#Something that gets left out of depictions of abuse a lot is the GUILT
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So I was looking through an old BlogClan article (made in 2021), and found this line
"We can all understand that Crowfeather never treated Nightcloud and Breezepelt well, but it's her fault for sticking around with him"
Maybe I'm wrong, but that feels like abuse apologia, or something like it, does it not? I apologize if I'm bothering you by the way.
That's like... THE abuse apologia line. That is a holographic out-of-print baseball card of the infamous A. Bewsa Pologia, signed.
Let's make it about physical abuse to make it more obvious; "Yes the husband beats his wife, but it's actually the wife's fault for staying with him." You see how fucked up the sentiment is, now? That applies to emotional abuse, too. "It's THE VICTIM'S FAULT they are being abused."
It comes in lots of other flavors, too. All of these are just the same sentiment rephrased;
"He pissed her off so it's his fault he got beaten"
"If you weren't so awful I wouldn't be so mad at you all the time"
"She should have known that wearing that outfit would have attracted unwanted attention"
"Maybe if you spent more time with me instead of your buddies, I wouldn't want to ruin your friendships"
"You did X so it's okay that I did this hurtful thing to you"
"Maybe if she wasn't so bad at handling finances, he wouldn't have to prevent her from having her own money."
NO ONE "deserves" abuse. It's not YOUR fault that someone else made the choice to control or hurt you. It never was.
Anyway I'm not sure of the article you're mentioning, SO until it's linked I'll just... hope that was a rando commenter and not an author lmaoooo. But I wouldn't be surprised either. They are INCAPABLE of being normal about Nightcloud.
#which is why she gets a bigggggg kissie on the head in BB <3#Tw abuse#tw domestic abuse#abuse apologia#bone babble#Something that gets left out of depictions of abuse a lot is the GUILT#The way YOU start believing you're the monster#And that you deserve everything that happens to you because you're such a bad/stupid/awful person who needs to atone#but you don't.#But I guess that's like#somehow advanced on abuse where these chucklefucks cannot even get BASIC shit right
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Why does Fox Mulder mean so much to me?
Trigger warnings: discussions of trauma, abuse, cancer, suicide, depression
Fox Mulder is so much more than a character to me. Never have I seen the inner workings of my mind represented in the way that I do in him. I feel like we understand each other, like we function the same way in this world.
Not to state the obvious, but Mulder is traumatised. Samantha’s disappearance changed his brain chemistry, and in turn, his life. As someone who has complex PTSD as a result of relationship abuse, I relate to this more than I can say. In ‘Oubliette’, Mulder’s desperation to change the course of events was out of fear of a repeat of what happened to Samantha. In this, I see myself trying to ensure that nothing like what I experienced happens again, both because of its effects on the other person, and on me. Of course, I've had to learn the hard way that I am ultimately powerless to control what happens to others. The difficulties I’ve had coming to terms with that are portrayed perfectly by Mulder's distress when he realised that Lucy had sacrificed herself for Amy, despite his best efforts. There's also a sense of inevitability and inescapability from the cycle of trauma when such things keep happening that is deeply harrowing.
In ‘Demons’, Mulder’s fear of not knowing something traumatic that happened reminded me of what I have been grappling with for years. As well as trauma from a past relationship, my sister has further traumatised me due to her severe mental health problems. It would trigger my own too much for me to know everything that is happening to her, but the unknown is worse for me, because I can't process it. My traumatised mind jumps to the worst case scenario. Thus, once again, Mulder’s reaction to being left in the dark felt like I was looking in a mirror. The sympathetic way in which his behaviour in this episode was written shows how no reaction can be considered disproportionate when it's because you're traumatised, and that is beyond validating for me. The depiction of flashbacks here also felt painfully accurate.
In ‘Memento Mori’, I recognised a lot of Mulder’s emotions due to my own experiences of life-threatening illness in people I love. Little did I know how much harder ‘Redux’ would hit! In ‘Redux’, Mulder believes he is responsible for Scully’s cancer and impending death. I know firsthand what it’s like to hold yourself responsible for someone else’s life, what it feels like to believe that you are killing somebody. I was continually shown that I couldn’t save the very person who told me I had to, because she kept getting sicker. As a result, other people’s suffering has become synonymous with my own personal failure and the consequent guilt in my mind. I would rather be failed by somebody else than have failed myself. This means that exactly like Mulder, on the verge of suicide in this episode, I would rather be the one who dies than feel so crushingly guilty. While horrible to witness, I have never seen the mental deterioration of a character who has assumed responsibility for another’s life so accurately portrayed, and that makes me feel more understood than ever before.
The entire premise of ‘The X-Files’ is that Mulder refuses to come to terms with his sister’s disappearance. His constant search for an alternative explanation, no matter how far-fetched, is what drives his character from the beginning. As an audience, we can see how that’s a form of denial, as can characters like Scully. Scully says “if it’s only by knowing where he’s been that he can hope to understand where he’s going, then I fear Agent Mulder may lose his course”. I haven’t finished the show yet, but having watched seven seasons, I am confident when I say that the crux of its development is that Mulder comes to understand “where he’s going”, without relying on “where he’s been”. As someone with a past that they quite frankly would rather die than relive, it brings me so much hope to think that I don’t have to dwell on it, that like Mulder learns to over the course of the show, I can live my life free of its shackles. That’s why ‘Closure’ is such a significant episode. However much one tries, it is impossible to explain away trauma - it happened, and one simply has to come to terms with its incomprehensible injustice. That is exactly what Mulder does here. It’s ironically titled, because there is no closure when it comes to the past, but he shows that personal growth isn’t dependent on getting that closure. Instead, he is of his own volition able to let go of the coping mechanism that has driven him up to this point: his belief that Samantha was abducted. Engaging in various types of therapy, including EMDR, to overcome my own coping mechanisms in response to my trauma is the scariest thing I have ever had to do (and that’s saying something). Seeing not only that journey represented onscreen, but shown coming to fruition, means everything.
Mulder’s trauma should incline him to be distrustful of everyone, as his ‘trust no one’ catchphrase would suggest. He evidently knows this, and yet he wants to believe in other people’s integrity so much so that it overrides the fear, and he trusts them anyway. He will take people at their word, whether that be about UFO sightings or something else. He chooses to see the good in everybody, despite having every reason not to, because, in his words, “if you don’t start trusting someone, you don’t stand a chance”. This attitude is possibly the aspect of my own personality about which I am most insecure. I used to hate myself so much for it that I wouldn’t open up to anyone at all in an effort to change who I was. I suppose I hated acting against what my experiences had shown to be true: that I could ‘trust no one’. Since meeting Mulder, though, I have thought of him every single time I begin to hate myself for being this way. This soothes me more than I can possibly describe. He makes me feel like it’s okay to be like me, or should I say, like us. Me wanting to believe in other people is not the detestable thing I had always viewed it as. I don’t think I would be able to carry on if it weren’t for his presence in this part my life. I cannot overstate his impact on me here.
Part of the reason for both me and Mulder being so trusting of others is because we do not trust ourselves. Deep down, he is insecure about whether his belief in Samantha’s abduction is credible, and so he relies on others to evidence it. For me, I do not treat my experiences as legitimate, and so I need other people’s responses to give me the validation that I cannot find within myself.
If it weren’t already obvious, I am autistic. My predisposition to trust, taking things at face value, is one manifestation of my autism. That’s not to say it’s the same for every autistic person, of course, but for me and for Mulder, I believe it is. In general, he is one of the most clearly autistic-coded characters I have ever encountered. He is ostracised by his peers and written off as ‘spooky’ for being different, something that many of us go through. Maybe, like it is for me, that’s part of the reason why he trusts people right off the bat: he wants to get the rejection that he’s used to facing out of the way before he puts in any effort. Or maybe he’s just a bad judge of what is and isn’t appropriate in a social context, again very much a trait of autism. And that’s not to mention his devotion to the X-Files and to Scully. Him surrendering every part of himself to them is exactly how I relate to the world, because all-or-nothing thinking is a huge way in which my autism functions. I was actually only diagnosed with autism two years ago, and having representation, implied or otherwise, in a character as alike to me as Mulder has helped me settle into my new identity.
It would be remiss not to further explore the fact that Mulder wouldn’t be Mulder without Scully. In the pilot, he tells Scully about his theory because he desperately wants someone on his side. She ends up not being the person he thinks he wants, but the person he actually needs. Without her, he wouldn’t have made it to the place he does in ‘Closure’; she challenges the beliefs he uses to cope, but most importantly, she loves him through it. Scully shows Mulder how genuine love can be when you’re not just being told what you want to hear, and as a result, she becomes the only person whom he can truly rely upon. The most important similarity between me and Mulder is of course that I too am in love with Scully! Scully is an incredible character who I would love to write more about in her own right, but I don’t feel as personally connected to her as I do to Mulder. I guess I’ll just say that I hope that I, and every other Mulder out there, find our Scully. People like us have so much love to give. We love so much and so deeply that people who return our love in full are almost impossible to find. One in five billion, you could say.
I cannot wait to get to know different facets of my all-time favourite character as I finish watching ‘The X-Files’. I know he will only become more important to me, especially since I know he ends up struggling with depression like I do. I hope I’ve demonstrated in writing this how beyond grateful I am to have been introduced to him, someone who is practically more me than I am! The fandom is a wonderful place to be, but in writing this, I also aim to remind myself how much the show and Mulder’s character mean to me personally.
Like Mulder, I am constantly moving, driven by the thought that “I wouldn’t know what I’d be missing”. But every once in a while, something comes along that makes me want to stay with it forever. And ‘The X-Files’, specifically the character of Fox Mulder, is one of them.
#the x files#the x-files#x files#txf#fox mulder#mulder#mulder and scully#mulder x scully#msr#oubliette#demons#memento mori#redux#closure#comfort character#favourite character#personal#trauma#autism#trust no one#i want to believe
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The you in me, I will remember
Red is for love, black is for anger, pink is for happiness, yellow is for okayish, white is for satisfaction, and many like that.
The world in which Sunwoo is born is where people are born with rings around their left ring finger which depicts the mood that their soulmate is experiencing. It’s a special kind of feeling knowing what a person who’s exclusively yours is feeling right now.
It’s a special kind of feeling knowing if your soulmate is the angry kind or a bubbly kind or something else.
Sunwoo, with a mostly pink ring around his finger, is always a bit skeptical.
How can a person always be happy? If he hadn’t seen it happening with people around him, he wouldn’t even have believed in it. And so, he waits. For the day he gets to know the name of his soulmate or sees her or meets her as the ring around their finger turns dual color. What he is feeling and what his sweet soulmate is feeling.
He waits for the day they will meet and find out if she really is that kind of person or if it’s just his connection to her that’s broken
But then one day, out of nowhere his ring turns transparent.
Sunwoo is in the middle of watching a movie and he hates the fact that he didn’t even notice the ring on his finger losing its color, dimming until it finally turns transparent so that people no one would even see a band on his finger.
Sunwoo is hurt and he mourns for a person he never met.
He mourns for the girl and hates that he might never know what happened to her.
Years later, Sunwoo is finally able to move on, with a girl he met in his office. They mesh well as he gets to know that her soulmate cheated on her again and again.
“At least you got to know how he was, I didn’t even meet her once” Sunwoo comments as their date comes to an end.
They keep meeting again and again, and one day, Sunwoo proposes, knowing she might not be his soulmate but they do have a connection of a kind.
The wedding preparations start and although it’s a small affair, (marriage to a non-soulmate is still frowned upon by many) it takes time.
By the time the wedding is done, Sunwoo can feel a deep pain in his heart, part of his soul weeping for his soulmate.
The girl’s parents come to congratulate him.
“Thank you for making our Minah so happy. It was hard and at one point, we never thought we would be able to see her recover.” Sunwoo listened to his now father-in-law speak but in the middle of it, his ring finger tingled.
“Yes, our poor girls. One lost her life and another is forever gonna live in the guilt that she might be the reason her sister…” but Sunwoo is only half listening because the ring on his finger finally turns to purple.
Purple for confusion and the color deepens as hard as he looks at the ring.
“That girl, my Soyi, gave her all to save Minah” Sunwoo turned the ring. It was still transparent.
“She died while trying to save Minah from her abusive boyfriend”
Cheon Soyi.
Born 14th October 2003.
Loving daughter, brave sister.
Sunwoo cries as he sees her tombstone. It’s not clean, and it's not new, having been in this place for the past 7 years.
The tombstone of his wife’s sister who died trying to save her.
The tombstone of his soulmate.
“Soyi, I have taken a lot of things from you in this life” Sunwoo hears Minah speaking “First your clothes, then your makeup, your life, and now your soulmate. In the next life, please take everything you want from me. Or else I will forever be indebted to my little sister. I have been trying my best to take care of Mom and Dad as I promised. I will take care of Sunwoo too.”
Sunwoo wipes his tears.
“We have never met Soyi ssi. But I think I have known a part of you, of who you were. And I am so glad we are soulmates. In our next lives, let’s definitely meet.”
Sunwoo takes Minah’s hands as they get up, both comforting each other and walk away with promise of living a life of pink.
#sunwoo#sunwoo angst#theboy#fanfic#ff#angst#tbz#tbz sunwoo#the boyz sunwoo#sunwoo x reader#sunwoo x you#the boyz angst#soulmates#au
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Flames.
Summary: Skid is saved from a situation he never thought he'd be in. But now he has to heal from everything he went through. And he doesn't know how.
Chapter 11: Keender.
TWS: REPETITION, TRAUMA, NIGHTMARES, SKID HAS A NIGHTMARE, PEOPLE BEING ASSHOLES, PEOPLE SIMPING OVER A LITERAL ABUSER, UNFORTUNATELY REALISTIC DEPICTIONS OF HOW PEOPLE TREAT BAD PEOPLE WHO HAPPEN TO BE SOMEWHAT GOOD LOOKING, PHYSICAL ABUSE, CHILD ABUSE.
(SERIOUSLY. SKID GOES THROUGH A LOT IN THIS SHIT. BE WARNED. YES, THIS IS A STORY ABOUT HIM SLOWLY HEALING FROM HIS TRAUMA, OR AT LEAST TRYING TO. BUT THAT DOESNT MEAN ITS NOT SOMEWHAT DARK. BE WARNED. DONT WORRY THOUGH, IT DOESNT ROMANTICIZE ANY OF THE DARK THINGS IN IT THOUGH. IT IS POTRAYED AS A BAD THING. THIS IS JUST ABOUT SKID HEALING FROM A BAD EXPERIENCE.)
(I ALSO PARTIALLY WROTE THIS STORY TO KINDA COPE WITH MY TRAUMA, SINCE WRITING ABOUT PEOPLE SLOWLY HEALING FROM THEIR TRAUMA KINDA MAKES ME FEEL BETTER ABOUT MY OWN EXPERIENCES.)
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Skid wouldn't be going to the candy store for a little while.
Well, that was at least what his mother had told him. She had apologized to him, saying she shouldn't have brought him there and that she should have known better. And despite Skid's pleads for her to know she did nothing wrong, she refused to believe otherwise.
As of now, Skid had already been suited back into his pajama's. They felt comforting against his skin, like a warm hug being pressed against himself. In all fairness, he really did need a hug right now. The sky was now a color of midnight black, stars speckled across the plane of the source of the darkness from above. The moon was shining brightly and peacefully from on high. Skid could hear the faint chirping of the crickets from outside.
As of now, he was in his bed. His mother had decided that maybe it was best he got some rest for the night. He had been tucked comfortably beneath the fuzzy covers of his blanket. His knees felt weak and numb underneath the blanket. And for literal minutes now, he had basically just been laying there in the dark, staring up at the ceiling helplessly. What was a kid like him to do?
Pump was already gone at this point. His mother had sent him off, saying that maybe Skid would need to rest for a little while. Yet, even as Pump left, Skid could see a concerned shimmer in his eyes. Pangs of guilt shrouded Skid internally, like a knife being forcefully shoved into his chest. It pierced deeply, as if a physical wound had really opened up inside of him. Skid was really starting to wonder just what was wrong with him.
He turned over. He could hear the muffled sounds of the TV from outside of his door, despite it being closed. His mother was still in the living room, most likely sitting on the couch and attempting to watch something in order to forget most of what had happened today. Skid gulped. Internally, he scolded himself for.. for what had happened today. He didn't know why he broke down in the candy store today, but he felt as if it was all his fault.
Skid weakly looked upwards. A thought entered his mind. He considered perhaps attempting to get out of bed and apologizing to his mother, but.. she'd be angry, wouldn't she? If he had gotten out of bed. No.. she wouldn't. She wasn't like that. Skid knew that so! So why did his mind seem so intent on portraying her like she was going to hurt him even though she never did?! Was it a fear? Some kind of anxiety?
Or maybe he was just ungrateful..
Skid grumbled weakly. He raised up one of his hands, and lightly bonked himself on the head. What was he thinking? Treating his own mother like she was some sort of monster... just what was wrong with him?
As he laid there in silence, he suddenly heard the audio from the TV switch to something else. Despite it being outside, he was able to tell that it was clearly on something else entirely now. It wasn't anything important certainly. He considered just trying to sleep for a few moments more, and possibly apologizing tomorrow so his mother wouldn't be worried for his own sleep. A part of him kept thinking that for whatever reason, she would be angry though.
Then, he blinked. He could hear what the voice on whatever channel his mother was watching was saying. Judging by the firm but professional tone in the male voice that was on the channel, he assumed that most likely, it was the news channel. He arched a brow—wondering why his mother would be watching the news late at night.
He then heard, and began to process the muffled words of the voice that was speaking. "Last night, there was a 35 year old man by the name of Keender Roosevelt arrested for kidnapping and possibly child abuse. He was faced with charges, but some individuals online have taken a strange liking to him."
Skid clenched his sheets, his eyes widening.
The voice continued to speak. "Most of the followers online are young women, who claim that Keender shouldn't be in jail because reportedly, he's 'too handsome to go to jail'. Some individuals online try to claim that what he did was justified for various reasons, and some even empathize with him. Some have even written fan letters to him."
Skid's pupils shook, water beginning to form in his eyes. He didn't understand exactly what he was hearing.
"Other information about Keender Roosevelt reportedly states that he was a failed screenwriter. Supposedly, the monster had a wife and a son of his own at the age of 28, but the two apparently mysteriously went missing. The last reported sighting of Keender's son had apparently been—"
...the voice stopped. Judging by the sudden clicking sound, and the muting of the audio, the TV had most likely been turned off. His mother had turned the TV off. In the gaps of his hearing, all Skid could hear now was the sound of the air conditioning and the chirping of the crickets.
Skid clenched his sheets yet again, tears slowly seeping out from the corner of his eye. People.. liked Keender? But—but why? He didn't even understand any of what he had just heard. In the silence, Skid continued to lay on his bed, his eyes wide open in the dark.
Skid then heard the sounds of distant light footsteps.
He then clenched his eyes shut, burying his face into his pillow. He hoped to god that soon he'd drift off to sleep and forget all about what he had just heard. The footsteps drew nearer, Skid's skin grew clammier and more tingly. But even as it did, Skid felt his muscles become numb, and the world around him slowly began to fade into the cage of slumber that resided within his innocent mind.
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In a hazy vision, Skid was in a car. Upon the hot metal seating of a car, in fact. He was in the back seat of a car. The seat beneath him felt hot, warm. Painful, even. He could feel it underneath his tiny legs. It ached, and he wanted so badly to squirm in his own slight agony. Yet for whatever reason, he didn't. He held it back. He held back the urge to quietly whimper.
He could feel heat against his pale skin. The warm summer air of.. wherever he was. Most likely, the AC in the car wasn't on, and due to that, it felt warmer than any fire that could be started. Skid could see the light blue sky outside, and various cars that were parked near. He didn't know where he was, but it almost felt familiar.
In the car he was in, Skid could see various items. Stacks of unmoved clothing, bags of opened snacks, an empty can. He could smell something foul, but he wasn't really sure what it might have been. The sun blazed it's glow upon him, and he held back another whimper. His eyes clenched tightly shut. His skin felt clammy and hot, and he could feel a wet feeling in the corners of his eyes. He felt weak.. weaker than before. He didn't even know what was happening.
"Jesus fuckin'.. I swear to.." He heard Keender's masculine and rough voice speak from in the front of the seat. Skid raised his head up, not out of curiosity, but to see what exactly it was that Keender had been cursing to himself about. As he raised his head, he could see Keender in the driver's seat with a cigarette held between his slender fingers. There was a light red cut on one of his fingers. Skid already knew what it was from. He had recalled a few days ago that Keender had somehow given himself a paper cut whenever he was trying to take a piece of paper from Skid. Skid internally blamed himself, feeling at fault for what happened.
Even so, Skid couldn't tell what Keender was mad about. A wasp buzzed from outside, and lightly ran into the car window that was beside Skid. Hesitantly, Skid spoke up. His voice still sounded meek, as it usually did whenever he spoke to Keender. "I—I'm sorry.." He didn't know what he did. But he assumed that Keender was most likely cursing because of him.
Keender turned his gaze toward him, and a chill went down Skid's spine. A bead of sweat slightly trickled down Skid's cheek. He held back the urge to whimper in the sheer fear of Keender staring at him. Keender then grumbled, saying, "Sorry for what, kid? And didn't I tell ya not to speak unless I spoke to you? What the fuck are you speaking for?"
Skid merely quietly whined in response, looking off to the side. Keender looked away from Skid, sighing. "Jesus fuckin' Christ.. whatever, kid. Just don't talk, okay? We'll be back at my house once I'm done smokin'." Keender stated. Keenders lips then lightly touched his cigarette, and outwards came a puff of smoke. Skid couldn't exactly see his face when it was turned away from him. He was weirdly glad he couldn't see his face though.
Skid then looked away. Beside him, there was a chipped cup of water. It was something Keender had gotten for him while they had been out on this little trip of theirs. Skid didn't really know why Keender decided to take him. He was going to consider yelling for help whenever Keender wasn't looking, but considering Keender was with him at all times, he wasn't sure if he'd be able to do that.
A bit of thirst internally pulsed inside of Skid's throat. He was longing for something to drink in this heat, and his water was the only thing he had. He looked at the cup, his eyes feeling dry from how many times he had cried today. He then lifted up his hand weakly. It shook slightly, violently even. It was hard to really hold onto things with how weak he had been lately. Yet even so, he continued to reach out for it.
Finally, his palm touched the cold glass. He held back a whimper, and let his fingers clench onto it. Then, carefully, he began to slowly try and grab it so he could pull it toward himself. Successfully, he managed to grab it. Tightly, with his hands clenched around it, he pulled it close to his dry lips. He needed something to drink right now. And fast.
He then tipped the cup, and let the liquid enter his mouth. It felt cold.. a bit of a chill ran down Skid's spine when he drank it. But it tasted weirdly good even so. Water never really tasted good to him. So maybe the heat was just affecting him? He then slowly stopped drinking it, and slowly pulled it away from his lips.
Skid then began to try and put the cup back where it was. A puff of smoke went out from Keenders lips again. His hands kept shaking, yet he tried to keep them steady. Steady. Steady. What was steady? He was starting to forget the meaning of the word because of how long he had even been around Keender.
Then, it slipped.
It fell from his hands, and onto the fuzzy messy floor of the car. Liquid poured out from the cup, and it fell with a hard thud. It was almost a miracle that it didn't break. Skid gasped softly, his voice barely audible. He immediately looked upwards at Keender, his gaze helpless. Already, Keender had been looking back at him. "What.. what the fuck?" Keender cursed. Pants began to violently escape Skid's mouth. Keender leaned his head over to see whatever had just fallen. In the darkness of the floor of the car, Keender could barely see.
Keender then looked back up. And judging by the sharp glare in his eyes, it was clear he wasn't happy. His brows were furrowed, his mouth was drawn back into a snarl. Skid opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. He suddenly felt a hand wrap around his neck, and with a push, a sharp pain formed on his face! His body contorted further back into the seat of his car, and on instinct, he began to curl up into a ball.
Sharp, hurtful slaps began to be inflicted on different parts of Skid's body. Skid covered his head with his hair, and his eyes remained tightly shut. He could tell it was Keender who was slapping him, even though his eyes weren't even open. Keender began to yell violently, his voice tinted with an unpredictable rage that had been unleashed from him like a volcano. "You little brat! I just fucking got that water for you! How could you?!"
Skid whimpered. Sobbed. Cried. But there was nothing to be done in this situation, no one was around to help him.
He began to cry, whining. "I'm sorry.. I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'm sorry!"
A final blow was landed near his head, and in that last moment, he sobbed again, "I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'm.."
————
Skid began to writhe violently on his bed. His legs began to kick, his arms gravitated towards his eyes in an effort to hide his tears. The tendrils of his hair were now messy thanks to his constant tossing and turning. His eyes were completely wet with tears that he had presumably been crying while he was asleep. A pitiful but tiny scream began to escape his mouth. He whined, over and over through tears and gasps, "I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'm sorry!"
The door immediately opened. In this moment, he wasn't able to tell who it was. But whoever it had been approached fastly toward the bed, and two arms were softly wrapped around his body. A hand went to his head, stroking it gently. "Agh!" Skid yelped. It wasn't hurting him. But he couldn't help but yelp anyway.
"Shhh.. shhh.. its okay, it's okay.." Skid heard his mother's voice speak. It was only then he processed that it was his mom speaking to him. He began to cry more in the realization. "Mama.. mom.. mom!" He whimpered. His eyes were still shut, tears pouring out from them like a waterfall.
His mother continued to presumably hug him, speaking in a soft tone, "It was just a nightmare.. its okay.. I'm here.. you're not there anymore.." She seemed to have known what happened despite not even being there herself. Was Skid really that obvious?
Skid sniffled again, his sobs becoming quieter. He opened his eyes. He could see his mother's concerned face in the dark of the room. His hands instinctively went to her, and he could feel her shoulders beneath his hands. "Mom.." He quietly whimpered. "Its okay.. you don't have to tell me what happened. You're here now. You're safe." She assured him.
Skid let out one last sniffle, and began to quietly cry, for it was all he could do. But even with his cries, he could have sworn he heard sniffles coming from his mother too.
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E
#spooky month#skid spooky month#lila spooky month#flames spooky month chapter 11#flames spooky month#read the tws
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X-Manson Chapter 3 by Doctor Benway - Annotated by Tsar
We now get into the portion of the story that discusses the raid and its immediate fallout. Tw for depictions of assault, gore, and child abuse.
[Shot of Douglas and Marie-Ange Ramsey]
DR: The raid. Oh, boy.
Int: Why did you not bring in the authorities?
DR: I think there was too much going on. I was freaking out over Ariel ending up there, then Elizabeth Braddock disappeared and there was that big manhunt and there were reporters all over the place, and then Professor Lehnsherr showed up and he was in a worse state than I was.
[Shot of Gabrielle Lehnsherr]
GL: He can't talk about it, can't even think about it. I only know parts, from what he cries out in the night and from the reports on the investigation.
Int: He went to Emma Frost for help?
GL: It seemed the logical place to start, since she knew about the School and was a psi. Also, at the time Erich was not welcome in the US at all. Besides the Cape Citadel incident, his interference in the deployment of nuclear weapons in Europe and his resolution of the Korean conflict had made him a great many enemies in Washington, especially in the State and Defence Departments. It was part of why we lived in Vienna. When we tried to live in Germany, the Americans had them revoke his visa. The French and the British were no help, since Erich kept messing with their missile programs also.
Int: So he entered the US illegally?
GL: Yes. He flew to Montreal on a commercial flight, then flew to the Academy on his own power. His original plan was to convince Emma Frost to engage the authorities in an assault on Xavier's school.
Int: But that's not what happened.
GL: No.
[Shot of Emma Frost]
EF: Ultimately, the responsibility for the raid on Xavier's school is mine alone. If I could go back and change anything in my life, it would have been my decision to attack without support.
Int: Just you and Erich Lehnsherr?
EF: Yes. I found that my resistance was not what I had hoped that it was. With Erich's panic and Doug's fear and my own guilt for not going myself to pick up Ms Braddock from the airport, I allowed myself to act precipitously. Xavier was going to New York to debate a fundamentalist preacher over mutant rights issues. Doug hacked into the computers at the Stryker Crusade and found that Xavier was to be accompanied by Summers, Grey and Logan. Worthington was supposed to be at some big pro-mutant fundraiser in Los Angeles, and McCoy was still in Princeton. From what Douglas and Angelica and Vance had said, that left the Russian and the Irishman in charge of the School. We thought that we had a chance. It was hubris, pure hubris.
*Takes place somewhere around God Loves Man Kills. Scott being there raises questions; maybe the raid takes place roughly after his liaison with Maddie.
[Shot of Doug and Marie-Ange Ramsey]
DR: I had a feeling that they were going to try something on their own. Vance and I talked about calling the FBI and then he told me about what happened with the cops again, so we decided that we'd have to call a whole lot of different places at once so that there'd be too many for Xavier to get his claws into. Vance was into calling the Avengers. Angie ran in and said she saw Emma and Erich heading for the chopper. Vance and Angie took off after them, but she sent them back.
Int: Manipulating them?
*at this point, the Interviewer has made a lot of suggestions that psychics are always manipulating people. perhaps rightly so.
DR: No, no. Just sending very forcefully. She told us not to follow. We had a big argument. I said we should follow, Vance and Angie wanted to do what Emma said.
Int: But you ended up there.
DR: I said goodnight to them then took a taxi and the train to Boston followed by a train to Rye. Then I took a taxi to Salem Centre. I got there at 10:30.
Int: Why did you disobey Frost?
DR: I just had this terrible feeling that something was going to go wrong. Kind of like what Marie-Ange gets when she deals the cards, but not so focused. I had this feeling that we'd overlooked something.
Int: Did you have a plan?
DR: Kind of. It was so insane in retrospect that I still can't get over the fact that I'm still alive. I had this crazy idea of sneaking around the outside and checking to make sure everything was OK, that they'd all gotten out. Then I would call for help, if anything looked wrong. I couldn't see anything from the road, so I got into the grounds by going over the wall and into the woods. I didn't even think that they had any security equipment in place. I found what was left of the helicopter under a tarp by the lake, but neither of them were in it. I was going to go and phone Vance and all the agencies when I saw the car drive up.
Int: Their car?
DR: The Rolls-Royce. I saw Xavier get out and go into the house with Logan and Summers and Grey.
Int: They had no idea that you were there?
DR: I'm resistant enough that he couldn't pick me up unless he knew where I was. If there hadn't been a storm blowing in, or if it had been blowing in from behind me, Logan would have picked me out. If I'd known how lucky I was, I would have just taken off and made the calls.
*ororo reference?
Int: But you didn't.
DR: No. They weren't racing in, so I knew, just knew, that Ariel and Ms Frost were still in there. I watched Xavier go into a side entrance to the house, kind of into a basement. I waited five minutes, then went to the door. It was open and it was dark inside, so I went in.
Int: What did you find?
DR: Guns. Lots of guns and grenades and something that looked like a missile. There was another door, kind of half open. I went over to it, and looked in. It opened onto a kind of balcony over this indoor pool. It was all tiles, and it really stank. There were people down around the pool chanting, and one of them was walking back and forth over the surface of the water. The water was, it was, it was-
*The x-men do have an armory.
MAR: Blood.
DR: It was like he was walking on a pool of blood, but it couldn't have been blood. Not that much..
*they had to store it somewhere, douglas.
Int: Did you see Emma Frost and Erich Lehnsherr there?
DR: I saw them, I saw Xavier, but not much else. From what I did see, Emma was being held by some kind of force and Professor Lehnsherr was floating in the air, moaning. I didn't know it at the time, but it was Cable walking on the water, holding them there.
*in an earlier post, i referened Xuan and Dani as being the second or third Psi Mentioned by Brian Braddock. I forgot about Cable. He could take either place, but it's likely Xuan's place.
Int: So what did you do?
DR: I thought of running, but I just knew that they'd be killed before help would come. Then it struck me. They might have all that power, but I was in a room full of grenades. I thought that if I could distract them like they did in all those World War 2 movies, then they might be able to escape. I found some grenades that said they were concussion grenades and some that were smoke. I laid out three of each and then I pulled all the pins really quick, then threw them through the door all at once.
Int: What happened?
DR: They always counted to ten in the movies, but these things had twenty second fuses. I counted onetwothreefour as I pulled the pins fivesix as I picked them up, seven as I stepped up to the doorway, eight as I threw them, nine as I turned and ran, then ten and nothing. I mean, I had it all thought out, and it didn't work, so I stopped dead, turned around, went back, and looked. They were all staring at me.
Int: Oh shit.
DR: Oh yeah. Emma sent to me: RUN. I ran, and I kept thinking of the car and I just got outside when all the grenades starting going off. I heard the roar and the glass breaking and I thought, I killed them all. I got to the car and the keys were still in it. I started it just like I'd seen my Dad do, and Emma sent to me and told me to drive it around the side. If it hadn't been an automatic, we'd have been fucked. So I drove this car, which was about the size of a bus, down across the lawn just as she's dragging Professor Lehnsherr out the door. There's people all over the place, crawling out the windows, throwing up everywhere from the gas, but they don't see us. She wrenches open the door and throws Erich in and sends DRIVE so hard I had a nosebleed. So I drove.
Int: Did any of them try to stop you?
SR: Logan was the only one in any shape to stop us. He tried to charge the car.
*fuck.
Int: So you drove away from him?
DR: Ran right over him.
MAR: That's enough. Stop the tape.
*Point to Tarot for stopping it before Doug has a war flashback
[Shot of Gabrielle Lehnsherr]
GL: Erich regressed. What he saw took him back to the War. He had a very bad War, as well you know. He didn't utter a single word for five years after that. It took a decade for him to make a full recovery. He did all he could, but he couldn't save my son.
*Xavier or Cable hit him with all his repressed trauma, i think.
[Shot of Douglas & Marie-Ange Ramsey]
DR: Sorry about that. I'm OK.
MAR: If you're certain.
*tension in the marriage?
DR: I am.
Int: How did you get back to the Academy?
DR: I had to get out of the grounds first, and I was panicking. I mean, I could barely reach the pedals and see over the dash at the same time. I remember driving across the patio twice and almost hitting people both times, then I somehow found the gate and drove out of it. I pulled over about half a mile down the road and looked in the back. The Professor was unconscious, and Emma was just sort of collapsed on top of him. I looked at her and said I can't drive or something like that and she just stared back at me, like she was some other person.
Int: She was possessed?
DR: Not in the classical sense. You know those old comics where someone sees a ghost and their hair turns white overnight? It was exactly like that, except that her hair was already white, it was just like her face matched or something. I could see people in the road, so I took off. I drove for like three hours until I found this phone booth by the side of the road. I called the school emergency number and got Mr. Fitzroy, and said that he had to come out and get us.
Int: How did he find you?
DR: I gave him the number, and I think he had some connection in the phone company. He was out with half a dozen masters in a van within 15 minutes. It turned out I was only ten miles from the Academy.
Int: Did you go to the authorities?
DR: When I got back, they sedated me. They didn't know that would break down my natural resistance to telepathy. I was almost asleep when they came to see me.
Int: Who?
DR: Xavier and Cable and Ariel. They were standing at the foot of my bed. They weren't physically there, of course, but they were there for me. To give me a message.
Int: Did you know it was her?
DR: Not until they told me. She was very pretty. She had long brown hair and these big brown eyes. She looked so scared.
-----
She sits up, upending the half-fill tub of chip dip onto the shag carpet. The chips follow, but she doesn't notice. She goes down on her knees before the set and touches the image of his face on the warm unyielding glass.
#xmen fanfiction#marvel#marvel fanfiction#tw cannibalism#tw assault#tw child abuse#emma frost#doug ramsey#magneto#erik lehnsherr#max eisenhardt#kitty pryde#nathanial summers
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Tw: T-cest enjoyer guilt (I guess???)
Let me start off by saying you have absolutely every right not to answer this ask, as it might be a bit too personal. Seriously. But as I'm sure you understand, there are not a lot of people I can openly talk about this to.
I just wanted to say that I concur with the last anon. (I say, trying to ignore how much it hurts that we have to use anon in the first place.)
I hate to use your asks as a vent, but a couple of months back, I sent an unnecessarily passive-aggressive ask on a pro shipper's blog, which I rightfully got criticized for by several people. I just scoffed at it all and loathed them for some time, but then I gradually fell into the community and felt shameful for hating those people, now my people, for the longest time.
I'm not going to lie and say, "oh yeah, I completely turned around after enjoying something t-cest related!" or some sugar-coated shit like that. As soon as I acknowledged I was becoming acceptive of it, I actually spiraled into some pretty severe self-hatred. I won't go into detail for obvious reasons, but like. You get the picture.
Anyway, point is, I know now that judging someone for liking t-cest is fucking stupid. Like you said, just like an author who writes about murder or other dark themes, enjoying anything in fiction that is incest-related does not mean you yourself are interested in or romanticize it. We are not disgusting creatures for taking pleasure in a fucked up topic that's FICTIONAL.
So. Yeah. I'm sorry for judging you and others, I'm a changed person now, and I'm glad that we have each other even though the antis despise us. Thank you for coming to my TED Talk.
im sorry to hear about your spiraling, but im glad you're in a better place now. i had that spiral when i was 12 or so and it wrecked my self-view for a good while. i know how hard it is to accept yourself, including the parts that enjoy dark fiction.
i have no interest in my siblings (and that thought seriously grosses me out) but i have always had an interest in fiction depicting the dark and societally unacceptable, ever since my abuse--including incest, which i started exploring in my writing when i was 11 or 12. this has ranged from gore and whump when i was younger to sexual deviancy when puberty hit, and i've gotten my fair share of hate for it. but i know who i am, and i know i would never hurt someone. and i've shared this with my therapist, as well. i've shared the way incest stories and whump help me process some of the feelings my abuse left me with, and we agree that its a healthy outlet.
and im glad we have each other as well. community is important, and learning to accept yourself, icky thoughts and all, is also vital to a happy life. i want to spread positivity and connections throughout the tcest & general proship community. you're right, we're not monsters, we're just people who's tastes in fiction veer on the less-wholesome-and-acceptable side, for whatever reasons we might have, which is perfectly fine. (and its perfectly fine to ship or enjoy dark and problematic things even if you don't have a history of abuse or anything, fyi. thoughts =/= actions and you dont need any justification to write, draw, or ship what you like)
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When Law is Lawless
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions of Violence/Non-Con***
Length: 16.8k 4/20 Chapters
Summary:
After a drunken brawl leaves a man dead, Steve Rogers is arrested and, on the advice of his lawyer, pleads guilty to manslaughter in hopes of a lesser sentence. Unfortunately, because of Steve’s background and experience, he’s given a sentence of five to ten years in a maximum-security prison.
Trapped in an endless sea of guilt and fear, Steve does whatever he can to survive this nightmare and not lose himself to the horrors and violence of prison life, especially the vicious abuse at the hands of cruel and sadistic prison guards.
The last thing Steve expects is to find a true connection with anyone, let alone fall in love. But there’s something intriguing about his surly, miserable, mad-at-the-world bunkmate, Barnes, and whatever it is, it might be the key to both of them getting through this terrifying ordeal together.
Sample:
“Mom, I…” Don’t want to argue. Not now. Not when this time is so precious and limited. “I don’t wanna fight.” I just wanna go home. “Can we talk about something else?”
“Yes, of course. What--”
“Just…tell me about your day. Please.”
While she’s mostly already done that when they started talking, she tells him that it was cold outside today. She went to the post office. She ordered dinner because she wanted to be here just in case he called. She’s in the middle of telling him what she watched on television today when the operator cuts in.
“You have one minute remaining.”
No. Oh, no, please, no, Steve thinks. Not yet. Please, not yet, just a little longer.
“We’re gonna get you out of there, son,” she promises, and Steve knows this is the most important promise she’s ever made. “You don’t belong in there.”
“A lot of people don’t.”
“I know,” she murmurs. “But I can only focus on you. Call me when you can, Steve. I love you, angel.”
“I will. I lo--”
The line goes dead, and Steve’s breath hitches over the last word he didn’t get to say.
He stands there for another moment with the phone still pressed against his ear, as though Sarah’s voice will magically come through it again. It doesn’t, of course, and Steve sighs as he hangs the phone back onto the receiver.
Someone shoves into him while he turns back to the common room. Steve’s pretty sure he curses at him as well, but he doesn’t pay him any attention. Let them hurt him. Let them beat the shit out of him. He doesn’t care anymore. Someone else, apparently, does.
“Hands to yourself, Gargan.”
The only reason Steve even looks up is that the firm, scolding voice belongs to a female. The blonde lady from earlier. Danvers. The man she yelled at--who has a shaved head, a burn scar over his left eye and a scorpion tattoo on his neck--holds his palms out with a snicker. His eyes never fall away from Steve and when Steve holds his gaze longer, that twisted smirk becomes more defined.
“On your way, gentlemen,” Danvers orders, hand moving to her baton. “Get going.”
Gargan continues his way to the phone bank, while Steve attempts to keep going further into the common room. He’s held up, though, when Danvers stops him. For a few seconds, Steve wonders if he’s done something wrong. If he’s about to get a write-up on his first day.
All she does, though, is stare at him. His face, in particular. As though she’s assessing something, her eyes taking him in.
“Where’d you get the shiner?” she asks when she’s finished.
Well, that answers that. Steve must have gotten a black eye when he was punched in the showers.
Before answering, he reaches up to his face, his fingers just grazing the spot below the swelling of his right eye. Not that he intends on telling her who hit him. First of all, Steve doesn’t even know the guy’s name. Even if he did, he wouldn’t tell. That’ll get him a world of trouble. He knows the phrase that goes along with narcing on someone.
“I fell,” he mutters.
Danvers’ eyebrows raise in obvious disbelief. “You…fell?”
“That’s right.”
“People don’t fall and get black eyes.”
Gaze dropping to his feet, Steve shifts his weight and sighs as he tries to come up with some way to answer her without sounding disrespectful.
“Have I done something wrong, ma’am?”
“Not that I know of.”
Steve lifts his head and looks at her with a slight pull at his lips. Possibly, an attempted smile out of respect, but he can’t exactly manage it.
“Can I go, then?”
“Where ya headed?”
Now Steve doesn’t know if she’s hassling him just to be a pain or if she’s just doing her job. She doesn’t come off like some of the others. Like that Ward guy or Underwood lady. There’s something tough and stern about her, but she doesn’t scream asshole. Not a mean asshole, anyway.
“Just…” Steve gestures to the round tables. “Just over there.”
Danvers nods her head in that direction, and Steve takes it to mean he can proceed.
***This is unlike anything I’ve ever written before. If there’s something in particular in a chapter that should be singled out, I’ll place a trigger warning in the notes. There will be two chapters later on that contain graphic violence and prison rape (most likely chapters 10 and 11 which will have warnings beforehand). Please be mindful of the tags. This is a dark story but it will have a happy ending.
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Before I leave You (Part 2)
(Omegaverse au, Mafia au, Bts x Reader)
Summary: On the worst days, Yoongi is judge, jury, and executioner. But he judges you and finds you worthy of protecting (and loving too).
Pairing: Beta! Yoongi, Omega! Reader, Omega! Jungkook, Omega! Seokjin, Alpha! Namjoon, Alpha! Hoseok, Alpha! Taehyung, Alpha! Jimin,
Tags: Dead bodies, blood, murder/crime themes, guilt, childhood trauma, drugs (cocaine, heroine), domestic abuse, emotional abuse, physical abuse, controlling behavior, implications of omega mistreatment/discrimination, anorexia, blood, graphic depictions of violence, manipulation, morally gray Yoongi, graphic (dreamed) death scenes
W/c: 16.0k
A/n: ahhhh somehow this part gave me a lot of trouble and i just feel like i can’t get it the way i want it T-T it’s so long holy fuck, it’s hard to believe that before editing this was only 4k words. i hope you like this chapter! im upset with myself for how long this is
Previous part — Masterlist
Part 2: The Don
Maybe this is the better time to tell you how Yoongi found you- and why he left in the first place. Like with most good tragedies, this story starts with a death and a secret.
While betas are valued mostly for their level heads- they’re also more valued as secret keepers. Yoongi is probably the best secret keeper in the whole state- maybe the whole country even. Most of the time- he keeps his family's secret so well that he doesn’t even let himself think about them.
Yes, his blood family. Not his found family. I get that it’s confusing, but ‘blood family’ couldn’t be more accurate when it came to talking about the people that Yoongi was actually related to. They're the ones that painted Yoongi’s hands with blood like they were painting the mona lisa, when he was barely old enough to drive a car, let alone learn how to be a murderer and get away with it. You're one of us now- no escaping it. Down to the marrow in your bones Min Yoongi- You are one of us.
Being a beta born into a mafia family is both a blessing and a curse. On one hand- Yoongi was expected to have little hand in most of the violence. Tradition said that the betas shouldn’t sully their hands with blood and gunpowder on the daily, doing the dirty work only when the situation called for it. A special touch- a unique ruthlessness.
On the worst days, Yoongi is judge, jury, and executioner.
He’d grown up outside of the normal hierarchy that was inflicted on the rest of his siblings and cousins, immune from the constant warring families and jostling for power, Left to his own devices through childhood and most of his adulthood. It didn’t matter which family was really his- because Yoongi would serve the greater interests of the pack.
That didn't mean he hadn't seen everything; the peoples whose lives they'd ruined with drugs. Rich socialites, and college kids alike turned to wraiths in months by his family's heroine. The prostitutes that looked at Yoongi’s father like he was their next meal ticket.
Yoongi was 13 when he first touched a dead body, and he remembers the vile of it. He’d thrown up afterwards pushed by the realization that one day- he’d be still and rotting like that.
The other mobsters had laughed at his squeamishness as if he’d made some sort of childish joke. His father petting down his hair like he was just some little kid who had the flu. "It’s okay, he'll get used to it in time" if anything, this was something to laugh about- look at the kid and his squeamishness, he'll get a handle it on it soon- you know how you were at that age.
It was then that Yoongi realized that he wasn’t like them. He’d never get used to this and never find it something to revel in. He'd either find a way to bring it all down, or he'd leave, and never come back as soon as he was able. Foolish dreams, you can't wish the bad blood out of your veins and off of your hands no matter how hard you try.
Blood is blood, no matter who it’s in or what it’s on.
Having him on a job was considered both an honor and a threat. Because if the beta was checking that your operation was up to board then only the mafia Don had put him to the task. Even though Yoongi’s position has been decided for him- that doesn’t mean he’s exactly immune from the more political aspects of his birthright.
Favors and kind words are a currency he traffics in, more than drugs or money or ghost guns. “I’m sorry I don’t have time to drop the shipment off, I’m sure you’re sympathetic, our baby beta- you’re growing up so well your mother must be so proud. She knows how stressful it is- having so many pups at once. Make sure you take a gram for yourself.” and that’s how Yoongi would end up trekking kilos of cocaine across the city as a teenager.
Yoongi’s sub-gender was a tremendous advantage on the more difficult jobs. How many times had he been the getaway driver during a murder? Death sitting in the backseat of his car and yoongi in the driver's seat, a body in the trunk, stopped by the police. The officers always straighten up when they see Yoongi, his scent hitting them and making them flinch. “I’m sorry officers, but I’m really in a hurry, you don’t really need my license and registration do you?”
And of course they’d always replied with “We’re sorry to bother you, have a nice night sir.” He’d been sir since the first second he’d started to lose his baby face.
You just didn’t interfere with the business of a beta, even if that business was murder, racketeering, prostitution, drugs, and illegal firearms among a dozen other institutions that the mafia was involved in.
What had once been more than a dozen different organized crime families with decades of war between them had joined nearly three generations ago as one united front. They’re unstoppable and more organized than the local government to be perfectly honest. There is no larger organization on this side of the country. Only Yoongi’s crime family, all others that begin to sprout like weeds get firmly squashed under their heal once they reach a certain size.
Now that he lives away, Yoongi’s only job is to settle internal disputes. Like which out of two twins would inherit a father’s title, spats between the families, and slights dealt that required mending for the good of the organization. He’s far enough away that he rarely has to actually commit a crime. He’s gotten used to the calls at all hours of the day, encrypted conversations that he can’t avoid.
Leaving has been a source of contention ever since he left, after his parent's death when he just couldn't handle being surrounded by death anymore. They’d died suddenly, and Yoongi doesn't even really remember the last time he saw them. It had been a regular morning that had passed as thousands of others had, unremarkable except for the fact that it was last time he would see them alive.
Yoongi’s always had a sensitive heart, and rest of the family just thought he was dealing with the grief of losing his parents when he ran away. They thought it was that- and not a dedication of his soul and a rejection of what they wanted to make of him. Yoongi wouldn’t let himself become a monster.
There are maybe two dozen Min’s left. And as the holder of the successive beta, they’re awarded more power than the other families, that and the fact that the don was also the child of a min, gave them a near controlling interest in the business of the pack.
Without his parents, Yoongi’s older brother had been put in charge, 23 and ready to prove himself just as much of a ruthless leader as Yoongi’s father had been. His older brother might have flourished under the new title of head of house, but Yoongi felt like he was drowning without his parents. Without his mother to remind him of what it was like to live and not just survive- Yoongi felt like he was dying.
His upbringing had made Yoongi leader, and had made Geumjae, his older brother, a killer.
While Yoongi had grown up with the safety of his sub-gender to shield him from the worst parts of mafia life, Geumjae had not had the same luxury. Pulled into backroom deals and showed the finer points of torture at an age young enough to be proper and polite about it (And to not alert the federal government or the police.)
One of Yoongi’s cousins had tried to go to the FBI after being grounded before- a foolish reaction to not being allowed to go out with his friends. A stupid child- but the family hadn’t seen that- no- the family had left barely a thimbleful of him left for his parents who had barely even cried for their son. There is no room for moles or dissent in their family. You’re either with them and alive or against them and dead.
Geumjae had found the bloodshed something to reveal it- something to love just as much as Yoongi had found love in those 6 souls across the country. Geumjae had only blood and money to pad the inside of his heart.
It feels weird to think that he doesn’t know his own brother. But they haven’t even seen each other in the nearly ten years since their parents died and Geumjae took his father's spot as the head of household.
It had been easy to leave him behind, they’d never been close and Geumjae hadn’t tried to stop him when Yoongi had put what little money they had in the house in a bag and run. He’d made it 4 months with no contact; foolishly, he'd assumed that they just didn't know where he was until one of his uncles had turned up at his shitty apartment. A cell phone held out to him and his grandfather- the Don- On the other end of the line. Who’d lost his patience with the youth at last.
It helped that he wasn’t the only beta in the pack and the only one to bear the brunt of the decision-making. The other beta kept themselves firmly in the pocket of the Don, rarely every more than a few feet away from him. That was Yoongi’s fate, shackled to whoever had the position next. Though their partnership has more to do with love than any sort of business agreement.
Yoongi’s grandfather was a sweet man despite his title and the thousands of deaths he’d build his empire upon. Yoongi’s proximity to what was dubbed as the royal pair, was a lucky thing- they’d mentored him for years to prepare him for his eventual job. All of this, the murder and the secrets- was all an internship essentially. He needed to know how every faction of the family worked in order to make sure it ran smoothly in the future. Connections he built now would serve him years down the line.
They’d both been soft on him, With no children on their own, Yoongi bore the brunt of what parental urges they had. If he’d been anyone else, they would have sent an assassin to drag him back in a body bag, but they hadn’t. “As long as you come back Yoongi- none of us care, I know you’re a good kid. You know what’s expected of you.”
The same uncle had helped set up a secure phone line at the coffee shop, and a few months later a statuesque omega had started working there and that was that. Yoongi's distance from the family was conditional at best but tense at worse. And Essencial once Seokjin worked his way into Yoongi’s life, like a delicately cultivated flower.
He missed a call once, and the gang sent someone to make sure he was alright. Yoongi had narrowly avoided leading them straight back to his and Jin’s apartment. They probably know who Seokjin is. It would be stupid of them not too keep tabs on their beta and whom he was shacking up with.
But that didn’t mean Yoongi could explain why an alpha with as many tattoos as scars was knocking on their door at three in the afternoon. It had taken a few hours to convince one of the mobster that he was alright. Hours in which Seokjin had called, his texts getting increasingly more worried. Yoongi had put his phone on silent.
They can’t know- no one can know where most of Yoongi’s money comes from. He was fine living just paycheck-to-paycheck before Seokjin. But once the pack started growing, Yoongi took on more and more responsibilities as a moderator just to provide for them.
His goals has changed over the years; tearing down the gang was a stupid childish dream, as impossible as it was suicidal. He knows they'd kill him in a second if he so much as walked into a police station. It’s Better to operate from within and try to lessen their damage. If Yoongi can save a few lives, that’s better than losing his own life and letting the system continue unchecked over his dead body.
It makes him feel better about taking money from his family (Though that money was only given to him with expectations attached to it). He gets a monthly stipend that fluctuates, his cut of their profits. Sometimes it’s a little more than a few hundred and other times thousands more than they could use. The blood money gets hidden away in a bank account that only he can access, that he uses here and there whenever they really needed it.
Like when Seokjin’s car broke down and they needed to buy a new one. Or when Taehyung had needed to get a new computer for work, or Jungkook's endless medical expenses. It’s a good cushion- the only safety net that they have beyond each other.
He’d never use enough to make the others suspicious- because as much as he trusts them, years of witnessing life in a gang has taught him one thing; that it’s better not to know than it is to know what’s going on. Ignorance is bliss and plausible deniability can save your life. He does not doubt that the rest of the family is well aware of who their prized beta is hanging out with, that they keep close tabs on the seven of them and how much they might know. Yoongi often hides behind the power awarded to him because of his status to keep his real family safe.
Simultaneously he has all of the power and none of it. No responsibility to actually carry out any of the bloodshed- but every major decision of succession would go through him. and that alone was enough to put a target on his back.
The only reason why the organization can survive is because of Yoongi. Without him, they’d tear themselves apart. All of the others might be the killers, but Yoongi is the enabler. The one who walks hand in hand with death and gets to decide when to sick his beast on the world.
Should we eliminate our rivals Yoongi? Should we clear that little apartment block just to pad our pockets with a high-rise? How about this pack that saw too much? Do you think the pack alpha deserves to live? Live or die Yoongi, what's your choice?
The leash goes both ways, He came when called. To help the elder beta and the don talk through his decision on who would inherit the title of the next Don when it became clear that neither of them would be alive much longer.
He didn’t expect them to die while he was in transit. The beta had passed first, and then the Don a few hours later. It’s strange for many of them to think of a beta loving someone so much that they’d stay in one place for a year- let alone the 40 that the last Don’s partner had stayed.
But Yoongi knows exactly what it feels like to love someone enough that society’s expectations are only a backdrop. Yoongi knew the beta woman well even though they weren’t blood-related. And that weekend- he mourns her just as much as he mourns his full-blooded grandfather.
Many in the family think them dying so close to each other is a little bit too fortuitous to be entirely accidental or age. The shadow of an unseen threat hangs in the balance. Murdered or dead, what does it matter? The effect is the same.
There is no Don right now, there is only Yoongi. And the decision of who will inherit the empire lies solely on his shoulders.
The rules of secession are simple and laid out in terms that the families do not argue with; to be eligible a contender must have direct lineage from one of the founding families. No adopted members or outsiders, older than 25 but younger than 55 because the fewer changes of power the better. If they kept merely picking the eldest, the don would die and change once or twice every decade. And last- no omegas or betas, the Don can only be an alpha.
Yoongi will choose the successor by himself. And If by chance he dies before choosing one, it would come down to a vote between the 12 heads of house.
Coming back feels like walking into a nightmare.
Yoongi’s always been able to put a subtle swagger on, he can walk like one of them and talk like one of them. And he feels his persona drape over him like a shroud. He knows how his eyes look when he tilts his face downwards, when he lifts his lip in a soundless snarl and stares at them like they’re all beneath him. He lets his angry ocean scent roll off of him in waves- a warning before he appears. They expect it from him- the disconcerted beta.
He hasn’t thrown up because of a dead body in years, but the matching caskets almost do it to him.
He gets more than a few tearful hugs and reunions when he walks into the cathedral. The guards at the front do not stop and ask him who he is, Anyone who's anyone knows who Yoongi is. Arguably- he’s the most important (alive) person at the funeral.
He wades through the crowd. The hundreds of people packed tight to pay their respects. All members of the family have pinned roses to their lapels as a sign of respect, white for the omegas, and red for the alphas. The omega youth who hands them out at the front desk eyes Yoongi upset, unsure which to give him, hand shaking as he flutters between white and red.
“It's fine really- I’ll just take a white one-”
“I’ve got you” a woman steps up from the crowd gathered. She’s already got a red rose pinned to the lapel of her smooth suit, and she plucks a pink rose from a nearby bouquet and tucks it into his breast pocket. “We didn’t think you’d be coming.”
She’s got short cropped brown hair, an alpha from the scent fluffing around him, peppermint- it almost has a numbing effect on his nostrils. an artificial edge that cuts the sweetness and makes it more alpha. Yoongi doesn’t recognize her until but knows they must be related. It takes him second of searching her face before he recognizes the tuck of her chin.
“Moon Byulyi”
She smiles tensely, “it’s been a while Yoongi” Moonbyul he remembers well- from childhood's spent running around in too tight tiny stuffy suit jackets at formal occasions like easter and christmas. Playing underneath tables, one of the few pups that was brave enough to talk to him.
Even as a pup, he’d been infamous. In the cathedral, people whisper, pointing him out in the crowd to their companions.
Many families choose to send their children away from the mafia life before presentation. If you’re not a beta, those formative years can be a little bit dicey, with your scent and hormones changing every few days often provoking fights and spats with others your age. An improper and dangerous volatility in a family like theirs. Scents changing too quick until they solidify during a first heat and rut cycle.
Not like Yoongi- who’s smelled like chocolate and seasalt since the second he was born. The marker of a beta is the immediately presenting scent, usually before the first year- unlike the other subgenders who smell uniform at birth. The soft pup smell that's ingrained into people's brains- to protect and provide and nourish. They’d known who he was and who he’d set out to become the second he was born.
There are boarding schools and private little Colonies of the mafia where unpresented pups can have a more dedicated education away from the families eyes. Yoongi hasn’t seen Moonbyul since just after she turned 13. And though the year’s stretch between them but she’s still the same, the mischievous lilt to her words more diffused here, she looks as tired and as anxious as they all feel.
There is only one person in the room that Yoongi’s even a little bit afraid of. “Have you seen my brother?” she makes a noise, sending a glance behind him. Yoongi knows to turn before Geumjae can get too close, but it’s still too late.
There are crows feet beginning to pull at the corners of his eyes, Geumjae must be nearly 33 now. His brother looks exactly like he did the last time Yoongi saw him, not taller than yoongi, but broader, his shoulders saying ‘alpha’ before his scent does.
He pulls Yoongi close with a hard hand at his neck digging into his scent gland and Yoongi almost lets out a strangled growl. Geumjae forces them to embrace, the picture of brotherly affection and comfort as he presses Yoongi’s face into his shoulder, mouth pressed to his ear hidden in yoongi’s hairline so that no one can hear what he has to say to his younger brother.
Yoongi wants to recoil from the closeness- the sensitivity of having anyone near his scent gland but his pack mates has his body screaming to react. But can’t pull away or else risk making a scene.
There are no hello’s, no farce, just straight to business.
“I hope you’re not planning to change anything Yoonie.” Geumjae says the childish nickname with a sickly sweet lilt to it. “It’s been so long since we’ve all seen you that you’re practically an outsider. There’s a lot you don’t understand. You should let your older brother teach you how things work again.”
Yoongi can’t push Geumjae away- can’t- no matter how much his burning wood scent is sticking in his nose and making him want to cough. Geumjae’s expensive suit reeks of cologne at odds with his scent. Geumjae smells and acts like wildfires and burning houses- destructive and unpredictable.
The funeral is a time they all should be mourning their elder not making plans over his deathbed. But Geumjae seems to have a different idea of what is proper. He’s eligible for the next don position, and having his brother decide who gets to wear the crown is as good as having won the title already.
Geumjae knows of Yoongi’s only weak spot.
“All this talk has me thinking- if you died I guess we’d have to invite your pack huh little brother? And none of us would want that. I wonder why you didn’t bring them. If I didn’t know any better I’d think you were afraid of us getting our hands on them.” he pulls back, smiling- though it’s not friendly- more of a bearing of teeth. Geumjae must have had implants put in because his canines seem sharper than should be normal. “But I know we’ll never have to find out.”
Yoongi’s blood runs cold- he knows enough to read between the lines. They’re not even thinly veiled; these are real threats. Yoongi does his best to school his face into a somber frown. If Geumjae was threatening to bring his pack here with Yoongi’s death- he could only assume his life and theirs would be forfeit If he didn’t choose his older brother as the next leader.
Even though there were others that would have done a better job. Even if Yoongi didn’t want him to have it. Geumjae is an eligible alpha it’s only natural that he’d want the power and money awarded to him the the Don position.
He has to act carefully- deliberate. Maybe call Namjoon and tell him he’d be gone for a few more weeks than he thought, Though even that might be a risk.
But still, Geumjae has more cards he needs to play to secure his title. And the next Don won’t be chosen for the next 120 days as is tradition. Until then Yoongi’s the one who will govern the affairs of the family who will be the voice of reason.
There will be no death and no punishments, A time for everyone to gather and mourn and talk about what needs to be done each voice heard in equal measure. It’s his job as the only beta left to make sure the family doesn’t fall prey to infighting while the next leader is being chosen.
As for the matter of succession, His older brother was the clear favorite among the families. Though the 20 or so other eligible family members who could take the role of the next Don would probably accuse Yoongi of being nepotistic. the rest of the families expected Yoongi to choose wisely.
He wasn’t the only alpha or the oldest male alpha by far and In Yoongi’s opinion, Geumjae was probably the worst alpha for the job. In Geumjae the others saw a gangster more bloodthirsty and crazy than half of them, and in their minds that was a good thing.
Yoongi doesn’t meet you at the funeral, but at the next family meal the following Saturday.
Though the Don’s house will sit vacant until the next one is chosen, they still have family dinners there. Not many of them are in possession of large enough tables to fit more than thirty people though Yoongi’s sure half of them are preparing their mansions otherwise. To have these meetings on their own turf might give them an advantage.
The Don’s compounded mansion is neutral ground and yet, a reminder with its sprawling decadent expanse of what they all stand to gain if they convince Yoongi to choose their sons or daughters.
The heads of family are sat at the table done up in their finest suits and gowns, all black- it will be a little while before anyone feels comfortable wearing any color. Some family dinners are cooked by the grannies and the omegas- but this one is catered by a small staff.
Your red lipstick is the one splotch of color at the table, and Yoongi spies more than one of the elders eyeing you with distaste. He doubts anyones explained to you the rule of ‘no color for the first 13 days after a death’.
You’re at Geumjae's side, carefully poised, not a hair out of place as you smile and answer the questions asked to you politely- never instigating a conversation with another soul at the table. You’re his brother’s new omega wife (the fact that Yoongi never attended the wedding is something he’s teased about- but no one really minds. It's chalked up to his flightiness as a beta).
You might be married to Geumjae, but that doesn’t mean you’re a head of house like the other wives. You’re an outsider, and as such- are always treated with a little bit of reluctance. You’re not related to any of them by blood, and that makes you dangerous, a risk.
The wolves at the table eye you like you could be easy prey.
At first, you’re unremarkable- if not for the gentle sweet scent that flicks across Yoongi’s nose, something refreshing that Yoongi can’t place. It’s something that makes him instantly miss his omegas back home. The yearning for them lighting little sparks of heat on his cheeks.Yoongi tells himself that’s the only reason why he finds his eyes hovering on you.
Throughout the whole evening, you stick close to your husband’s side as a good omega should. One of the grannies praises you for it, for knowing your place, Yoongi rolls his eyes internally at that. You only find old sentiments like that here- gender roles are more strictly enforced within older packs.
Not all couples wear mating marks and neither do either of you yet. Getting marked is more binding than a marriage pact- it’s as much as agreeing to share your soul with someone. Mating marks are a dangerous thing; If one part of the mated pair dies then the other has a strong chance of doing so too. It's one of the reasons why it’s not done so much anymore.
Which is probably one of the reasons why most people in the family choose to have mating marks- especially if they commit to bringing in an outsider. You can’t snitch on someone who can smell when you’re lying; you can’t kill someone who dies if you do. One of Yoongi’s female cousins asks you about it you that admit- sounding a little too relieved to escape notice- that you’ve decided to wait until your next heat to solidify the mating.
Yoongi doesn’t miss the way that Geumjae’s fingers dig into your neck- a little too hard when you say it. Or the way that he can see faint bruises on your wrists when your sleeve falls down. Hidden partially by a set of thick silver bangles. A gift from Geumjae you say when Yoongi compliments them. Though Yoongi doesn’t say that they look more like shackles than like bracelets. You meet his eyes over the table and your gaze quickly flickers away. Your attention as fickle as a butterfly in a garden full of thorned roses.
Yoongi has his suspicions already- and he’s only had one meal with you.
“Maybe you could show me where to find something like them” he comments idly, talking to omegas about trinkets isn't suspicious. The other omegas sat at the table are dressed like a bunch of haughty crows, bespeckled with enough diamonds to put a jewelry store out of business. “I think my omegas might like them something like that.”
It’s a lie- both Jungkook and Seokjin hate heavy jewelry. Yoongi just wants to ask about the bruises he’s seen and get a read on you. You’re his sister in law for Christ’s sake- he should get to know you a little especially since you’re a part of the family now. Yoongi knows from experience how daunting they can be.
He’s the one person that you cannot refuse a request from, and neither can Geumjae. Though Yoongi can tell he wants to stop you and Yoongi from having a day to talk away from him when Yoongi insists that you go alone. More than one head of house nods encouragingly at Yoongi. They still see him as the youth who had a hard time handling bloodshed. All of them probably think he's going to check up on you and make sure the outsider isn't a threat.
He picks you up in a taxi the next day, and Yoongi treats you to coffee and shaved ice that you pick at. He can’t help but notice that the shirt you’ve worn is tighter today too- no possibility of the bruises on your wrist being spotted. As you talk about the wedding he missed, about the family, about anything but your husband.
You rarely meet eye contact but you’re both good at steering the conversation into safe territory. You like a lot of the same music, and you’re a fan of the same drama that Tae and Seokjin like to watch. That’s the first time Yoongi sees your face light up. Yoongi wonders what you have to escape if you’re this invested in a story that is not your own.
Yoongi doesn’t think he’s liked someone this quick, not since Namjoon or maybe the three Maknaes. Though that was less slow burning. Yoongi has barely spent 6 uninterrupted hours in your company and yet, he finds his hand hovering by yours, ready to pull you back when you almost step out into the street when a car speeds by.
You lean into his space a little, blinking at the sudden loud noise, the car speeding past and honking at you to get out of the way. His hand still a vice around your upper arm pulled you in closer than should be proper. Whispering a small thank you with wide eyes that look up at him, Like you’re surprised that he thought to make sure you weren’t in harm's way. Yoongi doesn't know how you almost walked out into traffic, how you didn’t see the car coming.
You remind Yoongi of a clumsy baby kitten or maybe like an alley cat that hasn’t committed, like you want to trust him but can’t yet. You look at Yoongi like you're half scared of him and half hopeful. He remembers feeling that way, so desperate for something to hold onto but so conscious of the fact that to hope means to invite in disappointment.
He understands it, Yoongi is a patient man. He thinks of trying to make up for the bloodshed he’s caused- life by life that he can save to cancel out the guilt in his heart. You might be a good place to start.
on your day out Yoongi actually does manage to find a small gift for Seokjin. Delicate gold rings that should fit the omegas hands. “You know his ring size?” you tease, Yoongi nods. Blushing, somewhere in his things back home, there is a wedding ring that he’d never given Seokjin. But Yoongi has known seokjin’s ring size since the second month he knew him.
“Must be one lucky omega then.” Yoongi blushes and you smile. It feels good against the cold. Your scent is cold and sweet, a little fresh and he struggles to place it. Fall is starting to end, and soon winter will take hold. While you walk to another shop Yoongi decides that he’ll call his pack later this week and tell them he needs to spend a little more time with his family- they’ll understand, they always do.
He’s been worried about breaking the news to them, doesn’t know how he’s going to tell them that he has to stay for the next few months. Maybe he’ll be able to slip away for a weekend. But seeing them again might just complicate things. There’s no telling what the family will think if he leaves them at a vulnerable time like this.
There's no way he can avoid staying the customary 120 days, it's only 3 months, they can survive without him. But then there is the matter of what happens after. Will the family let him escape back to his old life? or is that part of Yoongi’s life done? will he be shackled to Geumjae for the rest of his life as the last beta left? it's not written into their laws that the beta has to stay- but it might as well be.
But Yoongi wouldn't be the only person shackled to Geumjae's side if Yoongi doesn't find a way around naming him Don. No- you would be shackled to his side too.
You’re both lost in thought when the rain starts up, a sudden downpour, the kind of rain that will soak you in only a few second. Yoongi doesn’t care about getting the gift wet- he’ll just re-wrap it before he sends it to Seokjin, probably with a few other gifts as an apology for not being able to come home. But You use your body to shield the present you’ve gotten for your husband, a pair of silver cufflinks, Rather than let it get wet.
But then you tilt your face up, letting the cold hit your skin, the raindrops like little kisses from the clouds that hit your cheek. And Yoongi is bewitched for a moment- as he finally places your scent; you smell like the rain, the sweet scent of petrichor. Being in a rainstorm is like being surrounded by you. It’s an unusually clean scent for a omega and nothing he could place just by smelling it once.
In the rainstorm, Yoongi feels like he’s surrounded by you.
He’s just watching the raindrops dance on your skin, doesn’t even really realize it when he lifts his hand to touch your lips- and wipes away the water- unknowingly smudging the concealer and revealing the bruises on your cheek. your puffy lower lip- swollen from whatever hit it and not just full like he’d first thought. The scarf around your neck sags with the heavy rain- and Yoongi sees the marks of fingertips there too, bruises left from hands around your neck.
You recoil like you've been shocked. Just by the touch, you don't realize what the touch has revealed until you notice the way Yoongi's eyes are locked on your neck and your jaw. The marks that Geumjae left when he got rough with you last night
Your scared look is something that he’ll never forgive himself for. Especially when you clamp your hands over your chin and your cheek. Now that Yoongi knows what’s there he can see all of it. The mottled bruises are covered with just slightly off-color concealer, yellow toned to offset the purple.
Yoongi wonders how long you’ve had to hide them and If the abuse started before or after your marriage. Knowing Geumjae- he probably waited to show you his true colors after you were already married, when you knew about the family and didn’t have a hope of leaving without losing your life. The family doesn’t allow divorces.
You don’t say anything to each other until after a second. And it pisses him off When you immediately try to do damage control. Yoongi doesn't even have to ask where you got them before you're defending your husband. “He’s not- he’s not that bad.” Yoongi can barely hear you over the roar of the rain. He knows he probably smells like the ocean right now.
You smell like rain and yoongi smells like the ocean. Together you are a typhoon.
“Don’t,” Yoongi says with a raised hand, realizing what he’s done wrong seconds later. His words of ‘don’t defend him’ dying in his throat when he sees you prepare to be hit. Like you’ve learned how to handle hurt and compartmentalize it. If you’re getting abused by your husband it stands to reason that his brother will do the same.
His touch on your chin is gentle but you still flinch from it. Yoongi’s bags- gifts for the omegas that deserve this man in front of you (who is as beautiful as he is kind, The kind of man that you don’t deserve) fall to the ground in favor of grabbing you gently before you can bolt.
You're beginning to realize that Yoongi is nothing like his brother. You’ve seen the way he acts around the others in the family; always ready to offer an encouraging touch to the young pups and a helpful hand to the old grannies. As intense of a man as he is dangerously kind. And after today you think that out of all of them, he’s the only member of the mafia that you could ever learn to like.
Not love, because love isn’t something you’d ever get.
An omega like you didn’t deserve love, you were barely worth the shirt on your back. Though maybe that was because it was an expensive shirt- your husband likes when you’re dressed to impress, in burberry and balenciaga. It sends a pointed message to the other families,Even if it makes you feel like an accessory. Feeling like an accessory is better than feeling like a nuisance, like the dirt under his shoes- so you take what you can get.
You’re only valuable when you open your legs for your husband in the evenings and provide him the other slight comforts, like the food you meticulously make for him the house you make into a perfect home. You’re as much for decoration as the fancy designer couch or the crystal chandelier.
You don’t know how long it's been since you’ve started to believe the horse shit that Geumjae shoved down your throat. That you should let him hurt you when he felt like it because he was the one with the money and the power. That you were lucky he didn’t treat you worse. You don’t know when you started to believe that his job was stressful enough to make the abuse justified. You don’t know when you started to believe that you deserve it.
But now- Yoongi in front of you feels like a tease- the person you might have had if you’d chosen the right brother. You’re not worth his kindness or his gentleness when he cradles your face in his hand, thumb on your bruised chin. So light it doesn’t hurt.
His promise tastes rotten in your mouth. “I will never hurt you, you don’t have to be afraid of me.” You stare at him, stepping back out of his grasp- keenly aware that no matter the empty rain-filled streets are there could always be someone watching. Someone who could tell Geumjae that Yoongi had put his hands on you. However gently, it doesn’t matter when it comes to your husband.
Your skin belongs to him; your body belongs to him. You’re everything his domain. When you find time to feel something other than fear- you hate it. And hate the man that you once said you loved. No matter what your family and friends had told you about your boyfriend, then fiancé, and now your demon.
They didn’t come around anymore; you haven’t spoken to them in years. Whenever they call, Geumjae gets a notification on his phone. You know he has it tracked as well to keep an eye on you. And it's easier to just not pick up than have him question you and demand you turn over your phone. Even if nothing is telling in your text messages he’ll find something to be mad about.
Your husband is as possessive of you as he is violent. The last time another man had touched you- just a hand on the small of your back- Geumjae had carved his initials into the place he touched and cut off the other man's hand. the scars would have stuck if you hadn’t used scar cream, and really- it wasn’t that deep or that bad, you hadn’t even needed stitches. If he’d been truly angry- he would have cut you deeper.
Even in your own mind, you make it out as less bad then it is.
As much for your safety as for Yoongi’s- He can’t get close to you or else risk Geumjae’s wrath. You eye his offending hand and it curls to a loose fist by his side. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep Yoongi.”
Yoongi brings up the abuse to Geumjae (which is probably questionable- but what else can Yoongi do to help you?). Predictably- he dismisses Yoongi . “She’s just an omega- you know how they are- they need a firm hand to keep them in their place.” Yoongi scoffs thinking of his omegas. Anyone who even dared to think that Seokjin and Jungkook did not wear the pants in their pack had another thing coming to them.
He watches Geumjae cut another line of cocaine. The amount of drugs in this Geumjae’s study cost enough to feed a small family for a year. But Yoongi knows better than to partake. He pretends to take a Bump and taps it off when Geumjae tips back a shot."Omegas aren't even fucking worth it if you ask me, brother, you're supposed to give half of yourself away, and for fucking what? A glorified bed warmer?"
Yoongi boils and stays silent, letting Geumjae get himself wasted on drugs and alcohol. He can't tell what distresses him more; that Geumjae has such little regard for life that he can't recognize that omegas are fucking people- or that he's so freely sharing this with yoongi.
He knows he’s toeing the line. More pushing might hurt you more, if he provoked aggression from his brother- it would no doubt come back to bite you. Yoongi can’t imagine wanting to hurt someone he loves or speaking with the same callousness that Geumjae speaks. “Don’t you love her?”
Geumjae laughs at Yoongi’s childish question “Oh little brother, don’t you know that love makes you stupid?”
Those threats from the funeral linger. And it's not only your life and Yoongi’s at stake here but the rest of his pack. He has to fool Geumjae into thinking he is on his side.
“Work with me here- what will the other omegas in the pack think of you if they find out what kind of shit you pull? And they’ll take their concerns straight to their alphas and say you’re unfit to lead. You know I have to listen to the bulk of them regardless of what you want.”
If he can’t appeal to Geumjae’s humanity- he can appeal to Geumjae’s better interest and common sense. His image in the family is arguably the most important thing in geumjae’s mind, and Yoongi can tell by the way that Geumjae stiffens when he says the words that it’s stuck.
Geumjae might have been trained in torture, but Yoongi was trained in manipulation. And he take the bait- hook, line, and sinker.
After that, he has the good sense to act softer with you in front of the rest of the family. But he fears he might have done more bad than good when he sees the way you stiffen and fail to meet his eyes more consistently as the days go on. You’re sensitive about eye contact, Yoongi gets it; You don’t have as much control over your facial expression as the rest of these robotic mobsters.
Group dinners are routine, and while Yoongi could find an excuse to see you during the day, he’s also often pulled in 50 different directions by the expectations of his family.
He finds himself reading for dinner in a hurry most nights, eager or maybe a little panicked to check in with you. You never request his presence, you never text (though he made sure you have his number just in case). the family dinners are tense between the two of you. You maintain none of the easy friendship you’d started that day in the rain or that closeness. You avoid him like the plague at dinner, and It’s like that day in the rain never happened.
Geumjae sticks to your side like glue too. A hand that probably looks protective to anyone else but looks possessive to Yoongi slung around your waist. Yoongi sees the harshness and pain in your body when Geumjae’s hand tightens digging into the swell of your hip. You’re soft in the way that most omegas are a little soft- and it’s as expected as it is distracting.
He manages to corner you during one of the dinners, here in a forgotten side room you both hover. You can hear the omegas and the grannies gossiping in the kitchen and outside, the alphas have disappeared to smoke cuban cigars and appreciate a new rolls royce that one of the uncles bought.
You both occupy the space, and Yoongi watches you out of the corner of his eye while you both look out at the garden, speckled with lights sipping on your champagne.
The corset portion of your dress makes your chest soft looking, plump and inviting if Yoongi was the kind of man to get distracted by something like that. As it is- all he notices is how it’s making your chest heave. Breath uneven, he thinks he can hear the boning in the dress creek. It’s a designer thing, but it looks too tight on you. He can tell how uncomfortable you are.
“Are you okay?” he asks, though it's clear you’re not, you don’t reply, looking down and away worried. Hand hovering over your stomach in an anxious way, “I won’t get mad whatever it is.”
You bite your lower lip. Hand catching yourself on a side table before you teater over, dizzy. Yoongi grabs your forearm to steady you startled. “He did my corset too tight, it’s hurting my ribs. I feel like I’m going to pass out.” Yoongi quickly looks around, but there is no one around in the part of the house right now, you’re alone.
Yoongi turns you around quickly, setting his champagne to the side and grabbing yours out of your hand before you can spill it. He undoes the top knot of the dress and you inhale gratefully, gasping as he tugs at the strings looser, fingers touching your bare skin. “Is that better?” he has to be quick. This isn’t exactly scandalous- but its not quite proper.
Especially when Yoongi’s hands hover on the bare skin of your back. You have freckles here, he wonders if you know. His finger hides a beauty mark.
You inhale deep and grateful. “So much better, thank you.” you barely have a second to both straighten up, Yoongi's fingers pulling the bow back together. grabbing your champagne and sipping at it a careful distance away from each other. The picture of propriety as Geumjae and a few other alphas return from smoking cigars out front in a puff of rich smoke.
“Don’t mention it.” Yoongi says it softly so that only you can hear it.
More than once. Geumjae catches him staring at you during the dinner. You look so much more comfortable now that it’s been loosened. Your hand hovering in front of your dress to conceal your cleavage under the guise of fiddling with your necklace. During those moments, Geumjae rewards Yoongi’s wandering gaze with bold touches. A hand sliding from waist to hip and your sudden straightening in pain.
Geumjae’s harsh fingers digging into a bad bruise on your hip. You’re so trained, you barely flinch when he does it. And still- Yoongi’s hands tighten in his slacks. Gritting his teeth and biting the inside of his cheek to stop himself from making a scene and reaching across the table to stop Geumjae from hurting you.
Many of the other members of the family notice Geumjae’s sudden dogmatic approach to your presence in his life. Confirming what Yoongi suspects. That he’d never given you too much attention at these family meals before Yoongi came with his wandering eyes. He should do better be better not to put you in harm's way.
Yoongi keeps his eyes firmly trained on his plate full of spiced soft-shelled crab as one of the grannies comments on how sweet the two of you seem. Yoongi wants to gag. “You know how new love is. I feel like we’ll be in the honeymoon phase forever. I want her all to myself so bad I think she’s worried I’ll chain her to my bed” he says- feigning drunkenness. You laugh too- trying to play it off but Yoongi can see your barely concealed fear.
He’s not the only one who notices how uncomfortable you are either; his cousin’s mate, a curly-haired omega also looks at you more than she should. Measuring your wellbeing with every long searching look. Yoongi see’s Geumjae smile at her. It’s not a kind of happy gesture, showing his teeth an inch away from snapping at her.
Byulyi, The omega’s mate notices. Coolly leveling Geumjae with a challenging look. She doesn’t instigate a fight at the obvious show of aggression and while others might see that as weak Yoongi sees it as a sign of grace. No need to engage with here.
There is a place that the family keeps only for the betas when they come into town, not an apartment but more of a safe house. The small yellow cottage that’s been owned by them for almost longer than the city was a city. It’s shoved between two apartment buildings and a 7/11. In a hidden ally way that’s barely wide enough for a car; most people wouldn’t even know it was a driveway with all of the shrubbery.
From the bedroom. Yoongi can just see the neon lights from the street, the glowing seven just over the trees. It’s an interesting mix of quaint old world and blinding toxic neon.
At night, the street has a large amount of foot traffic, perfect to disappear into if you needed it, so much so that it was nearly impossible to be followed to the place or tailed out of it. It feels like the cottage barely exists on the same plane as the rest of the city.
It's considered as good as hallowed ground in the gang world. No blood can be spilled there or else an instant hit will be ordered on the person who has. It’s law, people need a safe place to come and seek council. The betas need to be preserved. It belongs to him now, no one else has the bloodright to this place. after the first two weeks when Yoongi got tired and a little nervous about staying in a hotel. He moves in.
Most of the last betas stuff has been moved out, put in storage for however long it takes for someone to be tasked to go through it and burn anything that might be telling. There isn’t anyone to inherit their things nor much value to them. Their beta wasn’t a fan of designer clothes or fanciful trinkets that were paid for with blood money.
The cottage is physical representations of that. It has drafts under the windows and bad heating, the green velvet couch in the livingroom sags from the weight of years of use, but at least the mattress is new. Honestly- Yoongi would stay somewhere else if dealing with another hotel or a short-term rental wasn’t going to wreak havoc on his bank account and be more trouble than it was worth.
Yoongi fingers the rotten edge of a window and daydreams about maybe getting a house of his own one day. He even contemplates fixing it for his short stay here.
He thinks that the rest of Namjoon’s pack would like it. They wouldn’t even have to get a new house because Yoongi would love to learn how to fix it up himself. He’s always been the handyman of their pack.
And he’d never say it- but the affectionate looks he gets from Seokjin and Namjoon when he fixes the leaky faucet for the third time that month and the short pets to his hair are something that reminded him of early happy times when their shitty apartments maintenance men couldn’t be trusted.
If he owned this house and wanted to stay in this city- he’d put a second story, maybe a writing room and library for Tae. And more windows to look out on the garden because Jimin’s always complaining about the lack of natural light in their apartment. He could add sunrooms and skylights and re-do the squeaky floorboards. He thinks the wood is pine, Namjoon would know. He contemplates calling his alpha, his heart giving a pang of grief before he thinks better of it.
Grief consumes him for a moment as he flops on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. When he closes his eyes he can almost smell the members of his pack. His hands tighten in the sheets and he daydreams that they’re there with him. curled up close in this queen bed, too small for the seven of them. They’d have to press close to fit.
Most of this visit has been too stressful for him to even think of them. But now he aches and aches and aches, like grief is a plant that's taken rest in his chest, prying open his ribs with its greedy roots.
How many days had he taken their easy affection for granted? Yoongi’s body burns with the need for his mates. Burns a little as he blinks back a stinging in his eyes that has nothing to do with the dusty interior of the cottage. He sighs out a heavy breath, thinking of a future, them, pups maybe, in a house somewhere that Yoongi could build with his own two hands.
Then the next second, he finds himself laughing at the ceiling because that’s a pipe dream. It echoes in the empty house, dark with no one to wonder after it. getting his pack back again, owning his own house, and having the money to re-do it is something that’s completely out of reach. As is surviving this unscathed.
Yoongi puts his odds at being able to leave this at 50%, maybe 60% if he’s lucky. Maybe he’ll get a cool scar out of it. But that only brings up bad ideas in his head, because there is one person whose odds of getting out of this unharmed are next to zero at best; And that’s you. You’re both fucked.
He wonders what you’re doing right now, the only person in the gang whose as trapped as he is. Maybe you’re looking up at the ceiling of your bedroom like he is. He wonders if you’re wishing that you were anywhere else right now too.
Geumjae inherited their families’ wealth when their parents died as well as the property they both grew up in. He wonders what Geumjae has done to the house in his absence. The house that you’re no doubt trapped in just like Yoongi was growing up.
As much as Yoongi would love to help you and steal you away from this place- it would be stupid. Even then, he wants to try.
The idea of a beta wanting a house and a place to stay is a ridiculous dream, and yet- Yoongi dreams it anyway. He dreams of navy blue rooms and floor-to-ceiling windows and skylights that he could watch the snowfall through. And he dreams that the ones he loves are stretched out with him below a skylight, on top of a plush red blanket that shields them from the cold.
He blinks and the person curled up next to him changes with every flicker of his eyelids. One moment Jimin is lying next to him, his hair splayed out all pretty, and the next Hoseok is pulling him in for sweet kisses, and then jungkook looking at him like he does when the youngest gets all scent drunk and hazy and so on and so forth.
The last time he opens his eyes before he truly wakes, he sees you, your eyes staring unblinking at him, so still. The red blanket below him is wet, it’s not a blanket at all, but a pool of blood. Someone's shot you between the eyes, and Yoongi feels the gun in his hands and tastes the powder on his teeth before he wakes from the nightmare with a start.
He blinks back the wetness in his eyes and rubs furiously at them. Yoongi can see his breath in the air and when he walks to the windows and finds the cottage and the garden dusted with a thin coating of ice. He turns the heat on as high as he can make it.
It’s no surprise that the last beta and the late don turned the beta safe house into something of a love nest. There’s still an “I love you” sticky note stuck to the yellow fridge. And it makes a discomfort rise in his chest so thick. It makes Yoongi sick to his stomach that the late Don and his beta had to hide their love away here. He takes the note off the fridge and puts it in a small side drawer full of rubber bands and junk so that he doesn’t have to look at it.
It's one of the few things that makes him pick up his phone and text- not anyone from his pack (that’s too risky)- But you. Maybe you’re doomed, but that doesn’t mean that Yoongi can’t try and make it a little bit better. He thinks of the dream. Thinks of your blood and the gun in his hands and types the message furiously. Hitting send before he can consider his own instincts of self-preservation.
“Let me know if you want to go out again somewhere, you probably know the city better than me at this point, and I’d love to see it again.” Maybe it’s a flimsy excuse. But Yoongi hopes that removing you from your husband’s presence for just a few hours will make a positive difference. Maybe he can show you that life doesn’t have to be painful.
You remind Yoongi of himself just before he left. So uncomfortable and alone- and Yoongi thinks that if there’s one thing that having a broken family teaches you- it’s that softness and vulnerability aren’t things that you should seek to squash. You have to struggle and fight to remain soft, That there is a certain strength in knowing when things are wrong.
Yoongi doesn’t know when his plan turned into “make sure we both get out of here alive. And break up their marriage in a way that results in her survival.” versus “get back to the pack.” but he can’t say he hates the idea of you two no longer being together.
The first snow of the season makes the city fall to almost a standstill and he’s glad to spend the morning uncalled on at the cottage. Busies himself with cleaning up and making little changes around the house. Happy to have something for his hands to do and ease his mind. Like fixing a squeaky door and righting one of the cabinets that have sagged, making it flush with all the others.
His text remains unanswered, but thats okay. He didn’t expect you to get back to him right away.
He tries to stop himself from hoping when his phone lights up just after dinner, but it’s just one of his family members who’s in his part of town and wants to go out for drinks. It’s not one of the cousin’s whose in line for the throne so Yoongi’s not worried about being pitched so late in the evening.
In all likelihood it's probably just them come to bitch at Yoongi about one thing or another. There aren’t many safe confidants. And Yoongi gets paid because he’s sort of the mafias therapist.
He wishes he could ask Jin for some tips when a few hours later he’s got an omega crying into his shoulder, drunk off his ass. It’s good to reconnect with them and the rest of his family. Makes him feel more certain in his resolve of preventing Geumjae from disrupting this peace.
He doesn’t get drunk- not even close. He’s not stupid. It’s not until he’s nearly home that he recognizes the empty weight in his pockets. That’s funny- his wallets still there- but his phone isn’t. Not usual for a pickpocket. Maybe he just left it back at the cottage.
None of the locks in his apartment sabotaged though he’d been careful to lock them all on his way out. It would be completely normal and unassuming; his phone sitting on the bedspread where maybe he left it.
Yoongi would chalk it up to his own forgetfulness if there weren’t a bullet hole clean through the top corner.
Yoongi fingers the hole. The phone is as good as a paperweight now. There is a sticky note on the front. It only says a few words but they make Yoongi’s blood go cold regardless.
“Someone named Namjoon called and he wants you home. We want you to leave too” there’s a little bit of blood on the corner of the note. And when he lifts it to his nose- he smells your fresh rain scent, colder than ever with something that Yoongi might recognize as fear. Not even a hint of sweetness.
Most people have two scents- a primary scent that usually indicated happy emotions and a secondary scent that’s usually a little harsher- meant to draw in one's pack members, to communicate to others that you’re in distress without having to say it. Most people hover somewhere around the middle between the two normally but Yoongi has never smelled something from you other than the rain.
Yoongi has always smelled like cocoa when he’s happy and sea salt when he’s angry. He wonders what you smell like when you’re happy and truly comfortable. He wonders if he’ll ever get to smell it. Are you all rainstorms and thunder, or is there something sweeter that you’re capable of?
What are you like when you’re happy and not just afraid?
It’s been years but Yoongi still recognizes Geumjae’s handwriting. And it's then that Yoongi decides that he won’t leave- not until he can secure your safety. Maybe Yoongi can’t stop Geumjae from taking the crown, but Yoongi as sure as hell can make sure you don’t get caught up in this life.
You’ve only been married to Geumjae for a little more than a year and you don’t have his mating mark yet. There is still time for you to survive this- to get out. And Yoongi knows before he names his older brother as the next Don he’s going to have to make you disappear.
Things get worse before they get better. Geumjae takes the fact that Yoongi didn’t leave the first second after that note as a personal treat.
Yoongi’s at his brother’s house for dinner when he backhands you after you drop a plate. Yoongi Doesn’t keep himself in his seat- can’t stop himself from standing and grabbing his brothers arm before he deals another blow. And maybe it only makes it worse for you but Yoongi’s hands shake with the way you’d looked at him from the floor- holding your cheek defiant and alive. Like you still have a fight left in you.
It’s a look he tries to remember as time goes on and your fighting spirit fades.
You don’t deserve any of this from Geumjae, not the backhanded compliments that have you pushing the food around your plate. The ones that make you starve yourself so bad that you collapse one day when Yoongi has come over.
Checking up on everyone in the family during mourning times and making sure they’re all right is one of his responsibilities as beta. And he can guess for certain that his presence in your house will be easy to excuse. He just wants to make sure the newest member of the family isn’t a mole. That excuse satisfies everyone, even Geumjae.
None of them suspect what he’s planning, not even Geumjae worries that his younger brother has a certain unhealthy attachment to his wife. Yoongi isn't just a good manipulator, he’s the best.
He makes a show of it, and it has the double purpose of undermining geumjae’s position in the family when they have a meeting after the first month, only the head of houses, 13 people sat around the table. Yoongi standing at the head. he infuses his words with enough venom to kill everyone at this table.
“I cannot believe you’re foolish enough to bring in someone as incompetent, and as stupid as you did brother,” Yoongi lies- they’re all lies- lies- lies- “you clearly haven’t been making decisions with the families best interest in mind, i expected better from you.”
5 out of the 11 heads (save Geumjae) nod at Yoongi’s words. It would have been safer for a head of household to pursue someone from within the family, let alone an outsider who had a clear lack of money or connections. that much is true. “This matter requires my personal involvement.” Geumjae won’t contradict Yoongi in front of the other heads of household. Merely nods at him somberly, accepting his criticism.
Yoongi is a good actor, he wonders what they think he’s doing with you, maybe interrogating, maybe torturing, whatever it is- it’s a far cry from his twice weekly visits to you. Knocking on the door before he lets himself in. You’re already pink cheeked and smiling shyly, ready to take his coat. “i’ve got it- i’ve got it” he tries to insist. But he suspects it has more to do with your trained countinance than any real want to take care of him. He lets you hang up his coat.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t come sooner- grannie was a little distraught” in truth- the old woman had cried into Yoongi’s arms for a good two hours; it had eaten up most of his morning. You never fail to smile at Yoongi when he appears in your kitchen. Practically bouncing on your heels, your house always smells sweet, vanilla and sugar and milk. Scents that make yoongi ache. You bake every day- unaware of the fact that the scents you conjure with your hobby make Yoongi think of people he loves and misses daily.
He doesn't know what his family think he’s doing with you, but having tea with you and just talking- probably isn’t it. The house that yoongi grew up in has been turned into a modern monstrocity, all black and glass steal. His brothers taste not yours. And only your kitchen doesn't feel cold and impersonal. though that has more to do with the fact that you’re in it. He spends his afternoons with you munching on the sweets you’ve created and tea and coffee, once you learn that's what Yoongi likes- you always have a pot ready when he comes knocking.
On the days where it doesn't hurt as much, you ask Yoongi about his pack, always small questions. It’s not exactly a safe topic, and you go into scary territory, tip toeing here and there around things that you really want to say, filling up on lemon tarts and custard filled pastries.
You don’t know them by name, only by scent. And Yoongi only brings them up when he feels like he can handle the pain. It helps that with every day here he makes them safer. He’s a dangerous man to love and he knows that. he knows they probably don’t see it that way, but it makes yoongi feel better about leaving them.
He’s going to have a lot to explain to them, if he ever makes it back.
“Jungkook-”
“The one who smells like honey?” you clarify, “your honey?”
Yoongi tips his head good naturedly, “yes, my honey” the sweetness coats his tongue, almost making him think the youngest omega was here. “He would love stuff like this, he’s a total muscle pig, but he only really works out so that he can eat as much food as he wants” Yoongi says the words hushed. Like they’re a secret.
You hide your smile in the lip of a teacup. “I’ll have to make it for him one day then.” it’s a soft sentiment even if it’s another impossibility.
The next time he comes over, it’s after a particularly hard morning. regardless of the don’s position remaining unfilled- bloodshed can’t be avoided sometimes. A doc worker who didn’t want to pay the usual fee, who had thought foolishly that things would change now that their isn’t a sole person in control.
Yoongi had been called into help, and he’d had to leave the man a bloody heap, barely breathing. Yoongi had been able to leave him alive. Walking away with heavy footsteps.
He’d made sure to wash the blood off of his hands change his clothes, but he’d forgotten his shoes, walking all over your rug and tracking blood in to your house. You don’t level it or him with any distaste, No matter how much he apologizes. But he can tell you don’t really mind. He wonders how many times you’ve had to clean up blood in this house.
And how many times that blood has been your own.
“Did you kill him?” Yoongi can’t breath around the tension in his chest. You touch his hands, and somehow- you don’t expect them to be as warm as they are. warm monsters cannot survive the coldness of hell like you can.
“No. But I could have.” you trace along one of the bruised knuckles delicately, making a small noise in the back of his mouth. He’s soft like me, you think, just simply, and you’re right. Yoongi is soft- too soft for this life, you can see it in his eyes.
That day, he walks in to your kitchen and smells Jungkook all around. sweet honey cakes sitting on the smaller kitchen table not the stately dining room that you must use for more formal occasions. They’re perfect little hexagons with delicately piped bumblebees on top with butter cream. They look so pretty and they smell so good, but not better than they taste.
He doesn't say anything and you don’t expect him too as he starts eating them, a cup of black coffee in a teacup for him too. And you watch and wait, not saying anything when the soft tears start falling with every bite. Yoongi will treasure every honey tart on the plate.
Fuck- he misses them so bad. coffee like namjoon, honey like Jungkook, the buttercream on top reminds him of Seokjin and the sugar on the table to hoseok.
Rain sparks, distressed. “Yoongi-” you clink your glass on the saucer, and it makes you both flinch. “Are you Okay?” Yoongi doesn't move to wipe away his tears. he lets them fall- lets it hurt because there is no avoiding his guilt and pain at this.
“I’ll be alright.” he eats, and you let him without asking why he’s crying. you knew when you looked up the recipe that it might not be the right choice, that it might be too much for yoongi to handle. But you want to show him, in the limited way you feel allowed, that it’s okay to miss them. That he doesn't have to hide how much being away from them hurts. You’ve never known a beta before, but you get the feeling that no matter your prior expectations. Yoongi will exceed them.
The food fills the place in him where love should be (with you they might as well be the same thing). Outside the window in the stately garden sits with not a leaf or branch out of place, you’re similar, accept for a single strand of hair that escapes it’s careful confines. In another world, Yoongi might tug all of your hair free from its pins. let it hang around your face pretty and wild. In another world you would sit on the same side of the table.
You both watch golden hour fade to blue. It feels nice to sit like this, maybe it's not interesting. But it’s the companionship that you’ve both been craving.
Yoongi can’t see you as much as he’d like but Monday and wednesday afternoons are reserved solely for you. Partially because on this day Geumjae has to attend to his business of the gang and it's the only time you're both free from him. The Min’s have always been in charge of opium, heroin, and cocaine, and the shipments are regular. Usually, you have a good block of time to spend with Yoongi, so he can reassure himself you’re not hurt.
But not all hurts can be physically seen, he doesn't know how he should broach the topic of you running away with you. It's one of a dozen goals he has at this point to disrupt the movement of the family. It has to be done slowly over time of course, no one can second guess Yoongi's motives. It has to look like he's helping even if it's anything but.
Faking your death would be an easy option, Yoongi could easily say you couldn't be trusted, procure a body that looks like yours, and plant it somewhere- fire could take care of dna and dental records. No one would question it if Yoongi was at the helm of the operation.
That way- you might be able to slip away unscathed. He’s got a fair bit of money he could lend you, maybe not enough to buy you a new life but certainly enough to start. He could make sure you disappear into the hazy backdrop and carve a new life for yourself.
But somehow, the idea of you leaving leaves a strange taste in his mouth. He doesn't like the plan in its entirety. But he can’t figure out what about it sets him off- makes him feel uneasy.
The rest of the families jostlings for power gets worse as the time goes on, and they get closer and closer to the 120 day mark. He helps the ahn’s carry out a deal that almost goes south and misses two meetings with you in a row.
more and more of the families want to have Yoongi supervise, want him to see how each of their candidates behave in hopes of swaying him in their direction. But a good portion of them are either too young, too stupid, or too disinterested in actually leading- lead to the post by their parents and heads of house.
The Ahn’s are in charge of weed and meth and prescription drugs, the Moon’s guns, the Kim faction in charge of prostitution, and the others- one in charge of shipment, another in charge of hushing the money and turning it legitimate at one of their many casinos. One murder for hires, the other for cleaning that murder.
12 families in total. A few of them have intermingled enough that there are blood relations on both sides. Yoongi’s mother was a Moon before she married his father. The blood mixing is kept track of carefully, with no need for unintended incest. there is a dating pool of eligible young omegas and alphas. Orchestrated by the grannies and omega heads of the house. The more they intermarried, the better, the less likelihood of fission they'd have down the line.
There are a few arranged marriages each year, one gets announced at a family dinner. The moon head of house and the kim head of house shake hands, the perfect picture of a business deal.
Which is probably why most of the grannies don't like you, you've squashed their plans of having their third or fourth in line omega grandchildren marry a head of house. Yoongi doesn't have to ask himself why Geumjae chose you. It's clear.
You're as beautiful as you are easy to get along with, more than one man has been tempted to possessive anger by a countenance as graceful as yours. When Yoongi comes to check on you you've always got something prepared.
You need too, because that's the only sure fire way you’ve ever found that made Geumjae’s anger immediately subside. A way to a man's heart is through his stomach, and it’s your only way to safety.
You learned after the first day you don’t have something prepared, that Yoongi doesn't mind if you don't have the food ready when he walks in. "I-I'm sorry- they're taking too long to cook- I dont know what went wrong and-" Yoongi's presence is so soothing, like a fresh breath of air as he swoops into your kitchen, opening the oven and checking it while you watch anxiously.
"It looks like it needs a minute, do you want to teach me how to make frosting?" it's the first time anyone cooked with you in years, and Yoongi dons your apron so easily. Letting you tie it behind his back. There are little strawberries embroidered along the hem, and it contrasts with the dark silk of his button down.
He’s got nice shoulders, you realize, ones that are wider than you first thought. for a second, a vision pops into your head of you wrapping your arms around his waist and pressing your front to his warm back, burying your face and rubbing your nose along his hairline. But you shake it off. When Yoongi’s not looking you press your cold hands to your cheeks to try and calm down.
Now every Wednesday and friday you've come to look forward to his visits, a few recipes set out for him to decide which one he wants to make with you. You often wait for him at the door, ready to bounce ideas off of him.
One Wednesday- you'd opened the door to find your husband. And he'd taken the cookbook and slapped you across the face with it. Yoongi and you hadn't cooked that day. No- that day he'd made soup while he made you sit at the counter with a cold cloth piled with ice to your cheek.
"I'm sorry I can't make it better." He'd said, breath uneven. But he’d made you soup- and that's more than anyones done for you in a long time.
There isn't much that soup can heal, but it makes you feel unbearable warm that Yoongi will even try. You know it could result in hurt for him and his pack. he talks about them alot. Endless little tidbits about people you will likely never meet- it's better than talking about other things; like the drugs in the study a few feet from here, or the illegal business of the family.
It seems you both crave domesticity. Both need a little sliver of gentleness in your week. And you find it in each other on stolen afternoons. Sometimes- he's the only reason why you smile that day.
Today, you're baking a cake, and your body relaxes with Yoongi's next to you. Most of the time when he comes over you’re making something for Geumjae. Yoongi has seen the way he gets when he comes home- angry and ready to take his anger out on you calmed by the sweets you proffer with shaking hands.
You stumble when he moves away, and Yoongi’s startled when he catches your shoulder. “Woh- you okay?” you feel dizzy and cushiony. “I’m fine,” you say- because that’s all you can say, Yoongi’s eyes are discerning when he ducks down to your level. His hands are still on your shoulders- and you feel so starved- maybe not for human contact but for love.
You can’t resist leaning into his hands. “Have you eaten anything today?” he asks, like he already knows what particular method of harm you’ve chosen to inflict on yourself today. Though it’s not your fault at all. Yoongi knows by the way you duck out of his eye contact that you haven’t eaten a single thing.
Yoongi makes you eat something when you confess you haven’t for several days, because Geumjae had complained you’d gained a little weight on your honeymoon, and he also sees you nearly dry heave when you see your husband in the door, come home early. Geumjae knows Yoongi is here, when he visits and when he leaves, but it still startles the both of you. Geumjae has the forethought to Feign concern. His thumb on your tongue when you open your mouth to reply- keeping your words back forcefully.
Yoongi leaves, but shakes in his rental car outside, unable to leave you in that house where he knows you’re being hurt, where you’re dying slowly. He’s not sure if Geumjae is just honestly abusive or if he’s actually trying to kill you.
He takes you out of the house for as long as he can just to make sure you’re safe. Until Geumjae comes and finds you- and drags you back to that house that has become a prison.
But soon- you won’t even come outside when Yoongi comes knocking. gone are the days of easy baking. Now you can’t even manage that. It gives you too much anxiety. Yoongi has worried after you pushing the food around your plate enough times. And after the first time he refused your sweets if you wouldn’t eat them too you’d stopped cooking for him altogether.
Yoongi wishes he’d never said anything at all, never tried to play hardball with you. It’s not the way to get around this. He can’t convince you to eat when you won’t. When the idea of putting on another pound makes you shake in fear and anxiety.
“Come away with me, just for a day- please, please sweetheart just come outside” Yoongi is not a man who begs often, but for you he will.
Your hands stay fisted in his sleeve, eyeing the door warily “I can’t, He’ll get mad at me- you know he will Yoongi.” Yoongi swallows and then guides you to the fine sitting room. He knows just from sitting on the couches that they’ve been cleaned of blood recently. The type of cleaning solution the family uses has a peculiar nutmeg pumpkin scent.
He wonders if it was yours. And shakes. trembles with the force of his anger. quashing it in a second when your face turns up at him. Worried that he’s angry at you. He forces himself to think of happier things forces himself to smell like chocolate to soothe you. It's hard, but not impossible. And he's rewarded when you sink into the cushions, you can’t hold yourself up right now. Your body sagging into the cushions like you have nothing left.
You’ve got more bruises today, new ones, and he can tell by the way that you’re holding yourself that there are probably more unhidden. He extends a hand to touch your cheek, to get a look at the purple ones by your eye.
A voice that sounds suspiciously like Namjoon’s warns Yoongi of the kind of trauma that can result in ocular damage and he’s concerned- his instincts are screaming at him too soothe you. Maybe a nip to your scent gland if he was brave or a good cuddle if he was stupid enough to think you could both get away with it. Omegas are supposed to love cuddling and nest making and Yoongi doesn't think he’s ever seen you do either of those things. Omegas only nest in places they feel safe.
He can’t do what he wants, so he goes to the kitchen and gets an icy cloth, lifting it to your cheek and this time. You let Yoongi dab at it. You shift, and all of a sudden your knee is touching the outside of his. “Come here. I’ve got to get the ones on your shoulder.”
As much as closeness is a bad idea, it also feels good. You and Yoongi don’t talk. Mostly because he knows you can’t say anything positive. Only more of what he’s come to expect. The lies you tell yourself just as much as you tell him. “it’s getting better Yoongi it really is- it’s not nearly as bad as it was before you got here- And really- I do it to myself by going outside when he’s so worried about something happening to me. he gives me clear rules and im a bad omega by not following them.”
You’re so poisoned. Your worldview so skewed. You keep thinking that as long as it doesn't get any worse. You can make it better. And all the words that Yoongi wants to say are kept at bay by how honestly and ardently you hope; “you know that’s not really why he wants to keep you here right? That keeping you protected is all a disguise for what he really wants- to control you. to own you”
Your abuse goes deeper than anything physical Yoongi realizes when you even refuse comfort saying, “I don’t deserve it” when he offers it. Even when he can get a read on your scent- how you’re practically reaching out for anything to hold onto.
Yoongi watches you disappear through his fingers, like smoke or steam. the softness you’ve shown him going away as the abuse gets worse.
You become more and more silent as the weeks go on. During The weekly family dinners, you look more and more thankful that no one asks you to speak. Even Yoongi across the table who can't tear his eyes away from you. He has to keep his seat- not make an issue out of it under the hawk-like eyes of the heads of the family.
If he extends his legs as far as he can go without slouching in his chair, he can get his ankle side by side with yours. Your skin feels cold most of the time. Most of the time that you’re not covered with bruises Geumjae forces you to wear increasingly more low-cut things. Shorter skirts. He can tell you’re uncomfortable with what you’re wearing by the way that you fidget. But Yoongi guesses that it's just another way for him to control you.
When- he sees you next- and you’re vacant. Nothing behind your eyes that looks like life. You stare blankly as the weeks go on, you barely even flinch when Geumjae hurts you. Why flinch when you’re already expecting it. If anything the times that he touches you gently surprise you more.
When Geumjae invites him in and you’re just sitting there, you don’t meet Yoongi’s gaze when he says your name- replying in a soft voice that only barely shakes when Geumjae prompts you to speak. A doll, perfectly trained. Sitting pretty and slutty in the clothes that your husband has picked out for you. “See Yoongi? I told you she only needed a firm hand- she’s as good as tamed now.”
You need help- and Yoongi can’t ignore it. He doesn’t know when he started to fall in love with you. Whether it was the time when he visited during another spring rainstorm and you strip him of his dripping clothes and clad him in softer ones- not clothes from your husband- that much he can tell.
In all reality you don’t have that much of a height difference, it’s just you curling in on yourself that adds to the illusion that you’re so much slighter than him. You are slighter. The soft swells you had when he first met you are gone now. The clothes that drown you out hanging on his frame delicately as you smooth the soft fabric over his shoulders, holding on for a second like you want him close before you let go.
Yoongi feels like he smells like you when he’s covered in the rain, imagines for a moment that you’ve pulled him close and scent marked him. He Leaves his windows cracked on the nights that it rains and doesn’t snow and closes his eyes and imagines that you’re here.
He still hasn’t figured out what you smell like when you're happy.
Does he fall in love with you because of the way you touch him when you can manage it- when no one is there to see? Maybe. He treasures the secret brush of your hand on his forearm that makes his whole body shiver. Makes him lean in close.
The day comes where you come over to the hallowed beta ground with tears in your eyes, holding a dishcloth to the gash under your jaw. It’s a deep mark, from A thrown glass and it probably needs stitches. It bleeds so much that Yoongi has to give you a change of clothes. A sweatshirt so large on you that it dusts your knees. It makes you smell like him and if the situation where any less dire it would make Yoongi purr.
Yoongi wishes he could call Namjoon- wishes it hadn’t been months since he’d seen his pack- missing them aches like Yoongi is missing something in his chest, something vital, whatever connects his head to his heart missing. Namjoon would know what to do- would know what to say and how to get you out of here. He’d soothe your pain and your aches better than Yoongi ever could.
And Seokjin and jimin would know how to comfort you when you shake so bad that Yoongi can barely do more than dab at it with a cloth. Try to make sure it’s clean of all the glass shards. Taehyung and Hoseok would know how to make you smile after this and Jungkook, Jungkook would hold around your waist. Yoongi is useless at this without them.
They must be going crazy without Yoongi there; he wishes he could reach out. Just to make sure they knew he was all right.
They’d love you, he’s sure of it.
While He picks the last of the glass fragments out of your hair he voices what he’s wanted to say for months. He’s tired of dancing around it. “You know- I could get you out of here if you wanted. If you asked, I’d make it happen.”
You recoil like Yoongi’s the one to throw a glass in your face. “I can’t- I can’t leave Yoongi- He’ll get better once you name him Don- then he just won't be so angry all the time right? And he’ll be out of the house so much it will hardly feel like we’re even married.”
You look like you’re begging Yoongi to reassure you. When you both know that nothing is going to change, some people are just rotten to the core. And Yoongi can’t be forceful with you when you look like you might run out of here just as quickly as you came. Yoongi wonders how long it will take Geumjae to find you and how badly he’ll hurt you this time.
He doesn’t even speak gentle words anymore or try to tell you that it will be the last time he hits you like he used to. Now you both know there will only be more of this- more of you trapped by his blood. Unless you trust Yoongi.
If you trust Yoongi.
Yoongi speaks- trying to figure out what will keep you here the longest, just as long as he can keep you out of harm's way. “You don’t deserve this sweetheart- you deserve to be loved” Yoongi sees from the way you recoil- he must have touched on something sensitive. A soft spot or an open wound that Geumjae had made in you.
How many times as he screamed at you that you’re worthless. You won’t show Yoongi it, but there's a scar going down your stomach. Each letter hurt when he carved them into your body. Worthless- written on you in scar tissue. There are countless other scars that he doesn’t know about. The worst are the mental ones.
“Who’s going to love me Yoongi? Not when I’m like this,” you gesture to yourself, failing to meet his eyes. Holding yourself like it’s the only thing that can give you comfort. And all Yoongi can think is that there is nothing about you that deserves the utter disgust in your voice- the low self-esteem might be something that you hadn’t meant to show him. Another side effect of the abuse. damage that goes deeper than any physical bandage or medicine can heal.
And it goes without saying- his whispered confession is true as he holds a cold cloth to your bruises and cuts- he hopes his words will soothe that spot too. Any and all damage his brother has done, Yoongi wants to heal.
“I could love you.”
You shoot up, standing so quick that the blood rushes to your head and you teeter, you can’t see Yoongi’s concern through the tears clouding your vision. Shaking your head vehemently. Your shin knocking against the coffee table hard as you back away from him. His hands go out to grab you but he thinks better of it. You don’t look like you want to be touched right now.
“You can’t Yoongi- he’ll kill you too- and I won’t be the reason why you die- I won’t.” you gasp the words, “You need to get back to your pack, they need you.”
“But you need me too.” You do, that you can’t argue with no matter how much you want to. “Don’t tell me it’s too late to save you when we both know it’s not.”
“It’s not, but I wish I was beyond saving so that you wouldn’t try.”
“You think I have a choice? That I meant to love you?” Yoongi realizes his mistake the second you flinch. Sometimes words can hurt too, can hurt worse than physical damage. When your voice goes soft rather than Forceful. Here Yoongi is, trying to make it better and only succeeding in making it worse.
You duck away from him, hair covering your face. You don’t grab your jacket when you make your way towards the door. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be a burden, let me make it easier for you” you fold the cloth, put it on the kitchen counter and walk out the door.
By the time Yoongi runs after you, you’ve already disappeared down the garden path and into the maze of neon lights. Sinking into the crowds of drunk college kids and businessmen hoping to nurse their hurts in a bottle of liquor. You disappear like a shadow, or a wraith. like you’re already a ghost, already dead.
That night Yoongi dreams of you again. it’s the same dream as before, with the skylight and the red blanket that feels silky and cool like blood.
Only this time- you’re the one with the gun.
--------------------
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Between The Bloodshed | Chapter 24
Genre: Mafia!AU, Angst, Romance, Fluff
Pairing: OT7 x Reader
Characters: Doctor!Reader, Gangster!Namjoon, Gangster!Seokjin, Gangster!Yoongi, Gangster!Hoseok, Gangster!Jimin, Gangster!Taehyung, Gangster!Jungkook
Summary: Being a freelance doctor, this was just supposed to be any other job, helping a private client and taking care of him through his recovery. But you were not expecting to get caught in something so much darker that would change your life entirely.
The boys have decided to grant you your space, but they can only wait so long.
Warning: This story is fictional and has nothing to do with real life events or the actual members of BTS. It may contain depictions of violence, blood shed/ gore and mentions of abuse. Please read at your own discretion.
Chapter warning(s): Mentions of drug dealing, angry Jungkook curses (and calls someone a wh*re)
Jin walked around his casino, inspecting the area. Some players cast him glances, seeing the handsome suited male walked around with two guards and the casino manager in tow. Jin was extremely meticulous when it came to his places of business.
“Clear this row. The machines look horrible. Order new ones.” Jin ordered. The manager nodded, opening his file to take note.
“How’s the bar business?” Jin asked.
“It is going very well, sir. Along with the new menu for the restaurant that you put in. We have patrons ordering finger foods.” The manager reported. Jin nodded his head in approval.
“Sir, there have been some new business prepositions for you. From different suppliers.”
“Prepare them in my private booth at the restaurant. I’ll go through them as a eat. Ask the bar to fix my drink too.” Jin gave a backwards wave as he headed to his office first. He stopped the guards just before the first coded door. After he punched the code in, he pushed open the glass door and headed in. There was another coded door to get through before he opened the double doors that led to his office.
RINGGGGG
“Hmm?” He pressed the speaker button.
“Hyung! S-She... (y/n)... She...”
“Jungkook, calm down and tell me what’s going on. This is about (y/n)? What’s wrong? I thought Taehyung was visiting her today.” Jin frowned, wondering what the maknae was freaking out about.
“SHE’S GONE!”
“Gone? As in, kidnapped again?” Jin went closer to his phone.
“No. Taehyung hyung came back from the hospital, he was a mess. Then he said something about the room being empty, her leaving her bracelet behind. He checked with the nurses, who said she woke up this morning and checked out right away.”
“I see...” Jin didn’t really know what to say.
“She left us!”
“Jungkook, calm down. Get a grip. I’m coming home now.” Jin said and hung up, He sighed, gathering his things and heading out.
“I’m going home. Put a hold on everything first.” Jin told the manager, not explaining much as he called for his driver. The car pulled up and Jin got in. he texted the other older ones on the way home.
“Yoongi, Hoseok.” Jin exited his car just as the two came out. Yoongi chewed on his nail, he had been rather distressed since Hoseok dropped him off at his coastal hotel the other day. But he wouldn’t tell the others what had happened.
“Namjoon’s inside with the younger ones.” Hoseok informed. They entered the side wing this time. The other 4 members were seated there.
“Why did she leave...?” Jimin sighed.
“She won’t return to work so quickly, considering she just woke up from her coma. Plus, she still has things to collect here. She wouldn’t abandon Kookie too.” Namjoon said.
“Should we find her?” Taehyung jumped up.
“No. She obviously wants to be alone now. It’s traumatic, even for someone like her. What we are used to, not everyone is. Us going to her house now isn’t going to change anything. She needs space and we have to grant her that.” Yoongi spoke. Everyone knew what the older said was right. They knew where your apartment was, yet they knew they shouldn’t go.
“Then we just wait for her to come back and speak to us? What if she never wants to see us again?” Jungkook panicked.
“Even if she does, she still has a contract to honour with our family. She’ll have to come see Namjoon, at least, to nullify it. I know for a fact, that she’ll stick to that.” Jin said.
“I thought I could finally hold her.”
“That’s all we wanted as well. But sometimes, things just don’t go our way.” Namjoon tried his best to comfort the maknaes.
“I have some important business to attend to. I’ll be back tonight.” Hoseok said and left immediately. Yoongi stood up as well, heading to his office here, slamming the door shut. He needed to see you, there were so many things he needed to ask you.
“Please, take a seat.” Yoongi gulped as he closed the office doors behind him. The visitor nodded, taking a seat on one of the couches. Yoongi wiped his sweaty palms on the thighs before sitting opposite him.
“What can I do for you... hyung?” He asked.
“I know everything, Yoongi.”
“W-What do you mean?” Yoongi’s eyes widened.
“Your friend, the lady doctor, she came to see me the other day. She offered to be my doctor and surgeon.” Geumjae explained. Yoongi was speechless, not really knowing how to react.
“Of course, I said no. And she respected that, surprisingly. Everyone else was pushing me to get the surgery since it gives me another ‘chance at life’ but I didn’t want to go through all of that. Then, she told me something.”
“What did she say...?” Yoongi asked cautiously.
“She told me just how much of our father’s burden you’re carrying, even after his death. How much you’re living with the guilt of everything that he caused and how you have taken all the blame on yourself. She made me realise how even though the past hurts, living my life, hating someone who’s not even at fault, isn’t worth it.” He sighed.
“Oh...” Was all Yoongi could say.
“Yoongi, as much as I hated our father, I knew it was wrong of me to blame you. You’re not him. I just... what he did to my mum, I needed someone to blame. Even after his death.” Geumjae sighed.
“It’s okay. I knew whatever dad did... I can never undo it.” Yoongi looked away.
“But that’s the thing, my omma and I shouldn’t have expected you to undo it. You never needed to and yet, we made you feel like it was your duty to.” Geumjae said.
“Before her death, she stopped blaming you and your mum, knowing that it was never any of your faults to begin with. There was no point blaming a child and mother who was kept in the dark just as much as we were.” He continued. Yoongi nodded his head.
“We were all just disposable in dad’s eyes. He never cared about us at all.” Yoongi spoke, it was the truth.
“You’re all I have left, Yoongi.” Geumjae looked at Yoongi.
“You too, hyung. All I ever wanted was just to have you as an older brother, I hated it when dad spoke about you like you were nothing, when he blamed you when he caught us playing together.” Yoongi’s voice grew soft.
“When I knew you were ill, I tried to get (y/n) to do the surgery. I didn’t care if you hated me. I just wanted you alive.” Yoongi revealed.
“Yoongi...”
“That’s why I went to see you. That’s why I told you, if you want me to never find you again, you have to go for the surgery. Because I knew that would be the only way to make you do it.” He wiped a tear.
“There’s a lot of missed time to make up for. I’ll do the surgery.” Geumjae reached over to hold Yoongi’s hand.
“Y-You will?” Yoongi’s eyes widened.
“Only if Dr (y/n) does it.” Geumjae stated. Yoongi nodded his head. The two brothers stood up, hugging each other.
“Will you ever forgive me, Yoongi?” Geumjae asked.
“I have never once blamed you to begin with, hyung.” Yoongi replied, his words muffled by his brother’s shoulder slightly. That’s why Yoongi needed to find you first and didn’t even mention any of this to the other boys. He wanted you to be the first person to know how he made up with his brother and how it was all thanks to you.
Yoongi bit his thumbnail as he looked out the window. He swirled the ice cube around the whiskey glass before taking a sip. His shoulder ached, he knew he was over working it too quickly.
“Hyung?” He turned around to see Jimin there.
“Jin hyung said to give this to you.” He handed the older a small ziploc bag with some pills inside. It was probably painkillers for his shoulder. Even now, Jin was still the only one that had the key access to your medicine cabinet.
“Thanks.” He popped the pills into his mouth, gulping it down with his whiskey. If you were there, you would have scolded him.
“How’s Tae?” Yoongi asked after a short silence.
“He’s doing better. It was just the initial shock... You know like what happened with his noona. But he calmed down, Namjoon hyung took him to DNA to do some housekeeping.” Jimin informed. Yoongi nodded.
“Good.” The older sighed. Jimin left the office, going back to his dojo to train, just to get his own anxieties out of his system. Namjoon drove this time, casting glances to Taehyung every now and then. Taehyung just stared out the window, a distant look in his eyes.
“You know, the last time I bought flowers for someone... I found my dad beating my noona to death.” Taehyung suddenly spoke.
“Taehyung-”
“Today, I bought flowers for the girl I love, only to find that she doesn’t even want to see me anymore. Just took off and left.” Taehyung sighed. Namjoon didn’t reply, just letting Taehyung be.
“Are you sure you can work, Taehyung?” Namjoon asked.
“Of course. Sorry.” Taehyung cleared his throat. Namjoon didn’t mean that rudely, he just wanted to snap Taehyung out of it.
“We’re here.” Namjoon stopped the car and parked. The doors were opened for them by the guards of DNA. They bowed as the two entered. Namjoon and Taehyung went upstairs to where the 7′s shared office was. They sat inside, going through all the paperwork they have missed. With Taehyung around, Namjoon didn’t have to do it all alone.
“I thought we were housekeeping. I brought my favourite bat for nothing.” Taehyung rolled his eyes. Namjoon chuckled at the disappointment evident in the younger’s voice.
“Don’t worry, you’ll get your action. Our men told me that there has been quite a drug problem here.” Namjoon informed.
“Not by our dealers?” Taehyung grew surprised. Unauthorised dealing of drugs in Bangtan territory wasn’t common since Bangtan has its own dealers. The boys were always controlling what drug gets dealt with and how much of it.
“Do they know the culprit?” Taehyung asked.
“We’ll catch him ourselves. Tonight.” Namjoon smirked. Taehyung grew excited, it had been a while since they’ve caught someone themselves.
When night fell, Namjoon and Taehyung left their office. Taehyung slung his bat over his shoulder, the splintered wood a contrast from his stark, dark green suit. The two stood on the VIP balcony, sipping their drinks quietly as they observed the club being filled.
“I think we’ve found our dealer.” Namjoon said, swirling his drink in his crystal glass. Taehyung followed his leader’s line of sight, a smile slowly growing on his face as they emptied their glasses and walked out of the booth.
Jungkook had left after the older ones spoke of the plan to not seek you out, he returned to his fighting ring since there was a high staked, big fight tonight.
“Mr Jeon.” The workers bowed. Jungkook ignored them, straightening his jacket.
“Get me a drink.” He said as he walked up to his regular, protected booth. Entering, he removed his jacket and sat on the plush couch. He leaned back comfortably, crossing his legs.
“Sir.” His attendant bowed deeply, placing Jungkook’s usual drink order over a napkin on his side table. Jungkook shooed him away and he scurried away.
“Hmm...” Jungkook looked at the iPad, scanning through the fighters that would be sparring today. He clicked on a specific fighter’s profile and immediately bet 10 million won. All he had to do now was sit back, relax and watch his pet win. Jungkook wasn’t an impulsive gambler but he was a confident one, ‘don’t put all your eggs into one basket’ didn’t apply to him.
“Jungkookie.” A female’s voice entered the VIP area where he was sitting. Jungkook ignored her, eyes trained on the people coming in and placing their bets for the fight.
“I haven’t seen you in a while.” She had the audacity to sit down beside him. Jungkook took a sip of his drink.
“Who let you in?” He asked, not even looking at her.
“I told them I’m with you and they let me in.” She giggled. Wordlessly, Jungkook stood up and headed to the door. Grabbing the guard by the back of his collar, Jungkook dragged him in, throwing him to the ground.
“So you just let anyone in now?” Jungkook hovered over him.
“N-No, sir! I’m sorry! She told me she was with you and I know that a girl is usually with you-”
“Don’t you dare compare her to that wh*re over there.” Jungkook cut him off with a menacing hiss. The guard shut his mouth, pursing his lips.
“You’re fired. Get out of my sight and take the wh*re with you, since you like to listen to her so much.” Jungkook growled. His patience was already running thin from the events earlier today and he wasn’t about to let someone else test it again at his own place of business.
“Jungkook, don’t you think-” Jungkook, gaze still trained on the guard in front of him, took his gun out and pointed it at her. She screamed and ducked behind the couch.
“Get out!” Jungkook roared and the two ran out as quickly as they could.
“Unless you see a member of Bangtan, no one is to be let into MY booth. You understand me?!” Jungkook shouted at the other guard, who jumped in fear, saluting and nodding his head. Jungkook slammed the door.
“F*ckers trying to test me.” Jungkook ran his fingers through his hair and dropped back down onto the couch.
*KNOCK KNOCK*
Jungkook looked through the glass to see his fighter standing there with his manager and the ringmaster. Giving a nod of approval, he waved for them to enter. The fighter and his manager walked behind the ringmaster. Seeing him bow to Jungkook, the two bowed respectfully. Jungkook stood up, going to the fighter. He scanned his figure.
“Mr Jeon.” The fighter bowed. Jungkook smiled.
“You have a lot of potential. I’ve got my money on you tonight.” Jungkook faked kindness. The manager’s eyes widened.
“Thank you so much for your kindness, Mr Jeon! We- I mean, he won’t let you down!” They bowed again. Jungkook hummed with a nod, patting the fighter’s shoulder encouragingly.
“That’s good to hear. I’ve seen you train so I know you won’t let me down.” Jungkook chuckled, sitting back down.
“Have a great fight. I’ll be watching.” Jungkook waved. The fighter looked out the viewing glass that faced the ring. He visibly gulped and nodded his head.
“Thank you again, Mr Jeon.” The manager bowed and guided his fighter out. The ringmaster stayed behind.
“After the fight, we’ll keep the kid. However, not a big fan of the manager...” Jungkook smirked. That’s all Jungkook needed to say for the ringmaster to understand what he meant. The ringmaster nodded and bowed deeply before exiting the room.
--
You sighed, stretching your fingers.
“Great work, everyone.” You nodded to everyone in the surgical suite. The nurses and other attending doctors bowed to you. You walked out the double doors, pulling your soiled scrubs off and tossing them into the bin.
“Good job. As always.” Your mother was there, waiting for you at the exit.
“Thanks.” You mumbled. You can only imagine how happy your mother was when you told her that you would be working here temporarily. There were some skills that you needed brushing up on and honestly, you wanted to avoid 7 people for a while.
“I’m gonna take a break.” You walked away from your mother, heading to the stairwell. You entered the rooftop of the hospital.
“You’re such a coward. You know that?” You shook your head at yourself. Sitting on the only bench there, you tucked your hands into the pocket of your coat.
A few days ago, you had sent a message to Namjoon, asking for time off and that you will contact him shortly regarding you contract with the family. You didn’t even wait for his reply before blocking him.
“You look like you need a hot chocolate.” A new voice appeared. You stiffened slightly, turning around.
“Found ya.” He smirked.
“I wasn’t exactly hiding. Besides, I knew one of you were bound to come and seek me out. Although, I can’t say I expected you to be the first one.” You chuckled. He held out a cup of hot chocolate and you received it. You opened the lid, watching the steam escape for a few seconds before taking a sip. The sweet beverage comforted you.
“You’ve cut your hair.” He pointed out. You nodded, reaching up to touch your now slightly short hair that ended just above your shoulders. You wanted a change and this was the best you could do.
“How are you doing?” He asked, sitting on the bench beside you.
“Surviving.” You shrugged.
“Really?” He wasn’t convinced by your vague answer.
“I shot someone, I killed him. I’ll forever live with the guilt of his blood on my hands but do I regret it? No. It needed to happen.” You sighed.
“We know there was a boy that helped you escape. We found his body in the room and gave him a burial, it’s only right.” He took a slip of paper out of his wallet, handing it to you.
“He’s there.” He informed. You looked at the address and number on the paper, nodding with a hum before putting it in your pocket.
“Are you done with work for the day?” He asked.
“Yes, but that doesn’t mean I’m leaving with you. I asked for an indefinite time of leave. That means I want to be away from all of you.” You snorted.
“We don’t have to leave. We can stay right here. But now that I think about it, I’m sure I’m the only one in the family that hasn’t told you how I joined Bangtan.” He looked at the city skyline before him, a small smile on his face. You blinked, turning your head to look at his side profile.
~~
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#kpop#kpop scenarios#kpop series#bts#bts scenarios#bts series#bts x reader#bts x y/n#bts x you#poly!bts#bts poly#poly!bts x reader#poly bts#bts mafia au#bts mafia#bts mafia series#bts mafia fic#mafia#mafia au#mafia!au#mafia!bts#mafia bts#ot7#ot7 x reader#ot7 bts#bts ot7#ot7 x you
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The Wounded
Relationship: Steve Rogers x Reader [Dating], Bucky Barnes x Reader [Platonic]
Warnings: mantions of kidnapping, slight depictions of PTSD, angst
Summary: After you survive a kidnapping that ends up affecting you in ways you and Steve never anticipated, you turn to Bucky for comfort leaving Steve confused and insecure.
A/N: alright this is an older one I had sitting on my computer i felt like uploading but very sorry for the lack of content! I am currently dealing with finals but this is my last year so fingers crossed i’ll have more time after this! Still, please enjoy this, I remember really enjoying writing it :)
Masterlist
You shot up in bed suddenly, praying your eyes would adjust to the pitch black darkness of your bedroom fast enough to ease your brain. As your heart raced and sides ached with bruises, you took in your surroundings finally.
You were in your bed, your boyfriend Steve sleeping peacefully next to you. You knew this in your brain but your heart didn’t. It still raced relentlessly, just a haunting reminder of your latest nightmare.
The nightmares always had the same theme. They always seemed to circle back to your troubling and scarring kidnapping you had suffered just a few weeks ago. It was a devastating ploy by some equally devastating men to get to your boyfriend. The abduction didn’t last very long — just about a week in some musty, dirty cell being kicked around — but the scars it left on your brain where so much deeper than you had ever realized until recently.
The physical abuse was bad but the bruises and cuts were healing just fine. It was the mental and emotional games they played that was going to take longer to ease. The words were haunting and they followed you in every crevasse of your brain, typically leaving you running on a couple of hours a sleep. It was a cruel routine: go to bed safe and sound, find peace for two hours, wake up in a cold sweat, watch mindless TV in the common area until breakfast.
Here we go, you thought as you made your way out of the bed. Steve was still undisturbed, in a peaceful dream sleep, typically unaware of your absence. The few times he had caught on you rushed him back to bed, claiming you just wanted a midnight snack. He never questioned it but his eyes always told you he wasn’t convinced. You ignored it — you just couldn’t tell him. The guilt he carried about your kidnapping was unbelievable. You worked so hard to convince him you were alright, it wasn’t ever his fault, and that the wounds were healing because you couldn’t bare to see those eyes in such a miserable state.
It really wasn’t a total lie — the wounds were swell and you wouldn’t dare to blame him for something not in his control — but then the nightmares started. The daunting voice began chiming in. The depression… the anxiety… the fear… it all came at once so unexpectedly.
You tugged on your fluffy robe along with your slippers and made your way to the kitchen. As you rounded the corner you were stunned to see the kitchen light already on. Peaking your head in, your eyes fell on Bucky who was situated at the kitchen island snacking on some chips.
You stared, unsure of whether you should head to the living room and venture into the kitchen. No one had ever been up with you before and if they did, they never made themselves known.
"I can feel you staring, Y/N."
Bucky’s rough voice brought you out of your ridiculous phase. You sighed and made your way to the fridge.
"What are you doing up?" You asked, grabbing a carton of vanilla ice cream along with a spoon and making your way to the island. You stood opposite of him, watching and waiting for a reply as he crunched on the chips.
"Isn’t this the time you always get up?"
His question stunned you. Holding his intense stare, you placed your spoon on the counter next to the ice cream. Suddenly, your stomach was in a knot. Maybe a part of you didn’t want anyone to know what was going on.
"I just wanted a snack," You gave your go-to spiel but the ex-assassin wasn’t buying one bit of it.
"Every night?" Bucky scoffed. "Probably should eat a bigger dinner, then."
You rolled your eyes as he gave you his know-it-all smirk. You loved Bucky really —totally loved his company and all that — he had been such a great friend to you and so inviting but no matter what, without a fail, he could always pick up on anything that was off. Steve, of course, could see right through you but he always gave you the benefit of the doubt. He was gentler with you, never wanting to pry or upset you, and you were so thankful for that. But Bucky didn’t give a shit — if something was wrong he was gonna find out one way or another.
"Why are you up?" You repeated your initial question, getting a bit fed up with this now. He stalled your question and reached for more chips. You sighed in annoyance and opened the ice cream carton, digging into the creamy deliciousness.
"Something’s up with you," Bucky finally answered. His voice was a bit softer and way less cocky. Hearing someone express they saw you weren’t okay nearly had you in tears. You shoveled more ice cream in your mouth, staring down at the granite counter.
You shook your head. "Just wanted a snack."
"Jesus Christ, Y/N." Bucky groaned. "Come on, don’t make this hard."
You placed your spoon in the carton, pushing it to the side. You fiddled with your nails as thoughts and feelings swarmed in your brain. It couldn’t hurt for someone to know, right?
"Nightmares," You spoke softly, voice cracking ever so slightly. "Just some bad nightmares."
"The kidnapping," He whispered. You saw his fists clinch at the mention of it. Your kidnapping had shocked everyone. They all had their own way of handling it but usually it was just a lot of confusion. You weren’t some hero. You didn’t have magical power or a fancy training. You were just a nurse who bandaged up the heroes when they came back. Even with dating Steve, no one expected you to be a casualty.
"It’s really messing with my brain," The words were rough to get out but once they were out there, you felt a new freedom. A weight you never realized was so heavy was being lifted so carelessly with words.
Bucky just nodded and waited for you to continue.
From then on, your nightly routine was no longer a lonesome thing. Bucky began joining you every night with snacks and a therapy session. It felt easy to talk with him about it especially since he understood. He didn’t have to pretend to know how you felt — he had felt it all, too. He got what being captive was like, how the mental manipulation went, how strong the effects of it all could be… You for once didn’t feel crazy. But most importantly — someone knew. Like really knew. And you were immensely grateful.
It seemed to be helping as well. You knew when the thoughts got rough, you could just spew it all out. You could talk about what exactly had happened to you without fear of being looked at differently. The whole thing was like breathing fresh air. You could even sometimes fall back asleep on the couch which now put your sleeping time up to four glorious hours.
The nightly chats really put your daytime spirits back up. So much so, Steve was getting a little suspicious. While he was so relieved you seemed to be doing better, the steps you took to get there were still a mystery to him and you could tell he was curious. When you’d join him in your shared room at the end of the day, he’d ask more questions about what you had done through the day. It was almost like he wanted a play-by-play and you did your best to comply.
It wasn’t until a week or so later that he started catching on to you leaving in the middle of the night. Without knowing it, he had used all his might to stay up one night to see if something was going on. You didn’t appear to be doing anything but work during the day so something must’ve been happening in the night — and that’s when his mind wandered. The thoughts of what could be helping you started to get a little unpleasant.
It was a random Tuesday night and you were on the couch with Bucky eating some pretzels. He was sitting up right while you were laying on the couch, legs thrown over his lap. You were going on about how your nightmares had gotten weaker when unexpected foot steps halted your words.
"What’s this?" The unmistakably strong voice of your boyfriend boomed through the living room. You scrambled to sit up, throwing pretzels all over the coffee table. Both stunned and unsure, you and Bucky stared at Steve. His demeanor was hard, his face unamused, and his eye said he was ready for a fight.
"Steve, babe, what-," You fumbled for your words, trying your best to reason. He hadn’t caught you two doing anything but his energy was so startling it made you unexplainably scared.
"What? What am I doing up? What are you doing up?" He marched towards the couch. Hesitantly, you stood up to face him. Bucky stayed seated, looking at you both with a slight expression of annoyance. He knew how possessive his best friend could get but this felt excessive.
"Just wanted a snack-,"
"Don’t bullshit me," Steve growled, taking an intimidating step towards you. You jumped at the harshness. Sure, you guys had had disagreements before but this was entirely new.
"I… I’m not… Steve-,"
Steve took a deep breath.
"Y/N," His voice got deeper. It was slightly too calm compared to his attitude just seconds before. "Tell me why you’re up at night sneaking around with my best friend."
"Sneaking around?!" You gasped. "Steve, that is not-,"
"OH, IT’S NOT?" Steve’s voice boomed throughout the common area. Even a watching Bucky jumped at the noise.
You quickly backed away from him, completely scared beyond belief. His eyes were harsh, his entire demeanor fuming with anger. You had never seen anything like this from him and it started to bring up the memories you worked so hard to heal from.
"Steve, man, take it down a notch…" Bucky finally stood from the couch and placed his hands on Steve’s shoulder.
Steve flinched back, nearly ready to throw one at Bucky, but something in him clicked. He lowered his hand and took a few deep breaths. Coming to his senses, he looked at you and saw the absolute horror on your face. He had never seen you look at him like that and it broke him into a million pieces.
"I… just… what the hell is going on?" Steve meant for it to come out nicer, but the harshness was yet to leave him and his tone. You started rubbing your hands together, a nervous tick you’ve had forever. Bucky tried to get you to stop when he noticed your movements, but Steve’s cold glare wouldn’t let him anywhere near you.
"I can’t sleep anymore," you said, breaking the silence with a much more powerful voice than you intended. You didn’t know you had the strength. "Ever since… I can’t sleep. I keep having these nightmares and Bucky’s been helping."
Steve scoffed, "Helping?"
Bucky rolled his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest. Now you were getting weary of both super soldiers.
"We sit up talking," Bucky explained. "It helps her… well both of us, really, to talk, watch TV… anything."
"And you didn’t tell me this because…?" Steve asked, pointing his attention back on you. When his eyes met yours, a shiver went down your spine as his cold gaze. You sighed, realizing the gig was up.
"God, Steve, I didn’t wanna worry you!" You exclaimed. "The last thing you need is a girlfriend with PTSD. You go through enough shit and I just didn’t wanna pile it on."
The admission sat in the air heavily around you three. Bucky looked relieve you finally said something but Steve’s eyes just held so much confusion. Personally, you felt so much weight coming off you. You thought you’d never have to tell him, assumed everything would sort itself out, but no, you finally spoke up.
"Honey," Steve sighed with sudden tears forming in his eyes. "You didn’t… You shouldn’t have done that, you know you can tell me anything, right?"
You nodded, "Steve it was just so scary. I didn’t know what to do. Bucky was just there and he got it and would just sit up with me and-,"
"Alright, hon," Steve cut you off and made his way closer. Thankfully, you didn’t flinch away. "I understand and I’m glad you had someone, but I would’ve helped. I can help you, sweetheart."
"I’m sorry," You whispered as he pulled you into a hug. You threw your arms around his torso and buried your face in his chest, letting the pent up tears flow. Steve rest his chin on your head, stroking your hair softly.
"I didn’t know you were hurting this much," he admitted.
"It’s been so fucking scary,"
Steve could almost feel his heart breaking at the sound of your voice alone. Your words just piled on so much.
"I should let you two…" Bucky began, essentially forgotten standing next to you two. You pulled away from Steve to look at him.
"Thank you, Buck," you said.
Steve nodded in agreement. "I’m sorry for the overreacting I just… I thought the worst, but really you probably saved my girl."
Bucky gave a small smile and patted Steve on the back. "I didn’t do anything. It’s her strength you gotta thank."
With that, he made his way to the elevator and back to his room, leaving you two still standing in an embrace in the common area. You stared up at Steve, watching his expression towards you change. What was once so scary and harsh was back to the softest man you’d ever met.
"We’ll make some calls in the morning but for now, would you come back to bed?" Steve asked. "I can’t imagine anymore nights without you."
You nodded, giving him a peck on the lips. He led you back to the shared bedroom and for once, you went to bed with a sense of hope.
#steve rogers#steve rogers x you#steve rogers x reader#steve rogers one shot#steve rogers imagine#bucky barnes x you#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes one shot#bucky barnes imagine#angst#steve rogers angst#mcu#mcu fic#marvel one shot#marvel fanfiction#marvel#avengers#writing*#fluff
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Obviously the Falcon show should've shown Bucky coming terms with the fact that he should write his OWN name in his book of victims.
It should have been made visually clear by the end of the series that he doesnt have to apologize for heinous crimes committed by Hydra hijacking his body and obliterating his bodily autonomy to incomprehensible levels, easentially using him like a criminal pump n dump. Every new assignment, new agonizing training, new puppetry, another violent rape of his body and mind.
Bucky is not at all even akin to say Tony Stark, who suffered immense guilt during the entire Infinity Saga regarding his former life as a weapons dealer. Tony's (valid) guilt resulted in a compulsive desire to protect the earth, ultimately ending in his voluntary death. Tony is time and again shown as a tortured hero despite his initial complacency in his morally bereft actions. Bucky gets no such luck- even though Bucky, in his former life, committed no such atrocities and in fact was likely one of the most heroic pre-superhero normals in the MCU.
Bucky was a well-liked, smart, athletic, happy boy who cast aside any manner of social expectation to throw in his lot, time, and energy, again and again, with chronically ill, disabled, social menace Steve Rogers. Bucky canonically nursed Steve's injuries, was his stalwart companion through all life's difficulties (his illnesses, his mother's death, Steve's psychological inferiority complex and mental anguish resulting from his social standing) and the Crash, and mostly importantly, Bucky did not want to go to war.
He was drafted (something that seemingly would have been key to bring up in Falcon re: his lifetime as an unwilling soldier). And, emotionally, Bucky ardently tried to dissuade Steve from joining the army, for fear he'd lose him. Despite not wanting to fight and being tortured, Bucky stayed in the military post-rescue from Azzano because he could not fathom leaving Steve. He planted his feet in a burning building shouting "No! not without you!" refusing to leave without Steve even after his rescue from months of torture. Til the end of the line, regardless of what happened to him.
For the next three entire films we see the frankly epic level of value Steve places on Bucky's devoted companionship. How desperately Steve valued Bucky's goodness and innocence (even above his own life, reputation, and safety).
Bucky doesn't have to cross out names he feels guilty about as if atoning for his own sins - and while the thought behind this narrative choice may have been to depict some semblance of retribution, this notion would have been much better expressed in another way. Such as: members of the public or others who were vicitmized in some horrible manner (domestic abuse, sexual abuse, scapegoats, other victims of Hydra etc) coming to Bucky instead to comfort him, welcoming him into a group designed to alieviate this solitary mental burden, or at least comiserate in some manner. Showing him he was not alone and who, exactly, he could be fighting for should he ever choose to fight again. The voiceless and disregarded, who only have Bucky who understands.
Also (though it seems to have engendered some faction of fandom vitriol), the removal of Bucky's arm during battle deserves consideration. This visual act was obviously narratively intended to show the unmatched prowess of the Dora Milaje and the justifiable premeditated cautiousness of Wakanda re: the generous rehabilitation of a dangerous mass weapon.
Though, it has the double-edged effect of showing how Bucky is still not an agent of his own bodily autonomy. His mental and physical freedom, his very ability to do his job and make his own choices therein, is still under the jurisdiction of someone else. His disability is his opposition's advantage (whether well-intentioned or not). Essentially, he is mistrusted. And it doesn't matter how much therapy he goes to, how much he atones for his "sins", his mind is still considered not to be fully and truly his. This is one of the most injurious of all things Bucky suffers - even those who rehabilitate him doubt the complete success of his healing. Therefore, his entire arc in the series is at best questionable simply with that alone.
His entire arc should clearly have been reframed to display his victimhood, and how the fact that he is mistrusted is also another burden and misfortune that he can work through and call others out for, instead of absorbing the guilt for that too.
Falcon does a poor job of showing how this "Bucky can't be trusted" mindset is highly injurious to his status as a victim, while mostly asserting it is a byproduct of his (alleged) villainy. It does not separate "alleged villainy" and "propensity for villainous actions as result of the abuse his suffered for 70 years". Instead of clarification on this for the viewers and Bucky himself we are, among other things, posed with the question - is the Winter Soldier still in Bucky?
Right there, you know the show was not intended to show much closure for the character, but rather wring-out, refresh, and even retroactively assert his alleged villainy over his victimhood in anticipation of perhaps his own solo series (where the Soldat is reactivated). Yet, we are also oddly simutaneously expected to accept that Bucky is "healing" somehow, although we never witness anything truly happen him, internally, to suggest this.
Bucky plays an almost angry motherly role to Sam at the start of the series, initially chastising him for not accepting responsibility. Bucky sees himself as the protector of Steve's legacy, and is disappointed in Sam's (later he learns, complicated) reluctance to wield the shield.
In the end, Bucky is approving of Sam and proud of his rise to the Cpt America mantle in that same manner - bookended with approval from a distance where he almost, again, stands off to the side as a proud mother. He seems to see himself as a mentor in Sam's journey towards self-actualization. Why is he so happy Sam has become the hero he always was inside?
His newfound friendship and respect for Sam as his own hero, of course. However, it is also his love of Steve which is the next obvious answer, his deep pride in who Steve was and what he accomplished, but this is inferred and never said - thus taking away again, from an oppotunity for Bucky's emotional growth and healing. The writers didn't even know where Steve was (or if Bucky knows his whereabouts) but they could have indicated something to that effect.
Once Sam has embraced Cap, the series ends. However, despite the jubilant setting of the finale, Bucky is still narrartively unmoored. We are left with the image of him lighthearted and hopeful, but without much substance towards its sustainability and so there is not much satisfaction in it despite the sweetness of its visual impact. But its depth? We are unsure. This is because Sam's ultimate advice to him, that he "serve" others rather than enact vengeance, strips away another truth about Bucky's situation.
That Bucky's desire for retribution and vengeance against those that abused and tormented him is valid and a real victim response. Bucky's perspective is seen as "wrong" instead of a well-documented step stone on the path to solid mental survivorship. Bucky could eventually want to serve -- but serve who?
Again, obviously the answer is: other victims like himself. But the show won't call him a victim at all, and thus Sam's advice feels hollow (serve... the vague and faceless Greater Good?) and Bucky's emotional security at the end of the show feels as if it lacks substance and permanance for the audience.
The payoff for Bucky's healing is almost nonexistent because no one will ever say why he was hurt in the first place (a victim).
Could go on and on about how this is because of Disney's terror of Bucky's perceived compromised masculinity (victimhood, captured, mentally damaged in WWII and present day), visual femininity (hair, slapped by men for insubordination, physically touched and moved against his will, soft spokeness, powerlessness in the narrarive), queer subtext (Steve, his origin as Arnold Roth Steve's gay jewish best friend, perceived jealousy of Peggy, intense affection for Steve), his juxtaposition to Steve and role in Steve's narrative, and their desire to wipe his slate clean with a new Masc Bucky.
Hint: it doesn't work.
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What I Read in September 2021
It's been a stagnant month, but I did find a couple favorites :) as usual, composed of mainly Harry Potter fics but there's a spare Modern Family fic in there and a couple crossovers. I think I read about 27-28 fics :)
Harry Potter
Family Relations by OxfordOctopus
Plot: In which Harry realizes that not even he's exempt from how interconnected magical families are.
Characters: Harry, Pavarti, Hermione, Ron
Relationships: Hermione & Harry & Ron
Warnings: implied/referenced child abuse
Tags: Desi Potter Family; Desi Harry; Hogwarts third year; red-haired Harry Potter
*complete*
Talking to Thestrals by OxfordOctopus
Plot: In a world where Voldemort well and truly died in ‘81, where there are no Horcruxes, where Harry is sequestered off by a man in a flying motorcycle when he's six, and where the only legacy the most feared Dark Lord left behind was his politics and a heavily scarred child, nobody quite realizes that Harry isn’t okay. Nobody but the leathery creatures at the lake, and the girl who looks at them.
Characters: Harry, Luna
Relationships: Harry & Luna
Warnings: anxiety, dissociation, suicidal thoughts, bullying, implied/referenced child abuse, child neglect
Tags: Sirius Black Criticism; Hogwarts second year; Sirius Black Never Went to Azkaban; AU - No Voldemort;
My Notes: Now, I love Sirius just as much as the next girl, but this is such an interesting look at a man raising a kid when he wasn’t ready and the consequences of that (I relate a tad too strongly)
*complete*
Slytherin Politics by OxfordOctopus
Plot: Abused children don't respond well to power plays.
Characters: Harry, Draco, Theodore Nott, Daphne Greengrass
Warnings: graphic depictions of violence
Tags: violence, broken bones, Slytherin Harry, bullying
My Notes: Harry is so truly terrifying in this fic, it’s wonderful
*complete*
rotten on the inside by cassiopeia721
Plot: Harry's boggart isn't Voldemort, or even a dementor. It's something much worse.
Characters: Harry, Snape, Hermione, Ron
Relationships: Hermione & Harry
Warnings: implied/referenced child abuse
Tags: Hogwarts third year; boggarts; angst; protective Hermione; Hermione is a Good Friend
*complete*
Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell by IamShadow21
Plot: Questions asked, questions unasked, secrets told and secrets kept, trust, devotion, empathy and love. Ron and Harry's friendship, from that first day on the Hogwarts Express, right through until after the Battle. Can be read as a friendship fic, or a ship fic. It's open to interpretation.
Characters: Harry, Ron, Fred, George, Hermione, Arthur
Relationships: Harry/Ron
Warnings: implied/referenced child abuse
Tags: canon compliant; canon-typical violence; friendship, hurt/comfort; protective Ron; Protective Fred; Protective George; gen or pre-slash; platonic cuddling; POV Ron
My Notes: now this could be read as pre-slash, as a relationship, or just good friends, but I am so completely head over heels in love with the idea of Harry and Ron! Best friends to lovers!
*complete*
Best Served Cold by enchantedsleeper
Plot: “C’mon, Freddie,” George says suddenly, sotto voce. “Sooner the four of us get out of here, the better.” It hadn’t been the right moment, as they were exploring the Dursleys’ comfortable house in the dead of night, to plant a well-timed trick or a trap and risk blowing the whole operation – and getting Harry into even more trouble with his sadistic relatives. Better just to get Harry out and away from that place. But two years later, Fred and George got their chance for revenge.
Characters: Harry, Fred, George, Ron, Arthur
Relationships: Harry & Ron; Harry & George & Fred
Warnings: implied/referenced child abuse
Tags: Book 4; Harry is an honorary Weasley
*complete*
east, west, home’s best by taizi
Plot: You can never have too many brothers, Ron decides, for the very first time in his life. And there's always room in the Burrow for another Weasley, even if only an honorary one.
Characters: Harry, George, Ron, Fred
Relationships: Harry & Ron
Warnings: implied/referenced child abuse
Tags: Chamber of Secrets; families of choice
*complete*
live for today, hope for tomorrow by Vennat
Plot: Professors are Hogwarts are a little more observant and a little less likely to allow their students to be in harms way. OR A canon rewrite starting from book two, featuring friendship, angst, and a severe lack of oblivious characters.
Characters: Hermione, Harry, Ginny, Ron, Luna, Fred, George, Snape, Draco
Relationships: Hermione & Harry & Ron; Harry & George & Fred; Harry & Ginny; Luna & The Golden Trio; Harry & Snape; Draco & Harry
Warnings: implied/referenced child abuse; PTSD; panic attacks; blood; vomit; injury; food issues; depression
Tags: friendship; Harry has a saving people thing; mentor Snape; BAMF Harry; Smart Harry; canon rewrite; angst; Dumbledore bashing; Book 2; Harry is a Good Friend; Harry is Bad at Feelings
*complete* [part of a series; hasn’t been updated since 2020]
The Closest Distance Between Two People by StartledStarfish
Plot: In Harry's third year, no dementors boarded the Hogwarts Express in search of Sirius Black. Remus Lupin, the new defense professor, slept the whole way there. He did not wake to cast a patronus. Harry never passed out. Never heard his mother scream. Never saw the flash of green light. Never felt the unspeakable cold drain all the happiness out of him. So when Harry’s turn came to face the boggart, his greatest fear could not be a dementor. Harry blinked and looked up into the smiling face of Albus Dumbledore.
Characters: Harry, Ron, Remus, Dumbledore, Vernon, McGonagall
Relationships: Harry & Ron; Harry & Remus
Warnings: implied/referenced child abuse; childhood trauma, child neglect
Tags: boggarts, dementors, Dursley Family Bashing; Dumbledore Bashing; healing; angst with a happy ending; Ron makes sure nobody’s sad for long; friendship; laughter
*complete*
Grey Space by noaacat *favorite*
Plot: In 1991, Harry Potter begins his time at Stonewall High, unaware that he is anything more than a boy prone to freakish accidents. When he turns fourteen, he will receive a letter that will change his life. He will learn he is Harry Potter, and be invited into a world where belonging is his birthright. Until then, he stumbles on, two steps forward and one step back, out of the cupboard and into the life he was never meant to have.
Characters: Harry, The Dursleys, Dumbledore, lots of muggle OCs
Relationships: none
Warnings: implied/referenced child abuse; implied/referenced homophobia; child abuse; child neglect
Tags: AU: Hogwarts Starts Late
My Notes: This one! Is so good! The worldbuilding alone is amazing and the author really did make me immersed in the small sleepy town of Little Whinging. Please, if you read any fic on this list, read this one! It’s so good! Instant favorite!
*complete*
Iron by belleslettres
Plot: Draco also has a penchant for shirts with fiddly collars and cuffs and will not even entertain the notion of going anywhere looking like anything less than perfection. But Harry, who will do almost anything for Draco, refuses to iron them. “My aunt used to make me do all the ironing,” Harry says. “I hated it.”
Characters: Harry, Draco
Relationships: Draco/Harry
Warnings: implied/referenced child abuse
Tags: fluff and angst; post-war; Epilogue what Epilogue; fluff; domestic fluff
*complete*
All That Stands in its Path by thebiwholived
Plot: "An old soul, people might say, and Molly has never quite been sure what such a person would look like, until the day her family meets the Boy Who Lived in a dingy train station on the way to school." Molly Weasley's perspective on the summer Harry Potter comes to stay.
Characters: Harry, Molly, Weasley Family
Relationships: Harry & Molly Weasley
Warnings: implied/referenced child abuse
Tags: canon compliant; book 2
*complete*
To See More Clearly by JellyShark
Plot: Harry didn't make it out of Privet Drive after blowing up Aunt Marge. He is alone, locked away, forgotten. To make things worse, his magic is changing, morphing into something unknown and terrifying. Harry returns to Hogwarts a changed boy, unable to hide the effects of his time with the Dursleys. His Third Year dawns, bringing with it a man who feels like home, a Hufflepuff Prefect, and a dog who reminds Harry of a time when he was loved.
Characters: Harry, Remus, Ron, Snape, Sirius, Hermione, Luna, Cedric, Neville, McGonagall
Relationships: Sirius/Remus; pre Cedric/Harry; Remus & Harry; Hermione & Ron & Harry; Cedric & Harry; Sirius & Harry
Warnings: implied/referenced child abuse
Tags: Harry Needs a Hug; Harry is an Empath; Smart Harry; Magically Powerful Harry; Mentor Remus; flawed but well-meaning Dumbledore; book 3; book 4; Snape gets worse before he gets better; angst; hurt/comfort
*incomplete* [last updated August 2021]
Holidays by diogxnes
Plot: While his housemates discuss the upcoming holidays, Harry cannot help but think of how he never experienced a real Christmas with the Dursleys. Ron notices.
Characters: Harry, Ron, Lavender Brown, Seamus Finnigan
Relationships: Harry & Ron
Warnings: implied/referenced child abuse
Tags: book 1; missing scene; canon compliant; emotional hurt/comfort; hurt/comfort; Ron Weasley is a Good Friend
*complete*
Closing In by silver_fish
Plot: Harry supposes he’ll never know how they learned about the cupboard under the stairs. He also supposes he’ll never know how they managed to make him so afraid of it, all these years later.
Characters: Harry, Hermione, Ron
Warnings: implied/referenced child abuse, claustrophobia, implied/referenced torture, codependency, trauma, panic attacks, PTSD, therapy
Tags: post-war; hurt/comfort; touch-starved; guilt; Harry centric; false memories
My Notes: This one made me emotionally exhausted but it’s written super well
*complete*
Adjustments by Velvet_Riptide
Plot: With the Second Wizarding War over, Sirius is more than excited to put everything behind him and raise Harry as his own. However, he and Remus begin to notice odd and troubling behaviors from Harry. Without answers from the source, Sirius turns to Harry's previous guardians--Molly and Arthur Weasley--and learns Harry is still making adjustments from his time with the Dursley's.
Characters: Harry, Sirius, Remus, Molly, Arthur, Hermione, Ron
Relationships: Sirius/Remus; Hermione/Ron; Remus & Harry; Sirius & Harry
Warnings: implied/referenced child abuse; childhood trauma; PTSD
Tags: hurt/comfort; coparenting; Harry lived in the Burrow for several years with the Weasleys before moving to 12 Grimmauld Place;
*complete*
Two Things by TheDivineComedian
Plot: Harry is only four years old and the Dursleys are already mean.
Characters: Harry, Petunia, Vernon, Dudley, imaginary Lily, imaginary James
Warnings: implied/referenced child abuse
*complete*
How to be happy by TheDivineComedian
Plot: The Patronus charm requires a happy memory. Harry Potter doesn't have many, and the Dementors get Sirius, after all. But the story is far from over.
Characters: Harry, Remus, Sirius, Ron, Hermione
Relationships: Harry & Sirius; Harry & Remus; Remus & Sirius
Warnings: major character death; implied/referenced child abuse
Tags: creepy; heartwarming; dementors; Hogwarts third year
My Notes: this one is a fucking doozy good lord (the tags say heartwarming but w h e r e)
*complete*
Knowledge is a Rose by Magi_Silverwolf
Plot: When Harry discovered that he had a name, he clung to that information and all that it entailed. After learning more information about his past, nothing and everything changed.
Characters: Harry
Warnings: implied/referenced child abuse; physical abuse; verbal abuse; mental abuse
Tags: emotional hurt; identity issues
*complete*
No Love for the Wicked by VigilanteVampire4311
Plot: Harry Potter was the Boy-Who-Lived. The Golden Boy. The Chosen One. But it turns out when you run head first into an unknown magical artifact and end up in a void, none of that matters. Now he's in a different time with familiar strangers who just can't seem to understand the new transfer student, Harrison Miller. With a Defense teacher he can't let his guard down for a second around, the Marauders hounding the 'mysterious' new Slytherin, and his housemates who cannot fathom a muggleborn being among them, Harry has to wonder whether fate hates him or if he is really a trouble-making freak like the Dursleys always said.
Characters: Harry, James, Lily, Sirius, Remus, Regulus, Snape, Tom Riddle, Pomfrey
Relationships: Harry & James; Harry & Lily; Sirius & Harry; Remus & Harry; Regulus & Harry; Harry & Tom Riddle; Pomfrey & Harry
Warnings: graphic depictions of violence; implied/referenced child abuse; possessive behavior; depression; non-consensual touching
Tags: The Veil; Slytherin Harry; Marauders are kinda assholes; Tom Riddle is not Voldemort yet; Severus is so done; alternate universe; angst; hurt/comfort; bullying; time travel; Marauders Era
My Notes: so far with 7 chapters in, we haven’t yet gotten to Harry interacting with anyone from the past but it’s still written really well
*incomplete* [last updated September 2021]
The snake in the daffodils by SpicyReyes *favorite*
Plot: Harry follows Sirius through the Veil of Death, and stumbles out on the other side of the Mirror of Erised, under a strange spell and stranded in an unfamiliar Hogwarts.
Characters: Harry, Remus, Regulus, Harry, Ron, James, Lily, Sirius
Relationships: Regulus/James; Sirius/Remus; Draco/Harry
Warnings: graphic depictions of violence; discussions of suicide; discussions of self-harm; suicidal ideation; implied/referenced child abuse
Tags: universe jumping; Hogwarts fifth year; misunderstandings; miscommunication; basically everyone thinks harry wants to die but he is actually just hella confused
My Notes: so, so good! And if you like this one I recommend The Devil’s White Knight which is really similar in concept
*incomplete* [last updated 2020]
been waiting a lifetime (to be with you) by justprompts
Plot: The next time he woke, Potter was shaking him awake. Just, just not the right one. He had hazel eyes for one, and class. This was not Harry Potter. This was - Well, he had just woken up and who accepts the delightfully altering time-related facts of life right as they wake up?
Characters: Harry, Dumbledore; Peter Pettigrew; Prewett Twins; Marlene McKinnon; Sirius; Remus; Lily; James; Draco; Alice & Frank Longbottom; Regulus; Draco
Relationships: Draco/Harry; James/Lily; Sirius/Remus; Marlene McKinnon/Dorcas Meadows; Alice/Frank Longbottom; Regulus & Sirius; Regulus & Draco
Tags: time travel fix-it; Marauders Era; Horcrux hunting; everyone lives/nobody dies; master of death Harry; light-hearted; POV multiple; Harry doesn’t need to be dark/evil to be master of death; irregular and slow updates; mutual pining
*incomplete* [last updated May 2021]
The Gospel Truth by twentysevensummers
Plot: When Harry arrives at Number Twelve Grimmauld Place with a black eye, he has more trouble than expected keeping the truth from Sirius.
Characters: Harry, Sirius, Remus
Relationships: Sirius & Harry
Warnings: referenced/implied child abuse; child neglect
Tags: book 5; hurt/comfort; angst; Harry needs a hug; good godparent Sirius Black; number 12 grimmauld place
*complete*
o children, lift up your voice by orphan_account
Plot: "i don't know if they could've put a flap in the door of the cupboard, now that i think about it," harry laughs nervously. "dunno if it would've fit onto it. since it's smaller than the bedroom door." hermione and ron's heads both shoot up. "what?" ron asks. "excuse me?" hermione says.
Characters: Harry, Ron, Hermione
Relationships: Hermione & Harry & Ron
Warnings: implied/referenced child abuse
Tags: friendship; slight canon divergence; character study; second war with Voldemort; physical affection; lots of hugs
My Notes: this one is so good and if you can get past the fact that the author doesn’t capitalize anything, you’re good to go (although it was difficult to get past that at first for myself)
*complete*
Muggle Management by LadyWinterlight, NerdyKat
Plot: What happens if Hermione notices signs of abuse in Harry during first year? The Wizarding World may not have laws against it, but the Muggle World certainly does...
Characters: Harry, Hermione, Mrs Granger, Mr. Granger
Warnings: implied/referenced child abuse
Tags: family
*complete*
Harry Potter & Other Fandoms
Masked Men and Where to Find Them by tinyrose65
Fandoms: Harry Potter & Daredevil & MCU
Plot: Harry Potter moved to Hell's Kitchen because she wanted a fresh start: time away from the spotlight, where she could focus on being the best Healer she could be. Trust the unconscious man in her dumpster to go and complicate things.
Characters: Harry, Matt Murdock
Relationships: Harry/Matt; past Harry/Draco
Warnings: past domestic abuse; implied/referenced child abuse
Tags: female!Harry
My Notes: this is the first in a series and the second one is also incomplete but they’re both very good and the second one has Jessica Jones!
*incomplete* [last updated 2016]
Magic and Masks by Akoia
Fandoms: Harry Potter & DC Comics
Plot: Harry Potter is anything but normal, thank you very much, he just didn't hold such nonsense as that. Follow him on his adventures through the Wizarding world and muggle world as he struggles to understand who he is, and fight the destiny that's been chosen for him.
Characters: Harry; Dick Grayson; Jason Todd; Bruce Wayne; Alfred Pennyworth; the Dursleys
Warnings: implied/referenced child abuse; canon typical violence
Tags: fluff and angst
My Notes: this is a series with six parts!
*incomplete* [last updated 2020]
Modern Family
Breaking & Entering: (The Start Of) A Love Story by dollsome
Plot: "Oh my God," Mitchell says, "this is insane." It is, for the record. It is actually ... insane.
Characters: Mitchell, Cameron
Relationships: Mitchell Pritchett/Cameron Tucker
Warnings: none
Tags: none
*completed*
#harry potter#hogwarts#harry james potter#fanfic recs#my posts#fanfiction#fanfiction recommendations#fic recs#the marauders#modern family#the golden trio#drarry#wolfstar#dc comics#batman#daredevil#marvel#mcu#my recs
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So as close as I am to fully escaping Hades for the first time, I figure I might take this opportunity to write down a couple of things I'm scared of from this ending. The story is so good so far! But I have seen good stories before! And there are patterns, right, patterns it's so easy for even good stories to fall into, so yeah, I have fears, and they mostly come down to Hades himself.
(Yep, this one got long again! People seem to be enjoying my game-reaction rambles, so, for your enjoyment under the cut: themes of separation and reunion, predictions for what Zagreus is the god of, and a whole lot of discussion of familial abuse dynamics, how they're depicted in fiction, and the work it takes to change them in real life. Stay warned! Stay safe!)
(ALSO, I still haven't made it past the first couple of chambers in the Temple of Styx, so no spoilers in the reblogs/comments please! Yes, even though the whole post is me going on about predictions and hopes and concerns about the path the story might take. I WILL GET THERE SOON.)
It has been really interesting watching some of the stuff the game is doing with themes of parting and reunion, and how that corresponds to life and death. So many of our social links are about reuniting estranged loved ones: Chaos and Nyx, Eurydice and Orpheus, Patroclus and Achilles. Hades is estranged from Olympus, Persephone left. And every time we leave, or try to leave, it is both an attempt at a parting (and Meg and Than are so hurt by that goodbye, or lack thereof) and an attempt at a reunion with our mother. Every time we die it's a reunion, every time we die it's fun, it's great, we get to go back home and check in with all of our friends and be impressed by whoever made Employee Of The [Timeperiod] and sell fish to the cook and put down yet more rugs. (My Zagreus has something of a rug addiction. What can you do.)
It's at the point where I feel pretty secure in stating that Zagreus is going to discover eventually that he is both life/death/rebirth god, and god of partings and reunions. Both halves of both of those things. People leave each other when they die and re-find their loved ones in death; you go away from one group of people to come back to another; you have to depart to return, and I really think that's where we're going to end up with Zagreus. He's going to reunite his various friends with their loved ones, he's probably going to restore communications between Hades and Olympus and even Persephone, he's going to reunite with his mom, and he's going to come back to the Underworld before he leaves to see everyone up top all over again. And of course the vehicle for all of this coming and going is death, because death is the ultimate departure and reuniter. (This is absolutely a religious concept containing a whole bunch of "oh hey our culture has a lot of Christian influence, doesn't it", Greek trappings aside, but that's fine, it's a game made in 2018 not 300 BC, these things happen. They keep calling the Underworld 'hell' and 'infernal'. It's all good.) Of course he's a cthonic god. Of course he bleeds, because you have to bleed in order to die, and Zagreus has to die again and again and again. That's his whole thing.
Thing is, though, looking at those themes, I am also continually aware of the fact that some partings are for a really good reason. Some partings should not end in reunion.
Yes, of course this is about Hades the abusive dad. I have been talking about Hades the abusive dad basically non-stop since I started playing this game, where did you think this post was going.
There are a few things I'm nervous about, separate but related, and at the core it all comes down to, I'm not okay with it if we learn why Hades got to be this way, and Zagreus forgives him as we-the-audience are meant to do, and Hades promises to do better, and nothing concrete about the situation is forced to change. Actual, meaningful, practical, logistical, non-hypothetical non-metaphorical change, not just for Zagreus but for Hades himself.
Because I know how this story tends to go, in fiction. Fictional abusive parents (especially in fantasy/sci-fi stories) tend to come in two types: 'coerced their offspring into actual murder with a side of physical abuse and optional unethical lab experimentation', or 'this was here to create character conflict, we didn't mean for it to read as actually abusive, this parent just has flaws to make them a good character, we swear!' Hades isn't the first type--we have never once seen Hades strike his son, or anybody, or even come out from behind his desk--which means that the fear is, always, always, in every piece of fiction, that he's the second. That the writers are going to decide that the right response to his abuses is remorse, forgiveness, and one really good conversation. That they don't realize it's abuse in the first place.
And, like. They have to know, right? They have to. They can't have done this by accident. (Sometimes, writers get so close by accident.) They can't have done so well at drawing out this situation simply by going, 'well, people are meant to fear this god, so they'd probably react like this, and I guess based on what I've seen in other stories or vague acquaintances they'd then do this,' and never put the name on the situation. Every single time we leave to the tune of a Hades word-flash, he's being dismissive, insulting, and sometimes downright cruel. He is cruel. They have to know!!!
But oh boy have I been consuming media for a lot of years, and oh boy have I run into a lot of writers who don't know.
Reconciliation is such a loaded word, but stories about dysfunctional families really do love it. Stories based around themes of reunion are primed for it. And of course, it's nice, it ties a happy ending off with a sweet little bow, everyone gets to be with the people they love and the family is safe and nobody gets hurt, but so rarely have I seen stories that show the actual work required to rebuild those relationships in a realistic or meaningful way. So rarely do stories trying to build that happy ending actually let the victim of abuse set and maintain boundaries. The character never gets to actually just cut the damn ties to the thing that hurt them. The character so rarely even gets to be safe.
And it's so hard in this game specifically, because "THERE IS NO ESCAPE", because every single thing about this game says that the story's not over when Zagreus gets to the surface, that no matter what he's going to have to come back. It's so hard, because this is a game about reunions. I am not going to get an ending where the abused kid trying to flee his toxic home and abusive dad actually gets to leave and stay gone, not in this one. And that hurts (I have watched and supported and done my best to help multiple real-life friends get the fuck out of homes like that, and stay gone, I have seen how hard it is, how complicated, how awful, and there are never stories for that), but I can live with it, if I get an ending where Zagreus is at least safe. Where things change. Where they really change.
Which is why I need actual, concrete, material changes in the logistics and power structure of the Underworld for this ending to be okay. Understanding why Hades is Like That doesn't cut it. Remorse doesn't cut it! Because look, even if Hades wants to do better, even if he admits he's at fault and tries to be better, he is still set up in a position as an all-powerful tyrant, and trying to become a better person is hard. There is nobody around who can keep him in check when he starts backsliding, which he will. Even if he doesn't want to, he will.
Because people are people, and it's really difficult to break patterns! Especially if everything around them stays the same. Hades is going to slip at some point, be cruel, be callous, be tyrannical, no matter how much of an effort he's making. Not to mention, it is STRESSFUL to face your own crimes and improve, it sucks, it feels bad. And what do habitual abusers do when they feel bad? What's the only coping mechanism Hades appears to have established for dealing with his own shit? That's right, it's inflicting suffering on everyone else around him. (This is why it doesn't really matter what circumstances drove Hades to act this way, why it can't matter--I believe that he is suffering, but he copes with that suffering by inflicting additional suffering on everyone around him, everyone who relies on him, and that's still true no matter what made him feel bad to begin with.) So then we just get a great old guilt-->lashing out-->more guilt-->more lashing out merry-go-round of abuse even as Hades is trying to change. That's how these things work. And yes, change is possible, improvement is absolutely possible, but the environment needs to change first. The system that enables and rewards Hades for acting this way can't stay in place. Things need to actually change, with people who are around to support Hades in his growth and also check his power, people who have power of their own to stop him. And however it happens, for this story with this protagonist with these goals to feel like a happy ending, Zagreus needs to be safe.
It would be okay, though a little disappointing, if those changes were mostly based in magic and fate and, idk, divine mind-control. (This story has been so grounded in actual human dynamics that a fantastical solution to a realistic problem would feel like a letdown, but if it actually solved the problem I'd be okay with it, more or less.) It would be okay, though a little disappointing, if the responsibility for bringing Hades to heel fell upon Zagreus and Persephone, if the two family members who he hurt badly enough that they felt the need to run away from him entirely now had to shoulder the burden of helping him fix himself. (There are definitely ways to write that dynamic better and ways to write it worse, and I think I trust these writers to land on the 'better' side of the scale, but I still don't love the implications.) I think I'd be pretty into it if Hades took a vacation off to Olympus to Work Out His Shit with his own family, while a coalition of Meg, Nyx, Thanatos, Zagreus, and Queen Persephone took over running the Underworld in his absence. I think we might end up getting some combination of those things. I'm hopeful. I think these writers might know what they've written. I think they might have a sense for what it'll take to fix.
But yeah, I'm nervous. (Nervous enough that I might switch to God Mode just to get through, combat has started getting really tedious instead of fun, I want to know what happens next, and this is a game and there is no shame in making it more fun for myself by making the boring parts a little quicker and easier.) I've seen so many stories go wrong. This one has done so much to earn my trust. We'll see if it breaks.
#Hades game#Hades spoilers#driveby meta attack#C plays stuff#I have so much hope!!!!~!#I have so much fear!!!!!#DO NOT TELL ME WHAT THE ANSWER IS GOING TO BE!!!!!
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Hello, hope you’re doing well Mod Mikan!
I love your writings and was wondering if you could write Nagito buying his S/O jewelry? A one shot to be specific (〃ω〃)
Tysm and have a great day! 💞
Mod Mikan: Hello my dear! I’d be more than happy to do this oneshot, it seems like such a cute idea! I hope you don’t mind the reader is female in this, since I thought it would be easier to write. And my day has been going great, I hope you’ve been doing well yourself, my love! Remember to stay safe during these times and eat well! Enjoy! XOXO
“Ooooo~ What about these, Marshmallow? What do you think? Pretty, right?” The (H/C) haired girl cheered, as she held up a pair of white gold hoops towards her ear. The white haired male smiled, playing with the silver wallet chain that he dug out from his back pocket. Attached to the end was his brown, leather wallet, filled with the cash and debit card that was practically being abused by his girlfriend. Nagito couldn’t contain the giggle that escaped from his lips, as he closed his eyes and kept the bright beam on his face, as if he found her enthusiasm over the jewels to be amusing
“They’re nice. Should we add them to the bag?” He asked his angel, motioning his free hand to the teal plastic bag that contained a mix of different colored jewels and treasures that both ultimate (Y/T) and ultimate lucky student have picked for her. Earning a nod from the exhilarated female, (Y/N) threw the earrings into the baggie, lifting the straps towards her shoulders, as she made her way towards the other end of the shop
“Come on, Naggie! I think they’re having a sale on those bracelets!” She exclaimed, practically launching herself at the display cases, filled with the glimmering ornaments, a clash of golden gems reflecting the white light that was shining onto them from the display case lighting. Before the luckster could follow his cheerful girlfriend, he felt his skinny arm being pulled along by the free hand of her. She turned to him, still making her way towards the designated area of her choosing
“Better hurry up, or I’ll leave you behind~” She teased, the smirk still on her face. (Y/N) allowed a giggle to escape from her lips, as she practically dragged her boyfriend towards the glossy depictions of the flashy, yet elegant, bangles. However, Nagito wasn’t one to argue with his angel. She was his hope, and he’d do anything for his hope--even if it meant lavishing her with the most precious jewels and bijouterie money can buy
Nagito was rich. That was no secret that he tried to hide. But he wasn’t a braggart either. Having the almost non-existent self esteem that flooded his whole thought process, Nagito never thought he deserved the immense amount of wealth that he was blessed with. He never knew what to do with the cash that was in his possession. Well, that wasn’t until his luck brought him the angel that was sent down to him. The luckster held his hope on a pedestal and thought it was his duty to serve and worship for. He’d follow her to the depths of hell, making sure that she was aware just how amazing and bright she actual was. Just like his praises, Nagito’s gifts and presents towards her was tremendously prestigious. Not a single day went by where he didn’t try his best to surprise her, no matter the time and effort that he extraordinarily fought tooth and nail to put in
While money was never a problem for him, he barely made a dent with all the purchases he emptied onto his love. While Nagito was a man of surprises, he also loved to hear his angel’s opinions, keeping a mental check of what to buy for her in the back of his mind. So days where she dragged him along a colossal shopping spree to her favorite stores wasn’t as bad as most boyfriends would’ve dreaded about--it was a diverting day for the both of them. Something they enjoyed and took great pleasure in
A squeal snapped Nagito out of his daydream, as his green eyes darted back to his love. The female couldn’t contain an ounce of excitement as she snapped on a silver chain bracelets adorned with glimmering amethyst stones. She twirled her frail wrist, the clanking of the stones being tosses around in the motion filled the store. She lifted her wrist towards eye level, enabling herself a better view of the bangle. She turned towards her boyfriend with the same tranquil beam on her face, taking a few steps in his direction
“We have to get this, Naggie! Isn’t it gorgeous?” She questioned him, the look on his face being enough for the answer she was hoping for
“It certainly is, my angel. Though, nothing here is compared to your own beauty. I mean, you’re practically the embodiment of pure hope,” He commented, allowing a pink blush to dust, once again, upon the female’s face. Taking out his debit card from his wallet, Nagito was about to hand it over to the cashier, who was smirking at the cuteness that radiating from the lovebirds. He chuckled, about to take it, before a gasp left Nagito’s lips, turning back to his girlfriend
“Oh! Is there anything else you need, love? I’m so sorry, it was foolish of trash like me to assume that you were done. After all, we barely made a dent here,” He sheepishly admitted, looking down in self disappointment. This only made (Y/N) frown, cupping his cheek with the hand that temporarily possessed the bracelet that would belong to her in a few minutes. The warmth of her palm spread throughout Nagito’s usual cold skin, as he perked his head up, looking back at her (E/C) jeweled eyes
“No Nagito, don’t say things like that. If anything, I believe this enough shopping for today. You seem to be getting pretty tired of me dragging you around different jewelry stores,” The ultimate (Y/T) let out a raspy chuckle, feeling the after effects of the shopping spree wear down on her as well. Both the white haired and (H/C) ultimates were feeling fatigued from running around different stores, one only benefiting from the trip. As hard as the truth was to believe, this was the tenth store they practically raided for the jewels they owner possessed. The female couldn’t help but feel a huge amount of guilt falling upon her shoulders, as she realized just how much Nagito had to bear throughout this insufferable shopping journey. (Y/N) wasn’t one to hoard so much gifts that was all from the expense of Nagito’s bank account, but when the marshmallow insisted on spoiling the hell out of his angel (which was pretty often) sometimes, she let her weakness for pretty objects get the better of her
The pale skinned man was just about to say something, but they were cut off by a trail of giggles leaving an unfamiliar voice. They both turned to the cashier, still waiting for the form of payment. However, she wasn’t visibly pissed that they were taking a long time, unlike the previous shop owners they have encountered. She wiped a small tear from the coroner of her eye, before flashing them a huge grin
“Sorry, sorry. It’s just so lovely to see a boyfriend treating his girlfriend right. My husband use to shower me with gifts when we first started dating, and I’d be lying if I said he stopped. I guess my happy memories caught up,” She confessed, making Nagito hand over his card along with an exchange of his own laughs making their way out of his lips
“Ah, I see. I’m so sorry about the wait, ma’am. But if someone like me can speak on behalf of all the boyfriend out there, nothing brings us more joy than spoiling our angel,” He disclosed his feelings before concluding his thoughts by wrapping an arm around (Y/N)’s shoulders. He pulled her closer to his skinny frame, permitting her to nuzzle her head against the crook of his neck. He giggled at the feeling of her (H/C) locks tickling his light skinned neck, making the cashier swipe his card with the same smile never leaving her face. She handed his debit card back towards him, responding to his comment
“How sweet. I hope you two lovebirds have a great day,” She winked, giving Nagito the receipt along with his card. Stuffing the piece of paper in his hoodie pocket, Nagito grabbed the shopping bag from his lover’s hand, as they made their way out of the store, heading to their car resting in the mall parking lot. The (H/C) bit her lip, still feeling a wave of guilt flowing through her veins, her blood running cold from a mix of the newly winter seasons emerging in the atmosphere and.....
Her selfishness
Was she so greedy and high-maintenance that she was turning into a gold digger? One of those sluts that hook up with sugar daddies to get free treasures and material items only the ‘common woman’ would only dream to achieve? Has she really let Nagito’s constant praises and desire to spoil angel get to her head, building her ego to the checkpoint where she probed his wallet for the money to buy everything for her, her, and her!
Am I really that egotistical?
The Ultimate (Y/T)’s negative thoughts were cut off by the reverberate of the car squeaking, signaling that it was unlocked. The resonance was followed by amber lights flashing throughout the parking lot, the luminescence flickering off of the stack of gold bangles on the female’s left wrist, alongside the silver singe bracelet resting on her right one. However the sound that snapped her out of the self-loathing was her boyfriend’s voice, tenderly asking her to crawl inside the car
Click
As soon as Nagito locked the of the driver’s seat, he pulled the seatbelt close to his body, the clanking of the metal buckle echoed throughout the spacious Mercedes. The cloud haired male snapped his buckle back into place, as the female reached to do the same thing with her own. She reached for her own belt, before a pale hand beat her to it, clicking the buckle into her own guard
“Allow me, angel. I don’t want you to lift a finger. Especially since you seem to really love those gorgeous rings we got from Blue Nile,” He commented, earning a blush spreading across his lover’s face. As soon as her seat was buckled, Nagito pulled the car out of the parking lot, driving them home. His lover, on the other hand, was frowning at the sight of her fingers being embellished with the silver rings fitting snug. Her other hand traced around the colorful gems that popped from the thin bands of silver, which were adorned by smaller diamonds
Rubies....Sapphires....god, that emerald one is beautiful.....
The female could practically the rush of serotonin that exited her brain, despair taking the place of her happiness in her mind--the same despair Nagito tried extremely hard to prevent her from feeling. Little did it strike him that his ample amount of worshipping and serving her angel of hope was the cause of her sudden decline in her typical, joyous mood that matched his own attitude
****************************************************************************************************
“Well I personally feel like the diamond tennis necklace we got from Ray’s Jewelers was the prettiest one. But the pearl drop earrings were also nice. Then again, anything will look beautiful, so as long as my stunning hope is the one wearing them,” Nagito’s calm voice filled the car, as he pulled the car into the garage, shifting the gear stick from Drive to Park. The keys that were stabbed inside the ignition was pulled out in a swift motion, being shoved into the same hoodie pocket that held the receipt. Nagito usually wasn’t the one to drive, for two reasons
1) He genuinely didn’t like driving
2) His luck would most probably caused an accident
However, he made a few expectations, especially with dates where he felt like going overboard and pampering his shimmering ray of hope even more than usual. Nagito driving was a rare thing, but it wasn’t impossible to find a day where he was in the driver’s seat. Pushing the thoughtfulness of her boyfriend aside, the female just stayed in her passenger seat, totally silent throughout the ride home and even when they got home
This spontaneous downward spiral in her happiness didn’t go unnotice by Nagito, as the observant male frowned at his hope’s sulked expression. He cocked his brow, his skinny fingers aiming to stroke her cheek. The contact between the warmness of the female’s cheek and Nagito’s cold hand was enough to bring a pair of (E/C) orbs locking with his green, cat-like eyes
“Hey. What’s wrong, angel? Did you not have fun today?” He asked, concern rising in his voice. He abruptly gasped, falsely beating himself up, once again, for his own self-loathing thoughts getting in the way of sorting out the actual problem
“Oh! That’s right. It was foolish of trash like me to state his opinion. I should’ve asked what you thought first. I’m so sorry, my hope,” He sighed, continuing his own self-hating rant before (Y/N) could’ve pointed out the real problem herself
“Jeez, look at me now. Asking an ultimate like yourself for forgiveness. Trash like me doesn’t deser--” It was Nagito’s turn to be cut off my the female just shaking her head, silencing him with hand motions that screamed “Please just stop” along with the words that left her mouth. If they weren’t enough to leave Nagito in shock, then nothing would have stunned the light skinned boy from what he heard next
“Nagito, just let me speak, please!” She nearly begged of her boyfriend. Literally almost dropping the bags that he was holding for her, he painted an even more worried expression upon his handsome face, as he leaned in close, paying close attention to the words his love carefully chose to spit out. The immense amount of difficulty was visible, as the female shut her eyes tight before racking her brain to form a speech that wasn’t too pitiful sounding of her
“Nagito....I love that you absolutely want to spoil me and buy me so much stuff. I really appreciate it and while I enjoy anything that you get me...I can’t help but feel bad...” She looked down at her feet resting in front of the foot of her car seat before turning back to her boyfriend. She carried on with her statements, still having trouble to express her feelings
“I feel so bad I can’t repay you for all your generosity. I know that money isn’t a problem for you, but I just want to be perfect for you. You’re too good for me, I feel bad and worthless compared to all the kindness you--” Another cut off was silently ordered from the female, as a pair of chapped lips smashed onto her glossed ones. Nagito pulled back, an almost stern face replaced the worried one that he put on just minutes ago
“My hope, listen to me carefully,” He demanded, a strict tone lacing his voice. The female blinked a few times, shocked from this unusual demeanor, but nodded, never seeing Nagito so austere before. He allowed himself to proceed with his own speech, yearning for her to known just how much he meant to her and that it was him that was undeserving of her
“My darling....my sweet angel of hope.....you don’t understand. When you come home, you still manage to greet me with a smile and help with the unfinished chores I had yet to do. When you have days off, you still want to indulged in the hobbies I learned to love you. Every time you say ‘let’s go our best’ or ‘I’ll always be here for you’......(Y/N), you don’t get it....” His sober facade was replaced with the collected, charismatic smile that (Y/N) knows and loves so much
Reminding her of that adorable loner back in high school
Taking both her hands, he pressed his cool forehead onto hers, another kiss being stolen from his girlfriend, eliminating the space between the lovers. Nagito only pulled back from the compassionate, delightful kiss, his beam brighter than ever. He cupped her blushing cheek in one hand, the other one holding her decorated hand with the rings and bracelets she thought she had no right to even dream of possessing. She looked intently at her lover, waiting for the final statement that brought his declaration of love full circle
“It is I that should pay you back for everything you did for me....thank you, (Y/N)....for being the shining ray of hope in my dark life....”
From that day, the couple both silently agreed on one thing that wouldn’t change, even when they joined at each other’s death beds
They were both incredibly lucky to have each other
#nagito x reader#nagito komaeda#nagito komeada kin#nagito headcanons#nagito oneshots#danganronpa x reader#danganronpa#danganronpa x y/n#danganronpa goodbye despair#danganronpa oneshot#nagito x you
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Theory: What if Tsukasa was a good guy?
All right, first time that I’m throwing out a theory, (with the assistance of @trish-chan!) so forgive me if I’m tripping on my words. Okay, so, theory time. (Also, to avoid confusion, I call No.7 by Hanako, and pre-death by Amane)
When I say Tsukasa was a good guy, I mean as in a good bro before he died. I think the current consensus is that Tsukasa was the one abusing Amane (theorized to be in varying degrees…), but what if he wasn’t the one behind it? What if Tsukasa ended up becoming corrupted or messed up in some way?
This ended up really really long, so the whole this is under the cut...
First, let’s focus on how they were alive. What was their relationship like? Well, we know they were close, at least. There’s this one bit in the Tanabata arc where little Amane says that Tsukasa will get violent if interrupted.
However, in the official translations it says that he’ll throw a fit. Y’know, like an excitable little kid.
It also says that he’s playing katanuki, and he LOVES katanuki, so we can assume he wouldn’t want to be interrupted. (Also, Hanako loves katanuki too!)
But other than that, we don’t really see them being brothers in the past, do we. Right…?
WRONG! Something I completely overlooked before were the volume sleeve illustrations.
Also, in this (^) illustration, I’d like to point out that the Tsukasa’s radio and Hanako’s kokeshi doll are sitting on the chest of drawers!
Something to note in these illustrations (and also the Tanabata arc) is that Amane is happy and there are no signs of bruising anywhere either. So at least as little kids, no form of abuse is present.
Also, something else I noticed:
He says that “WE believe it’s real.” Tsuchigomori said that he doesn’t have friends, and he’s obviously not referring to Tsuchigomori here. Tsukasa is the only one left he could be referring to in this “we”. They both were enthusiastic about this rock that supposedly fell from the sky, ever since they were four.
I feel like I’m grasping at straws in this part, but why would Amane include a third party unless they were important? Especially when it comes to something so sentimental to him.
Next, we have the picture from the Kamome school orientation.
Nothing here either. Just the two holding hands, and Amane is still bright-eyed. Note that they are alone. We know the Minamoto siblings live alone, but Mitsuba and Nene both have parents with them. The Yugi twins don’t. Another theory was that Amane’s parents were abusing him and they just favored Tsukasa, but this can allow us to presumably scratch that.
So that means any harm to Amane happened somewhere between here and his death. So, let’s make a time frame, hmm? We know Amane died around age 13. What age is he here…? Well we know he just entered Middle school, the first level Kamome provides for. What age…
Wow. That lines up perfectly.
This leads into the next major part of the theory.
We all know that Kamome is incredibly “haunted.” Filled to the brim with supernaturals. So, what if these two got caught up in supernatural business and things went south?
Originally this was a theory on proving Tsukasa wasn’t the one abusing Amane, but now I’m possibly considering that it was him. However, he wasn’t fully there, or something caused him to go mad.
In this part, Hanako is reciting a part of Mori Ogai’s “Takasebune”. (Credit to @nanabansama for finding that out!) In the story, a man is being exiled for a crime he committed. He seems kind so the police escort is wondering what he did. Turns out, he and his little brother were orphaned when they were young. At some point after growing up and working together, his brother fell ill. He came home one day to find out that his brother tried to kill himself so he wouldn’t be a burden. The man had finished the job for his brother, essentially putting him out of his misery.
We can draw some parallels to Hanako from this.
The man has a little brother that he killed
Absence of parents, this makes it likely that Hanako and Tsukasa’s parents are dead.
The man is being punished for what he’s done and is fully accepting of what has to happen to him as a consequence. In the man’s case, being exiled, and in Hanako’s case, being mediator for human and supernatural relations.
Perhaps from this we can draw that Hanako killed Tsukasa to put him out of his misery.
(Also, something really interesting, Ogai is spelled 鴎外. 鴎 is pronounced “Ou”, however alone it is pronounced “KAMOME”! While we’re on the subject, kamome means seagull. I had no idea why the school would be named that, but I would not be surprised if this were the reason!)
@daikon-senpai has pointed out that we can see a reoccurring “hole” in Hanako’s stomach. There’s a high likeliness that he killed himself after killing Tsukasa.
There’s a traditional method of suicide called seppuku, where one would slit their stomach to bleed out (though they would usually have someone cut their neck for efficiency and to minimize suffering). One of the reasons one would commit seppuku were if someone committed a crime or had brought shame on themselves. Both of which would be a likely reason Amane would have killed himself, and he even still carries intense guilt now as Hanako.
[UPDATE: I had made a post about how it appears that Hanako pulls his knife out from his stomach, something absent from the anime. Some of the earlier instances can look like he’s pulling out from his gakuran, so here’s a more obvious example:
@shweshishweh and @spades-queen have additionally pointed out that in some official art Hanako is depicted with a bandage over his stomach and Tsukasa with a bandage over his heart (or a heart that is damaged, as shown in the Valentine’s Day art).
With this information, not only can we assume Hanako died from wounds on his stomach, but also that Tsukasa likely died from an injury to his heart.
END OF UPDATE]
Speaking of guilt-
It’s believed that when Hanako cries while confronting Tsukasa, he’s afraid because he’s with his abuser again. I doubt this is true at all. He hasn’t cried since the Mitsuba Arc, though he still locks up briefly.
Obviously Hanako holds a ton of guilt from what he did to Tsukasa, so of course he would freeze up when the dude comes out of no where and is like, “Long time no see!!” He’s being confronted with what he did, front and center. No amount of jokes can distract him from it. There’s no avoiding it. After Tsukasa had entered the picture for a while, Hanako stops reacting so strongly, as he’s more prepared for it. (This was pointed out to me by @trish-chan!)
It’s also possible that Tsukasa is acting the messed-up way he was before he died, and Hanako is realizing that death really didn’t free him from it. He’s mortified at what’s happened to his brother.
Another thing she’s pointed out was that currently, Tsukasa hasn’t hurt Hanako. Not physically, at least. If he was the one hurting him then, why not now? It’s not like he’s hiding being violent in front of people. Let’s see… he turned Mitsuba into a monstrosity, nearly killed Kou, ripped out No. 3’s heart, totally would have turned Nene into a bloody pulp, killed the pufferfish into a bloody mess, and he’s finger painted with blood (who knows where that came from) among various other psychotic things.
Last thing I have here is a kind of lose connection, but worth including, nonetheless.
Only Tsukasa and No. 6 are creepy black mokke. I can’t bring myself to believe that AidaIro would do that for no reason. I wouldn’t question it if it were only Tsukasa, but now No. 6 is in the mix.
This actually made me think of possible connections that Tsukasa has to No. 6. After all, who has a giant gaping hole to the far shore and has messed with someone’s head so hard they basically tried to murder their childhood friend? Is it possible that No. 6 did something to Tsukasa, for whatever reason?
We don’t know enough about No. 6 currently to really be conclusive about this, though. Could both of them been corrupted somehow?
UPDATE ON THIS PART: Since I’ve first posted this, more chapters with No. 6, or Shinigami, have been released. While I have even more doubts that he and Tsukasa have any direct connection than before, I still think there are some shared aspects. Sumire’s seal is probably the most major revelation, now that it’s pretty much confirmed that Tsukasa is a yorishiro. If we assume Tsukasa is Hanako’s yorishiro, then that’s something in common with Sumire and Shinigami. But then wouldn’t Hanako be a black mokke?
This makes me think that that particular connection isn’t the shared aspect Tsukasa and Shinigami have. Perhaps it’s just something that hasn’t been revealed yet (or I haven’t picked up on lol). Something else interesting of note is the fact that Tsukasa has been completely absent this entire arc. His only sort-of presence is through Natsuhiko, who we still don’t know the motives of. We also don’t know how the Tsukasa+Sakura+Natsuhiko+Mitsuba quartet have been dealing with the Severance.
So, there are a lot of questions yet to be answered so I’m not dismissing this idea yet.
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So, in a nutshell, this theory is: Hanako and Tsukasa were good brothers, until they got caught up with supernaturals after entering Kamome. This may have caused Tsukasa to go crazy, and hurt Amane at the same time. This leads to Amane killing Tsukasa. Possibly out of self-defense or putting him out his misery. Following this, Amane kills himself. ~50 years later, present Kamome Academy. Tsukasa makes his way to the near shore and either gets corrupted or was never freed from whatever ailed him when he was alive at the school.
I’m realizing now that this would also explain this:
“Tsukasa is not himself. I know that. So I forgive it.” But we all know that Amane/Hanako is too cryptic and secretive to actually say that.
#jibaku shounen hanako kun#jshk#jshk spoilers#toilet bound hanako kun#tbhk#tbhk spoilers#tsukasa yugi#hanako kun#amane yugi#hahaha yes i think i stan tsukasa
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Why IDW Starscream deserved his redemption arc (Pt. 2)
Pt. 1: A small hint of ‘goodness’
Pt. 2: The different IDW Starscreams
In the last part I talked about how the original G1 cartoon left us with a hanging question about Starscream’s moral capacity for ‘goodness’, the possibility of a little ‘something more’.
In this part, I want to talk about: actual, ‘good’ traits of Starscream.
Obviously, Starscream is a well-established bad guy of the franchise, whatever the continuity.
The traits most easily associated with him are also largely, if not all, negative. Traitorous. Cowardly. Self-centred. Egotistical. Brash. Opportunistic. And that’s only what distinguishes him from the other Transformers villains. Add on the standard Decepticon ‘values’ of ‘cruel, ruthless warmonger’ and a sadistic penchant for violence and murdering people...
Yeah. Not a good guy. Tick.
But just because a person has bad morals or values, does NOT invalidate any of their strengths, competences, or positive traits in general. Just because they use their strengths to further a bad cause does NOT mean those traits are now invaluable, or useless, or ‘evil’.
Writers who are able to take this into consideration, who can recognise that not all personality traits need to be portrayed as purely ‘good’ or ‘bad’, are writers who can create interesting, perhaps even likeable bad guys - despite, or even because of their badness.
And, here, I would argue that, for most writers of an IDW G1 Starscream, there is an acknowledgement of Starscream’s actual competences and ‘positive’ traits - even though interpretations of these ‘positive’ traits do differ somewhat between writers.
And if we are able to build on these interpretations, we will find ourselves with an image of Starscream that feels much more hopeful, and is certainly much more nuanced and complex than... others. (*cough cough John Barber cough*)
(Spoiler alert: Transformers: All Hail Megatron, Transformers: ‘Til All Are One, The Transformers (2009))
Shane McCarthy’s Starscream (Transformers: All Hail Megatron, 2008-2009)
Without outright portraying Starscream as a character worthy of moral redemption or sympathy, Shane McCarthy’s Starscream is one of the more positive portrayals of the character.
While this Starscream exhibits the same petty, almost childish competitiveness reminiscent of the original G1 Starscream - getting very riled up when Skywarp suggests he’s unable to inspire as much fear and destruction as Megatron could - he is also highly competent.
Firstly, he challenges Megatron with valid, meaningful criticisms of his plans after conquering Earth. He correctly points out that Megatron has lost his sense of purpose, and his vision for the future. They are questions to which Megatron has no answers.
And once Megatron failed to step up to the bar, Starscream organises a coup which poses an actual threat to Megatron’s position as leader of the Decepticons.
If it wasn’t for the Autobots’ arrival, I believe the Starscream VS Megatron coup could at least have a 50-50 chance of success. Not only did he manage to sway a significant number of Decepticons to his side, but he also surprised Megatron by taking over Devastator, Megatron’s then most powerful soldiers and the only Combiner team (I believe).
What’s more, his capabilities and power are openly acknowledged and respected by Megatron.
This respect for Starscream is something which very few later IDW writers choose to incorporate into their interpretations of Megatron. Many, instead, favour the more G1-esque Megatron-Starscream dynamic of bickering and insulting with a darker twist which borders abuse. (In later parts, I will also explore how re-interpretations of the G1 Megatron and Starscream dynamic affects the interpretation of both characters).
And, indeed, there is something honourable about McCarthy’s Starscream, who, in issue 12 of All Hail Megatron, chooses to save Megatron from the Autobots so that he may earn his leadership of the Decepticons.
Granted, I think this happens more out of plot convenience, so that Megatron can continue as the leader of the Decepticons in later series. But still, this has important implications for our understanding of Starscream’s character - and Shane McCarthy’s Starscream is a respectable character, even if he is on the ‘wrong side’.
Mike Costa’s Starscream (The Transformers, 2009-2011)
The first thing Mike Costa’s Starscream does is... Throw Shane McCarthy’s Starscream’s sense of honour out of the window. Almost immediately, he’s torn between keeping Megatron’s husk alive and repairing him to function, or snatching Decepticon leadership during the power vacuum and killing Megatron off in the process. Which makes you wonder why he saved Megatron in the first place.
But despite the inconsistency, Costa’s Starscream forms an interesting, tragic character. Although his Starscream does not necessarily exhibit competence or positive strengths in the same way as McCarthy’s Starscream, he certainly experiences and goes through feelings which readers can be sympathetic towards.
One of which is guilt.
This is Starscream in issue 13 of All Hail Megatron, shortly after lying to the other Decepticons that the Autobot’s Matrix of Leadership has chosen him as a leader. It’s a valid political move, using religion to aid your support.
But here, you get the sense that this a Starscream who does not enjoy the deception. He does not blindly rejoice in power, and he feels no joy despite finally obtaining what he has desired for so many millions of years.
Instead, he is filled with fear, paranoia, doubt, feelings of inadequacy, and a horrible, horrible sense of disappointment.
This is a Starscream who recognises his own incompetence.
In contrast to the original G1 Starscream, who is something of a bumbling fool too happy to self-indulge in his power for his own ego rather than actually using it to practical purpose, this is a Starscream who is finally confronted with the realisation that he cannot lead, cannot fulfil his grand ambitions in the way Megatron could.
And it crushes him.
This is NOT a fear that would occur to a shallower, simple-minded character who cared only about titles, egos, and their own glory. A Starscream like that would never even consider it.
Because both McCarthy and Costa’s Starscream are legitimately, and reasonably, disappointed in Megatron’s reign. Both aspire for power not for the sake of power, but for a higher purpose.
The Decepticon cause.
And if we remember that, in the IDW-verse, the Decepticons are depicted as activists responding to genuine oppression who gradually lose their way in bloodbath and war, then Starscream’s determination to remember and return to the original Decepticon ideals definitely highlights something more than ‘just’ a sadistic, self-centred, sociopath.
(Of course, there is no guarantee that Starscream’s own visions of the Decepticon ideals haven’t been skewed by war and bloodshed. The important thing is that he still remembers that their brutality should serve a purpose, which most other Decepticons rarely ever consider).
Costa’s Starscream is tragic - tragic because he must face the reality that he is the reason that he cannot achieve his dream. Because he is not Megatron. Because he lacks the charisma. The ability. The determination. The strength.
And that is something readers can sympathise with. Dreams being crushed. Ideals turning to ash. Fantasy morphing into bitter reality. This is the story of Costa’s Starscream - a broken idealist, someone who could have been something better than Megatron, but ultimately wasn’t.
Mairghread Scott’s Starscream (Transformers: ‘Til All Are One, 2016-2017)
Scott’s Starscream offers a very interesting, brave interpretation of his character - because it is her Starscream, after all, who takes the journey of redemption.
A lot of it comes down to the mechs Starscream is mainly surrounded by, as Supreme Leader of Cybertron. Bumblebee, Windblade, Ironhide, Wheeljack, and delegates from different colonies. Autobots, or else people who never knew him as the ruthless Decepticon Second-in-Command he once was. He has a chance to start with a clean slate.
And this is when things get interesting. Whereas most Starscreams pretend to have compassion, and sympathy, and morality, in order to profit from the latest scandal or betrayal, Scott’s Starscream is the complete reverse. (Particularly in TAAO).
Similar to Mike Costa, in TAAO, we see a Starscream who plots and schemes not because he necessarily enjoys behaving this way, but because when everything happens exactly the way he wants things to, when he has a chance to start completely anew with his legally established power, he realises that deception, violence, and manipulation are all he knows.
It’s what he expects of himself, and what others expects of him.
Look at that expression. That is NOT the expression of someone who is proud of what he has done, or the expression of someone who feels no remorse. It’s bitter. It’s ironic. It’s a look of self-loathing.
Scott’s Starscream has given up on himself. He carries on the despair of Costa’s Starscream, albeit with a subtle difference. Because while Costa’s Starscream despaired over the realisation that he cannot fulfil his dream as leader of the Decepticon Empire. Scott’s Starscream despaired over his inability to do good, to be a better person.
Scott’s Starscream, in short, has a conscience.
At some point, his plotting and scheming have become farcical. A ‘mask’, as Bumblebee puts it, which he can no longer put down.
This can be seen most clearly when he releases Chromia from prison. Note how all his ‘official’, surface excuses for freeing her are all to do with establishing his own political power and influence. Entirely self-serving, as most people would expect.
And yet, when Chromia sees through all of this, and asks him for the real reason, he answers with this:
Unlike most other carnations, the self-serving, power-hungry Starscream had become the mask. Underneath it all, is a true Starscream who is attempting to atone, in some way, for his earlier faults (such as convicting an innocent Badgeless).
It’s funny how things can work out sometimes. How an innocent, almost naive faith can produce the greatest change in a way which violence and power never could.
Scott’s Starscream lives a tragedy, much like Costa’s Starscream, his story full of the could-have-beens and the sadness of someone who has lost themselves in the painful turns of war and its deceit. But it is in Scott’s Starscream where we see the greatest possibility for goodness - an awareness of right and wrong, a feeling of guilt, doubt, and conflict. And it is Scott’s Starscream who ultimately, chooses what would have been otherwise unthinkable for any other Starscream. He sacrifices himself, his ambitions, and his dreams - so that the world can do better without him.
To summarise, while most writers show Starscream to be manipulative, deceptive, and conniving - they rarely depict him as someone who enjoys these betrayals. What’s more, he is not usually depicted as self-centred purely for the sake of being self-centred. Self-preservation, and the need to come out on top, are certainly a large part to his motivations, but they are never his sole motivations. They are usually accompanied by a genuine ambition to fulfil a certain ideology or vision of leadership, visions which are ultimately hampered by his own insecurities and inadequacies in the face of overwhelming responsibility. From this, we can see that IDW’s Starscream is a fairly nuanced, complex character, who is much more morally grey, much more competent, with a much greater capacity for good, than the G1 counterpart from whom he is inspired.
........ Aaaaand then John Barber came along with Robots in Disguise, smashed a sledgehammer into all those subtleties and character development, called him a ‘sociopath’, and created the least likeable, redeemable version of IDW Starscream possible.
Which brings me on to Part 3: Barber’s Biased Starscream
#starscream#transformers#idw transformers#2005 idw transformers#idw starscream#starscream analysis#character analysis#character essay#analysis essay#comics#transformers idw#i actually hate barbers starscream#maccadam#what is the maccadam tag actually for
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