calmly lower the injured man to the ground. “Dad,” he said, barely more than a whisper.

Hismom snapped around at the sound of his voice, her gentle features illuminated only by the orange glow of a nearby lamp. “Preston, baby ,” she said, voice impossibly calm despite the circumstances, “I need you to go get my medical kit from my bedroom closet.”

Preston could only nod in response, panic clouding his mind.

“And your dad’s shotgun from under the bed,” she added, “Looks like we might need it.”

“But--”

“Hurry, son,” she urged, frowning as his dad hissed in pain beneath her touch, “We don’t have time for ‘buts.’”

“Yes ma’am.” He nodded again, before darting back to his parents’ bedroom to do as he’d been told. He grabbed the small aluminum tin filled with his mother’s collection of stims, bandages, alcohol, and other supplies she used to care for her patients from it’s typical spot in the closet. Then, without taking time to stop completely, reached under the bed, taking hold of the stock of the gun that his dad kept there, locked and loaded, should there be any trouble.

And there was definitely trouble.

Returning to the front room, his steps faltered as he noticed the deep red stain spreading across his dad’s shirt, from shoulder to chest. Preston swallowed hard, and urged himself forward until he stood right above his parents, gun gripped firmly in one hand as he extended the kit out to his mom with the other. His arm wobbled as she took it from him.

“Thank you.”

“Is he going to be okay, Mama?” His fingers tightened around the barrel of the gun as he spoke.

She turned to look up at him, flashing a reassuring smile, and sighed, “I think so. It’s just his shoulder.”

His dad grunted out a pained laugh. “It isn’t just anything. It hurts like hell.”

She shushed him and began cutting away the dirty fabric of his flannel shirt. “You’ll live.”

A crackling explosion rang out outside, as if someone had launched a grenade, and Preston’s gaze snapped to the door and then down to the shotgun in his hands. He knew how to use it, had shot many empty Nuka Cola bottles from the remnants of a fence in the yard. But he’d never shot at another person, never wanted to. He glanced back down at his mom and wounded father, took a steeling breath, and headed toward the door.

“Be careful, sweetheart,” his mother called after him.

He stopped just as his hand fell on the doorknob, forcing a smile before turning back to look at her with a promise. “I will.”

As he pulled the door open and stepped outside, it was chaos, gunshots and screams swirling around him from all directions. A house on the far side of the settlement was on fire, smoke billowing out and looming overhead as his neighbors ran about wildly. In the distance, silhouettes of spiked and caged armor danced in the firelight, shaking guns in the air and tossing molotov cocktails into windows.

Raiders . Preston thought to himself. Of course it was the damn raiders. It always was. For as long as he’d lived in the area, which was ten of the seventeen years he’d been alive, raiders periodically stormed through the area in search of some sort of “treasure,” rumored to be buried within the ruins of Jamaica Plain. It seemed they’d been showing up more frequently and in larger numbers as the years passed, and it had only been a matter of time before they stumbled upon the settlement, and everyone knew it. That’s why they signed on with the Minutemen just two years prior, an offer of partnership and protection. Neither of which Preston could see any of at present as he watched settlers chased and gunned down yards away from him.

Trembling, he cocked the shotgun and pulled it up to aim, to do something. A raider, wrapped in sackcloth and leather and goggles spotted him, and rushed forward, directly into his sights. It was the perfect shot, and easy one; however, as Preston’s finger hovered over the trigger, he froze, guilt and terror seizing his chest.

How was he supposed to shoot at a person? It was a person under all of that raider gear, after all, right? An incredibly violent, drug addled person, but still...

Before he could will his finger to the trigger, a loud buzzing burst of red light flashed past his eyes, striking the raider on the chest. The raider cried out and fell to the ground, smoke curling up from his body. More blasts of red light burned through the night sky, filling the air with that distinct ozone scent of laser weapons. The Minutemen had shown up after all. Preston let out the breath he’d been holding, and lowered his weapon, thankful his conscience hadn’t cost him his life. At least not this time.

“Y’know,” said a soft voice off to his side, “The gun only works if you point it and shoot.”

He looked up to see a young woman, around his age with bright blue eyes and unruly brown hair, leaning against a fence post near his house. He glanced down at his weapon and back up at her. “I… um…” was all he could manage.

“Just kiddin’,” she chirped cheerfully, pushing herself off the fence and approaching him, hand outstretched in greeting, “Amelia Hollis, Commonwealth Minutemen.”

Preston said nothing in reply, simply taking her hand and shaking it. She continued, “You all should be safe now. We’re going to do a few sweeps of the area, then hang out the rest of the night to make sure there aren’t any stragglers.”

“Thank you,” he answered quietly, “For helping us.”

“Well, to quote my obnoxious old man, ‘That’s what we do! Help people at a minute’s notice.’” She winked at him, but then smiled more seriously. “You’re welcome, uh… I’m sorry I totally forgot to ask your name.”

“Preston,” he blurted out, “Preston Garvey.”

“Right, well it’s nice to meet you,” Amelia said, smile fading into concern, “You got a family, Preston?”

He nodded and pointed a thumb back toward his house. “Yeah. My mom and dad are inside.”

“Are they okay?”

“One of those raider bastards got my dad in the shoulder, but my mom’s good at medicine. She said he’ll be fine.”

“Good,” she sighed, genuine relief washing over her face. She glanced over her shoulder toward the group of Minutemen congregating near the center of the settlement and then looked back at Preston. “I better get back to the others, but I’m glad we could help.”

“Thanks again.”

“You’re welcome again,” she replied, tipping her hat as she turned and marched away.

A smile twitched on Preston’s lips as he watched the woman disappear beyond the curtain of thick smoke. An idea bloomed in his mind, one that was as old and familiar as the backs of his own hands, one he’d always dismissed as a little boy dream that he’d never quite grown out of. But he was practically a man now, and dreaming wasn’t good enough anymore. Standing in his front yard, freezing at the thought of protecting himself, protecting his family couldn’t cut it. He needed to do something, take a stand.

“I want to join the Minutemen,” he blurted before he’d even crossed the threshold into his house.

His dad was standing up now, tattered flannel shirt unbuttoned and draped over his neatly bandaged shoulder. He met Preston’s gaze, dark eyes filled with worry. His mom stood several feet away, arms crossed with a cocked eyebrow and a smirk on her face.

“We’ve heard that one before,” she said, punctuating the sentence with a soft laugh as she moved to stand closer to his father, “Those might’ve been the first words that ever came out of your mouth.”

“Damn near it.” His dad laughed and shook his head, looking to his mom with admiration before glancing back at him. The laughter in his eyes had faded away to concern again.

“What,” Preston asked.

There was a long pause in which neither of his parents said a word, then his dad stepped forward, placed a hand on his shoulder, and tilted his head. “Tonight scared you, didn’t it? And there’s no use lyin’ to me because I can see it all over your face.”

“I’m not sure what happened out there,”Preston sighed, embarrassed, and looked down at his hands that still clung to the old shotgun, “I had the gun in my hands, a raider right in my sights and… I couldn’t shoot.”

“You’re talking like that’s a bad thing.” The man leaned back and crossed his arms, faint smile on his lips.

“Isn’t it? Pretty sure you taught me to shoot at bad guys.”

“Son, I taught you to shoot at bottles,” he laughed, “Killing a person… well, that’s different.”

“But the raiders are--”

“People, just like you and me?” His dad thought a minute and then corrected himself. “Well maybe not exactly like you and me, but you get what I’m saying.”

“I say shoot first, feel sorry later,” his mom stated pointedly, eyes flicking between Preston and his dad, and then back, lingering as she continued, “God knows those bastards aren’t going to think twice before carving you up into little pieces.”

“Gabrielle,” his father spoke his mother’s name in a way that was so gentle and firm all at once, “I’m trying to teach our son a lesson.”

“And what’s that, Noah ,” she snapped back at him, clearly upset, “That he should just lay down and die because the bad guys are people too?”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“I know.”

Preston’s parents looked at one another, a silent understanding passing between them, as if they’d carried on an entire conversation with just their eyes. Then, his mom turned to look at him, eyes glassy like they always were when she was trying not to cry. His dad pressed his lips together, forming a thin line.

“Why are you guys looking at me like that?” Preston let out a nervous laugh, and straightened his posture.

“Is this really what you want to do, son,” his dad asked, voice strained, “Do you really want to join the militia?”

Preston gave a quick and confident nod. “Yeah. I want to learn to protect myself. I want to help people.”

Suddenly and unexpectedly, his mom rushed forward, wrapping her arms around him as tightly as she could. He stiffened at the gesture, before bringing up his arms to pat her on the back. “Mama…” he said, feeling tears burning his own eyes.

She pulled back to look up at him, and placed a hand on each side of his face. “My little boy, growing up to be a hero.”

“I wouldn’t go that far,” he protested, words becoming more slurred as his mom’s gentle face holding turned into a playful squeeze of his cheeks, “I doubt I’ll make that much of a difference anyway.”

“I think you will, Preston,” his dad said, a proud smile stretching across his face, “More than you know.”

They stood there together for several moments longer, before his mom sighed and stepped back and away from him, resting her weight on one hip and crossing her arms. “What’s your plan?”

“I talked to one of the Minutemen who came tonight, and she said they’re heading out tomorrow afternoon,” Preston explained, watching as realization dawned on each of his parent’s faces that this likely meant he’d be leaving the next day, “I’ll have to talk to her ranking officer, see if they even want a new recruit. I haven’t honestly thought any further than that.”

“That’s awfully soon.” His dad voiced the concern that’d been on his face.

“I know, but I don’t want to wait for another raider attack to--” he began to argue but stopped when he saw the resignation in the other man’s eyes-- “Sorry, Dad.”

“You don’t have anything to be sorry for. Your mom and I are just going to worry about you.”

“And miss you.”

“I’ll miss you all too,” Preston admitted, eyes falling to the ground, before lifting them back up with a smile, “But I’ll swing by as much as I can.”

“You better,” his mother quipped.

It wasn’t long before they’d all gone back to bed, nerves soothed enough from the jarring attack to get some semblance of rest before the next day. Preston struggled to sleep, thoughts and possibilities racing through his head, fear and uncertainty rising in his chest. As soon as the sun came up he would find Amelia and explain what he hoped to do. Preston had always looked up to the Minutemen, admired them for doing their best, when no one else would. He’d wanted to be one for as long as he could remember. Now, if all went according to plan, he would be.

#fallout 4 #preston garvey #preston garvey/sole survivor #preston garvey x sole survivor #revolutionary #update #my writing #fanfic

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wherevermyway · 4 years

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step out! do what you want (chapter four)

pairings: reader/bang chan, reader/han jisung  side pairings: established changbin/minho, reader/bang chan/han jisung rating: explicit | 18+ warnings: shit gets sour real quick in this chapter, so hold on to your butts. violence, graphic descriptions of said violence, use of firearms, gunshot wounds, injuries, blood, profanity, use of drugs (mild), mention of sex, drug dealer!au, organized crime!au. also, holy fuck, so much angst. word count: about 8,100 also posted to my AO3 here! chapter/series navigation

chapter four: laugh now, cry later

recommended tracks (it’s not all kpop/jpop this time): laugh now, cry later by drake, levanter by stray kids, the next best american record by lana del rey, burn it by agust d & max, sorry mama by dkb, 일곱 번째 감각 (the 7th sense) by nct u, 불면증 insomnia by stray kids, lost by desired, ta by stray kids, fake love by bts, shc by foster the people, yeah right by joji, don’t touch me by 3racha, spring day (bts piano cover) by smyang piano. playlist can be found here!

note: this chapter is fucking nuts. there’s a shift in my writing style for this one; it’s a lot more passive and descriptive for the first bit, so I hope it doesn’t bother you too much. thank you for tagging along with this wild ride so far, I hope you enjoy this chapter!

disclaimer: any reference to persons in this work of fiction are purely coincidental. the characters referenced from Stray Kids are interpretations loosely based on their personalities in the group and do not represent the real people behind the personas. if this, or any of the content included in the warnings above make you uncomfortable, please stop reading now.

side note: for the love of minho’s cats, don’t mix party drugs or drugs with alcohol.

The elevator softly touches down with the first floor of the building. Felix and Jeongin step out first, cautiously looking around the building. Jeongin waves at the three of you in the elevator, motioning for you to keep moving. Christopher squeezes your hand so hard, you think it might pop off. He pulls you along as he methodically steps out of the elevator, Jisung following you both and he is resting his hand on the small of your back.

You make your way to the front door, the younger men holding the doors open for the three of you. A black SUV sits in the street right in front of the door, and you can faintly make out Changbin’s features through the dark.

“Let’s fucking go!” He shouts at all of you through the open passenger side window. Felix opens the middle side door, throwing the duffel bag into the back seat. He waves his hand for you to get in, helping you up with his hand. You head for the very back of the van, seating yourself in the middle of the row. Jisung is the next in behind you, crawling in and sitting down to your left.

Jeongin opens the front passenger door, climbing in and taking one of his pistols out of its holster, holding it in his lap as he scans the perimeter through the windshield.

For a moment, time feels like it’s a paradox: going so fast that you can’t anchor yourself down, but also going so slowly that you swore that you could see the individual particles of light travelling around you. Everything gets quiet for a second as Christopher turns to the car, his head craned over his left shoulder, eyes meeting yours, and time completely halts.

The space-time paradox you find yourself in renders itself inert. You study all of the details of his face, how each individual strand of hair lightly curls from the top of his scalp, how the ambient lighting reflects in his eyes and illuminates his face. His face was gorgeous, but his side profile captivated you.

That’s when it happens.

Everything gets blisteringly loud and bright, and you stay frozen. The way that Christopher’s face contorts to the noises and sounds isn’t right; he’s grimacing in pain and anger, slowly turning to where Jeongin and Felix are shooting.

Shooting? When did you register that they were shooting?

Jisung had leaped forward to the black duffel bag, ripping it open and pulling out a semi-automatic rifle, hanging himself out of the door, shooting in the same direction.

It’s grotesquely incredible, really, in a dark, disturbing poetic way. In this moment of time, everything freezes. Nothing truly exists; you are living in a still photo, but you can still move your eyes. Changbin is loading a pistol in the front seat, Jeongin in the seat next to him, leaning out of the window. Jisung is standing completely upright, half of his torso hanging out of the door, his left shoulder anchoring him to top of the car as he holds his rifle up to his right shoulder. Outside the window, you see the nearly-white hair of Felix, aiming his pistol out to something - or someone - in front of him.

However, you don’t see Christopher anywhere, which is peculiar, because he was right there just a second ago. Where did he go?

You manage to lift yourself off of the seat, feeling like all of your limbs are weighted down with cement. The men around you don’t notice, still moving in slow motion. As you get past the seats in front of you, you turn to your right, and that’s when you see Christopher. He’s on the ground, leaning on the car, gripping his right shoulder.

That’s odd. When you left the apartment earlier, you don’t remember seeing his shirt so… red? You could have sworn it was a soft grey.

Why was water dripping on your arms? How could it be raining inside the car? Why did Christopher look so uncomfortable? How come his face was scrunched up in pain?

Pain? Did he fall down?

No. No, of course he didn’t.

Suddenly, it was like a mute button was turned off, and it felt like you were a tape left on fast-forward, stuck in a VCR. Things were zooming past you, and you could have sworn that there were blurry lines taking over your vision. Things came back, all at once, and the first sound you could hear was the sound of your own voice, screaming out in primal despair. Everything was so blisteringly loud that you couldn’t focus on a single thing. Reality came crashing down on you, like a tidal wave colliding with the coast.

Christopher wasn’t wearing a red shirt.

He didn’t fall down. It wasn’t raining in the car.

He was shot in his right shoulder, bleeding profusely, and you were screaming and crying because you knew.

Christopher was shot. Christopher was going to die.

You were no longer living in a still photo; you had become the still photo, unable to move. Jisung tosses the rifle he was holding onto the sidewalk, yelling something at Felix, getting him to try to move Christopher. He turns to you, motioning for you to move, saying something to you in a foreign language.

Why was he yelling at you in a different language? Why couldn’t you understand Korean anymore? Jisung was suddenly in the car now, right in front of you, grabbing you up from under your underarms and pushing you on to one of the passenger seats behind you. He says something to you, directly in your face, but you still can’t understand him.

Jisung jumps back on to the sidewalk, helping Felix lift Christopher into the car. He’s yelling something over his shoulder to Changbin, and Jeongin is trying to get your attention. He’s talking to you too in this peculiar language, pushing his hands down repeatedly in a steadied motion, trying to calm you down.

As soon as both Felix and Jisung are completely in the car, Jisung reaches out for the rifle on the ground, pulling it in as he slams the door shut. You feel the vehicle shift as it speeds down the street. Jisung and Felix have moved Christopher to the very back of the vehicle. You turn to look at him, and his face is soft, his eyes open, glossy, and staring at you. He reaches his left arm out towards you, weakly and softly whispering your name.

“Don’t worry, baby,” he breathily says, a weak smile curving at the corner of his mouth. All of the words being thrown around the car suddenly making sense again, as if someone flicked a switch. “Just a scrape. I’ll be okay. I promise.” He punctuates his sentences with short, shallow breaths. You grab his hand, holding it to comfort him. There was no way you could bring yourself to look away from him.

“I need another shirt or something to pack this,” you hear Felix’s voice, realizing that he’s taken his sweatshirt off and is holding it up against Christopher’s wound.

“I’ve got it,” Jisung says, ripping his jacket off, bringing it down to Christopher’s chest to help Felix control the bleeding.

There’s just so much blood everywhere.

You remember a fact that someone told you once in university: the human blood has between four and six litres of blood in it. Losing 750 millilitres is enough to cause the human body to start to go into hemolytic shock. Two litres of loss, or 40% the body’s total volume, was almost always fatal.

The sight of seeing how much Christopher’s blood has been painted over the car nearly puts you into shock. It’s on the floor, on every seat in the vehicle, even on the ceiling, and on Jisung and Felix. His blood is on you, too, starting to dry on your exposed skin.

“How much longer, Changbin?” Jisung is yelling at the top of his lungs, looking past you to the front of the car.

“Five minutes,” Changbin says, trying to sound calm, but there’s a slight wavering in his voice. “How is Chan doing?”

“I can’t tell,” Felix says without looking up, “he’s conscious, but disoriented. I don’t like how much blood Bang-hyung has lost. I can’t find an exit wound, either. I’m not sure if it’s a cluster of veins or an artery, but this isn’t good.”

Christopher coughs, sputtering up some blood. The dark, viscous liquid spills from the corner of his mouth. His eyes are gazing past you, starting to cloud up. “I’m sorry,” he manages to groan out. His eyes roll back a bit, as his hand loses its grip on yours, suddenly turning his entire arm into dead weight.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” Jisung shouts with urgency, digging underneath the seats in the vehicle, clearly looking for something - anything, really - to help him stabilize Christopher.

You feel paralyzed, holding on to Christopher’s hand as it grows clammy and lukewarm. This wasn’t happening, there’s no way. It had to have been a dream.

You were dreaming. Right?

After your shower the second night you were at Christopher’s, both of you were laying in bed in the dark, waiting to fall asleep. He had given you an oversized, worn t-shirt of his to sleep in, and it was comfortable. He had mentioned how much he loved sleeping in that shirt because it was so soft. It wasn’t long after you both got in bed that he reached out to you, snuggling right up to your back.

“Isn’t it the best shirt?” His voice was tired and calm. He rubbed his thumb back and forth on your shoulder, enjoying the feel of the fabric on his skin. You hummed in agreement, scooting yourself back into him to get closer. “I remember wearing this all the time when I was in high school. I would put it on right when I got home. It was always way more comfortable after wearing a stuffy, itchy uniform all day. It took a couple of years of wear to get it to be this soft. I’m glad I kept it, because you look really great in it, almost like it was meant to be.”

Your face felt like it was burning up as you became flustered. “What? Meant to be?”

Christopher sleepily hummed in response, nuzzling his face on your shoulder. “Yeah. Since we’re going to be stuck with each other for a while, we might as well at least enjoy our company. Make it feel as natural as we can, hmm?”

The prospect of getting closer to him didn’t bother you, not at all. After all, he did have a point. What would the point be in making yourselves miserable and trying to make the situation worse? Someone in university once told you that “fake it ’til you make it” mentality had actual positive results in psychology, so why not apply it here?

“Hey, Christopher?”

“What’s up?” His voice sounded even more tired and soft. In a way, it was endearing.

“Have you ever had a girlfriend, or a boyfriend, or something?”

“Mmm,” he sleepily moaned, “yeah, I dated this girl back in high school, but it never worked out. Kinda had a few flings with people here and there, but nothing ever stuck. I’m too flighty because of my career, so I can’t really commit. The fewer people you get close to, the fewer things you have to bargain for if someone wants to hurt you.”

“Oh,” you whisper. It made sense, honestly, but it felt like there was a pit in your stomach.

“How come? What about you?” He says, shifting himself up so his chin is resting at the top of your shoulder.

“Ah, that story about the washroom in the nightclub? That was my last boyfriend. We were together for a few years, but we split. He got some big new job that was taking up too much time for him, and I was really busy with my modelling career. We didn’t make time for each other.”

“That sucks.” Christopher says, his breath tickled your cheek as he spoke. “Good for me, though.”

You couldn’t help but smile. “Yeah, I suppose you’re right.”

The bright lights of the hospital rip you from your daydream. Jisung and Felix carry Christopher from the back seat of the van out through the side door. Your hand falls from Christopher’s, leaving his arm out to hang limply to his side, lifeless and cold. Changbin’s voice rings in your head, distant, off in another world. It’s like he’s on the shore and you’re stranded in the ocean; you can hear him, but you can barely make out what he’s saying. You can’t even fully comprehend it, just barely able to tell that he’s telling you to stay back, not to follow Christopher into the hospital.

Your legs are moving by themselves, shaking as you drop from the vehicle, treading your way through to the emergency doors of the hospital as if you were trying to wade through a shallow pool. Jisung’s silver hair and Felix’s blond hair bounce beams of light around, as if each strand were a mirror, brightly guiding you along the way through the hallways of the hospital, until they stop.

Hands are grasping on to your arms, holding you back as you see Christopher wheeled away by emergency personnel through a pair of sterile-looking doors. “Baby,” you hear Jisung’s voice bring you back to focus. “You can’t go with him. None of us can.”

You try to fight against him, to scream, to plead and sell your soul to the devil in exchange to save Christopher, but nothing works. Your body is rebelling against your mind, not allowing you to push yourself any further, forcing you to your knees. The only thing your body will let you do is cry, collapsing within yourself to weep deep, body-racking sobs.

Jisung kneels down to you, lightly gripping your shoulders, pulling you to his chest. “It’s okay,” he whispers into your ear, rocking you back and forth, trying to shush you. His hands run through your hair, trying to help you calm down.

“Felix,” he calmly says, “I need you to get Changbin-hyung. We need to get her out of here.”

“Understood, Han,” the younger man says, footsteps quickly fading from earshot.

“I need you to calm down,” Jisung’s voice is right up next to your ear, arms wrapping you into a tight embrace. “Christopher can’t heal if you’re panicking, okay? Please calm down, baby. He’ll be okay, I promise.”

He’s lying. There’s no way that he promise that, you know that in the back of your head. Nobody could promise that.

Regardless of if it’s true or not, it does make you feel somewhat better. It’s not enough to get you to stop crying, but it’s enough to allow you to catch your breath.

“That’s it,” you hear Jisung whisper into your ear. “We’ll get through this together. I’ve got you.”

You feel as if you’re glued to Jisung’s chest for an eternity. The sound of footsteps and Changbin’s voice grasps your attention and causes Jisung to shift behind you. As he moves, your entire body feels weighted down with lead, heavy and rendering you incapable of moving. You’re not sure when exactly you stopped crying, allowing the sinking, numbing feeling to take over you.

“Here,” Changbin’s hushed voice is close to you, and it sounds so soft and calm. “Give this to her. Half a gram. Should be enough until you both get to the safehouse in Incheon. There’s more there; I’m sure you’ll both need it.”

“You sure about this?” Jisung whispers, barely audible enough for you to hear it.

“I can’t have a scene here, Han. Not now.” Changbin quietly says, sighing and sounding beyond exhausted, “I’ll send you the specific location over text, just take the SUV we brought. I’ll have Seungmin take care of the rest later. Eventually.” Another deep, heavy sigh comes from him. “Shit, this is bad. First Hyunjin, now Chan. Fuck.”

“Alright, hyung. Understood.” Jisung says, bringing a hand in front of your face. He slips his fingers to your lips, a small object touching them. “Baby, I need you to trust me and take this. It’ll calm you down. Just leave it on your tongue until it’s gone, okay?”

You don’t really want to take whatever it is he’s offering, but you don’t have the energy to protest. You part your lips, sticking your tongue out just a bit to the foreign object, taking it in and allowing it to rest on your tongue. It starts to dissolve, a bitter flavour enveloping all of your tastebuds. As you open your mouth to protest leaving again, everything starts to get two-dimensional: muted and really heavy.

Jisung scoops you into his arms, and you somehow wriggle the limp pasta noodles you have for arms around his neck. “I’m so sorry for all of this,” he says; his voice sounding as if it’s coming through a low-quality mono channel, muffled and one-note. It doesn’t even sound real. It almost feels like his voice drags and blends in with the blurry surroundings, as if sound and sight could be merged.

You open your mouth to speak, but it’s like there’s a cord from your brain to your mouth that’s severed, preventing you from operating your jaw muscles. You want to tell him to stop, turn back, that you both needed to be there for Christopher. You desperately want to tell him so many things, but your eyes grow heavy and you lose all motivation to even try as your head collides down to his shoulder with a thud and everything goes black.

When you were fifteen, celebrating your acceptance into senior high school, you remember your mother pulling you aside, telling you to never settle for a partner that viewed you as less than royalty and to always put yourself first. She would tell you how she appreciated how hard your father worked to provide for the three of you, but how she always wished she would have gone back to the workforce when you started to get older so she could make sure you had all of the financial support you’d ever need and so she had more purpose in life. You were their only child, and your parents loved you so much.

You couldn’t help but wonder what your mother would think of you being caught up in the chaos of an organized crime ring, with two men caring for you and protecting you, one of which literally taking a bullet in front of your eyes. She never approved of you leaving your stable corporate job in Japan to become a model in South Korea, but she knew that there was no way to stop you - you had her stubbornness, after all. There was absolutely no way she would ever approve of this, not with how violent everything was, even if both men were actually willing to take actual bullets for you.

“Baby,” a voice rings in your ears, but you can’t quite place who is calling for you. It’s like your brain hallucinates a strange combination of your mother’s, Jisung’s, and Christopher’s voices. “You need to wake up.” The voice illuminates a light in the distance, drawing you into it. “Come on,” the voice is louder now, sounding more and more like Christopher. That couldn’t be right. Could it?

“Baby, you gotta get up. I need you to get up.” A warm hand is on your shoulder, shaking you gently, and you’re suddenly more conscious of your body. You flutter your eyes open, their dryness causing a stinging pain from corner to corner of your eyes. The scenery around you starts to come into focus from a blur. The sky is warm as dawn is breaking behind you, illuminating the cars flying past you on both sides of the vehicle. You’re on a highway, but your surroundings aren’t familiar.

“Hey,” the voice is clear, and you recognize it: it’s Jisung. “You’re back. I’m sorry, the Xanax knocked you out pretty hard after I gave it to you. You’re probably going to be out of it and feel like shit for a while.” He moves his hand from your shoulder to your thigh.

You groan, turning your head to look at Jisung. “The fuck?” Your voice sounds foreign: low and gravelly. “Where are we?” As much as you want to crane your head to the window, resting your head against the headrest in this position is too comfortable.

Jisung takes his hand off of your thigh, swiping the back of his hand up against his cheek, sniffling once. “Sorry, bunny,” he says, returning his hand to your thigh. “Changbin-hyung ordered us to head into Incheon. There’s a safehouse out here. Actually, we’re just about there.”

You blink a few times, trying to shake the haze out of your head, and failing to do so. Incheon? No, that couldn’t be right. Christopher was still in Gangnam, all the way in Seoul. “No,” you slur out, fumbling to sit upright. “No, we can’t be in Incheon. Christopher is still in the hospital, isn’t he?”

“Baby,” Jisung grips your thigh tighter, stroking his thumb back and forth. “He won’t heal if we’re hovering over him. Besides, it’s too dangerous for all of us to be there with him. We’re a bigger target if we’re in a large group. We’re only a half hour away, it’s okay.”

“But,” you open your mouth to protest, and Jisung brings his hand up to your face.

“I need you to trust me. Please.” He doesn’t look at you, his eyes still trained to the road. He bites his lip back, face wincing in pain. “Fuck, I don’t know why I’m doing this.” You’re still fuzzy, frustrated that you’re so far away from Christopher in case something goes wrong, but seeing Jisung so upset doesn’t sit well with you either.

You sit there for a few minutes, watching Jisung in silence. He pulls the car into a residential parking garage. He stops in front of a gate at the bottom floor, fumbling around with storage unit in the centre console, pulling out a handful of cards. He shuffles through them with focus, until he pulls one out that has “Hagik-2” scribbled on it in permanent marker. He rolls the window down, flashing the card in front of the card reader, and the gate opens.

Jisung unceremoniously tosses the card on top of the others in the centre console, proceeding through the gate slowly and rolling up the window. He turns into a reserved parking spot, shifting the vehicle into park and turning it off. “We’re here. Are you going to be alright enough to stand?”

You unbuckle your seatbelt and rub your face tiredly, hoping it will wake you up. “I’m gonna need your help moving, but I think I can stand.”

“I can work with that,” Jisung says softly, unbuckling his seatbelt, lifting the armrest up, leaning over to you. He gently grabs either side of your face, tilting your head up to meet his for a soft kiss. “Let me be strong for you. Alright?”

You weakly nod your head, and Jisung pulls away. “Good,” he says, grabbing his phone off of the dashboard holder, opening the door. “Let me grab this bag and I’ll help you out of the car.” Everything feels so heavy, but your emotions are still dampened, which, honestly, is a good thing for now. You let your head rest on the seat, closing your eyes for just a moment.

What time was it, anyways? It was four when Changbin called, you remember Christopher grumbling about it very vividly. It was probably 40 minutes from where you were in Seoul to where you were in Incheon now, and the sun was already up over the horizon when you woke up. Maybe it was six now?

The door opens next to you, pulling you away from your thoughts as you open your eyes. “Trying to nap again?” Jisung says with a smirk, offering his hands to you, duffel bag slung over his shoulder. “Come on, once we get inside, you can sleep all you need to.”

Your brain blurs the time from exiting the vehicle to entering the safehouse. It’s almost as if you blinked, and you were on another foreign bed, staring up at the ceiling. Jisung’s voice trails in from the doorway, talking to someone on the phone. You don’t really focus on it, only paying attention for a brief moment when he says your name a couple of times.

You let your eyes close again, drifting off into the same headspace you were in before. It was insane to think that, just a few days ago, you were rolling around in bed with a stranger, having the time of your life. Now you were here, in some random apartment with your ex-boyfriend, who is maybe no longer your ex-boyfriend, with your maybe new boyfriend’s blood all over your hands and arms. Was boyfriend even a good word for either of them right now?

The situation was so absurd that, if you weren’t living through it now, you wouldn’t believe it; dismiss it as some stupid movie plot or some elaborate lie. Maybe you would laugh about it later, years down the line. You can hear yourself telling Jisung and Christopher, “Wow, remember that time we all slept together and then you got shot in the shoulder just a couple hours later? How crazy was that?” Minji would laugh about it too, once she got over the fact that you were knee-deep in crazy kkangpae shit. She’d laugh about it if you made it out alive. If you ever saw her again.

It doesn’t occur to you that you’re wildly cackling until Jisung is shaking you, yelling your name in your face. You snap your eyes open and look directly at him, feeling the smile on your face fade as you see Jisung looking at you with serious concern. “What is happening with you? How can you be laughing right now?” He says, tears welling up in eyes.

“Jisung,” you manage to coherently spit out, still feeling hazy from the Xanax Jisung gave you. “Isn’t all of this ridiculous? How was it that the three of us had such a good night last night, and now we’re being hunted down? Why is Christopher in the hospital with a bullet in his shoulder? Why is any of this shit happening?”

You don’t realize it until you stop babbling, but tears are falling from your eyes in a steady stream. Jisung jaw twitches as he furrows his brows in anguish. He tries to say something, strained noises leaving his throat, but the words never totally make it out. Something in him cracks, and his head sinks down, crying full-blown sobs. He collapses down on top of you, wrapping you tightly in his arms.

Both of you stay like that for a while, completely exhausting yourself from crying.

Jisung had always been a good person; he was kind-hearted and soft with the people he was close to, but would stop to help a stranger if they needed it. You started to notice it about a couple months after you officially started dating, a month after your initial drunken escapade. You were about to head back to Japan for two weeks for an important shoot for a big name company, excited that you had finally landed a gig with them.

He had surprised you the night before you left, coming to your apartment with some takeout, a bottle of cheap sparkling wine, and flowers. You remember he literally jumped on you when you opened your door, excitedly congratulating you. “I’m so proud of you, bunny!” He had shouted over and over again. He had helped you pack, both of you taking intermittent breaks to eat and sip on the really terrible wine he brought.

What would have taken you a half hour ended up taking you three hours because you couldn’t peel yourselves off of each other. You should have packed up your clothes and demo shots, but you just couldn’t stop yourself from pouncing on Jisung when he was sitting on the couch, looking positively delectable. Naturally, he couldn’t turn you down when you came on to him.

He had taken you right there on the couch, taking his sweet time to devote all of his attention on you, making sure you came a couple of times. When he was deep inside you, he grinned at you with a coy smile, something so innocent and cute, whispering to you that he loved you, he loved you so much. It had taken you aback, just how bluntly he had admitted it for the first time. His eyes were full of excitement, and he had the biggest grin on his face. You couldn’t help but tell him how much you loved him, too.

To see him here, now, so broken up and upset shattered your heart into pieces. The Jisung you knew would never have gotten involved in this, never would have hurt another living creature intentionally if he could avoid it. That’s likely why it looked like this entire situation took all of his energy out of him.

Jisung turns up to look at you with bloodshot, tired eyes. “Why is this happening?” He says, his eyes threatening to tear up again, then rolling onto his back. “I never wanted any of this, you know. I only joined the family to help get my music career going. If I knew any of this would happen, I never would have done this. I would go back and stop myself from getting involved with this, even if it cost me my entire career.”

He sighs heavily, bringing his hands up to cover his face. “I always thought that if I gave it time, I could become strong and tough like my hyungs. I regret doing all of this because I know I’m not tough enough for this. I didn’t do this because I wanted to, I did it to survive. Can you ever forgive me for all of this shit?”

Everything in your brain is frazzled and dull, but you somehow manage to turn all of your attention to the silver-haired man beside you. “Sungie,” you whisper, reaching out to touch his face, “I could never blame you for any of this. Nobody could have expected this would turn out the way it would. I promise, I forgive you.”

“I’m so sorry,” he says, wiping tears from under his eyes, “I said I would be strong for you, but I just can’t, not right now.”

You couldn’t really blame him, honestly. He wasn’t made out to be a part of the violent criminal life. As far as you knew, he was always good in the middle of chaos, but once things would calm down, it would hit him like a tonne of bricks. You reached out to Jisung, pulling him into your chest.

You wanted to reassure him that everything would be okay, but you knew better. There was no way you could even remotely promise something like that. So, you settled. “I’ll be strong for you now, okay? We can be strong for each other when we need to be.”

Jisung grips your arms tightly, snuggling his head up against your chest. “I’m so worried about Chan-hyung. I called Changbin-hyung after bringing you to bed and he told me he’s in surgery.” Your heart skips a beat for a moment, breath caught in your throat. “He lost a lot of blood. I think he said Chan-hyung went into shock. The bullet hit his, ah, what was it called? It was one of his arteries - I think he said axillary?”

“Did Changbin say if he was going to be okay?” You didn’t want to know the answer, fearing the worst possible outcome, but you needed to know anyway.

Jisung is quiet for a moment, loosening his grip on your arms. “He didn’t know. Changbin-hyung did say it wasn’t looking good, but we wouldn’t know for a while. He’s donating some of his blood, since they’re the same type, and he’d call me once he was done and knew more.”

You roll your head back and breathe out a slow, controlled sigh. This entire situation was an absolute mess. You needed to know, though, how this happened. Everything was going so blissfully well until it wasn’t. It all happened at the drop of a hat.

“Jisung,” you say, pulling back a bit from the man in your arms to look at him. “What happened out there? We were getting in the car, and all of a sudden, bullets were flying all over the place.”

Jisung looks up at you, a look of discomfort on his face. He lets go of your arms and sits up, folding his legs, resting his elbows on them so he could rest his head on his hands. “I don’t know how it happened. Before I grabbed the rifle from the duffel bag, I just saw these two guys coming at us from down the street. They were in all black, so when we saw them, it was too late. Their first few shots missed us, but Chan-hyung must have been an easy target. Maybe it was deliberate, like he was their target from the start.”

“Are the other guys, you know,” you pause, not really wanting to know the aftermath of the altercation, “are they dead?”

The silver-haired man reaches down to the comforter beneath him, inanely plucking a strand of string poking up from it. “Dunno. We shot quite a bit at them, and I saw one of the guys go down, but once I realized that Chan-hyung was hit, I just kind of stopped paying attention to them. I think Jeongin got the other guy; he’s always had good aim as long as he’s been with us. It was too dark to see much else.

“I hope they’re not dead. I’m already freaking the fuck out over knowing that we were in a gunfight and I shot at them. I don’t need anything else on my conscience.” Jisung quietly sighs, then turns to look at you, his face void of any strong emotions. “I never thought I’d ever have to shoot a living person. The guys taught me well, sure, but it’s so much more different than shooting in the range.”

You sit up and scoot yourself up next to Jisung, resting your head on his shoulder. “I hope we’ll get through this alright.”

“We will." Jisung rests his head on yours, reaching his hand up to stroke your hair. “At least, I think we will.”

The two of you sit like that in silence for several minutes, staring off into the comforter as your eyes start to hallucinate patterns in the fabric.

The ringing of Jisung’s phone scares both of you, causing you to jump. You lift your head off of his shoulder as he pulls his phone out from his back pocket. You see the name on the screen and you subconsciously hold your breath. It was Changbin.

It takes a couple of rings before Jisung answers his phone. He pulls it up to his right ear so that you both can hear the conversation. “Hyung,” he says with a tremble in his voice.

“Han.” Changbin’s voice is calm, tinny from the small speaker. “Chan is going to be coming out of surgery within the next hour. Once he’s out, Seungmin will be covering for me. I need to come over and talk to you both about what Minho found out.”

“What happened?” Jisung says with a concerned tone to his voice.

“I can’t talk about it over the phone, it’s not safe. Felix is coming with me and will be staying with you for protection. Until this shit has been sorted out, nobody gets left alone.”

“But I’m here,” you interject.

Changbin sighs. “You’re not trained to handle this. Do you even know how to fire a gun?”

Your lips pull into a firm line. Changbin was right: there was nothing you could do to help, even if you wanted. You had no experience with weapons or combat in general; you would just be a hindrance if something happened.

“That’s what I thought. Anyway, as much as I don’t want him to be, Minho is back in. He’s with Hyunjin now, who is doing much better. He should be released tomorrow. They’ll be in another location once I can pin some things down.”

“What do you need me to do?” Jisung looks focused, sitting upright.

“I need you to stay there. Your ex-girlfriend is a liability right now and I can’t have her out of our hands, so I’m entrusting you to keep an eye on her. Tell her to turn her phone off, too.“

A liability?

Jisung must have had the same thought as you, because he looks at you in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“Not now, Han. I need to go. I’ll keep you posted on any updates. If you need me, call me. Understood?” Changbin sounds annoyed and tired, even over the phone. All of this had to have been taking a toll on him, but he was the leader of the group, so it was just something he would have to deal with.

“Understood, Changbin-hyung.” Jisung says, and the line goes quiet. He pulls his phone away from his face and just stares at it. “Why are you a liability? Is it because you’re a civilian?”

In all honesty, you were just as confused as him. You flop onto your back and stare at the ceiling.

“Where’s your phone?” Jisung says, turning to you.

You reach into your back pocket and grab it. It was strange, you hadn’t been looking at it for the past day or so. Minji had texted you so many times, her messages flooded the screen when you expanded them.

Oh my god Hyunjin was shot

Eonni what the fuck do I do?

Oh my god he’s in the hospital. There’s a guy here that said I’m not allowed to see him.

Fuck this guy. He won’t leave me alone. Keeps telling me to get out.

I am so mad

Why the fuck did he get shot???

Eonni where are you? I don’t believe you at all

I know you’re not sick

You’re still with Bang Chan, arent you?

are you even alive anymore

I need you eonni please tell me youre ok

That was the last text you received from Minji. You open the text messages to respond and tell her you're alright, but Jisung snatches your phone from your hands, powering it off.

“Sorry,” he says, tossing your phone on the dresser next to him. “I gotta follow Changbin-hyung’s orders. There’s gotta be a reason he wanted your phone to be off.”

You frown in response, but understand. Minji will just have to wait for now, as much as you didn’t want to leave her alone. She had to be really scared and confused. Sure, she and Hyunjin weren’t together anymore (as far as you were aware, at least), but you knew from firsthand experience it was to watch someone you were starting to get close to get shot.

A deep sigh escapes your lips, and your bring your hands to your face, groaning in frustration. “This sucks,” is all you can manage to say. The Xanax was wearing off, and your emotions were starting to surface again, the crushing feeling of dread becoming more and more apparent, enveloping you in discomfort.

“Yeah,” Jisung flops down next to you. “I don’t know what to do or where to go from here.”

“Is this the first altercation you’ve been in since joining them?”

Jisung brings his hands behind his head and bites his lip. “Not really, but this is the first one that was actually serious. The first one was when I was taking care of a protection fee collection with Seungmin in Songpa-gu, back when I was still really new.

“Seungmin had gotten a call from Chan-hyung, so he had to step out for a minute. One guy that we were meeting with was feeling pretty testy, didn’t want to give up the entire payment that was due. I think he had a feeling I was new.” Jisung rolls his eyes and shakes his head. “Tried taking it out on me. He practically jumped over the table as soon as Seungmin stepped out, but I was faster than him.

“His fist just barely passed my face and I managed to step to the side just in time. The guy managed to grab me and throw me to the ground. He punched me once, right in the jaw, so I kneed him in the stomach. My knife was in my back pocket, so I couldn’t reach it. I just let my instincts take over and I beat the shit outta the guy.”

Jisung smirks, obviously proud of how he handled the situation. “Anyway, Seungmin heard what was happening and when he came back in, he gave the dude a swift kick to the ribs. We ended up getting double the protection fee we needed, plus a little extra as an apology.”

“Holy shit,” you feel your jaw drop as Jisung finishes his recollection. “When the fuck did you learn how to get into a fight? Who are you?”

You both sit and stare at each other for a moment, then both of you break out into giggles. It was nice to be able to laugh for once today, after how hectic the past twelve hours have been.

“You know what?” Jisung says, taking in a deep breath, then making a pointed effort to stare directly into your eyes. “I don’t want to go through this at all, but I’m glad it’s with you. If it was just me here, alone, in this situation? I don’t know how I’d handle it.” He reaches out to your face, cupping your cheek in his hand. “I really hope Chan-hyung makes it out of here. I hope that we all make it out of this mess alive.”

You didn’t really know what to say as you looked into Jisung’s deep brown eyes. The otherworldliness of your plight melted away, if only for a moment, as you both stared at each other. The familiar feeling of waking up next to him for so many mornings is strangely close to the front of your memories, but it also feels so distant and foreign.

The Jisung you knew back then was so soft and gentle. This Jisung has his soft and gentle moments, but there was a new air of mystery to him. The new persona of his wasn’t bad, it was just such a stark difference to what you were used to. Seeing him so stoic and serious when you all were getting shot at and with taking care of Christopher was strange.

“What?” Jisung’s voice pulls you from your thoughts. “Something on my face?”

“No, nothing like that.” You look down and frown. “It’s just weird that you’re the same Jisung I knew a year ago, but you’ve also changed so much.”

There’s a tense pause between you for a moment.

“Is that bad?” Jisung says so quietly, it’s almost like a whisper. He’s obviously pensive about how you’ll respond to him.

“No, it’s just different. It’ll take some time to adjust to, that’s all.” You look back up to Jisung, and his face relaxes into a soft smile with your words.

“That’s good.” He stretches his arms into the air and rolls on to his back. “Well, since it’ll be a while until Changbin-hyung and Felix come by, I think I’m gonna take a nap.” He tilts his head in your direction and opens his arms in offering. “Come here.”

A faint smile comes up on your face, and you bring yourself close to Jisung, resting your head and your arm on his chest. “I think that sounds good. We didn’t get much sleep, did we?”

Jisung scoffs, wrapping his arms around you. “Yeah, we really didn’t. Who knows how much sleep we’ll get in the upcoming days, so might as well get it when we can.” He mindlessly strokes your hair, breathing in a slow, even cadence.

You let your eyes fall heavy, enjoying the warm embrace of Jisung’s arms. There was nothing more that you wanted, however, than to have Christopher here with you both.

“Han?” A voice comes from outside the bedroom, startling Jisung awake. He panics for a moment, clearly not recognizing the voice, bolting up off of the bed. “You didn’t answer your texts, so I let myself in.”

“Changbin-hyung?” He tentatively says, readying his stance.

“Yeah,” Changbin answers, walking into the bedroom. “you’d know if you checked your phone.”

“Ah,” Jisung relaxes and sighs. “Sorry, we were taking a nap. Didn’t get much sleep.”

Changbin shoots his junior a disappointed glance, then rolls his eyes to you. “Where’s your phone?”

“Hi, Changbin, nice to see you’re alive,” you sarcastically grumble as you sit upright. Changbin isn’t amused by your quip, his expression falling flat. “Sorry, it’s on the dresser over here.” You scoot over to the dresser was on Jisung’s side of the bed, and grab your phone.

Changbin wastes no time snatching your phone from you as soon as you grab it. He sticks his thumbs in the middle of the screen, pulling both ends together and popping your phone in two with a crinkle and snaps.

“What the fuck?” You shout in frustration. That wasn’t a cheap phone, and there was no reason for him to break it in two.

“You’re being tracked.” Changbin tosses your phone to the floor, stepping on it with his heel for good measure. He folds his arms and looks at you with a glare. “Or you’re working with them. I haven’t figured it out yet, but I will. If you’re working with them, I will kill you right here.”

“Hyung, what the fuck?” Jisung snaps, getting in between both of you. “How dare you?”

Changbin rolls his eyes and scoffs. “What? You haven’t talked to her in a year, what do you know?” He shifts his weight on to his right foot, eyeing you down again before pulling the pistol out from the holster on his hip, pointing it directly at your head.

“You need to be honest with me. I don’t miss from this close.”

#stray kids fic #skz fic #bang chan x reader #han jisung x reader #chan x jisung x reader #skz smut #stray kids smut #bang chan #chris bang #han jisung #step out do what you want

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