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actualbird · 2 years

Text

my (semi-filtered) reactions and some (semi-thought-out) thoughts on luke's personal story 4

summary: this was all frigging PHENOMENAL i loved this so so much and im kiiiindaaaa regretting playing luke's first because no way in HELL can any of the others top this for me ajshfvakjhfa.

non-summary full 2k word rundown under the cut

first off, can i just say that mc is SO SO STRONG for living with THIS for what seems to be anywhere from a few days for a few weeks

the fact she strung together an intelligible sentence afterward, shes stronger than i am. i wouldve evaporated on the SPOT. ANYWAY...

mc's dynamic with sphynx and luke is So Entertaining. secret identity trope but the love interest isnt the one with the secret identity, it's the love interest's hilarious (and INSANE?? playing thru this we see a lot of aaron's skills as sphynx and omfg hes just as bad as luke at being OP with investigation and hacking. how does he have time for this while being a surgeon, a father, and a husband???) pseudo-dad.

aaron, internally: hehe, fucking with luke, hehehe :)c

luke, internally: ugh...stop embarrassing me.... >:/

mc, internally and ready to fuckin throw hands: IS THIS GUY BOTHERING U, LUKE? 🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪

i think luke/mc is so good because both of them are trying so hard to be the other's protector. like, in several luke cards, mc says this outright; she wants to protect luke's smile, luke's happiness. she wants to protect luke wholly. and luke obviously is very protective over her as well. it makes me so so emotional. but also it makes me laugh when employed in less high stakes moments like these jhvaksjhfajk

moving on: luke drives me INSANE. HE MADE HER A RING WHEN THEY WERE KIDS??? HE'S KEPT IT ALL THIS TIME??? THIS IS THE SECOND FRIGGING RING WE'VE BEEN TOLD HE HAS FOR HER I---

on a less lighthearted note: nami hidaki's entire case was brutal holy shit. this was fucked up, i wasnt expecting it to get this dark in a personal story but im pleasantly surprised it did because

1) the tension and suspense this case made was Incredible and i think it was pretty damn well done, in terms of emotional themes and suitably raising the stakes

2) nami's jp va was KILLING IT the entire time holy wow every time she spoke my heart BROKE

and 3) it led to this speech from luke (which came from his colleague):

which is just. oh Man.

i know this bit is succeeded by luke going "and thats why i want to bring light to the world" which tracks, yeah, that fits him 100% percent. but im struck by how this view of justice is so starkly different from artem's speech on justice at the end of post 6.2

my memory is a bit spotty but i rmr artem's core message being "justice Will come, what we do Still matters." meanwhile luke...justice and what he does still matters to him too, but hes very well acquainted with the darkness of the world. much too acquainted with it, even. he says he wants to bring light to the world because of this, but wasnt the entire point of that colleague's spiel about not letting the darkness consume one's self? maybe im overreading (im totally overreading) but luke is a victim as well. not by a criminal (at least not that we know of, yet....whO CONTAMINATED HIS MEDICINE ALL THOSE YEARS AGO?? I WANT ANSWERS!!!) but by life's circumstances. and, well, given the disposition we see from him in the main story 9 pv....i think luke focused so much on bringing light to others that he neglected to stay afloat from the darkness of it all himself

now, a brief commercial break from thoughts. i now need to simp real hard for a bit cuz.

hey, surely, i wasnt the only person who found the auction scene really hot, right? i know luke was just saying numbers, but he did it SO CONFIDENTLY THAT IT WAS HOT. IM NOT ALONE, RIGHT? SOMEBODY ELSE FOUND THAT HOT, RIGHT? PLS

AND THEN ALL THE ACTION-Y BITS

AAAAA lemme just compile all the simping in one go oh god

OK THERE, IM DONE, I MOVE ON

eric li umezaki is so funny. really, luke and mc? right in front of his salad? JAVKJSHFVAKJS

well, i guess it's not his fault that when mc and luke are having a moment, the entire rest of the world just fades out of existence....they are so in love im going to EXPLODE

but really, eric is so funny like.

AND THEN HE JUST DOESNT ASK. NOT NOW, NOT LATER WHEN EVERYTHING IS WRAPPED UP. luke's excuse is absolute bullshit, i know he saw thru that. i mean, how could he Not. luke pearce fuckin made a flash bomb in 5 seconds, disarmed and used a man as a hostage, and stared down an entire police force fearlessly. THATS....LUKE, THATS NOT NORMAL PI STUFF AJHVFKJAHS

but eric was just like ".....well i dont wanna make a dude like this angry and/or suspicious of me, I'LL LEAVE IT" and thats a very wise decision he made HAHA

and now it's time to get sad as hell

the entire scene of helping luke with his wound....

oh my god...

luke: //tries to make it all lighthearted

mc, watching luke be so used to handling his wounds: //RIGHTFULLY BURSTS INTO TEARS

theres just so much to unpack in that scene, i think i screencapped nearly all of it and tumblr's blasted 10 pics per post limit will nerf me so lemme put it in a list

luke didnt react at all stitching his own gash closed without any anesthetic, thus implying his pain tolerance to be high as fuck. so uh. if hes strong enough to not be affected by that....just how fucking painful is his illness??? his illness that always makes him react with pained gasps and him physically doubling over?????? HOW MUCH ARE THEY HURTING MY BOY???????

when luke starts to apologize to mc for making her cry and then the internal monolog line of "You don't want to hear him apologize. You don't want to hear his apologies at all. You try to hold back your tears." just...GOD....this scene is so good at being a heartwrenching picture of realizing someone u love has been going thru so much alone.

me thru tears when luke mentions his parents' accident: PLEASE, IM NOT STRONG ENOUGH....

okay fuck, wait, i have to put the screencap for this next one cuz i dont wanna transcribe it all but

oh my god this KILLED ME

it's a very heroic notion, it's a very Luke notion but also...."Why can't I be the one?" well, did it HAVE to be YOU. luke got caught up in the nsb at 16-17 years old. thats...oh god, please, that is too young to take on the duty he took.

this whole "fuck it, i'll do it myself" concept + the "make a deal with the world" it has such wonderful parallels with the plot of his sott card too. there are no gods to make deals with, he'll be the one to grant your wish. he'll be the one to fight the impossible fights

and all because he just...cares so much. too much.

on a less emo note

it rlly kills me that like, right after, he mentions with a smile on his face that he got locked in the trunk of a car with the big bads intending to kill him out in the countryside. HE SAID THAT WITH A SMILE ON HIS FACE!!! MY MAN, PLEASE, I KNO UR TRYING TO SHOW OFF BUT ALL I WANNA DO IS SWADDLE U IN BUBBLE WRAP AND KEEP U SAFE FROM THE WORLD

and then

as if the heavens had heard every indulgent prayer i sent out irt to romance tropes

they sleep

the

same

bed

CROWD FUCKIN CHEERS!!! CROWD GOES WILD!! CROWD IS SO HAPPY FOR THIS MORSEL OF FLUFF AFTER ALL THAT PAIN YAYYAYAA---

me, reading this, jaw on the floor at how foul of a move this was to pull after tender bed-sharing: this....is my villain origin story

JAKSJHFVAKJHFAS

okay now i ramble about the funny bits in the next portion b4 i jump into Pain, Anguish once more

sphynx/aaron: “I’m just disappointed that the police won’t let me write the script. I could’ve written a much more heroic story, like James Bond” jhvjHVKJHSFVJ omfg aaron drop ur ao3 username. i know uve got one, what with that line. or email me the draft of the action-thriller novel ur writing LMAOOOO

i physically bounced in my seat when i saw luke was in the waiter outfit eeEEEE I LOVE THAT OUTFIT SO MUCH. HIS DORKY LIL SHERLOCK NAMETAG OAUGGHHH

mc and luke: //having a lovey dovey moment alone

sphynx/aaron thru the earpiece: HEY GUYS....IM STILL HERE.....

mc and luke got TWO (2) STRIKES of being lovey dovey mushy in the presence of ppl who would rather not be thirdwheeling, HAHAJHAVKJSHFV

when luke interrupted eric by loading a gun skillfully and with ease........[insert simping emoji here once more]

okay and now......the Pain and Anguish portion

i already mentioned how fucked up nami's case is but holy fuck, it got more fucked up the moment daniel song made that phonecall. hey, uh, i hope mc gets therapy after this. like i REALLY HOPE SHES GOT A GOOD SUPPORT SYSTEM TO RECOVER FROM THIS. lord knows that hearing somebody be TORTURED over the phone is gonna frigging mess her up holy shit, and then all the other stuff too

im so. emotional over mc. honestly, im just as emotional over mc as i am over luke, with this personal story. the bit where luke asks her "Have you decided to go meet Song? Regardless of what I say?" and she answers yes like.....god, nobody else in this game is on her level. SHE is the big damn hero here. in spite of her fear, in spite of her favorite person wanting nothing more than for her to be safe, her dedication to helping and saving people is so strong and pure. she'll always make this choice

and she doesnt give up, not til the end, she helped nami all the way, every second....fuck

and the rescue scene....oh my GOD the RESCUE SCENE.....

KAJI YUKI PERSONALLY WANTED EVERY LUKE STAN DEAD, WITH THE PERFORMANCE HE DID THERE. JESUS CHRIST....the desperation, the ANGUISH, and how he delivered the line "Don't say that! Don't say that now..." my god how am i ever gonna recover from that holy shit

just, in general, the entire lake scene is going to be etched into my brain for forever. that was SO FRIGGING GOOD

and the after bits kept ping-pong-ing me between Extremely Emotional and HAHAHAHAHJHAJHFVAJS

luke rlly spent the entire time at her bedside holding her hand....//SOBS WAILS CRIES

dr xu: luke wouldnt leave ur side the whole time until dr yishmir told him you'd be sad if you woke up and saw him still wearing his wet clothes me: oh wow aaron has a second degree in Making Luke Pearce Listen studies JHVSJDFVJS

i rlly enjoyed aaron's little speech to mc......like, that was a shovel talk of some sorts but adjacent? more of "if you commit to this, it's gonna be hard" and HRGHRHHHH MC IS JUST SO DEDICATED. IT'S FINE. WHATEVER HAPPENS WILL HAPPEN, CHERISH TODAY, CHERISH WHAT WE HAVE NOWWWW

pls....how eric and nami unknowingly let the Cat outta the Bag LMAOOOOO. mc's unimpressed face at both luke and aaron looking GUILTY AJHVFJHFASJ, 5 stars. this was the funniest possible route the sphynx thing couldve come to light; via unaware grateful people

luke: "After we solved Sphynx's first riddle, I contacted Aaron and confirmed that he was Sphynx." me: "contacted" is a funny way of saying that u ambushed him in a parking lot, but ok luke, you do you

and finally

FINALLY

CHECK OUT HOW HARD I CAN CRY PPSSHSHHSHSHSHSHWWWWW!!!!!!

overall: i probably shouldve saved my most fave for last because holy shit this was so good im still reeling from how much i adored it. the pain, the fluff, the funny bits. ALL SO GOOD

also im so ready for anniv card to pick up right where this left off oh god come on, i know anniv card is gonna rip my heart to shreds and put it back together again

okay. thats all my thoughts and reactions for now....for now....

//lies down and thinks about luke pearce emotionally

#tears of themis #luke pearce #tot luke #tot spoilers #most of this is unintelligible. enjoy

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mlqcconfessions · 4 years

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Your headcanons are perfect! Thank you for your work!♥️ Can you make a Headcanon for all four when they are drunk and MC tries to take them home so they can Rest? I think it would be so funny with a drunk Victor...

Who doesn’t love drunk MLQC boys? And this is my first headcanon with Shaw, so hope I got his character right! I changed the scenario a bit to better fit the boys’ personalities! Hope you don’t mind!

MLQC Headcanon - Overestimated Yourself

Victor

He’s a true connoisseur of fine wines, and actually enjoys small drinks with you

He doesn’t let you drink past 2 glasses (not after what happened on Christmas last year)

“But Victor!”

“No buts. You can take the 2 glasses, or you don’t”

He swiftly ignores your attempt at pinching his nose (he pinches yours, instead)

“Dummy”

Fine. You want some wine? I’ll give you some wine.

You ask the waiter to bring out the bottle with the strongest percentage (he nervously glances at Victor, who seems entirely amused with this situation)

“Ri-right away” (poor guy)

You anxiously watch Victor as he takes a sip of the new wine, your phone out and ready to record his expression

Nothing.

NOTHING

No change in expression whatsoever

It’s official. He’s a monster

He looks at your face, pouty with your lips out, and smirks before taking another sip

A few hours have passed, and he’s still drinking (from the strong bottle, even!)

Your chances of getting him drunk are close to zero, and you sigh in defeat

The waiter comes by with the bill, to which Victor returns with his card

Hmm?

“Victor?” (he looks at you like nothing is wrong, but you and the waiter’s faces beg to differ)

He turns his head to the card he’s holding (it’s his business card)

..........

You can’t help but burst out laughing at this adorable mistake

“Victor, (you’re still recovering from laughing too hard) are you drunk?”

His expression doesn’t seem to change (but that’s in the eyes of normal people)

In your eyes, you can tell that he’s lost his usual composure

He did, after all, drink more than he usually would

You can’t stop smiling even as he hands the waiter the correct card

As the two of you are walking to the car (with a driver, of course, no drunk driving) he puts his hand on your shoulder

You can sense a change in the atmosphere temperature

“I want a new proposal idea on my desk by next week” (your mouth opens wide and you can’t believe what you just heard)

It’s official. He’s a monster

Kiro

As a superstar, he and his team often go on company dinners after a successful promotion

And that includes drinks (he’s usually the one to buy it, because he just likes to)

Kiro’s constantly offered drinks by everyone around the table

He can’t take in alcohol to save his life (one shot, and he’s soon dancing on the table)

So he figured out a way to avoid having to accept any more

“Kiro, let me pour you a glass”

“Oh? I guess it’s my turn cook the meat now!”

“Take this special drink I made. It’s a mix of beer and soju”

“Savin really likes that, so you should give it to him!” (Savin has built up a high tolerance because of this)

But whenever he’s at home with you on a special day, he likes having a few drinks

The only problem is, he gets so clingy when he’s drunk

“MC, I love you so much”

“Can I braid your hair?”

“Hey! Stop getting so close to her!” (he’s fighting with a fork)

“MC, did you know otters hold hands so they don’t drift apart? (he holds your hand and takes it next to his heart) Now we’ll be together forever!”

Why is he so precious?

It’s cute for the first few minutes, but it gets a little tiring after a few hours

“Kiro, how about we play a game?”

“What game?” (his eyes are shining)

“Whoever can fall asleep the fastest wins! But you can’t say anything, or you lose right away!” (....this is what you do with the kids at the orphanage)

He mouths ‘okay’ and immediately lies on the couch with his hands folded together on his stomach

You look at him trying so hard to not open his eyes, and nearly let out a laugh (you’re still playing a game)

Meanwhile, he has his ears perked to catch you talking

After you’re done cleaning up after dinner, you return to the couch and notice Kiro’s arm is dangling off the edge

I guess we have a winner now (you quietly tiptoe to his side, kiss him on the cheek, and grab a blanket to cover him with)

He hasn’t had much sleep in a while, especially with his new song about to come out

At least he’ll be able to drift off for a few hours

“Good night, Kiro”

As you go to the kitchen to finish putting away the plates, he slowly opens his eyes and smiles at the sight of you (you had your back to him, so you would’ve never thought that he was awake)

He closes his eyes once more, happily content with knowing you’re next to him

“Good night, MC”

Lucien

You can never tell when he’s drunk or not

But he definitely can tell when you are (that’s what makes this so frustrating)

It seems he always catches you at your worst moments

Of course, he ensures you that everything you do is adorable (but that’s not the answer you want to hear)

Determined to see his drunk side, you invite him over for a dinner

You emphasize that you’ll prepare the best wine you can offer (at least with your budget)

A couple glasses of wine in, and you’re already starting to lose focus

Lucien doesn’t even change faces as he refills both of your glasses

“Don’t drink too much, MC (you’re giving him a pouty face)”

“Hmmph! Says the person who’s on his 5th glass”

He laughs at your timid remark, adding on to his list of MC’s drinking habits

The first one on the list is you trying to enter Lucien’s home with your own door passcode (he always loves watching you get frustrated through the *door monitor on the wall)

After a few hours have passed, you just decide to give up

He’s never gonna get drunk, who am I kidding?

Your head has cleared up a little (because you stopped accepting his refills)

Lucien, on the other hand, seems too quiet

He’s quiet, but not THIS quiet

It’s been a while since he said anything, so you’re worried (he has mentioned how he’s been feeling a little stressed lately)

“Lucien..?”

You lightly tapped his shoulder, and he responded by meeting his eyes with yours

He still didn’t say anything, but you notice his face is brushed with pink

“....! Lucien? Are you drunk?”

“Haha.....it appears so....” (why is he still so elegant when drunk)

He gets up to help you clear the table, but is a little wobbly on his feet

“Woah, Lucien! (he’s leaning on your shoulders) Why don’t you go home and get some rest?”

You walk him to his apartment (it’s like 10 steps) and as you’re about to turn around to leave, he lightly taps your shoulder

“Lucien?”

“MC? When did you get here?” (is this a habit, too???)

Gavin

Birdcop doesn’t usually drink, because he’ll need to be on alert at all times

“But it’s your resting day tomorrow! You can afford to lay back sometimes” (you’re handing him a beer can, cold from the fridge)

He looks at your enthusiastic expression, quickly decides that he can’t win against you, and sighs in acceptance

He’s just hoping that nothing bad happens during this drinking fest (because he can’t protect you 100% when he’s drunk)

Luckily, the night passes on without much turbulence

Except for that moment when you accidentally knocked over the chair (how does that even happen) while you were walking to get more cans

“Alright, MC (he’s collecting the remainder of beers). Confiscated”

“...! But!”

“No buts. You need to sleep early for work tomorrow”

You grab his to stop him from taking your oasis beers (he jolts a little)

“I already took the day off for tomorrow! So I could spend the entire day with you” (Gavin is being swayed)

In the end, you win (like most times) and your drinking party with Gavin resumes

You can hold your alcohol quite well (due to all the after parties you go to)

But poor Birdcop isn’t (he never tries to build up tolerance, because he doesn’t need to)

He’s out like a night light, and you smile looking at his peaceful face (he deserves a break, more than anyone else)

After you clean up, you snuggle in next to him

Perfectly content with this scenario, you rest your head on his shoulder

Then you hear some mumbling (how cute)

It’s getting late, and he should be heading home now

But as you get up, he pulls you down towards him (so he’s wrapped around you like a bear)

You try to break free, but he doesn’t train every day for nothing

Instead, you wrap your arms around him the same (falling asleep knowing that you’re protected)

He wakes up in the morning and panics

Shaw

He’s not an alcoholic but he definitely likes drinking

Especially when you’re there to make things interesting for him

He likes watching you act all dumb when you’re drunk (but immediately stands in front of you when you act too chummy with the other customers)

He keeps giving you different types of drinks, just to see how you react

So far, vodka wins by a long shot

He has videos of your drunken self (that he sometimes sends to you whenever you don’t reply to his messages)

But Shaw isn’t the type to get drunk, and both of you know that

So when he called you at 2AM, sounding wasted, it’s no wonder that you were surprised

“Shaw? Do you even know what time it is right now?” (you’re trying to sound annoyed, but holding in your urge to giggle)

“Don’t talk back to me, MC”

In contrast to his cold words, his voice was soft and full of laughter

But a loud crash can be heard over the phone, and thunder booms in the distance

Then, silence

“Shaw? Are you okay?” (no answer)

“Shaw? This isn’t funny!” (at this point, you’re nearly ready to run out that door)

“....alleyway” (the call ends there)

Alleyway.....? Ah, maybe.....

You grab your stuff and quickly go outside, almost out of breath as you run to the alleyway near the neighborhood park (the same one where he first asked you out)

Sure enough he’s there, crouched against the brick wall with his arms in front of him

You walk over to him, forehead beaded with sweat, and say in an exasperated tone

“What the heck, Shaw! Do you know how worried I—”

You’re unable to finish your sentence as you notice the wounds on him

You cup his face to closely look at his cheeks (they’re both covered with marks)

“Who...just who did this to you?”

He doesn’t say anything, and just pulls you closer to him (you catch a whiff of the strong alcohol)

Like always, he doesn’t tell you much (and you know better than to prod at a painful spot)

You just let out a sigh, and gently pat the back of his head (he always relaxes when you do that)

“Tell me everything when you’re ready. I’ll wait for you”

He doesn’t say anything, but his tighter embrace gives you reassurance

(The next day he completely forgets what happened and laughs at you for trying to make things up)

This guy....

*this is what I was imagining when I said the screen on the wall for Lucien’s part

Yeah I don’t know why Shaw’s got so dark (it’s probably because I was replaying the latest chapters)

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rokutouxei · 4 years

Text

the wonder that’s keeping the stars apart

ikemen vampire: temptation through the dark theo van gogh / mc | T | [ ao3 link in bio ]

The challenge seemed pretty simple: to try to befriend the university bookshop’s most sour employee, Theo van Gogh. As a literature major with a boatload of book recommendations on her back, it ought to be a simple task indeed. But as she uncovers what lies between Theo’s pages, the more she finds it harder to become closer to him without having to put the feeling directly into words. What can she learn from Theo about what it means to stay—and how can she teach Theo about what it means to let go? | written for ikevamp big bang 2020!

[ masterpost for all chapters ]

CHAPTER 8 OF 22

And how impossible it still is: to train the heart to sit. - "The Kindest Thing She Almost Did", Blythe Baird

The College of Arts’ student council has rotating schedules on who gets to organize the university-famous Halloween party. This year, it was the Literature Department and the Film Department that paired up to choose a theme, decorate, and make sure the party is getting smoothly—and the very specific, not-required but entirely funny, theme this year was “Film or Book that you’d love to be turned spooky, but isn’t exactly spooky.”

This is why she thought of coming in as characters from the Night Circus. The black and white stripes matched with red really gives off a very Halloween vibe to begin with, but all the circus-y magic that goes on in the book itself also makes it very viable for the spooky vibes.

She’s now standing in front of the College of Arts’ event hall, where the event is set to happen. She tugs at the locks of hair dangling at the side of her face, the ones she couldn't get to obey her planned updo, even with all the bobby pins.

There's something about scavenging a costume on your own that is so nerve-wracking. There's something more when you're portraying a character from a book someone introduced to you. It feels like it's a duty to get it right. She couldn’t find any entirely matching dresses in the thrift stores she went to, so this was the best she could do: some sort of modern but 1890s-inspired fortune teller mash-up of a costume. The dress was fashioned out of this dizzying deep blue-black velvet fabric, with little speckles of silver glitter like stars across it; she wore a striped black and white petticoat underneath it to give it some volume since the dress ended around the knees. She’d re-sewn the sleeves and the neckline to be similar to that of the era, revealing a nice V along her back and a nice, wide boat collar. Then, she’s put on a small, decorative hat with some red flowers on the corner of her head, and then draped a sheer black scarf with little rosy red designs on the ends over her shoulders. Then she put on some knee-high lace-up boots to add a little grunge to the entire attire. Lastly, she had a few Rider-Waite tarot cards in her pocket (The Chariot and Temperance) just for the vibe of it.

(All this costume preparation was really to wind herself down after submitting her initial requirements to the scholarship selection committee earlier that week.)

Just as she begins to spiral in her thoughts, “Sorry I’m late,” she hears Theo’s familiar voice call out, and she looks up from staring at her shoes and gasps out loud.

Theo’s wearing his hair a little curlier than usual, a lightly-tinted pair of green contacts on his eyes and—as he’s promised—a well-tailored suit, in black and white and red, to suit the general aesthetic of the circus itself. She figured he would come in a suit, but—she wasn’t expecting him to take the extra effort with the hair and the eyes, either. She could even see the little silhouette of a journal peeking from underneath his jacket—he’s obviously prepared even to the smallest details! Maybe, maybe he does look like the Marco in her head. Just a little. Maybe if his hair was darker. She finds herself staring at him for a ridiculous amount of time, so much so that he has to cough to get her attention again.

"The green eyes look lovely on you," she comments softly, hand curling up to gently press his finger at his cheekbone near instinctively, allowing her to observe his eyes better. Theo feels himself flinch in surprise, but he does not pull back.

"Thank you, grey-green was a very specific color."

She nods. "I do prefer your usual blue though." Her hand falls back to her side. "Too bad I can't magic it back?"

"You see it blue all the time. Stop complaining when this was your idea," Theo says, but he offers his arm anyway.

"So sour," she pouts. "How unbecoming of you, Mister Alisdair," she says, as she slides her arm into his.

Theo only snorts; he does not hide the half-smirk. "Only to match you, Miss Martin."

The event hall is lavishly decorated in some sort of spooky, old vampire mansion vibes, with all the matching spiders and fake candles. It is a little silly to see the DJ on the far end of the hall, with his set-up on top of what seemed like a desk older from three centuries ago. The caterers set up the food on a buffet table—also beautifully decorated, how many fine arts majors did the production team get to bully into helping them out?—to get it ready before dinner at six.

But the bar—the bar is open.

“Do you drink?” she asks casually, already one foot towards the bar.

He takes a nervous gulp she pretends not to notice. “Not a lot,” he answers.

“Then a glass will be alright. I told Arthur we’d meet at the bar. Come on!”

Because her college stupidly attempts to seem puritan, official drink menus are not allowed to actually say out loud that they contain hard liquor, so instead have really creative names. This time, they are references to different, random books and films, with fine-print descriptions of what it is. She orders a glass of Pride and Prejudice and Theo gets a serving of Kafka on the Shore. Both of them had just received their drinks when her phone begins to ring, and with a short excuse me she heads to a quieter part of the room and answers the call.

“Dazai?”

“Hello, Toshiko-san. I’m waiting outside the hall, but you’ve entirely forgotten that I haven’t actually met who I’m bringing in.”

Oh! “Well, I told him to wait on a stone bench there… Dark blue-ish hair, blue eyes, a mole on the side of his lip? He responds to ‘Arthur’.”

“‘Responds?’ Are your bookstore friends all a bunch of dogs?”

“Well, this drools at the sight of meat,” you say, unapologetically. “I didn’t see him there yet when I was still out, but—”

She hears a shuffle from the other side of the line, and Arthur’s familiar voice through the phone, a small “Hello, could you be Dazai?” and her friend’s very, very meaningful pause—she can almost see Dazai looking Arthur up and down—before he answers, “Yes, and you must be Arthur.”

The phone call ends and she grins for only a half a moment before realizing what she’d done.

She walks ever so slowly back to the bar, letting it sink in. But once she’s got her glass in her hand, she downs it in one go, surprising both the bartender and Theo. She shakes her head and then sits back down on the stool, half-laughing.

“Something happen?” Theo asks.

She groans. “I may have made a mistake with Arthur.”

Theo takes a sip of his drink, just the littlest bit smug. “Everything is a mistake if Arthur is involved.”

“I didn’t think he’d—”

“Hello, lovebirds,” says the devil, Arthur coming up behind them with—

With Dazai glued to his hip.

She’s known Dazai for a few years at this point, and because they’ve known each other for so long, there are little things she knows Dazai does that may not seem obvious to the onlooker.

First: Dazai is not fond of touching, but he is rather great at tolerating it. It usually takes a few months before Dazai is fine with being touched by someone. Even she took around half a year before Dazai would allow her to hug him freely. When he’s being touched by someone he does not particularly like, he clenches his hands and fits them into his pockets, so it’s not as noticeable.

Observer’s note: Arthur’s got his hand around Dazai’s waist. Dazai’s hands are wide open, resting at his hip.

Second: Dazai is also good at having his practiced smile. He says he practices it in the mirror, did it every day for a year until it became natural to him; it looks genuine and otherwise believable, that is, if you haven’t seen his actual smile. And even if you have, sometimes it’s still hard to tell. His actual, genuine smile, that goes up to his eyes, crinkling the sides of it, and he flushes sometimes too; it’s so wide it reveals the little dimple on his cheek.

Observer’s note: Dazai’s dimple is very, very visible right now.

Third: Dazai has this thing where the longer he considers a person, the less he becomes attracted to them, for some reason, even if the extended thinking time only makes him feel like they’re a better match by the second. Dazai is only genuinely, passionately, instantly attracted to people he knows will pose him some sort of danger and excitement.

Observer’s note: Dazai met Arthur today.

She bites back the groan that’s bubbling out her throat and grins. “Hello, Arthur, Dazai. Having fun?”

“Where’d you been hiding this cutie all this time?” Arthur teases, squeezing Dazai closer to him. “Much fun now that he’s here. I see you’ve started drinking ahead of us.”

“Just a little,” she says. “Shall we find a table?”

The four of them choose a table in the middle of the chaos—Arthur’s suggestion—somewhere midway the bar and buffet. The tables are for six, and the number makes her remember.

“I couldn’t get Isaac to come.”

Dazai shakes his head. “I told you he said he wasn’t interested. Must be working overtime like he usually does.” He nods towards her direction. “Good attempt, though.”

She frowns. “He should really let loose sometimes… I know he’s good at what he does, but a little, one-night-a-year party isn’t going to hurt him is it?”

“Ohoho, what’s this, have another cute friend I have to know?” Arthur interrupts.

Dazai taps Arthur’s nose gently and she wants to vomit. What has she done. “Isaac Newton, a Ph.D. student from the physics department. Too serious for his own good.”

Surprise fills Arthur’s face. “My, isn’t that Newt? Teaches classes sometimes?” She and Dazai nod. “Small world!”

“Next year we’re really finding a way to drag him in,” she says.

To which Dazai laughs, “you won’t be here next year, Toshiko-san.”

There’s a small sliver of silence that settles in between them, just long enough to be felt but not for the conversation to come to an abrupt halt. It makes Theo flinch a little.

“Then it’s up to you guys, isn’t it?” she takes her second glass of literary cocktail—she doesn’t even know what’s in this one, just pointed at the menu, it was titled Wolf Totem—and downs half of it in one go.

“Maybe if a girl came around to bring him, he’d be more persuadable,” Arthur teases, “Look at my chap Theo over here.”

“So you’re Theo, huh?” Dazai purrs. She throws a glare at him that goes ignored. “Nice to finally meet you, I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Theo only nods as a response and she takes the chance to get the conversation back in a direction that makes her a little safer from their teasing. “But no, really, Isaac? Coming for a girl? You don’t know him at all, Arthur.”

“Oh, even the toughest guys fall back to romance, don’t they, Theo?”

Theo throws a glare towards Arthur; it is shrugged off as the newly-formed suddenly-a-couple laughs in unison.

Despite the ruckus, the four of them still have some good fun at the party. Arthur Arthur’s non-stop insisting that they play the party games has them rewarded with many things: a stupid award here or there, minuscule amounts of cash that could be used in the future for dine-outs, and even a nice bottle of high-end “water”—it was definitely vodka, the organizers just couldn’t announce it out loud. She and Dazai had to stand up a couple of times to go meet their college-mates in their department, but the four of them stayed mostly together until past dinner—that is until the dance music started to rev up, getting ready for the long night ahead.

“Excuse the two of us, we’re going to do some actual dancing, like people do at parties to have fun,” Arthur says, but his face is already littered in glitter from the poppers and his face is dusted pink from all the alcohol. Obviously, dancing isn’t required to have fun at all. Taking Dazai’s hand like a gentleman, sliding his arm around the other man’s waist, Arthur makes a comical bow to which she makes a face. The two disappear into the crowd of people dancing on the dance floor, and the sight of them so obsessed with each other makes her lean back on her chair to take a sip on her—fifth? Sixth? Ah, who is counting?—nth glass of alcohol.

Wary of being the killjoy, Theo gently asks, “Don’t you want to dance?”

“I mean… you don’t want to, do you?” she asks, facing him properly, glass still in hand. “I just felt like it’d be great to hang out with you here and if you’re not up for dancing…”

“If you want to we should go.”

“I’m not going if you’re forcing yourself to.”

“No, I’m not, so—”

“Theo, sit down!” she says, laughing. The alcohol’s given her skin a beautiful pink flush, and her smiles have turned wider, more relaxed. “It’s okay, I promise. Just sit here and drink your—drink. It’s just nice to have company.”

He nods as she turns back to watching the crowd. A smile still settles on her face as she watches the mass of people dancing and shouting to the music. Theo asks, “Do you always go here with someone?”

She shrugs, taking another sip from her glass. “I came alone the first time, and then the next I went with Dazai. He’s pretty popular—when he’s alone, without anyone slung on him, you know? Lots of people dance with him.”

“And you?”

“Me?” she asks, forehead wrinkling. “I’m normal. I sit and drink until my liver begs me to stop. And then dance until my legs beg me to stop when I’m drunk enough.”

He scoffs, but only in that friendly way of defeated acceptance. “Sounds like fun.”

“So much more fun with you around though,” she asserts, tilting her glass to him. “Cheers?”

“For what?”

And she’s quiet for a moment, before she raises her glass again, saying, “To friendship and literature, of course.”

Theo thinks that’s good enough. They clink their glasses gently and then drink.

For the slightest of moments, Theo considers asking the one question that had been on his mind since she invited him to the party. Preparing the clothes to wear to the event only made his curiosity even stronger, but at the same time, he didn’t feel like he had the right to ask. Theo feels content sitting in his uncertainty, the mystery of it hanging in the air.

But the alcohol has made him a little more courageous.

“Can I ask you a question?”

“Shoot!”

“Why didn’t you go as Celia?”

It’s common for a pair of people to attend a costume party in matching outfits with characters that are paired as well. Celia is Marco’s natural pair in the book. Isobel is not. Why didn’t she go as Celia? Theo would not have minded if she did. Celia was fiery and romantic and could see through Marco’s every disguise.

And Isobel longed and longed and never got what she wanted.

“I kind of felt for Isobel, you know?” she answers, in that hesitant way that makes the asker wonder if it’s because of the embarrassment or because of the half-lie. “She was running away, after all. Didn’t you say that was what I was so fixated on?”

And Isobel is only the circus because she was the way for Marco to get to who he loved. Even before he knew who he loved.

“Wouldn’t have expected that from you,” Theo remarks, taking out his little Marco-journal to dust it away idly. “You seem like the type who always feels extensively for the protagonists.”

It takes a moment for the words to sink in, but then, suddenly, her eyes widen brightly. She puts down her glass and quickly swipes the journal Theo kept with him before pulling him up by the wrist. “C’mon, let’s do the photo booth?”

“What?” Theo staggers up. Why so suddenly? “Who’ll watch over the table?”

She places her little hat on the table. “That’ll save it, let’s go.”

Theo can feel his pulse thrumming under his wrist where she’s holding on to him. Theo does not have the will to argue as she drags him to the makeshift studio on the far end of the hall. Instead, he focuses on her—the way her hair’s held up in an intricate braided bun on her head, the fall of her dress over her shoulders, the feeling of his hand around his arm.

She’s such a weird girl, he thinks.

When they get to the end of the line—a short one, bless the universe—she takes out the two tarot cards in her pocket and hands them to him.

“Switch props for the photo,” she explains.

When they get to the photo booth, they opt for two photos; one for her to keep, and another for Theo. They don't even bother with the poses, both half-drunk, holding up their character props as the cameraman fixes the shot. She settles, standing by his side, arms twined, head leaning toward him as the camera flashes once. And Theo can’t help himself when he turns to face her because of that, and before he knows it—the camera flashes once more.

She’s too far into her drinks to have time to think why Theo’s so concerned about seeing the photos first and choosing which one he wants to keep for himself.

It is just a little past midnight when she, Theo, Arthur, and Dazai hop out of the hall. She insisted that it would be better to wait until the end of the night before leaving—making most of the ticket, or something—and the most that they had gotten out of that was a free coupon to a fast-food chain.

That, and this:

She’s half-slung over Theo when she yells at Arthur and Dazai, who are very obviously becoming a little too comfortable with each other, handsy as they huddle together. She shouts: “Jesus, guys, get off each other!”

“Hmm? Right now? Sure, we’d love to, if you don’t mind—”

“NO! NO NOT LIKE THAT!” she yells, pushing away from Theo to nudge Arthur away from Dazai. The new lovebirds just laugh mildly at each other as she huffs and frowns, falling back into step next to Theo. “Oh god, I’ve made the worst mistake of my life.”

“Best mistake of my life,” Dazai says with a slurred laugh, leaning against Arthur. She makes a gagging motion, to which Theo snorts.

Relative to everyone else’s lodging in the university, the van Goghs’ apartment is the one closest to the hall, so the four of them make their way to it, drunk feet stumbling on uneven pavements all the way there. Arthur and Dazai are walking ahead of them—Theo doesn’t know how Arthur knows where he lives, not when he’s never brought him there; that’s a question for a more sober time—and she and Theo walk side-by-side a few feet behind.

She’s not entirely drunk, no, but she’s a little closer to drunk than tipsy, and it shows when she speaks. “Did you have fun today, Theo?” she asks, ignoring the little misstep her conversation has cost her.

Theo has his hands in his pockets, but they’re only seconds away from grabbing her by the arm to steady her. Any minute now. “It was okay.”

She grins. “Great! That’s all I want.” She looks back up in front of them, and Arthur throws one glance upon hearing their conversation, but then quickly looks away. “It’s kinda, uuuuh,” she squints, the words lost. “Different, to hang out with you with ‘thur and ‘zai around.”

See, this is exactly why Theo capped himself off at three drinks. Look—he’s long accepted his less than average tolerance, but to have to babysit a group of drunk college kids… “Bad different?”

“Nuh-uh,” she says. “Jus’ different. Used to only us. ‘t’s nice being alone with ya.”

I don’t want to take care of a drunk you on my own, she hears in her head, and she isn’t quite sure if Theo had actually said it or if it was just a figment of her imagination.

Soon enough, the four of them stumble onto the van Gogh’s front porch, Theo just not-drunk enough to get the key in through the hole. With a click, the four of them are greeted by the bright light of the living room. Arthur must have been the one that hissed. They stagger in, Dazai slamming onto the sofa, Arthur right after him, and she, heading to the refrigerator for some water.

Theo disappears for a moment to check on Vincent in the studio and to tell him that he’s brought his unfortunate group of friends to sober up, and it’s a good thing the drunkards aren’t around with him because the brightness of Vincent’s smile would have knocked them right out.

“I’ll go take a shower,” Theo announces to no one in particular, shouting down the hall as he disappears into his shared bedroom with Vincent. She tries not to think of what that would look like, blaming her wandering thoughts on the alcohol. She’s about on her second glass of water when she spots Vincent headed to the kitchen.

She beams. “Vin-ny~” she reaches out to him and Vincent catches her before she falls.

“Did you have fun at the party?” Vincent asks, half-laughing, as he helps her to sit on the counter—which was what she was trying to do. “How much did you drink?”

She raises her hands up to her face and tries to count, fully knowing she stopped counting after the second glass. “Enough to make me happy,” she answers instead, smiling dumbly at the older van Gogh. “Theo was so grumpy.”

“He was so excited to go, though,” Vincent says, standing next to her. Of course he has no qualms ratting on his younger brother like that. “You should have seen him, preparing for his costume. Did he look just as you imagined?”

“…And better,” she admits, before taking a sip of the water again to sober up a little more. The ice in the glass is helping her brain to chill. “I’m not sure if he had fun, though. I feel kind of bad.”

Vincent hums. “He looks like he had fun. He wouldn’t have brought you guys here otherwise.”

“You think so?” she asks, eyes wide. The blond man laughs.

“I know so.”

By the time Theo comes out of the shower, he’s a little more dressed down, in jeans and a button-up shirt. He looks at Arthur and Dazai, both already long out like a light on the couch, and sighs.

“I suppose you’re sleeping here too,” he asks, looking toward her. She shoots him an awkward grin.

“She can sleep on my bed,” Vincent offers, but Theo shakes his head.

“She can sleep on mine. You sleep on your bed tonight, Vincent. I can sleep in the studio. I’ll just pass by the drugstore a few blocks down for some…” he frowns at Arthur and Dazai, “…Ibuprofen, for tomorrow.”

“Take care on your way out,” Vincent answers, taking a scan at Theo up and down to see if he’s sober enough to go out. Theo really didn’t drink a lot—purposefully, he knew this was going to happen—so he’s standing pretty straight. He nods and makes his way out, the door closing with a gentle click.

After that, she slouches next to Vincent, like she was just holding herself up to seem a little put together for Theo. Vincent pats her on the head gently, like a little child.

“Is something wrong?” he asks.

She sniffles a little, looking down at her shoes. “I was just thinking h’much I’ll miss this.”

“Are you going away?”

“Maybe,” she says, idly. “I want to. Don’t want to. Want to.”

Vincent smiles, the kind of disappointed-but-not-surprised, non-judgmental, gentle smile of an older brother one would give to a younger sibling. Carefully, he hooks her arm around his shoulders, saying, “C’mon, let’s get you to bed,” as he leads her to his shared room with Theo. She is pliant in his arms, legs wobbling but still planted with a balance onto the floor.

The costume she’s in doesn’t look entirely too comfortable to sleep in, so he offers her a loose shirt and some sweatpants to change into. It takes her two minutes too long to fumble into them, but right before he begins to get worried that she’s gotten stuck in the fabric, she knocks at the door to tell Vincent she’s done. He walks in with a glass of water.

“One last before you sleep,” he says, assisting her in drinking. “I hope you don’t have a headache tomorrow.”

But she’s intoxicated, and her brain doesn’t follow along with Vincent, so as she’s drinking the water her eyes are wandering the walls, where various canvases are hung. All of them are Vincent’s, and most of them are unframed, and perhaps have never been seen by anyone besides Vincent and Theo. Once the glass is empty, she turns to Vincent with a glazed look in her eye.

“Do you think there’s going to be something greater for us outside of this place?”

He blinks, taken off guard. She has officially transitioned from clingy, whiny drunk, to having an existential crisis, philosophical drunk. He only laughs lightly, placing the glass on the bedside table as he coaxes her into bed, tucking her under the blanket.

“I sure do hope so.”

#the wonder that’s keeping the stars apart #ikemen vampire #ikevamp theo

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godsofmonster · 4 years

Text

Bangtan MC ≽ II.

Reader x Bangtan- Motorcycle Club

Word Count- 8.2k

Warnings- sexual content, death, murder, guns, drugs, violence, betrayal, mentions of suicide, mentions of rape, etc.

For as long as I can remember back, I always wanted to be in a motorcycle club. Since I was six years old, the only thing on my mind was getting my hands on a Harley and a cut. I was a wolf, a wild cur, cut from the pack with bloodstained on my fur. Every wrong has marked a debt because a beaten dog never forgets.

The next morning, I woke up remembering almost nothing at all. We had spent the night at Namjoon's house after the occurrence of the evening before. There was no time for me to process or even begin to understand what was happening around me. The only thing I knew was that I had to get dressed for my father's funeral today.

No one spoke to me unless there was some kind of practical reasoning behind it. Half of the time, I didn't even know who it was that would come and inform me of the time. However, they all always looked at me with a similar expression. The type of look you give to a caged animal, one you should never really turn your back on.

"Here are some clothes that should fit you," Said a vague voice from the entrance of the bedroom.

A woman, around my same age, knocked at the door of the guest room. She placed a few pairs of clothes to choose from on the bed in between us. A wet towel was barely covering my body as she quickly turned back to leave. I watched her pause with the door almost closed behind her, "Namjoon is waiting outside for you when you're ready."

The sun seemed to shine awfully bright despite the events that were to partake this afternoon. I found my sunglasses as I stepped out the front door in the same clothes from the night before. Namjoon was accompanied by Taehyung and Hoseok. They were gathered around their bikes in his driveway. Once he heard the door close behind me, he stood off his bike, excusing himself from the other two members.

"Hey," Namjoon spoke as he met me halfway up his driveway. His eyes scanned my figure momentarily, leading to a sudden smirk poking from his lips. "I can see you didn't like any of the dresses Cherry offered to lend you."

"Cherry?" I questioned. Then the immediate realization of the scampy clothes became apparent. "I'm wearing the clothes of a hooker?"

"A pornstar, actually," Namjoon corrected, failing to hide his chuckle behind his hand. He found my frustration considerably amusing- he always had. "She's a nice girl."

I hummed in response, trying to overlook the new information.

"Well, I can't really ride in a dress anyhow," I muttered, taking a moment to look down at my clothes for any alarming stains that I might have missed.

"Yeah... about that," I hated when his voice dropped like that. His gaze struggled to meet mine as I raised my brow at him. "You'll probably ride in the car with my mom- behind the club."

"What?" My chest tensed at his words. I pushed my sunglasses on top of my head to get a brighter look at him.

"Come on, (Y/n)... you know how it is," He said, hoping to dismiss the situation quickly.

"He's my father and you won't even let me ride behind him?" I scoffed, still falling amazed at their ridiculous regulations. Namjoon took a step closer, trying to keep our conversation between us.

"You know, as well as I do, that it's not allowed." He deepened his voice, thinking that I would fall intimidated by it. However, he only managed to create tears of rage brimming my eyes as I fought to keep my composure. "We can't break the formation."

"Fuck your formation!" I shouted, not caring that I had gotten the attention of the other members. "I deserve to be by his side!"

Namjoon grabbed me by the arm, pulling me closer toward him. I could tell that my words triggered him but he worked to hold his temper.

"I'm not going to remind you," He said in an ominous tone.

"You aren't Bangtan."

His stare burned holes in my eyes and his hand was cutting the circulation of my upper arm. I yanked myself out of his hold and looked passed him at Taehyung and Hoseok who had taken a few steps closer, ready to interfere in case of any conflict. I decided to not drive the matter further.

"You put your hands on me again," I pulled my sunglasses back over my eyes, "and I'll slit your goddamn throat."

I pushed past him, avoiding eye contact with the other guys as I walked up to my bike. Namjoon walked toward me at a great pace, as if he wanted to stop me. I didn't hesitate to mount the bike and kick start the engine. We met each other's expressionless gaze, I waited to see if he would say something to me.

He didn't.

I pulled out of the driveway dangerously quick and followed the road all by myself.

My feet marched and stopped their way into the House of Cards. Even in the middle of the day, the bar was full of hang arounds who felt entitled because of the name Bangtan. Members and nonmembers eyed me as I made my way across the floor. My eyes focused on the pair of black doors that had been shut in my face my entire life. There was no hesitation when I burst through them, knowing that I would find him sitting there at the head of the table.

"Please, come in." He said sarcastically but with a bitter taste on his tongue. I locked the double doors behind me, making sure that nobody would interfere with us from having this conversation.

"You've been avoiding me," I stated and stepped slowly around the opposite end of the table. He hadn't bothered to look up from files that laid in front of him.

"Is that a fact?" He hummed.

"It's been five days." I dug but he wouldn't nudge.

I looked at the six empty seats in front of him, the doors of Bangtan carved, proudly, into the center of the Indian rosewood table. I leaned on the opposite side of him, my hands flatly placed at the edge.

"I've been busy."

"Oh," I laughed coldly. "Is that how the great president of Bangtan deals with problems? By cowering away in his clubhouse?"

"Don't push it, (Y/n)." He warned, finally setting down the papers in his hands to give me a stern look. "I don't have time to deal with your childish games."

"You don't have time to deal with me?" I teasingly challenged. "Or you don't know how?"

I stepped away from the table, my hands were placed firmly at my hips, as I smiled down at him. "It's funny that you can deal with murder and gun trafficking- but being a father!?"

His hands slammed against the table, loud as a gunshot, as he stood to his feet. He was furious but I was just glad to see a reaction out of him.

"Watch your goddamn mouth," He said through clenched teeth.

I spat. "Is my desperate need for your attention getting boring?"

"Is that what all this is about, (Y/n)?" He stood up straight. "Is that why you did it?"

The single light that dangled over the table was deep, creating the harshest contours on the borders of his face. The blinds were drawn behind him and the specks of light that seeped through were enough to give his figure a glow. He was a fearful sight but there wasn't much he could do to me that he hadn't already.

"Did it ever occur to you that I might be the one who actually deserves your trust? Your counsel?"

My voice softened deeply. Finally, reaching the situation in which I pleaded he would hear me the most. "Not your club-not Namjoon but me! You're daughter."

"You're telling me that all this shit is some fucking tantrum?" His voice sounded of disbelief. He shook his head and took his eyes off of me but I wouldn't allow it. He was going to hear me, whether he wanted to or not.

"After years and years of your lectures about family and what it meant to be a part of something," I stepped around the table, slowly coming to his line of sight once again. "Did you ever stop to realize that I was the only one who ever listened- who lived by everything you ever said!"

I hadn't even noticed that tears had escaped from my eyes until I tasted them on my lips. My father stared at me with burning eyes, his breath deepened in his chest.

"But you never did see it-" My voice cracked and more tears streamed down my face. "because of this thing... between my legs."

He shut his eyes and sighed under his breathing. His anger had burned out completely and he only listened. "Believe me, I see what you- this lifestyle does to women. We're supposed to hold you down while you cheat, lie, and use..."

"(Y/n)," He spoke softly, it was like a breath of air, barely anything at all. "I don't distrust you because you're a woman- I distrust you because you aren't as smart as you think you are."

I scoffed under my breath, not being able to believe that he believed his own words. "It’s time you learned your place and stayed in it."

"My place- isn't wherever you say it is," He allowed himself to sit back down in his chair as I made it to his side. "I'm not Jaeeun- and I'm not mom."

My father turned his eyes away from me, his hands closed tightly into fists as he spoke. I had come in here thinking that there was nothing else my father could have taken from me but I was so very wrong.

"I’ve decided to send you to live with your aunt in Seattle."

He had taken away from me the only thing I had left- a chance to prove him wrong.

I looked away from his cold figure, hating the tears and pain that came at the price of his words. He had refused to see that he picked his stepson over me once again. I cleaned my face and began to walk toward the door, knowing that I had lost.

Just as I came face to face with the set of doors, without daring to look back at him- I said,

"Your club...your legacy- you have always loved it more than your actual family." There was no noise from his part. "Mom knew it and now... so do I."

Even now, it hurt the same.

Throughout that time, I was alone, so many years lost without a home. I found my prayers answered by a different devotion. At that time, I didn't know just how fast and hard the wind could blow toward disaster.

"I'm sorry I didn't come to see you sooner," I gulped silently, fiddling with the dandelion bouquet I had rumpled together. "I'm sorry I haven't come in over seven years."

I was only eight when she passed away, which had left my father to care for me during my most formative years. Even so, I prefer to believe that the pain of my mother was the only thing that didn't allow me to break under the sins of my father.

"I'm sorry I'm going to leave you here with him." My back rested against her cold headstone, placing the bouquets of weeds just under her name, tears falling from my eyes.

The place next to her was empty, my palm moved over the fresh grass, pulling out a few strands of green in the process. Originally it was meant to be saved for my father but when he remarried, Jaeeun tried to sell the lot. I had managed to convince him that the space next to hers would be my final resting place. I think it was the reason my father was looking for.

I knew that my mother could not refine me from the sky. Still, I hoped that she would at least welcome me with open arms.

"I thought you might be here," The words were accompanied by footsteps that roamed around my, sitting, frame. I shoved some loose strands of hair from my face.

"Did he send you to come to find me?" My eyes began to sting from the blazing sun that was emanating from his direction. I could only imagine how puffy and sore they looked under the rays of heat.

"Well, I just figured you should be there," Jimin bent his knees, coming to eye level with me on the ground.

"I don't even know why I'm here Jimin..." I muttered, avoiding eye contact out of embarrassment. He tried his best to make me feel not so alone, reaching his hand out to touch my arm, but I winced. "My father didn't want me here then- why would he now? I was only ever his burden."

"That's not true," Jimin grabbed my hand, causing me to look up at him through my wet eyelashes. His voice had always been the voice of reason in my ears. "I think, in his own way, he wanted to protect you..."

He sighed as my face revealed that his words were falling to deaf ears. He meant well, I knew that but he didn't know what it was like. This is the life that he showed me- the life that I knew how to live in. "(Y/n) you aren't like us- believe me, that's a compliment."

"Jimin," I gulped through pain in my throat, the soft summer breeze pushing my words out. "I spent the last seven years of my life believing that if I just could come back home- the rest of my life would fall into place."

"But why?" He urged, his voice becoming strained. "I know you see through the bullshit of this town. You always said so."

"My family is here..." That's what this was about. My hand reached to feel the stone carvings of my mother's name. That’s all this has ever been about. "Was- was here..."

Maybe, it was stupid. Maybe no one could ever make sense of how I felt. But family was the only law I ever knew.

Jimin stood back up on his feet, a loud sign leaving his mouth as he continued to look down at me.

"We're still here, (Y/n)."

I looked up at him to see his arm was extended out for me to take. How Jimin had managed to make me feel the smallest bit better- was far beyond my knowledge.

He offered me his help to get back on my feet, allowing me the moment that I needed, before we walked together to the burial service.

I was riding through this world all alone, thinking that God had taken my soul. I created a cage that accepted the darkness because it was easy on the eyes. A cage that I used to catch my breath, rest my head, ease my mind, and fuel my anger.

The green life that grew in the ruins of a cemetery seemed to be the most flourishing. The dead did not disturb them and the living provided them with their tears to drink. I figured I had done enough watering for one day.

Jimin walked closely by my side, our feet walking over the bodies of loved ones as we made our way through the cemetery. There was a silence between that had been the most comforting thing I've heard all day. However, there was a consistent glimmer coming off the metal buttons of his leather cut. My eyes scanned the side of his chest that was closest to me. He had two patches sewed into the area above his breast pocket, one above the other reading,

SGT at Arms

Dog of War

"What are you staring at, love?" Jimin asked after taking notice of my longing eyes. Maybe I shouldn't have said anything, but curiosity got the better of me.

"Did my old man appoint you Sergeant?" I asked, genuinely curious. He looked down at the patch on his chest and then back into my eyes.

"Yeah," He answered with a bit of a chuckle. He brought his hand to rest over the patch as if he was remembering the day. "I guess he got sick of my preaching."

The SGT at Arms was a position given to a member who was in charge of upholding the rules and philosophy of the club. While also keeping an eye on all the members and in charge of looking out for everyone. Jimin had a heavy soul that was held tightly together by his values. Having been in my father's situation, I would have probably made the same judgment call. It wasn't that patch that I was surprised to see- it was the one underneath it.

"And what did you do to deserve that one?" My hand reached out and made contact with him. His eyes shifted back down as I moved our hands to the patch below. "If you don't mind me asking, that is."

I said, quickly withdrawing my hand, noticing that the question made him a bit uneasy. I kept my eyes on his facial expression, carefully, watching for any kind of response.

"I," Jimin paused to lick his lips. His hand also dropped from his chest as he looked ahead. He chuckled again, this time, more ambiguously. "I guess I just took care of business."

Only a few were selected to earn the title of Dog of War, to receive such recognition, you had to make a serious act of loyalty to the club- usually a violent one. In fewer words, you had to kill a high enemy of the club.

"I still like to shove it in Hoseok's face, whenever I can. Since he, Jin, and Yoongi are the only ones who don't have it." It was definitely something he was proud of. I could only imagine what he must have done to deserve it. "But I guess, he'll be rubbing his VP patch in front of me soon."

My mind almost didn't process what he had said since it was barely a mutter. My feet slowly came to a halt and Jimin mimicked me as he noticed.

"I-Is..." I don't know why I hadn't noticed it before. My stomach turned into a ball at the words I was about to say. "Is Namjoon going to take over as President?"

"Well, technically, we still need to vote on it," Jimin ran his hands through his long locks of hair, a habit of nervousness that I recognized instantly. "But he is your father's VP."

Rage heated up my body, I could feel it burn color over my face as I tried to remain calm. I wasn't sure what I was supposed to do with this feeling of instability. I couldn't let go of the hatred because I loved the way it tastes.

The only notion that was able to draw me from my relentless thoughts were the soft words being spoken off in the distance.

"If I should go before the rest of you.

Break not a flower nor inscribe a stone"

"(Y/n)," Jimin attempted to recover my attention.

However, I had managed to spot, underneath a grove of pine trees, a gathering of people. The familiar voice traveled along with the breeze that was coming from that direction.

"Nor when I'm gone,

speak in a Sunday voice."

Before I knew it, my legs began to move once again. This startled Jimin, he followed closely behind me as all I could do was follow the voice.

"But be the usual selves

that I have known."

The group in my line of sight becomes clearer with each step, faces become apparent, I even began to recognize some of them. My legs commenced trembling with some kind of adrenaline. I wasn't sure if it was my footsteps or heartbeat pounding in my ear.

"Weep if you must,"

I found the words coming from Namjoon's mouth, he stood over the casket, in front of a large crowd of people. The head of the group was a line of seated women, among them, Jaeeun, the members and close friends of the club gathered behind them.

"Parting is Hell,"

Heads slowly began to turn as I approached the crowd. Red and white flowers blanketed the ground surrounding his lot. My father's casket was completely black, except for the words 'Bangtan' written in white lettering, along its side. His leather cut also rested on top with the back rocker facing up.

Without warning, I moved swiftly to get my hands on Jimin's bowie knife. I pulled out the weapon from its place, where it had been tucked into his belt.

Small gasps filled the crowd as Jimin failed to keep me from advancing toward the casket. Roses crushed under the weight of my feet as I grabbed the leather cut. I flipped it on its front and eyed the patches it held.

I dragged the end of the knife to slice loose the bottom stitching of the patch. Once I freed the edge of it, I gripped in my hands and yanked it off with all the anger that I had built up. I could feel the stares coming from behind me, murmurs and whispers were exchanged between them. I continued to repeat my actions to the patch that laid underneath. Just making a second of eye contact with Namjoon, who stood on the other side, before also ripping the patch off by hand.

I crumbled the two patched into my front pocket as I turned on my feet. I was met face to face with the crowd of people, mixed expressions spread across their faces. I looked down at my feet, stepping aside some of the crushed roses, and found a red one that had remained unharmed. I bent down and picked it up between my fingers. I brought the delicate thing to my nose, taking a smell, before tossing it on top of the casked.

I caught a glimpse of Jaeeun cold glare before I pulled down my sunglasses and took a seat at the only empty chair at the end of the row.

I crossed one leg over another and made myself comfortable. Jimin shortly after walked to stand by my side, in which, I handed him his knife without a word.

The muttering in the group had begun to quiet down, Jaeeun, who finished the session with a hushed, "Crazy bitch..."

Everyone soon turned back to Namjoon, who had not been able to take his eyes off of me this entire time. When he did look away he let out a sigh, to clear his throat, as he continued.

"But life goes on,

So sing as well."

After the burial, Jimin had convinced me to join the rest of them at The House of Cards. Truth be told, I didn't have anywhere else to go. My father's home had become a crime scene, with broken windows and blood painting the house. Spending another night with Namjoon and Jaeeun felt further like an option.

Staying, within itself, proposed a predicament.

"Here,"

The sound of short, round, glass being placed in front of me drove me away from my pity-party. "Neat, right?"

"Yeah, thank you," I took the glass into my hand as Jimin took the stool across from me.

We shortly glanced at each other as we both took a sip from our drinks. Jimin puckered his lips against the rim of a bottle of beer, and I hissed at the taste of straight whiskey.

"So, what's the plan?" Jimin asked after letting out a small burp and setting his drink down.

"I have no idea," I lamented. "Go back to Seattle? Let fate take the wheel?"

Jimin chuckled and leaned back in his seat.

"Come on," He said. "I know you don't believe in that shit."

I played with the glass in my hand, watching as the brown liquor rattled against the edge. I sat up on the wooden table and looked up at him.

"I don't believe in anything anymore."

His face didn't twitch at my words, he merely kept a similar face, which was hard for me to read. The sigh that shortly followed made me believe that he had grown rather worn of my self-indulgence.

"(Y/n)," He said, pushing a single strand of hair from his face. He held my eyes in his own, the tone of his voice had fallen seriously. "Are you happy?"

I knew he meant in life- in general. However, I was afraid that the answer would remain the same. He managed to read that in me, without me having to say a word. He leaned in, much closer than before,

"Do you want to be?" It was easy to assume that the answer was yes. Didn't everyone want to be happy? But the truth was, not everyone still had that hope inside of them, to fight for their happiness. "Has anything you've done these past seven years- made your life any better?"

I felt a single tear slip from my eye, blinking it away upon noticing it. I had 25 years behind me. I've lived my life inside a cage, surrounded by demons, many of which were my own. Falling weak by your own hands was a hard way to fall. I shook my head and felt ashamed to maintain his stare.

"I think it's time you stay awhile," He said, reaching out to hold my hand. It was the first time I had taken notice of his touch, how it was warm and welcoming. "And decide what it is you want."

It could have been the hard liquor, but I felt my face heat with a mixture of shame and embarrassment. Taking another glimpse of his touch, I slowly removed my hand and swallowed to clear my throat.

"S-So, what about you?" I pushed part of my hair behind my warm ears. Straightening out my back, I pulled my arms in and created some space between us. "What have you been up to all this time?"

He took another drink of his beer before answering. I thought I could make out a flush of color on his cheeks as well, but the lighting above us was too warm and too dim to tell.

"I um- went to school, shortly after you left," He explained. "I got an associate in automotive technology."

"Are you working in the shop with your old man?" I asked. A motorcycle was everything to a biker- if you weren't a good mechanic, finding one was a matter of life or death. His family's shop was the only workshop I would dare to trust in.

"I'll be taking over, pretty soon," He joked lightly.

Words hung over his mouth as our attention was stolen by the sudden sound of rapid running. I felt a small hand pat my leg eagerly, demanding recognition. I looked down from the tall stool to find a young boy about the age of four.

"My daddy said another drink will make you feel better." Before I could question anything, he pushed an open juice box into my lap.

I broke out into a laugh, taking the juice box into my hands and inspecting it. When I looked back at the kid he was also smiling, this time a bit more shyly than before.

"Geeze kid," Taehyung came walking up beside him. He quickly picked up the kid as if he had run off from his side. "Not that kind of drink."

I was confused at first, but in the arms of his father, there was no doubt that he was Taehyung's son. He had large dark orbs for eyes and his father's ears. His hair was dark and full, parted to the right and long enough to tuck behind his ears.

"Milk?" He innocently suggested.

"That's right, little man." Jimin laughed along. His little voice melted my heart, and his smile was a mirror reflection of Taehyung's. Jimin stepped down from his seat and grabbed his beer.

"I'm going to get some more milk." He shook his bottle lightly, indicating that it was almost empty.

"Grab me one," Taehyung called out to him as he walked toward the bar.

Just then, a group of children came running around the table. Their laughs and screams of joy induced Taehyung's boy. His little feet began to kick lightly, Taehyung responded right away, by letting him down.

"Daehyun, stay where I can see you!" He called as his son took off running after the other kids.

I found my smile fading as soon as he was gone, the sudden memory of the night before flashed in my head.

"He wasn't there last night?" I asked looking up at Taehyung, who had not moved from his place a few steps beside me.

His face had fallen stiff at my question. Obviously, the thought of the night before had brought bad images to his head. Something a parent would never want to imagine.

"My parents had him." He explained while he searched his back pockets. Even for those who choose this kind of life, they knew better than anyone, what the fear was like.

I felt relieved to know that he wasn't there. No kid deserved to witness such hell. For some reason, the air always fell dry between Taehyung and me. I just simply watched him pull a pack of smokes out his back pocket. He noticed my eyes on him and stepped closer to offer me a cigarette. I didn't agree with smoking indoors, much less around children, however, I could really use a drag.

I placed the square between my lips, Taehyung closed the gap between us, his figure casting a shadow over me. He flicked the flint wheel of a zipper lighter, cupping his hands over the hot flame, and offered it to me. I connected the two and breathed in deeply, Taehyung ultimately doing the same.

"Thanks," I muttered, deeply bringing the smoke into my lungs. "Do you have more kids?"

Taehyung moved back, pushing some of his hair away from his mouth, avoiding any unwanted event. His cheeks hollowed in, a sharp inhale followed his deep drag.

"Nah, just the one." He smirked, glancing back to find me somewhere in the bar.

"I'm sure you've got some more scattered around the state." Jimin teased as he came back with two beers in his hand. Taehyung grabbed one of the opened bottles and shoved Jimin back to his seat. Jimin continued to joke in his seat. "Don't bring any of them. We don't need more kids running around the shop."

"You're working at the shop too?" Taehyung nodded his head and took a sip of his drink.

"I should be running the damn place," He said, taunting Jimin. "I put in more hours than him."

"I'm still a better mechanic than you." Jimin shot back.

I pressed the glass to my lips and watched the two bicker with each other. It reminded me of when we were in high school. It was good to see some things hadn't changed, that some people were still the same.

"What about you?" Taehyung asked.

"Hm?" I said not completely hearing what he had said.

"What do you work in?" Jimin clarified, seeming more interested than Taehyung.

"Oh," I stammered. I took another drag to give myself some thinking time. "Just a boring office job."

"Like with data?"

There wasn't any time for the question to settle. The main entrance of the bar opened and walked in Namjoon. I hadn't even known that he was missing from the group until then.

Hoseok and Jungkook were by his side as he scanned the room. His eyes landed by the end of the bar, where Yoongi and Jin were seated, drinking, and well accompanied by women. Namjoon's hand motioned Hoseok over to them. During this time, Jungkook had spotted us over on the corner and made sure to point us out to Namjoon.

"Guess it's time..." Taehyung muttered to himself. His head turned back to eyed Jimin, who began to chug down his drink.

By the time my eyes looked back, Namjoon and Jungkook were walking in our direction. I took hold of my drink once more, my cigarette resting in the same hand. In an attempt to look busy, I suppose.

"Ready?" Was the first thing out of Jungkook, obviously referring to Jimin and Taehyung. I avoided Namjoon's stare.

"Yep," Taehyung stepped over the table and put out his cigarette in the ashtray. He looked over his shoulder, my eyes followed to where he had spotted his son. Daehyun was playing with some other kids under the tables of the bar.

"I can keep an eye on him," I offered.

His gaze lowered to mine. Only then did I notice how close he was to me. His fingers still digging the already crushed cigarette deeper in the glass ashtray.

"Thanks, doll." His eyes dropped into a wink that no one else witnessed.

Jungkook came up and wrapped his arm around his shoulder. They walked together toward the hallway, which was in the back of the bar, leading to the garage and the doors to the chapel.

MCs had weekly club meetings, that they referred to as church. If their meetings were church- then their conference room was the chapel. However, special club meetings could be held at any time they were needed. Any club action needed to be voted on by current members. For the most part, it was a matter of the highest vote being the one to pass. Although, there were special cases where a vote had to be unanimous for it to pass into action- patching in a prospect, sending someone to hell, and voting in a new president.

Namjoon and I were left alone, but still, I kept my eyes glued to my drink. I always felt so on edge when his eyes were on me. He stepped toward me and leaned his hand on the table.

"I'm going to need what you took." He said softly. I still refused to look into his eyes. Not wanting to spend any more time with him, I pulled out the severed patches from my pocket.

The two patches were bitterly placed on the table between us. Namjoon's hand hesitated to reach for them both, but I had quickly changed my mind.

My hand slammed back down, shielding the patches from his hold. I looked at them both and only pushed one toward him.

"Just because you need it," I said. His finger touched the sewed on letters of the president patch. I looked at him this time, staring him down, "But this one belongs to me."

His face remained the same for a moment, his eyes lightly shifting from side to side as he tried to focus on me. Then his cold stare broke into a smirk.

"He's rolling over in his grave knowing you have that." I placed the cigarette back in my mouth and leaned away from him.

"Good."

Without saying anything else, a sort of truce, Namjoon took what was his and left. Once his back was turned to me, and he was far away enough, I let out a shaky breath.

I gripped the Founder's patch in my free hand and soothed my burned throat with whiskey.

My father was a boy of agony, a man of soul, traded in his misery for the lonely life of the road. In the late of June, the king had died from a hell that was heaven made.

My father was the founder of Bangtan. A group of men that loved their Harleys and their family. Willing to anything to protect they're right to ride, no matter the cost. They were motorcycle enthusiasts that lived their life on the edge- and so was I.

Daehyun's laugh seemed to be the only joy in the entire room. His tiny shoes screeched against the black tile floor as he ran in circles. He struggled to keep his long hair away from his face, the mop on his head almost costing him the game, as it compromised his vision. His smile was contagious.

"Oh god," A groan, from beside me, managed sucked the small gasp of happiness from the air. "I know that look anywhere."

I turned my head on time to catch Jaeeun, offering herself the seat where Jimin had been. She held a drink in one and an unlit cigarette in the other.

"What look?" I ask, only half curious.

I spared her my look and continued gazing at the sweet child who knew nothing of the cruel world around him.

"That look of an empty-aching womb." She responded with the noise of a flicking lighter following.

I scoffed.

"Why would I want to bring a kid into this shit world?" The thought crossed through my mind and then I forced it out.

"Because you have a deep, painful need to be needed," Jaeeun said. I somehow knew that wasn't meant to be an insult. "You're a lonely bitch."

That part was.

"Is that why you had Namjoon?" I looked at her and found amusement resting on her face. A trail of smoke blew past her lips.

"All mothers are selfish for bringing babies into this world."

She wasn't the most heartwarming person, but she had her wise moments. I unearthed the similarities in our way of thinking many times before. Perhaps, that was the issue.

"That's why I wouldn't do it," I set my empty glass on the table between us. Her eyes continued to watch my every move, "Don't worry,"

A bad joke crossed my mind and the whiskey was the only encouragement I needed.

"I don't plan on making you a grandmother just yet."

She didn't seem to appreciate it very much.

Jaeeun leaned in across the table, her eyes threatening me before her words ever could.

"I don't have to remind you what happened the last time you tried to fuck with my family." She spoke viciously and effortless.

I tried to hold back my grin, but the alcohol in my veins made it quite difficult. I didn't think I could feel anything but the warmth burning up in my face.

"If you think that this is your chance for some kind of redemption story," She was almost losing her patience with the venom spitting from her mouth. "It's not."

Her words began to sting.

"I'm not afraid of you," I declared and pushed the butt of my cigarette into the ashtray. "And I'm not the same girl I was seven years ago."

"I am." She sneered.

"And just in case you were wondering, no one here feels sorry for you." She was proud of herself for finding the right button. "Your name is a forgotten memory in this town."

As the liquor gave me the confidence, it took it away just as easily. Jaeeun had a keen nose to sniff out people's weaknesses. I couldn't be any easier to read in her eyes.

"Believe me," I said, forcing myself to keep my head up. "You've made that perfectly clear."

There was little compassion in Jaeeun's heart, and it was not saved for the likes of me. Even as my eyes glossed with the effects of her words.

"You're weak." She looked down at me.

"Maybe you're right," I grabbed my empty glass and stood off my seat, our eyes holding up into the last second. "But I lost everything and came back,"

I spoke softly, surrendering my share in this conversation with the only truth I knew. "You would have crumbled."

I had to admit, by the time I sat at the bar, I felt very discouraged. All of my desires had turned out to be a gifted lie. I loved everything I didn't have and yet, hated it for that very same reason.

I decided not to order another glass for myself, seeing as how the first drink had a wild effect on me. I settled for a glass of water and to keep myself company.

"Excuse me?" I answered to a voice beside me. "(Y/n)?"

My eyes fell upon a young woman, reserved and beautiful.

"Yes?" She was noticeably better dressed than anyone in the room. It was hard not to notice that she was very out of place.

"I'm Darcy Durrell," Her last name was all I needed to know. The Durrell's were one of the wealthiest families in the town. Her father, the mayor, is the head of many organizations. "I just wanted to let you know how sorry I am for your loss."

"Oh, thank you," I answered awkwardly, just taking notice that she was the first person to tell me that. "You look so different from before- I didn't even recognize you."

"Oh," She smiled, running her hands through her hair.

Darcy was four years younger than I was. She naturally had large brown eyes, with dark brows and long blonde hair. At least that's how I remembered her 14-year-old self. Now, her hair was dark and cut into a blunt bob.

As we were talking, my mind couldn't help but recall back to that night.

"Actually,” My father suddenly spoke up. Both Namjoon and I paused to see who he was referring too. “You can stay, Namjoon, it’s time you learn a thing or two.”

He barely spared me a glance as he continued, “Prospect, follow (Y/n) and make sure she gets home.”

“No problem,” Yoongi responded.

I gathered my belongings in a wave of harried anger, trying to avoid anyone from taking notice of the tears streaming down my face.

No one bothered to give me another look, anyhow. I was as insignificant as the dirt on the garage floor.

I followed closely behind Yoongi, stepping through the doors that lead into the bar. I almost couldn't contain the built rage that was brewing inside of me. My heart was broken, and my trust was shattered. I could almost throw a child-like tantrum. The kind that would call for someone to carry me out of the bar.

I had to do something.

I stopped in my tracks and managed to come up with something on the spot.

"I have to use the bathroom,"

Yoongi looked over his shoulder at me and simply nodded.

"I'll wait for you outside."

The door to the bathroom was down a long hall, the entrance to that hallway was an arch, beside the door to the garage. Once Yoongi was out of my line of sight, I hid in the space where the arch met the wall. I waited there as more people approached the back of the bar. It was late at night, and the only people it could be were other club members. The darkness of the hallway kept me well covered as the disembodied voices passed by me.

Once I heard the door to the garage close, I stepped out and walked up to the door myself. Ever so quietly, I cracked the door open just a bit, enough for me to see.

"Good to see you, Steven."

My father stepped toward the direction of Steven Durrell, the mayor of Blackburn. My father extended his hand out to him, but Steven was hesitant to take it.

The relationship between the club and the town wasn't a very good one. They didn't appreciate our outlaw way of dealing with our day to day problems. I couldn't make sense of why he was here, but I imagine it couldn't be good.

The look on his face was further confirmation of that.

"Darcy is still in shock..." Steven spoke timidly. He looked worried and unsure of his own business. "She doesn't remember anything."

He let out a shaking sigh, his shoulders falling into a hunch as if the weight of the world rested on them. "Son of a bitch busted her in the jaw, threw her down on the dirt, and raped her."

"What did the police say?" Namjoon asked, standing beside my father.

"They took a report." He responded, not sounding to have much faith.

His demeanor was shaken. He could barely make eye contact with my father as he worked up the courage to speak.

"I want you to find him and bring him to me."

My father took a deep drag from his cigarette, letting his words sink in, making sure that he, himself, believed them. "I'll pay you anything you want."

"Who do you think we are?" My father seemed annoyed. He tossed his cigarette to the floor and crushed it under his foot. "I don't want your money."

His voice fell deep, as it did before he was about to preach.

"No one comes into our town and does this to a little girl."

Steven took in a deep breath, one of relief, to hear my father agree.

"We'll find this bastard but this isn't so simple Steven," My father took a step closer to the man in distress. "I need to know that when I deliver him to you,"

Steven gulped.

"That you'll take care of business."

There was doubt on his part, my father's strong eyes beckoning him further. But after moments of silence, it was Steven's turn to extend his hand to my father.

The deal was sealed.

“Your father was a good man,” Darcy said and gave me a sympathetic smile before excusing herself.

It was a small town, so everyone knew who Darcy Durrell was, and what happened to her that night at the park. She was fourteen years old, and the police never found the man. Yet, her family could rest assured that he had paid for what he did, and everyone knew why. When people came to the club because they couldn't go to the police, that meant something to my father.

I had neglected the parts of this world that I admired. The good and shelter the club brought to people. How selfish of me to only remember the beginning of that day. The part that only affected me.

Still, I could not find any valid reason to stay.

Was there truly nothing left for me? Life was not what I foresaw for myself and the blame was solely mine. The world had given me seven years to make a change and instead, I built up this rage and anger. I managed to Isolate myself into the void and hate.

Jimin was right.

It was time for me to ask myself the big question;

Who am I?

And what is it that I want?

Now, I don't know if I believed in fate; that in which you cannot change. However, Destiny is that which you're meant to do- who you are meant to be. Fate is what happened to me because I didn't take responsibility for my life. My destiny is what came calling on my cell phone.

I pressed the phone against my ear and answered, "Hello?"

"Hello, am I speaking with research specialists (Y/L/N)?" I looked over my shoulder, making sure that nobody was around me.

"Yes, this is her." My eyes scattered around the room.

"This is Special Agent Anthony Romero." My eyes landed on Daehyun at the closest table beside me. "I apologize for calling you at a difficult time. However, we believe that you might have first-hand insight into a motorcycle club that we believe is in the works to be affiliated with the Camilo Cartel."

Our eyes locked and he smiled at me.

"I'm sorry," I stood from my seat, worried too much that my conversation might be overheard. "Sir, there must be some mistake. This club doesn't associate with those kinds of activities."

I stepped toward the back of the bar, close to the back door of the garage.

"Ms. (Y/L/N), I understand that you have family ties with the Bangtan motorcycle club," Our way of life was always outlaw, but if there was one thing that my father refused to entertain was Bangtan getting into the drug business.

"But as an agent of the DEA, we are asking for your cooperation in this investigation."

The doors of the meeting room opened. The boys came out gathered around Namjoon, each of them making gestures of praise and excitement. Namjoon smiled, his hand stroking the newly stitched patch on his vest.

"I have no experience as a field agent," I answered quietly.

Jaeeun walked up to Namjoon, wrapping her arms around him and speaking inaudible words to him.

"I can brief you in the morning. For now, get some rest agent."

Just like that, he wished me a good night. Little did he know, nothing would ever be good again.

I brought the phone down, and the way that I looked at everyone in this room had changed.

I knew things were not the same as when I left, but I didn't know that everything had gone to complete shit. If you chose this life, then you knew what the fear was like if you welcomed addiction. There was no taunted charm or broken smile that could reach you then. Nothing happened in California that the club didn't know about.

Destiny is what happens when you commit to your path. I was born into this life, I was born my father's daughter and this was my kingdom.

Masterlist ≽

#Bangtan MC #bts #bts fanfic #bangtan scenarios #kim namjoon #kim taehyung #kim seokjin #park jimin #jeon jungkook #Jung HoSeok #min yoongi #bts angst #bts smut #bts fluff #bts x reader

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