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wh6res · 3 years

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chase — renhyuck

“needy kitty. i can’t wait for purge night.”

tw bullying, violence, swearing, yandere themes, possessive themes, blood, weapons (a gun, a grenade), implied noncon, implied kidnapping, mentions of stalking

disc i dont condone this behavior

wc 5k

‏‏‎ ‎

29 hours before the annual purge

“hold her down—i said hold her down, idiot!”

putting everything into account, they saw you more like a glorified chew toy than an actual person.

they ruined your life simultaneously and it's ironic, that despite being sworn rivals, it seems you were their neutral ground—after one has had their own fun, you’re passed on to the other person so they can deliver that final, shattering blow that weakens your resolve.

it was meant to be that way because it had always been that way. you’re the unlucky loser that ignited the worse sides of both lee haechan and huang renjun.

they’re like oil and water; they don’t mix but with you, they found a compromise. stealing your lunch money, trashing your homework, quickies in between lectures. all of these should’ve been enough to give them a good power trip. but they’ve developed a hunger so severe that these past instances are but mere crumbs that hardly satisfy their cravings.

it was beyond exhausting, being caught in between two headstrong people that were unwilling to back down at any cost. their aggression and anger towards each other directly being channeled onto you as they shove and swing you around like some ragdoll.

you weren’t a bunch of kids, you knew that. you don’t cry and sob and say that it’s unfair, you hold your chin high and walk up to the guidance counselor’s office to report them for bullying. but you never should’ve underestimated the power of money and their respective families’ broad network of connections.

without a doubt, the empty promises for justice is what broke your heart the most. it breaks with every bruise, every tight grip, and every nasty name the people willingly turned a blind eye to.

it’s sad but it was a reality you taught yourself to get used to—the meek mouse learning how to evade the cats hot on her trail.

but you weren’t as lucky today.

“i am holding her down.”

a pair of lips comes in contact with your neck. its feathery and light at first until its biting down to mark you with his teeth. not too strong to draw blood, but enough to dent the surface of the skin.

haechan has an oral fixation. biting his lips. his nails. whenever you see him, he always has a lollipop on his mouth and if he doesn’t, he’s painting hickeys across your skin. you hated his oral fixation, especially when makeup and clothes proved useless to hide the marks he gives you.

“why run?” renjun asks you, slipping his fingers underneath your skirt as he kneels. “you know you have nowhere to hide in the campus.”

haechan snorts. “or anywhere else.”

it’s always the same thing. you go to school. you sit in your first period for thirty minutes until one of them shows up. then the other boy probably felt a gut instinct that he’s missing out on the fun. last time, it was an empty classroom in the abandoned left wing.

they like taking you there all the time, it was always dark, the blinds pulled and shut tight. not to mention it was incredibly dusty. but both male knew you’re afraid of the dark, exactly why it’s their favorite spot. but empty classrooms and supply closets are close seconds, too.

“you’re so pathetic. useless—only know how to whine like a fucking pornstar,” he quickly comments, feeling you arch against him when renjun’s tongue comes in contact with the pearl between your legs. “my cumdump.”

you feel a sharp exhale against your lower lips. you shudder. renjun clicks his tongue in annoyance. “can you shut up? you’re making my dick soft with all that talking.”

but haechan had ignored him completely, blissfully ignorant of the petite boy’s frustrations as he angles your head up to crash his lips onto yours. when he slightly pulls away, still playfully nibbling your bottom lip, what he said next made your blood run cold.

“needy kitty. i can’t wait for purge night.”‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎

6 hours before the annual purge

the price to pay for protection started rising again this year and you, much like your neighbors, are in a sense of turmoil. jamming the doors with cabinets and nailing your windows with wood is hardly enough to satisfy the gnawing feeling in your stomach. much less when you didn’t even have a weapon to wield other than a wooden bat and a cheap taser you bought on sale.

“its not like anyone will be coming for you, right?” the little girl says, touching the randomest stuff in your apartment. her name was naeun and she never really liked pink and sparkles like most girls her age, maybe that’s why she took a liking to you.

her mom works a 9 to 5 and her grandma stays with her on occasion. but the old lady loved to sleep, naeun said, so she gets the chance to slip out and come knocking on your door. you tried shooing her out of your apartment countless times but she’s stubborn.

she reminds you of yourself.

“well, i hope no one does.” you joked, putting on a turtleneck.

naeun’s mom doesn't like you as much as it is, but if you yourself let naeun see the bruises on your skin? you’d hate yourself forever. “now, come on little missy, go back to your grandma. i need to head over to the bank to settle my protection fees.”

“but you just said no one is going to come for you anyway,” she whines stomping towards the door. “mom already settled ours yesterday becase grammy forced her to. mommy said it was just a waste of money because who’d bother to rob us anyway?”

a memory flashes in your head. two boys who’ve sandwiched you between them in the dark of a fucking supply closet at uni. wandering hands, labored whispers, curt giggles, one pair of lips trailing up your neck while the other up your inner thigh.

“needy kitty. i can’t wait for purge night.”

you needed that protection. that was no slip up because haechan never makes mistakes. if he wanted to make you feel like some animal on the run after catching a whiff of trouble then he sure is doing a good job.

“hey! i think you just went someplace else there,” naeun says, nudging your side irritably to get your attention again.

you try forcing out a chuckle but it doesn't work, still deeply peeved by a memory from last week replaying vividly in your mind. if they ever mean what they meant (which you know they do) then this is now more than just trying to get through the night—you have to survive, prepare, and pray neither of them finds you.

“i think your grandma’s right in doing what she did, naeun. with humans, you’ll never know.”

and just like that naeun went silent, bid you goodbye, and disappeared behind the apartment door.

the bank was a quick walk from your apartment. you hardly broke much sweat and you even managed to stop by the grocery store to make some last-minute runs. the store’s nearly empty, deserted of any human being as the seconds slowly but surely ticked away. it was only when you walked past aisle seven did you pause, the hairs on your back standing as a slow chill crawled up your spine.

you look over your shoulder.

no one’s there.

you swallow, quickly looking down your watch to check the time as you made your way to counter. 3 hours before the annual purge. you needed to get your ass moving. you just need to grab one more thing and you’ll best be on your way.

you practically ran towards the dairy section and just as you spin around, strawberry ice cream pint in your hands, you jump as he appears before you in thin air and you drop whatever you’re holding.

“such a skittish little kitten,” renjun clicks his tongue, bending down to retrieve the ice cream on the floor. “here you go.”

you couldn’t even stare at him in the eye. your hands shook but it wasn’t because of the cold desert. now you get it. it’s his eyes you felt on you earlier, ever intrusive and piercing as he watched you from afar. was he stalking you?

“i didn’t quite catch a thank you, kitty.”

how foolish of you to think he’ll let you duck away without at least speaking to him, hm?

“thank… thank you?”

renjun grins, satisfied with your stuttering as he raises a hand to ruffle your hair—he ignores how you flinched away from him—before walking away with one hand in his coat pocket, whistling an eerie tune that can haunt your nightmares way after purge night.

“see you later, kitten.”

if it wasn’t the whistling that set you on edge or that clear promise of your doom—it’s the pack of zip ties and duct tape in his hands.‏‏‎ ‎

you were watching a rerun of your favorite morning reality tv when it cuts to the dreaded blue screen showing the flag of korea.

this is not a test.

this is your emergency broadcast system announcing the commencement of the annual purge sanctioned by the south korean government.

weapons of class 4 and lower have been authorized for use during the purge. all other weapons are restricted.

commencing at the siren, any and all crime, including murder, will be legal for 12 continuous hours.

police, fire, and emergency medical services will be unavailable until tomorrow morning until 7 am when the purge concludes.

may god be with you all.

you’ll never get used to the blaring siren that echoes through the empty streets. you can feel the floor vibrating and it travels throughout your whole body as the dread starts sinking deep into your skin.

you’ve already double checked all your windows and the front door. activated the security system provided by the bank. and you’ve also already charged your taser and have hammered down nails into your wooden bat. fine. if they wanted to scare and bully you into a panicked frenzy, it did its job but fuck no will you go down without a fight.

you shut all the lights, the apartment basking in the moonlight glow brought by the translucent curtains as you make your way to your bedroom, nearest the emergency exit just in case they barge through your front door by force.

at first, nothing happened. it was peaceful. tranquil. you can hear a pin drop with how quiet it was. both inside and outside. you were almost tempted to cover your mouth in case you were breathing too loud.

it’s silent. until it wasn’t.

your phone rings. it’s there, vibrating on your desk and you make long strides until you’re face to face with a set of numbers on your screen. an unregistered contact. there’s a debate inside your head whether to answer it or not, fingers hovering between the red and green button… until it eventually lands on the green.

you put it up to your ear, hands sweating as you wait with bated breath for the person on the other end to speak.

“kitten?”

it’s renjun. you don’t answer.

“i can hear you breathing, you know. i can’t wait to see you. we’ll have so much fun together. it’s sad that i have to share with that imbecile but better half of you than nothing of you, right?” he laughs and you feel a rush of anger surge through you. yet, you don’t bother to give him the satisfaction of a reply.

“i can see you’re angry, little kitty. while it’s cute and hot… don’t be. turn that frown upside down for me, wouldn’t you?”

but the blinds are drawn he couldn’t have seen you—

“you’re never going to get me, you fucking bastard. i’m not scared of you,” you sure do hope he can’t hear the tremble in your voice. “whatever you plan on doing to me, you’ll fail.”

you walk back slowly, eyes darting everywhere to look for a camera they could’ve installed in your room. they have connections and the money to do it so you won’t put it past them.

“oh, my stupid kitty. how can we fail when we already got a head start?”

the floorboard behind you creaks and before you could turn around, someone slams your head against the desk. you hear a crack, whether it’s the screen of your laptop or your nose, you couldn’t tell. the person is agile and silent as he maneuvers you to the ground and seals your lips with duct tape.

“after all,” haechan giggles. “you can’t lock out what’s already inside, kitten.”

your phone lands somewhere near your head. renjun has already dropped the call and the line goes silent.

squirming, you glared at the person on top of you. is this how you’re gonna go? you can’t deny, even you yourself find this pathetic. the security alarms you bought, the nail-studded bat, your taser, everything was all for naught? just because you didn’t check under your bed to make sure no one was there?

how long was haechan waiting? when naeun was still here? when you went out to buy groceries?

you thought it would be fear you’ll be feeling as you get caught but the emotion isn’t present at all. instead, it’s white hot anger that overrides your system and forces you to act without thinking—and it just fucking saved your life.

haechan always saw you as a vulnerable, sad little human being who couldn’t do shit on her own. it’s easy to underestimate you and that’s his first mistake.

the second is rather foolish—not tying your legs up first. it’s all too easy to slam your forehead against his before jerking your leg up to knee him in the balls.

you can see the anger in his eyes clear as day as you made a run for it to the kitchen, having come up with another escape plan—because surely if you went down the emergency exit, haechan would’ve caught up easily with those long legs after he’s recovered from your assault.

your nose was probably bleeding and your head is in the early stages of a full blown migraine, at least you were able to function enough to wobble your way towards the trash chute situated near the stove. you had cursed that chute the first day you moved in here (who would put a trash chute next to a fucking stove) but the day has come for you to thank the gods that you have that in your house.

going for a swim in all your neighbors’ trash is disgusting and unplanned (plus, falling down maybe six floors to your doom) but you’ll choose that over lee haechan and huang renjun any day.

“don’t you dare fucking think about it!”

you flashed him the middle finger to tick him off. a petty retaliation for all the bullshit he and renjun put you through but it felt good nonetheless.

“catch me if you fuckers can.”

and you were falling down the trash chute.‏‏‎ ‎

okay, yeah—maybe you should’ve thought it through before hurling yourself six floors down only for some half-filled dumpster to catch you but at least you’re still alive, right? alive and free, mind you. but you don’t have time to celebrate.

it smelled awful and you swear your knees and elbows are bruised but you scramble to climb out and run away as fast as you can.

it was only haechan inside your apartment. no sign of renjun but he did see you somehow and you have no doubt it was a camera inside that room. you didn’t have much time to ponder for how long they were installed in your room. it’s the least of your worries at the moment.

you’re outside.

during purge night.

even if you did manage to escape it felt more like a win than a lose, forced out of your own apartment in nothing but shorts and a shirt—heck, you don’t even have shoes on!—it felt like they won. again.

if you’re not going to die in the hands of some other wacko, you’ll die of hypothermia. how nice.

you didn’t know where you were running to, the only thing you knew was you need to get the hell out of this neighborhood as fast as you can. you didn’t want to run in alleyways and risk getting stabbed for fun. maybe the sewer system… oh, right. you don’t have your phone on you and it’ll probably be pitch black down there.

you really, truly, genuinely didn’t want to run so out in the open but it was the best you can impulsively come up with.

when you feel like you’ve put a reasonable distance between you and the apartment, you stop, hands resting flat on your knees as you crouch to catch a breath. just as quick the adrenaline appeared as fast as it had disappeared. you feel the weight and tension crushing your legs, not to mention you’re really starting to feel that headache settle after headbutting haechan.

you almost collapse against the brick wall.

the last person you ever thought you’ll see jumps out from the corner of the alleyway and you almost broke their nose.

until you saw who it was.

“NAEUN?”

their apartment got raided, some buffy sickos who they had the misfortune of breaking into their house to purge. luckily they got away, but after getting attacked on the streets, naeun got separated after she ran for her life just like you did. you can’t help but feel sorry for the little girl, who experienced the full effect of this godforsaken holiday.

this is bad. you can’t leave her but it’s tough enough to have to fend for yourself. you’re not so sure whether you can protect another human being but you’ll have to try.

“did your mom or grandma tell you anything? anything at all?” you ask, crouching to her eye level. “you said your mom knew the way… where? what do you mean?”

“mom said they’re providing refuge on the other side of town but it’s a 30-minute drive. walking would take longer.”

shit. you didn’t want to risk it. you don’t have a car and you’d rather die right here right now than walk another step out in the streets—

“who’s ‘they’?”

“i don’t… i don’t know. she didn’t say.”

you licked your chapped lips. you can’t trust what she’s saying, not when you didn’t even know these people. it’s too risky, not to mention you’re already running from not one, but two people.

naeun sits next to you against the bricked wall of the alley, looking down at her lap. “i’m scared,” she admits. you hear a tremble in her voice. “are mom and grammy de—”

“no,” you cut her off, pulling her tiny body against yours. when you feel her fists clutching your jacket, you swear to protect this girl with your life. “no, they’re not. i’m sure they’re heading there now to the refuge center just like we are.”

her head pokes out, looking up towards you. “we’re going? i thought you didn’t want to.”

you shake your head, wiping her tears. “well, it’s the one way for you to meet your mom and grammy, right?”‏‏‎ ‎

walking down the streets during purge night—man, this has got to be the most ballsy thing you’ve ever done after that one time you spat at renjun in the eye. you managed to find a litter of bodies way into thirty minutes of walking and you nearly sent naeun flying onto the asphalt with how hard you pushed her back. she couldn’t see this mess, you’d be damned to allow a nine-year-old walk right into psychological trauma.

you pocket a gun—you didn’t have enough courage to fight with a knife. you wiped the blood off using your shirt before shoving them down onto the garter of your shorts. you didn’t bother to take their shoes, none of them would’ve fit you anyway and it’ll just slow you down.

“hey, are you alright? is that blood—”

“it’s not mine, naeun. come on, let’s get moving.”

for two hours you walked towards this mysterious refuge center on the other side of town and both you and naeun managed to evade death three times.

the first attack: a group of high schoolers with their uniforms on. there were three of them, about your height, and while you weren’t responsible for the blood on your shirt, you’re not so sure about their lot. they looked crazy, excited even, but sloppy in the way they flung their knives and bats around. their first purge, you assumed, so it was fairly easy to take them down. a bullet to the head worked like a charm. naeun didn’t say anything when you urged her out of her hiding place to flee the scene. three bullets left.

the second attack: it was a surprise, one that got you stabbed in the shin of your right leg. it was a drunkard with a knife, you could smell him as you walked past by his slumped form in the sidewalk. he wasn’t moving, so you thought he was dead and it was poor judgement on your part. it’s pathetic getting injured this way, you thought, but at least it was you who faced the consequences and not naeun. two bullets left.

the third attack: two men but deadlier than the girls and the drunk. you didn’t get to reason out with either of them, not when they drove their cadillac at 140 miles per hour and nearly ran you over. a chill crept up your spine when you saw the bloody, naked women strapped down onto the hood. victims. you didn’t engage in any form of combat, it’s impossible, so you took naeun in your arms and ran straight to the back alleys. number of bullets remain the same.

three lucky strikes.

three times you’ve cheated death.

but time is up and your luck has run out.

“beating up a girl? what a coward, if you ask me,” you say, spitting out a tooth after someone kneed you in the face. you were in no position to say such things when they’ve got you busted up and bloody, left eye swollen after one hard punch.

naeun is nowhere to be seen.

good.

who knows what these assholes could’ve done to her. you told her to run so she better fucking run and make sure she lives through this nightmare.

another kick flies to your ribs and you lie sprawled on the dirty pavement of an alleyway—what an uncool way to die but at least you’ll die with a clear conscience.

you passed by city hall a few minutes ago. surely, the refuge center is not too far from there. naeun will make it safe. she’ll make it.

“what’s that look on her face? is she dead?”

another one scoffs. “well… if they’re after her then she’s as good as dead.”

you blacked out. ‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎

you hate the scent of disinfectant. it crawls up your nose and you hate how the stench is so strong you can taste it on your tongue. this isn’t heaven, not when you know you’re better off burning in hellfire.

unless you weren’t dead—your eyes shoot open, sitting up in haste as you clutch the thin blanket.

rows upon rows of the same cot you were lying on greets you. people injured, some standing, some sitting. there were people treating them, too, but they were in normal clothes so this can’t be a hospital. in fact, it looked like you’re in some warehouse, stacks of metal crates sealing off all entrances.

“it’s the refuge,” you whisper.

“you’re awake!” before you could even turn around, a body launches itself onto you and nearly makes the cot collapse. judging by the small frame and the pitchy voice—

“naeun, be careful!” her mother hisses but the girl in between your arms couldn’t care less. if she’d been an adult, she’d be squeezing the life out of you. when she pulls you closer, your healing ribs made a strike of pain surge through you.

you groan, bowing in the pain. distantly, you can hear the mother and daughter fighting and it was a banter you’ve never experienced with your own mom. it nearly made you tear up from the overwhelming wave of emotions you were feeling but all else disappears when a person tenderly grips your shoulder.

“thank you for taking care of my granddaughter.” the old lady was smiling appreciatively as she stared at you.

that was it. it could’ve been the happy ending to a gruesome and bloody storyline—it should’ve been, family of three reunites again and that was all thanks to you, right?

but even heroes have their own bad endings.

you heard the ticking of the grenade only seconds before it detonates. the other refugees didn’t even have the time to take cover as some closest to the sealed doors were sent flying so far back they crashed into the row of crates behind you.

you were severely injured, limping, ribs broken, and you only had one good eye to rely on—yet the first thing you thought of was protecting naeun. maybe the midget had a way of worming herself into your heart. but before you even push yourself off the cot, a figure emerges from the smoke.

petite and harmless, pretty as the tips of his hair grazed porcelain cheekbones. renjun’s eyes are as cold and calculating as can be and it’s the only thing that terrifies you to no end. when he opens his mouth, anger is hidden well underneath that calm tone.

“i’ll give you one minute to come here willingly.”

there’s no room for bargain, he needn’t when he knows you have absolutely nothing to offer him but yourself. he doesn’t finish his sentence but he trusts you’re smart enough to figure out the silent threat—come, or he’ll turn this place into a fucking bloodbath.

cornered and weak, defenseless. weird how they have a fixation for calling you ‘kitty’ when they’re the cats in this chase.

“naeun,” you whisper, trying to crane your neck to look for her in the filth of rocks and debris. please don’t be hurt.

you freeze when you feel a barrel pointing at your head. it was only there for seconds, haechan probably doesn’t have the guts to hurt you in any way permanently (unless it’s inflicted with his own hands and not through some other medium).

“ah, look. now we have matching black eyes,” he giggles like a madman, craning your neck up and the leather in his globes brings discomfort to your skin.

you see the way the other refugees looked at you—scum, dirt on their feet that brought about trouble in their lives. they were already badly hurt as it is and now, this happened? you don’t blame them.

not one man tried to stand up for you as haechan hauls you up and throws you down on renjun’s feet. your ribs were screaming and you’re cold and so, so afraid. with shaky fingers, you gestured towards the crowd. “just... please, don’t hurt them. they don’t have anything to do with this.”

renjun coos. such a cruel smirk for a pretty face. “aw, such an angel my darling is. always thinking of others instead of her own safety. funny because i don’t think you’ve ever done such a thing for me and haechan, though. i wonder why...”

the latter digs his heel in your injured legs and you scream as black starts to surround the corners of your vision. you tried to crane your neck back, pleading eyes wanting to look at the assaulter but renjun’s calloused hand is gripping your chin too tight.

“should we make a bargain, kitten?”

you stare deep into renjun’s eyes. he knows you don’t have anything left, he can see it in your glassy eyes, too wide and vulnerable. he’s doing this all for show, trying to make you even more desperate and self-aware of your eventual demise.

and you thought haechan was the only cunning one.

“what… what bargain?"

renjun practically gleams in pride. “i’ll let everyone walk free—even your precious little naeun—that’s her name, right? the little girl you’ve been protecting the whole night?—we’ll let her and everyone in this building walk away unharmed. that’s my bargain. you know how those work, right? now, you need to give me something i want.”

forcing you to offer yourself up to them.

what a brutal way to crush your pride.

choice wasn’t an option. if you don’t oblige and choose to run away on your own, they’ll kill them and still hunt you down. you gotta say, it was a tempting bargain that appealed to the sense of heroics in your heart. naturally, you have to choose where there is less blood shed. and as renjun lets go of your chin and lets you look over your shoulder to meet little naeun’s eyes, how she sobbed against her mother’s arms and shook her head and screamed…

“hurry, kitten. i don’t like to be kept waiting.”

you know what needs to be done.

“me. i’ll give you… me.”‏‏‎‏‏‎ ‎

they stood playing a game of pool in the dead of night. it’s peaceful inside the estate while the city beyond rampaged and burned. they achieved their goal, had finally seen an end to a plan that had been set in motion for years. they’ve succeeded and the broken woman lying on the bed meters from the pool table is proof of their victory.

“don’t you just love it when an elaborate plan works like clockwork, injun?” he asks, voice like trickling honey as he hits number 9 with the cue ball.

the other, more petite male, rolls his eyes but doesn’t disagree. “oh, please, people like us always triumph, donghyuck. it’s nothing new. although i am surprised that little girl and her so-called “family” played along so well. almost had me fooled.”

“i agree. it's such a shame they had to go.”

‎

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#nct imagines #nct scenarios #nct dream imagines #nct dream scenarios #renhyuck scenarios #renhyuck imagines #haechan imagines #renjun imagines #yandere haechan #yandere renjun #purge au #purge au nct dream #tw bullying #tw violence #tw purge au

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erensthottie · 3 years

Text

Bonnie & Clyde — 1

[Eren Jaeger x black f!reader]

[Song] ‘03 Bonnie & Clyde | Jay Z & Beyoncé

[Warnings] swearing, use of marijuana, act of robbery, a bit of sexual activity, mention of blood

BLRRRRRRR

“WOO! Fuck yeah! Let’s go!” One of the robbers yells as he runs out of the bank smiling big with two duffel bags full of money. Smiling with him, another taller than the first runs behind him to the food truck that the getaway driver awaits in.

Running out with more duffel bags in y’all hands, you and Eren race out to the truck. Helping you in, the robbers take the bags throwing them in, and grabs onto your hands so you can jump into the moving truck.

Just then you guys hear the sound of police sirens blaring from around the bend. Coming at full speed they drift the corner, accelerating to catch up to y’all. Making eye contact with one of the officers, you smirk, blowing them a kiss and a wink before you and Eren close the doors.

“Step on it Alert!” Eren yells to Armin in the driver's seat.

Taking your seats, you sat in Eren’s lap, legging draping over his as you enveloped your arms around his neck full out making out with him. His hands rest on your lower back and outer thigh pulling you close to him, tilting his head to the side, deepening the kiss even more.

“Your so bad you know that?” He smirks at you, slapping you on your thigh making you jump, giggling and smiling pulling him back in.

“What now boss?” One of the robbers asks as he takes off his mask. The same one who ran out first.

“Yeah, boss?” The other one, the taller one adds in.

Eren stops kissing you for a minute, still holding onto you looking at both men.

“Well, Connie… Jean. Now, we celebrate.” He smiles looking back at you.

“What’d you say beautiful?” He rubs your thigh, eyes never leaving yours.

Face getting warm and your body heating up, you softly nod with a low hum, looking right at him, leaning back into him for another kiss which he gladly accepts.

“Yeah!” Everyone cheers.

“Yes sir.” The men voice, bowing and taking their half into their duffel bag.

“Sir, the chef has informed me that dinner is prepared and ready.” A man with freckles told to Eren.

He grunts and makes his way to the route of the master bedroom which you currently stayed.

“You guys can take a plate, me and Y/n will take our share later.” He says as he walks over to the elevator down the hall. Getting in, he presses the third floor and leans back on the railing.

“Beautiful?” He calls as he walks into the living room from the elevator making his way to the room.

“Yes, darling?” You walk out, leaning against the door frame in a small lingerie dress that barely covered your thighs and ass.

Eren's eyes widen and his face turns red as he stops in his tracks. Dropping the bag, Eren lowers his head smiling, tongue poking his cheek while he scratches his chin. He slowly tilts his head back, with low eyes and inspecting your beautiful and amazing body in the sensual and seductive outfit.

"You know," he starts as he untucks his dress shirt, undoing the buttons on it then throwing it somewhere in the living room making his way toward your direction.

"You really are something right. This all for me beautiful?"

Eren unbuckles his belt allowing it to cascade to the wood tiles. Only inches away from you know, he wraps an arm around your body and pulls you close enough, placing a hand on the back of your neck guiding you to lean into the kiss.

You both makeout, entangled in each other pleasure blindly navigating through the room and successfully finding the bed tumbling right onto it while being able to not break the kiss.

"The things that you do to me. It makes me crazy, makes me fucking mad. I want you, I need you, I need your love and your body so bad. Let me make love to you. Let me hold you and tell you everything you crave hear while I go into your deepest places till I reach that sweet, sweet womb of yours and make you cum over and over on my dick. The same one that you love and cherish with your life." Eren slowly grinds his hips into yours, lips moving down your neck leaving open kisses in their waking.

"Will you let me do that beautiful? Do you permit me to reclaim you over and over again? Tell you I love you? Cum deep into your wet and tight pussy that I love and adore with all my life? Will you?"

Overwhelmed with all the oversensitivity and the burning pit deep in your stomach, you desperately nod your head as you repeat, "Yes... yes, yes, yes. Please~"

"Nah Jaeger, you cheatin' out here." Connie says as Eren puts down a draw four card on the deck in the center of the table.

"No I ain't," he smirks taking a puff of the blunt before passing it onto Armin.

"I'm simply just playing the game Con."

"Cap! Y/n can't be helping you pick out your cards, that's straight bull." Jean points to you settled behind Eren's chair, giggling, eyes red and lidded as you stick your tongue out at him only for him to respond with a playful gasp and clutch chest.

"Oh please, Y/n could do whatever she feels like horseface." Eren quips leaning his head back to wink at you.

"Hey! I don't have a horseface you pigeon." Jean claps back.

Everyone including you burst out in laughter, unable to hold it in being that you all are under the influence.

“Marco, it's your turn.” Connie softly nudged at the man spaced out after putting his card down.

Marco blinks a few times to stop himself before looking at the cards in his hand and selected two number five cards, or what he thought were two six cards.

“Ayo, yo, pick up two fo’ your mistake!” Jean says as he starts to pull out cards for him.

“Huh? How?” he protests.

“Fuck is this?” Armin picks up the yellow six and nine card that he had put down.

“Ohhh.”

“Ohhhhh.” Jean mocked.

“Leave me alone, I'm smacked aight?” Marco explains taking the cards from Jean.

“Uno,” Eren says wiggling his last card in between his fingers.

Armin went a place down and a red draw two, leaning back in his chair with a smile, taking another puff before pasting the blunt to Jean “Uno.”

Eren daps him up telling him ‘that's what's up.’

“How the fuck y'all got Uno already?” Jean takes a hit inhaling picking out his cards and putting them down before passing on the blunt to Connie.

Taking his turn with the blunt and cards, he skipped Marco and Eren pointing to Armin to go.

Eren gives him a death look and shakes his head.

“Hey, it's just how the game is played.” he put his hands up passing the blunt to Marco who was once again spaced out.

“Dude, just go to sleep, Y/n will take over for you.” Connie shakes him back to consciousness.

“Yeah, I'll take ‘em for you.” you smile and take his cards taking his place in the chair before hugging him goodnight.

“Another hit Y/n?”

You nod taking the blunt from Connie and taking a deep inhale of the smoke and holding it before exhaling it out through your nose.

“Ou, he got some good cards,” you say sorting out the cards in your hand before you put down four skips.

“WOW!!” Jean and Connie say in unison.

“That's what we doin’ now beautiful?” Eren looks at you, holding the card to his chin.

“As Connie said before, that's just how the game is played.” you retort sending him a kiss.

“Hey, hey. Don't put me in this.” Connie said.

“I’ma getchu back don't worry.” Eren declares.

“Threat or a promise?” you test him.

“Take it how you wanna beautiful.” he jerks his eyebrow.

“If y’all wanna fuck just say da, damn.” Armin snarky remarks make Jean and Connie fall out of their chairs laughing.

“Shuddup Armin.” you joke laughing along.

Continuing with the game, you place down a reverse card making the rotation go counterclockwise. Connie went and put down a plus two to which Jean added another one. Armin then grinned at them putting down his last card, draw four saying ‘uno out’.

All eyes on Eren he looks back at everyone before looking at you.

“I told you I'll get you back right?”

Without saying more words he placed down a draw four on top of Armin’s. Everyone in the group gasps and ooh’s while they look between you and Eren.

“Pick up eight beautiful.” he says as he caresses your cheek.

You gasp, “Oh my God, noooo.”

“It doesn't work like that baby.” you say as you kiss his hand putting down an additional draw four card making the total 12.

From across you, you heard someone stifle their laugh, snorting in the process. You turn to see Armin with his hand over his mouth face slowly turning red from now breathing. He shakingly points his finger towards Connie’s direction. You turn in confusion and see him with a straight face, looking at the pile of cards.

“Connie…”

Everyone except him and you die of laughter, toppling over. He softly places the cards on the table, scooting his chair out, rising and walking away.

“No, No Connie wait!! I’m sorry!” you try your hardest not to laugh, trailing behind him, slightly stumbling from feeling high. He didn't answer only continuing to walk till he walked to his room, entering and softly closing his door.

“FUCK!!”

Y'all hear him yells at the top of his lungs and you laugh even harder than before. It's probably the hardest that y'all ever laughed in your life. You're laid out on the floor, holding your stomach as tears come out of your eyes and you buffer in place silently laughing. Eren laughing loudly head held back stomping his feet on the floor. Jean once again on the floor also laid out like you, shaking in laughter and he screams out with laughter, having that Windex bottle laugh. Armin jumping in his chair, wheezing and crying once in a while snorting loud as hell.

“Did something happen?” Marco voiced.

He was in front of y'all, rubbing his eyes in his oversized onesie with his blanket wrapped around him. That only made everyone succumb to laughter. Armin fell out of his chair onto the floor, Eren slouched in his chair in an uncomfortable position, Jean face down into the carpet and you on your back in an almost starfish position.

Marco freaks out, runs to each of your sides to check up on you only to be met with snores and soft breathing. Y'all laughed yourselves to sleep, who the fuck does that shit? Being as caring as he is, Marco uses the couch cushions and places them under each of the guy's heads, and covered them with blankets, even leveling Eren’s legs so he could be more comfortable. He picks you off the ground being sure not to wake you up and puts you on the big couch right by Eren covering you with a blanket as well.

He cleans up and puts out the rest of the light blunt in the ashtray and packs up the Uno cards. Turn off the light and whispers goodnight before leaving to his room.

Reblogs are allowed

#Bonnie & Clyde — erensthottie #black reader #eren jaeger #eren jaeger x black reader #eren jaeger smut #eren fanfiction #erensthottie work #snk smut #snk fanfiction #snk x black reader #aot x black reader #aot fanfiction #aot smut #erensthottie writing

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laurensprentiss · 3 years

Text

Jouska [Hotch x Reader]

Chapter 19:

A/N: Here it is besties, v sorry for this but I live to cause chaos!! They both have some growing and living to do over the next chapters which will span around ten years. Stick around it’s gonna be interesting! Also Hotch looks rlly good here hehe

Warnings: None, really. Swearing, mentions of pregnancy, heavy angst.

———

“I'm scared I'm going to spend the rest of my life in a state of yearning, regardless of where I am.” - Melina Marchetta

———

08:00

It happens slowly then all at once. He knows he feels lighter, physically, before he’s fully conscious - can’t feel the warm weight of you on top of him. He frowns as he slowly awakens fully, feeling for your body next to him.

When all he feels are sheets, he comes to, a little quicker, opening one eye to look around. When he doesn’t see you, he figures you left to go to the bathroom but a piece of paper on your pillow catches his eye.

He frowns as he sits up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes when the doorbell begins to ring incessantly. He looks between the door, the paper and then the door again, tucking the note underneath his pillow to come back to later. He takes a cursory look at the clock -

08:00

He runs downstairs with a grin, thinking maybe you went out to grab coffee and forgot you didn’t have a key, but when he opens the door, icy shock runs through his veins.

“Hi, Aaron.”

“Haley?” He replies stunned. He glances behind him, increasingly alarmed now as to your whereabouts.

She averts her gaze from Hotch’s half naked form, it’s nothing she hasn't seen before but there’s a barrier between them now. Even with what she’s about to tell him.

“Can we talk?”

“-This…. isn’t really a good time.” He replies, glancing behind him again. He uses his body to block what lies behind him, clothing littering the floor as evidence of last night. His cheeks run hot when he realises Haley already spotted it all.

“We need to talk. I wouldn’t have shown up like this, but she told me to come by at 8. Said I should talk to you.”

He frowns. “Who?” He asks, despite hazarding a very good guess he already knows the answer.

“Look, can I just come in? I'm really cold and this is incredibly awkward.”

He sighs, “Yeah- yeah come in.” He steps aside to let her in, picks his shirt up off the floor and begins to button it as he invites her to sit.

Haley tells him that she managed to track you down outside your apartment yesterday. His jaw ticks and he runs his thumb over his bottom lip, agitated. “Why would you do that?”

“I figured I owed her an apology. Ultimately I was the one who put her in danger with-” She licks her lips. “With him. I thought we should talk.”

“So you resorted to stalking?” He paces. He can’t figure out why you’d ask her to come by now, especially if you were going to spend the night last night.

“I know, I’m sorry.” She looks sick. “I kind of knew that you felt something for her, and I figured she probably did too. Clearly I was right.”

“I’m not doing this with you.”

She throws her hands up. “No! No, that's not what I meant. I need to tell you something but before I did, I needed to tell her, I owed her some courtesy after everything at least.”

He tilts his head and his eyes narrow. “Get to the point.”

She pulls out an envelope and slides it across the coffee table. She breathes shakily, nodding at it. “It’s all in there.”

He watches her quizzically, confused at her demeanour - she’s never been one to be at a loss for words. He takes a seat opposite, studying her as he peels open the envelope.

A sliver of cold panic works its way through his veins as he scans the page.

LABCORP DNA TESTING SERVICES

Sample 1 - BROOKS/HOTCHNER : Positive Match

Sample 2 - BROOKS/HOTCHNER : Positive Match

“What the hell is this?” He asks, his voice barely above a whisper.

She swallows thickly, abetting her gaze. “It’s a paternity test. I’m pregnant.” She tells him quietly.

His chest tightens and his head starts swimming. “What? I don’t believe you.”

“It’s right there on the paper. It’s yours.” She looks like she’s holding back vomit, the colour on her face drained. She studies Aaron for any kind of a reaction but he still looks confused.

“I want another one.” He tells her waving the paper. “How far along are you?”

“3 and a half months.”

“Wait,” He winces as the cold realisation hits him. “You told her?”

She nods.

The colour drains from his face and he shoots up from his seat, remembering everything he’d told you yesterday about how he would do things differently if he ever became a father. Knowing now what you knew then, he can’t begin to fathom what must have been going through your mind yesterday.

He shoots up the stairs three at a time, hoping he’s not too late.

———

06:00

Your eyes burn with the lack of sleep and the aftermath of your breakdown. You lay still against Aaron’s chest, your hand splayed flat against his skin. You’ve been watching him sleep for most of the night, memorising all you can about him, and imagining an alternate future where you could’ve ended up together.

But it doesn’t help. All it goes is drive a stake deeper into your heart because no matter how much you imagine, it doesn’t change your future. The sun begins to rise sure enough, a promise of another day but the lighter it gets, the more your stomach turns and the tighter your chest gets.

You pull Aaron in closer one more time, fusing your body to his and you close your eyes. His hands run down your bag gently as he stirs in his sleep. You take a minute to take him in one last time, despite your aching heart you try to hold onto the happiness you’d felt before it all came crashing down.

You doubt you’ll feel for anyone the way you feel for him. But you can’t be selfish, not now. You whisper to him, barely audible, the words you need to get off your chest and with a gentle kiss to his sleeping face, you slink out of his arms.

You gather your clothes, and from the credenza drawer downstairs, grab a pen and paper.

‘Dearest Aaron…’

Tears stain your face as you initial the bottom of the letter and with a final breath, you fold it and scrawl his initials on top. You reluctantly walk back upstairs and when you see Aaron’s peaceful face in a deep sleep, it takes everything in you to walk away. You place the note on your pillow, and turn away before you change your mind.

But as you approach the door, you turn to take one last look at him, willing your memory to hold on to this image, to the feel of him. To what it feels like to be loved by him.

“Goodbye Aaron.” You whisper.

———

08:30hrs:

He struggles to get his pants on, throwing on odd socks and grabbing the note on the pillow which he stuffs haphazardly into his three day old jacket. He runs down the stairs three at a time, passing Haley on the way as he grabs his keys.

She looks at him with panic and confusion. “Go back to the hotel, I’ll call you!” He tells her. She looks around, stunned as the door slams shut behind him.

He fumbles with his phone, dialling your number, but it goes straight to voicemail. He tries Emily but it goes to voicemail too. He dials the direct line to your assistant and on the last ring, she picks up.

“Agent Hotchner?”

“Leah?”

“Yeah? Is everything okay?”

He desperately asks if she has any idea of where you are today, if you have anything on your docket.

“Not that I can see, no. Is everything okay?”

“Look, can you find out if she’s home and call me?” He hangs up and purposely turns on the sirens to weave through traffic to your place. In a cruel twist of fate, he curses the numerous traffic logs he encounters on his way, thinking he’ll deal with the fallout of using his lights without reason later.

He finally turns onto your street, tires screeching as he pulls up behind a blacked out towncar, into which an older gentleman appears to be hauling suitcases. He doesn’t bother closing the door as he exits his SUV, his eyes trailing on the suitcases being piled into the trunk of the towncar when he hears your voice.

He stops in his tracks.

“Alright, James. I think that’s the last of the b-”

The air leaves your lungs when you catch sight of him. There’s a brief moment when you think you think you’re imagining him but your chest squeezes when you look at his face, halfway between confused, devastated and just plain betrayed.

He utters your name with a shaky whisper. “What is this? What’s going on?” He asks unsteady, already knowing the answer.

You hand your bags to James who ducks between you to receive them, the tension thick and heavy. “I’m sorry, I planned on…” You struggle for the words. “Being done earlier than this. This is what I wanted to avoid.”

He retreats, eyebrows shooting up. “This, what? You wanted to avoid saying goodbye to me? You couldn’t even extend me the grace of telling me you were leaving?” He pulls out your note from his pocket, shaking it in front of you. “You left this and thought it would be enough? After everything that happened with us.”

“Come on, Aaron. You know that’s not what I meant. But you know why I’m leaving, it’s why you’re here. And I knew you would do this, I knew you’d try and talk me out of going. That’s why I didn’t tell you.” You swallow the lump in your throat.

The desperation inside him starts to claw at him. “You don’t have to leave. We’re adults, we can figure this out.” He takes both of your hands tightly in his.

You shake your head. “I won’t put you in that position, I know how important this is to you. I won’t put myself in that position either.” He opens his mouth to oppose you but he knows as well as you do that this is the end. “I can’t believe I’m going to say this but this was easier when I had a stalker, all I had to worry about was making it through the day without being murdered. But things are real now, you have a career and a family to worry about, I have to go to college. I guess we just didn’t think this through.”

He retreats slightly, a hurt expression on his face. “That doesn’t mean it was wrong.” He says, quietly. “I told you I’d wanted to be with you for a long time, and I meant it. I don’t regret any of it.”

You cup his cheek. “Neither do I. But we both know what needs to happen. I can’t stay.”

He caresses your hand on his cheek with bereft eyes. “You changed me, you know?”

You laugh dryly. “With your gig at the BAU? Forget it, you’ll be saving people left and right.”

“You know that’s not what I meant.” His voice cracks. “I’m just sorry we couldn’t have more time. I think this could have been something.”

“Did you read the note?” He shakes his head. “Wait until I’m gone to read it - you don’t have to. But if you ever find yourself doubting or second-guessing who you were to me - who you are to me? You should read that. It has everything you’ll need to know.”

He brings his forehead to yours, glassy eyes watching you with so much affection you think you might just break. “Can we stay here? Just for a minute? I’m not ready to let you go yet.” He asks.

You nod and loop your arms around his neck, tiptoeing to reach his height. He hugs you back with ferocity, face burying in the crook of your neck as he takes you in, memorises the way you body slots against his, how you smell and feel. He presses his eyes shut, willing his brain to commit every last feeling to memory, terrified that there may come a day when he no longer remembers how he loves you.

You muffle your sobs as best as you can, clutching at the material of his shirt, and the small tufts of hair at the nape of his neck. Try as you might, when you close your eyes, all you can see is a reel of your relationship with Aaron, spanning from the moment you met to now.

All of it comes rushing back: the gazebo, your apartment, numerous late night coffees and dinners, his face in the cabin, the hospital and of course, the nights and days you spent in bed. The pond, the balcony, the laughter. The love. You feel a hole consuming your chest and you struggle to breathe, cursing yourself for falling in love with the one man you couldn’t possibly ever have.

James beeps from inside the towncar, and you reluctantly loosen your grip on Aaron, sniffling as you let him go. It feels infinitely harder to detangle yourself from him now, like tearing a bandage off of a raw wound, but you know you need to go.

And so does he.

His eyes are watery when you look at him, yours mirroring his heartbreak. “I guess this is it.” He rasps.

You clear your throat. “Yeah. I guess so.”

“Can I kiss you goodbye?”

You nod solemnly. His hands cup your cheeks lovingly, wiping away a stray tear. He leans in, and presses his lips to yours for the last time. He takes his time, allowing himself to linger in the moment, and convey everything he can in this kiss without having to say it. Wants to remember how soft your lips are and the way you taste.

Your tears fall steadily now, your own hands tangling in his hair. You selfishly wish you could stay here, throw away any and all integrity just to keep him for yourself. But you both have things to do, futures to live.

You break the kiss, forehead resting against his. His hand cradles the back of your head, and he presses a tender kiss to your forehead, lips lingering before he finally lets go.

You fish in your pocket and take his hand in yours, dropping your key into his palm. He looks at you quizzically. “Keep it, give it to the super, I don’t mind. But lock up for me?” You ask him.

He nods, closing his hand around yours, a desperate attempt to keep you close for a few more fleeting moments. He presses a desperate kiss laced with finality on your lips as you release yourself from his embrace.

Watching you reach for the car door sends him into a tailspin. You’re just about in the car when you hear him call your name. His voice is strained. “Listen, I just- before you go. There’s something I need to tell you.” His face is contorted with desperation and his voice laced with something utterly heartbroken.

You know where he’s going with this. You weren’t sure if he felt it until now, horrible fucking timing, but it’s still something.

“Don’t. I know what you’re going to say, Aaron. Please don’t.” You sob. “This is already one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do, please don’t make it harder. I know what you’re going to say. But before you do… just please don’t?” You plead.

He swallows thickly, choking back tears, too. “I do, though.”

You breathe through the hole in your chest. “I know, Aaron. I do, too.” Your smile is bitter as you open the car door and step inside gingerly, keeping your eyes on the sidewalk where he stands. He walks over to you, tangles your fingers with his briefly before cradling your chin, wiping another stray tear.

“Maybe in another life?” He whispers.

“Maybe in another life.” You tell him with a sad smile.

“Goodbye, sweetheart.”

I love you.

“Goodbye, Aaron.”

I love you.

He watches the car peel away longingly, muttering aloud the words that he’d whispered two nights ago when he thought you were asleep.

“I love you.”

———

09:15

Your car pulls up to the airstrip forty-five minutes later and you can hear the deafening engine of the plane before you even step out of the car. You place a $50 in the hand of the man who opens your door for you, throwing a quick thank you his way as you obscure your puffy eyes with a pair of sunglasses.

You offer the men loading your luggage a small smile and hand them their tips, before boarding the plane. You spot Emily on the far left side of the plane, her face buried in a copy of Mother Night.

When she sees you, she shoots up from her seat, throwing her book onto the table in front of her. “Oh my God! You came! Hi!” Her good arm wraps around your neck for a hug and you stiffen against her. “What made you change your mind?” She asks.

You close your mouth just as soon as you open it when the curtain dividers open.

“Darling!” Ambassador Prentiss emerges from her office, behind a divider on the plane. She has a phone receiver against her chest, you assume to muffle her voice to whoever is on the other end. “Emmy and I are so glad you decided to join us, we’ll be taking off in around 15 minutes.” She tells you, glancing at her watch.

You shoot her a polite smile and thank her, and she looks between you and Emily, excusing herself back to her office.

“I’ll let you girls catch up.”

Emily leads you to the seat opposite her, her face now showing signs of concern. She watches your face for an answer but when nothing comes, she asks outright.

“What happened? I thought you were going to stick around and see what happens? You had a date right? Her words scratch your skin.

“Date’s off.” You swallow.

Her eyes widen. “What? Why?!”

“His ex is pregnant and it’s his.” You reply nonchalantly, rapidly blinking back tears behind your sunglasses.

Her mouth drops open. “Holy shit! Are you okay?”

“I’ll be fine.” You reply, gazing out of the window.

Emily watches you in shock, unsure of what to say. She can tell by your demeanour that you’re in shock but she can’t do anything except hold your hand and tell you she’s sorry with a quiet voice.

“Yeah.” You sigh.

———

09:00

When he keys open your apartment door, he’s hit with an eerie silence, a heart wrenching emptiness. He attempts to turn a lamp on but the electricity has been turned off, leaving the living room cold and dark.

His mind fills in the spaces between the emptiness, picturing you sitting on your couch, or on the bar stools around your island. Can hear the incessantly loud TV, and your laughter from your room.

Your room is just as empty too, a few stray clothes hangers remain in the wardrobes and when he turns to look out at your balcony, he swears he sees your shadow outside. He makes sure the doors and windows are secure and makes his way back to your living room, the entire experience harrowing, like walking through a graveyard of memories.

His legs give out as he walks back to the living room, sinking onto the couch. A picture of you catches his eye on the side table next to him, the same one he’d caressed gently when you’d been taken by Jordan. He’d thought then, that was the worst moment of his life, had he known what was to come, he’d have reserved his judgement.

He swallows the lump in his throat as he gently brushes a finger over the glass, unable to keep the tears from coming now. He wishes with everything you could have stayed, can feel it deep within him that you’ll keep a part of his heart for years to come. Then he remembers the note.

He opens the folded paper with trembling hands.

‘Dearest Aaron,

I sit in your living room right now, struggling for the words to write but I can’t seem to come up with anything that truly encapsulates how I feel. How I’m incredibly sorry to have to leave like this, how I wish with everything in me that I didn’t have to, I wish this could have ended differently.

I want to say thank you. You may not know or understand this, but for all the good and bad, you truly changed my life. I met you during the darkest and scariest part of my life, when I had nobody - when I was all alone. And in you came like a light and protected me fiercely, taught me everything I needed to save my life. You did that.

You saved me.

You changed me.

Despite the circumstances, we did have something, a friendship, maybe the start of something more - something real. Don’t ever doubt that. The last two days were two of the best of my life, a fitting reward, I thought, after everything I’d been through. But I couldn’t let you talk me into staying, because I know you, and you would have tried, told me that we could’ve worked something out - and it would’ve been selfish of me to stay.

I want you to know that I am so incredibly happy for you. This wasn't an easy decision, but I’m leaving of my own choice. I have no doubt in my mind that you’ll be an amazing father. That child will be loved and oh so lucky to have you and your warmth as a father. I know how much this means to you, how important it is for you to give your child a better life than the one you and Sean had.

And you will.

Thank you for everything you did for me, thank you for saving me over and over again. Thank you for teaching me to be brave, and for coming into my life. My hope for you is that you’ll build a wonderful life with your beautiful little family and achieve everything you’ve ever wanted and more.

You’ll change the world one day.

Know that I will always have a special place for you in my heart.

I’ll never forget you.

All my love.’

He swallows the burning in his chest. Two days were all he had with you and he stupidly saw himself able to imagine a future with you, could imagine loving you for the rest of his life - but then he’d been in love with you long before you’d asked him to stay.

He winces as something digs into his chest and he reaches for his inside jacket pocket until something cold makes contact with his fingers.

His heart stops, molten lava running through his veins.

Your necklace.

He grips it until the sharp edges of the pendant feel like they’re about to puncture his skin.

Maybe he wasn’t destined for peace, for love. The love that he wanted. Maybe a happy ending wasn’t written for him and he’d have to make peace with that. At least he had the memory of your face burnt into his brain, the smell of your hair, the sound of your laughter.

That finite part of you would get him through eternity.

———

20:00

You’ve rejected every meal you’ve been offered by the staff aboard the plane, instead choosing to down Emily’s bottle of red wine. It eases the heaviness in your head, that’s true but the ache in your chest still remains.

Emily’s since drifted off to sleep, her book laying open against her stomach, meal half-eaten. You stare at the blinking lights of the plane and the clouds below you until everything starts to blur.

You love him. He loves you. That much is true. You never had believed in the concept of the right person but the wrong time, how could you? If the person was right, the timing would surely be inconsequential.

That was until you met Aaron.

In this life, in the grey harsh reality, after everything you had been through with him, the simple fact that two people love one another pales in comparison to the bloody reality of commitments, matters of the mind and sacrifice.

He loves you and you love him. It just isn’t enough.

He aches for you and you ache for him. But it’s still just out of reach.

Your hearts aren’t your own anymore. But you have to go on anyway.

———

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hongism · 3 years

Text

mists of celeste ➻ 37

➻ pairing: ??? x fem reader ➻ genre: space au, pirate au, space pirate!ateez, angst, smut ➻ word count: 16.9k(? i think?) ➻ rating: M ➻ warnings: language, violence, guns and weaponry, blood, future warnings tba chapter specific warnings: talks of torture, talks of past self-harm, nothing directly graphic all mentioned through conversation, graphic depiction of a panic attack ➻ summary: Sneaking aboard the ship of a renowned space pirate may not have been the best idea, but you’ll have to make do with what fate has handed to you

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✧✧✧ act five ➻ part four

“I’m going to kill the king, Hyunwoo.”

“Y/N, you can’t… that’s going too far.”

“I don’t think we have a choice any longer.”

“We always have a choice, Y/N. It’s just about what you decide to do with that choice that matters. Think about why you’re doing what you’re doing, and what your intentions truly are. It’s not about revenge or payment for a crime — the crimes of his people cannot be put onto his shoulders.”

A sigh passes through your lips, one that sounds more exasperated than anything else, and Hyunwoo lifts a brow upon hearing the noise.

“This is revenge, Hyunwoo. He allowed my past to be taken, he created the law that allows the military to do that. Not to mention the other crimes he has committed — even if they are a result of him sitting idly by and watching them happen. I’m not saying Jisung is always right or that he is a saint for wanting to do this. But if Jisung won’t commit to doing it, then I’ll do it for him.”

“And we swore to find a way to get those memories back, Y/N. Don’t let this cloud your judgment. Don’t let your devotion to making Jisung happy decide your future. If this is something he wants, then he should do it himself and face the consequences on his own! It’s not a burden that you should bear as well. I know this is something you will come to regret!”

“Then you’ll have to stop me with force because I’ve already made my mind up about this. I don’t see Jisung getting in my way right now. But after all, isn’t this what he wants? He’s just too much of a coward to do the dirty work himself!”

“We both know where he stands on this, which is precisely why he’s not here. Just — please let us try one more time. I’ve spoken with a few of my off-planet contacts about this, and we have one last idea that might reverse the effects of the serum. You know how difficult this is; the military keeps such a tight wrap on everything about the serum. It’s near impossible to just get a spare vial, and even harder to examine how it works with test subjects while still being ethical. We are trying our best, I promise, just please hold out a little while longer. Jisung is getting things set up now… so please… just come with me and try before you do anything drastic.”

The man extends a hand, palm facing towards the ceiling and fingers outstretched for you to take. There’s hope in his eyes, a hope you haven’t seen from him in a long time, and that look is what brings your feet forward. You place your palm over his and curl your fingers tight around the side of his hand. He squeezes back as a small grin overtakes his lips.

“If this doesn’t work, then you know what I have to do, Hyunwoo.”

“I know,” he whispers. The hope in his eyes flickers a little, like a flame hit by a gust of wind. “In that case, I’ll do whatever I have to so that you don’t come to regret that decision.”

“Hey, get up. It’s go time.”

You wake with a start, not fully come out of the memory that paints the insides of your eyelids until you look around at your surroundings. Yeosang seems to be the one who woke you seeing as his hand is still outstretched to your arm. The sight of him brings you back to reality and reminds you of where you are and what exactly is going on. Jongho sits on your other side, dressed in nicer clothes than you’ve ever seen him wear before — a pleated and pristine navy suit complete with a bright yellow tie and hair gelled back on his head. Yeosang too wears a somewhat expensive garb although he appears more natural in the silk tunic covering his torso. His naturally dark roots are starting to peek through the blond near his scalp, accentuating the harsh part down the middle of his head.

Despite the fact that both look relatively harmless in this state, you know they each have weapons hidden somewhere on their person underneath that formal wear, just as you do with the knives strapped over your thighs under the skirt attached to your waist. Such an outfit like yours is something you hardly agreed to — it was moreso an insistence on Seonghwa’s part to at least dress the part (although he had to listen to some of your incessant nagging about how you could never fight in a dress so he had to settle on finding a substitute in the form of a jumpsuit with a skirt wrapped around the back. Yet the more you pick at the seams and touch the fabric, the more you recall the none too pleasant conversation you and Seonghwa shared as you were preparing to leave for the mission.

“Perhaps I do have an eye for beauty after all, or is it that you simply look breathtaking in anything?” Seonghwa stands in the doorway to your bedroom, not a mind for privacy as he watches you struggle to tug the zipper of your suit up.

“Can’t even breathe on my own, huh?” You huff out as you drop the zipper in defeat.

“I’ve already seen every inch of you, have I not? There’s nothing to hide that I haven’t seen before,” Seonghwa says through a laugh. He watches your cheeks flush with color before dropping his arms to his side and coming closer to you. He remains wordless as he pulls your zipper up for you, smoothing the fabric under his fingers down once it’s pulled up to your neck. “It suits you. Things like this, I mean. The silk makes you look… softer, yet the color combination of black and white makes you look lethal. Perfect definition of beauty, no? That something so delicate could also kill you? A wonderful dichotomy in my eyes.”

“Someone is in a poetic mood today.” You don’t hide the way your eyes roll to the back of your head, but Seonghwa doesn’t seem all too bothered by your show of faux-annoyance. Instead, his hands find your hips and turn you to face him directly, staring so intently into your eyes with his own dark ones that you lose the rest of your retort.

“I’m sorry. I wanted to go on this mission so desperately but that didn’t quite work out.” You’re quick to shake your head, already in the midst of denying his words before he even finishes his sentence.

“It’s alright. I’ll have Yeosang and Jongho there with me.”

“I would go if only Hongjoong would let me bu—” The thought cuts short as you place a hand over his forearm.

“Seonghwa, it’s okay. Hongjoong is right to have you stay here while you’re not 100% better. And you can both keep an eye on Jisung this way. We’ll bring Wooyoung back as quickly as possible, I swear.” Instead of consoling the man, your words seem to have an opposite effect as he drops his gaze to the floor.

“If I were stronger, this wouldn’t even be an issue. You should not have had to waste so much time having to look after my fragile and weak mental state when you could have caught up to the ship sooner and had all three of them back in one go.”

“This is what we’re working with, Hwa. It has nothing to do with your welfare. We still would have been too late regardless of whether that night had happened or not. So please — it will all work out and be okay. It has to.”

Seonghwa’s smile is quaint, a small twitch of his lips, then he’s leaning in to close the distance between your lips. You lift your hand to push hard against his chest, furthering that distance before he gets the chance to meet your lips with his.

“I just put on this black lipstick and you already want to mess it up? How rude,” you scoff. That isn’t a real reason, and you both know it, and you only solidify that further when you speak next before biting your tongue. “You shouldn’t push it right now. I still haven’t forgiven you for not fighting my decision to go with Jisung. Besides wasn’t the decision to… stop whatever this is mutual?”

“It was, of course,” he murmurs back, not quite meeting your eyes. “I am merely a creature of habit, so it will take some time for me to adjust to this change. But… Y/N, might I be so bold as to ask you something?”

“Hm, isn’t that a question right there?”

“I’ll take that as a yes then?” You regard him with a small nod but pull away so that his hands drop to his sides again. “Were any of the feelings you had for me something real and tangible? Not just because of what we are and that comfort of both being Sirens, I mean.”

You should have known he would bring this up eventually, especially with how the two of you are constantly dancing around each other and the topic. Still, you aren’t ready for it.

“I… don’t think I know the answer to that question, but even if I did, I-I might not be able to answer with complete honesty.” The smile that comes to paint Seonghwa’s lips is nothing short of sad and painful, not quite reaching his bright eyes with its usual mirth.

“It’s a conversation I wish for us to have one day, but I too fear that I might not be able to be completely honest either. Perhaps — perhaps we got a little too caught up in the heat of things without truly thinking about why we were doing the things we were doing.”

“Why did you do it then? I was the one who gave the initial push, I started things, I claim responsibility for that, but you pulled right back. So why?”

“I have found time to think about such things quite a bit lately since I was left in the medbay alone for so long; however, now is not the time to talk about that as it would take too long. Has Wooyoung brought you back yet?”

“No, not since the night in the medbay. But San very clearly said three days until they would land on Dorado, and it’s been six since then. They should be there by now, and the deals should have gone through. Wooyoung’s was to be immediate after all.” Seonghwa’s smile drops into a half-hearted scowl.

“Without Wooyoung on the inside, we will have no way of knowing where San and Mingi are.”

“Unless Jisung decides to be kind with his information.” You run a hand through your hair, mussing the already down tresses enough to be somewhat noticeable. “We’ll have to make do.” Seonghwa stretches across the empty space between you

“I won’t keep you any longer then. Tell the others good luck from me, and please… be careful? No unnecessary risks if you can avoid them. I’d like to see you all back in one piece.”

Reality swoops in on you as Jongho places a firm hand over your thigh.

“You alright? I can practically feel you thinking so hard.”

“Yes, yes, of course. Just… wondering about the mission.”

“It’ll be okay,” Jongho murmurs, squeezing at your leg a little tighter. “It’s a straightforward mission — easy in and out.”

“Hopefully.” Yeosang is the one to hum the word but he doesn’t look at either of you as he speaks. “Once we’re in, I’ll talk to the main desk and ask for someone with Wooyoung’s general appearance. It’ll be a bit difficult because they will have given a new name — something a prostitute would have. I’m not sure how many people in there will have similar appearances to Wooyoung but we’ll have to do our best. You two remember what you’re supposed to do?”

“Yes,” you nod. “Follow suit, wait fifteen minutes for you to pass through the reception area, then ask the same thing. A male short in stature with black hair and tanned skin. All prostitutes have collar so it won’t be Wooyoung’s defining feature any longer.” The recitation rolls off your tongue with ease after having heard Yeosang repeat it so many times by now. He nods in approval nonetheless.

“Remember there are cameras in each of the rooms. Don’t know how they use them but it’s something to be aware of. Hopefully, one of us will be able to come across Wooyoung, and in the case that you do?”

“We are to stay in the room with him for the allotted time, ping back to the ship and let Hongjoong know we have him, then wait for his signal,” Jongho responds. “His contact here on Dorado will be hacking their surveillance systems once we are certain that we have Wooyoung in a safe position.”

“Hongjoong sure seems to have a lot of contacts for someone who doesn’t trust people,” you murmur more to yourself than to anyone else, but Yeosang picks up on it nonetheless.

“His contacts are few and far between. This is one he has known since before he became a captain, so he holds a bit more trust with him. Back to the plan though, after his contact confirms our safety, you’ll crack a window and hop out hopefully unscathed. Remember that the Upper Echelon of Dorado is tight on security. Whoever gets Wooyoung out will have to be mindful of guards and try not to look suspicious. If any guards stop you, do not engage with violence. Simply do as they ask you to and tell them that Wooyoung is your slave. And one last thing: don’t forget we’ll be going in silent so keep a close eye on your wristbands. Understood?”

“Clear as day,” Jongho says while you offer only a hasty nod.

“Good, stay sharp then. We’ll be landing soon, and it’ll be go time immediately after that.” With that, Yeosang sits back and shuts his eyes, leaving you and Jongho to stew over the plan again in silence. At least until you decide you can’t take it anymore and turn to talk to the Berserker again.

“Are you nervous at all about the mission?”

A shrug.

“No more than usual. Recovering Wooyoung won’t be easy by any means, of course. It’s a step in the right direction, right? How are you feeling?” As though sensing your nerves, he pats your thigh a few times, and you simply stare down at the dirty floor beneath your feet.

“I feel a bit guilty in a way because I’m not too worried about the mission,” you admit, albeit quietly because you aren’t sure how please Yeosang would be to hear the words. “The only thing that is on my mind right now is how San is doing and if he’s okay.” Although you told Seonghwa otherwise, the sudden radio silence that Wooyoung has given you has made you anxious to an unspeakable degree. And not having the security of being able to see San through Wooyoung’s eyes is plaguing you more than you’d like to admit.

“I understand that,” Jongho says through a deep exhale. “I feel the same way about Mingi right now honestly. No matter how much faith and trust I have in Mingi, that fear always lingers and resides in me.”

“That’s how I feel about San. I shouldn’t be worried about him but part of me is just fearful that we won’t make it in time. That he’ll accept the serum before we can get him out.”

Jongho brings his hand up to take hold of one of yours, squeezing around your palm as tight as he can without hurting you.

“I know San better than I know anyone on the crew, besides Mingi perhaps. I’ve spent years at San’s side. He was the only person who trusted me at first and trusted me enough to let me in. That trauma he bears, the scars on his past, the red in his ledger, those lingering pains that resurfaced when the mutiny happened — I have felt them all. I spent months at the foot of his bed, taking what pain I could away for as long as I could, just existing to comfort him and help him get through even one more night. And in that myriad of emotions I felt from San, not once did I ever feel him desire to take it all away. Those scars he bears are part of him, and he treats them as such. Something like… small accessories on a bigger picture that he won’t let go of. So no matter what happens, I have confidence that San won’t let them win. He’s far too stubborn for that, his heart is too big, he has too much love in his body for such a thing. He would rather die before he forgets the crew, and that fact alone makes me confident that San will hold out.”

You are left in the wake of Jongho’s words for too long, letting them crawl under your skin and find a home there. You count the seconds that pass before your voice finds you again.

“I understand that.” Forty-one seconds. “It’s just the fear of him being hurt when I’m not around to stop it that is hard to get past.” Jongho’s smile is nothing if not soft and gentle, the epitome of understanding.

“In our line of work, that fear is always present. It’s always a possibility too, but at some point, you reach a point where you accept that sometimes, you won’t always be able to save someone from all pain. Just because you can’t prevent every ounce of pain doesn’t mean that you are doing something wrong or that you’re not doing enough.” Jongho pauses. Some emotion fills his red eyes and leaves them swimming with something unspoken. “There are some pains that we must allow to happen, no matter how much we wish to do the opposite. Even something as horrid as pain can be necessary and needed to move forward in life. Try not to dwell on it too much and focus on Wooyoung for now, yeah?”

“I’m trying my best,” you sigh and drop your head back against the seat. The second your thoughts begin to drift, you are brought back to another memory, this time one of Hongjoong’s dark office with Seonghwa at your side.

“You punched Jisung in the face?”

“Please, I let him off easy,” you huff back, ignoring the lieutenant’s slight shock in favor of finding interest in the wall.

“That’s not the important part,” Hongjoong cuts in from where he sits behind his desk. You shift to glance over the captain. “Does Jisung know anything about you being a Siren?”

“No, not that I recall,” you mutter after little thought. “I never slept with him or anything like that, and I can’t remember him ever seeing my back so it’s safe to assume he doesn’t know. Besides who would just see tattoos and immediately assume ‘Siren’?”

“Then his interest in you has nothing to do with you being a Siren?”

“Exactly, but why is that important? I can tell you why he wants me if that’s what you’re curious about.”

“We’re just eliminating suspicions right now.” Hongjoong shifts his focus to where Seonghwa stands. He wears a bit of a cocky grin as they stare at each other, both feet slung up on the edge of his desk and one brow raised. “See? Jin has nothing to do with this.”

“That doesn’t eliminate the possibility altogether!” Seonghwa retorts. A frown mars his otherwise pretty features, twisting his lips into a scowl so deep that you feel your own muscles ache at the sight of it.

“You live your life in fear of Seokjin. For what? Do you not trust me to keep you safe?”

“That isn’t it and you know it, Joong. I will not sabotage your plans simply because of what I am. That is why we keep my identity to be a closely-guarded secret yet our number one enemy knows of that identity. That is a weakness, and it’s one that you need to take seriously.”

“Why is that? Sheltering you would be more suspicious to the crew than anything else. Unless you would like to inform them of your identity? Allow me to call them all right this instant.”

“No! No, Hongjoong, I — fine. Have it your way. Keep believing that you’ll be able to fix where Jin went wrong by ignoring the issue altogether because th—”

“That’s enough.” You bristle at the tone of the captain’s voice even though he is not speaking directly to you. “I’m still on edge as well, Hwa, and I know you are as well. I know why you are too, but please have at least a little faith in me. Now, Y/N—” Hongjoong turns back to you now “—I’d like to ask about the nightmares you had that night.”

Your initial response is to inhale sharply and glance over at Seonghwa with panic boiling in your gut.

“Why do you want to know?”

All Hongjoong does is roll his eyes and drop his feet off the side of his desk. You purse your lips at the action, watching him with wary eyes as he shifts his position to prop his elbows up on the same wood.

“Seonghwa, you’re dismissed.”

“I — Captain?”

“Dismissed, Lieutenant. I need to speak with her in private.”

“Why is it something I cannot be present for?”

“That was an order, not a suggestion. Now go.” If possible, the temperature of the room would drop ten degrees. Seonghwa seems to want to retort further but he bites his lip instead. Then, he gives a quick bow at the waist and mutters a goodbye before slipping out of the office without any further issue. “What did your nightmares consist of?” Hongjoong repeats, arching a brow as he speaks this time as though it will get you to talk faster.

“You didn’t have to get me alone to ask me that, did you? What is this really about?” The questions flow without hesitation, and your second refusal to talk about the dreams draws a sigh from Hongjoong’s lips.

“Do you know anything of Seonghwa’s relationship with his mother, Y/N?” A beat of silence. You shift your weight from foot to foot, glancing away from the captain to find interest in something on the floor.

“I… did witness a few of his memories when the two of us were still with each other in the dreams, but — if you mean to ask me about his nightmares, I have nothing to offer. I didn’t see those at all.”

“No, he already told me all about those nightmares. I don’t need to know more of them,” Hongjoong exhales with a shake of his head. He draws his arms up over his chest as he talks, falling back to slump in his chair and letting his exhaustion shine through. “Initially, I was going to have Seonghwa go with Yeosang and Jongho on this mission. But now, that plan has changed and I will be sending you instead.”

“Why?”

“I can’t send Seonghwa down to Lynder unless I myself can be at his side the entire time. There is far too much of a risk if I am unable to do that.”

“Risk? Of what? He would be with Yeosang and Jongho, would he not?”

“Yet if even the barest whim overcomes him, they would have to listen to whatever he says because of his position as lieutenant. I am the only one with more power than him, and as such, he has to listen to me. If he goes to Lynder, the risk is of him abandoning the mission to seek out his mother.”

“That doesn’t sound like something he would do at all,” you counter. Both you and Hongjoong drop your chins at the same time, although yours is more of an accusatory and pointed action compared to the slumping defeat that comes over Hongjoong’s body when he lowers his head.

“I don’t know how much or what exactly you saw in Seonghwa’s memories. I do not need to know either. But something you need to know is that we have been back to Lynder exactly once since I met Seonghwa there. And that one single time, two years ago, we had to lock Seonghwa in the brig for six days straight to keep him from breaking out to kill his mother. Seonghwa tore cuts into his arms and shoulders so deep that Yunho had to come stitch him every night until we finally chained him to a wall to get him to stop. When he finally gave up on trying to break out, I went in and took the cuffs off, only for Seonghwa to choke me hard enough to fracture my neck and leave bruises that lasted for several weeks.”

“A-Ah…” The sound of your dry swallow echoes in your ears. It’s hard to imagine Seonghwa — cool, rigid, stoic, gentle and calm Seonghwa — ever being so depraved and rabid as to harm himself as well as Hongjoong. Seonghwa, whose greatest fear is losing his captain. Yet the grave expression coating Hongjoong’s delicate features remains serious and deadpan, and you know every word is one that holds a memory that is painful to recall. He’s telling the truth.

“Have you ever had that voice in your head telling you to be cruel, Y/N?”

“Of course I have,” you admit through a whisper, like the words are going to break the threads of tension hanging in the air.

“Seonghwa has lost his will and his mind to that voice time and time again, and it gave him his reputation as the Lieutenant of Death. Mingi may be a slave to a childhood which bred him to be a monster, but Seonghwa? He’s a slave to his own consciousness, the part of him that spent years trying to be perceived as an Elitist so that he could hide what he really is, someone cold and calculated without an ounce of remorse or emotion. He put his own monsters under the bed, but now he can’t get them out.”

Hongjoong sits up a bit straighter all of a sudden. His gaze is still unfocused and hazy though, refusing to look you straight in the eye. Either subconsciously or through the fog of that revisited memory, Hongjoong lifts a hand to his neck and rubs idly at the skin there.

“My Seon—Lieutenant is strong, but strength isn’t worth a damn thing when the person you’re fighting is yourself. He admitted to me once that the thought of letting that voice win is more terrifying than the act of killing his own mother. So for that reason, I can never allow such a thing to happen. Seonghwa’s demons are nothing if not rabid dogs begging for a pound of flesh, and if he can’t fight them on his own, I’ll do it for him.”

“Y/N, are you sure you’re alright?” Jongho yet again brings you back to reality, most likely a bit disturbed by the way you are squeezing his hand tight enough to hurt, but he takes it without complaint. “You keep drifting out of focus.”

“Yes,” you say, filling your chest with air when you remember to breathe properly again. “Everything is fine.” Rather than responding with words, Jongho just places his other hand over your joined ones and brings them to rest on his thigh. If you listen closely enough, you’re able to hear him humming a soft melody under his breath but the rumble of the transport car covers most of the sound up. Still, it’s a relaxing sound that brings you some much-needed peace of mind for the remainder of the ride.

And as it turns out, Yeosang wasn’t bluffing when he said the three of you would be there soon because you had barely started listening to Jongho’s soft song when the car comes to a screeching halt that leaves you lurching forward.

“Alright then.” Yeosang stands first, hands smoothing down the fabric of his tunic even though it’s still perfectly in place. It’s not against his nature to get nervous or anxious, but it is still odd to witness like this. He is usually stoic in an unsettling way yet the grim expression he now wears is only accentuated by the crude shadows cast over his face. “It’s go time. Let’s get Wooyoung back in one piece, yeah?”

With that, the three of you climb out of the vehicle to be greeted by a dark and pristine city with thick clouds of smoke billowing through the air below you. Looking over the lip of the road is like looking down a cliff with the dramatic fall to the lower portion of the city. You weren’t exactly prepared to see such a drastic difference between the upper and lower echelons, yet looking over that cliff is like looking into a different city altogether with wooden buildings and decrepit warehouses that can barely hold themselves together. Where you stand with Yeosang and Jongho feels like a different world altogether with roads lined with lights and technology, tall buildings made from wood with exquisite carvings detailing the sides. From what you saw of the city in Seonghwa’s memories, Lynder has not changed one bit since he was here last.

You can’t clearly see many of the buildings below your feet, but it doesn’t stop you from wondering which one could possibly be that bar where Seonghwa met Hongjoong, if it even still exists. Jongho pulls you away from the road by the arm, tugging you along behind him as you approach a new building. The swaying wooden panel outside the door is a dead giveaway, but it’s the absurd amount of lilies trailing over the railings that tells you what this place is.

“They weren’t bluffing with the House of Lilies name,” you mutter, wrinkling your nose a bit at the overwhelming stench. Yeosang has grown alarmingly still; he lingers outside the tall double doors with a hand hovering over the brass handles without budging even an inch for far too long. You could pretend to not know why he’s hesitating, you could act like he is merely holding you back and push past him in annoyance, yet instead, you find yourself laying a hand atop his shoulder and squeezing the fabric there lightly. “No matter what happens in there or what we find in there, we will bring Wooyoung out alive.”

Yeosang releases a shaky exhale that makes his shoulder quake under your fingers.

“I know we will.” He looks past your face to make eye contact with Jongho then gives a curt nod. “Here goes the first fifteen minutes of hell.” The Elitist pushes hard against the brass handles, and the door gives way to his effort.

If you thought the smell outside the House was horrid, you don’t even know how to describe the reeking stench of flowers that hits you with the force of a tsunami. It’s thick enough for you to feel as though you are wading through a sea of flowers when in reality it’s just a strange yellow haze hanging about the interior. Yeosang doesn’t let the smell affect him in the slightest; he walks inside without missing a beat, shoulders pushed back so far it nearly hurts to see. Despite that, he walks like a prince, like someone who knows how to act in high society with ease, and for the first time, you don’t see Kang Yeosang before you. Instead, it’s Kang Minhee, the forgotten prince of Aera, who walks before you and heads for the front desk where a middle-aged woman with dramatic hair and hefty makeup stands.

“We should mingle a bit and look natural,” Jongho whispers when the two of you stop just inside the doors. “May I?” He motions to your arm with a small smile, not saying anything else and leaving you confused.

“May you…?”

“Quit being dense and give me your arm,” he huffs back and extends his elbow for you to loop your arm through, and this time, you get the hint, hooking your hand around the inside of his arm. Yeosang shifts to look back at both of you as you pass, and you offer each other discreet nods before he returns to speaking to the receptionist.

You let Jongho lead the way for the most part since you aren’t sure what you’re supposed to be doing outside of “looking normal”, although even doing that is somewhat difficult. Jongho doesn’t stray far from the entrance area until Yeosang dips into a hallway and out of sight without looking back at the two of you. Moments later your wristbands buzz, signaling that it’s time for the first fifteen-minute countdown to begin. Jongho shifts to fiddle with his wristband while you keep your hand folded over his elbow still. It gives you a chance to glance around the whorehouse without the distraction of having to act normal, but frankly, there isn’t much to see beyond the bodies filling the foyer and mingling about the lounge before you. There are flowers everywhere — probably an overabundance of them, and they aren’t just lilies as they were outside. You can’t pinpoint whether those flowers are the source of the clawingly sweet scent stuck to the insides of your nostrils or not, but that yellow fog seems partially responsible to some degree.

“You seem to know how to look like you belong in high society,” you mutter once Jongho pulls his attention back to your surroundings. A huff of laughter leaves his lips.

“It’s not because I grew up that way. I was merely an observant child who wanted to grow up and have more than what I had.” A smile cracks his stony expression. “Isn’t that what all children want?”

“I—”

Well, you wouldn’t really know, would you?

Jongho’s expression softens as he realizes what he’s said and who he has said it to, and his gaze turns apologetic seconds later. He turns to flag down one of the workers milling about with drinks, taking two glasses of what looks like wine in one hand. Jongho angles one of the half-full flutes in your direction. You take the hint with relative ease despite the clawing scent of flowers still muddling your thoughts.

“I didn’t mean to hit a nerve,” Jongho says through what seems to be a sympathetic smile. “What do you think your childhood was like? If you don’t mind talking about such things. We have time to kill after all.”

You draw your lips into a tight purse, curling them around the edge of the wine glass and pressing an imprint of your dark lipstick there. Subconsciously, your hand tightens around the inside of Jongho’s arm as well, although the Berserker doesn’t comment on the added pressure as he simply continues to regard you with the same steely and careful gaze.

“I think it must have been rather sad,” you admit after some thought. It must not be the answer Jongho was expecting at all because his brows draw together in confusion. “What kind of childhood must one have for them to willingly sell away their memories by fourteen? The more I think… about that time — when they gave me the serum — I recall fighting the doctors but I don’t think it was because I didn’t know what they were doing. I’m certain that I knew my memories would be taken from me. It was the act of them strapping me to a chair like a prisoner that frightened me.”

This time when Jongho smiles, all you can see is pain in his deep red eyes.

“I would have given anything in the universe to have my memories taken away at that age too, if it’s of any comfort to you.” He pauses to swirl the liquid in his glass, watching the red liquor dance before his eyes under the yellow haze around your bodies. “Don’t think you’re weak for wanting to forget that past. No child should ever deal with pains that strong, even if you can’t remember what they are.”

“People like you… San, Mingi… the whole crew honestly — how can I not view myself as weak in comparison? People who were given the choice but denied it and rejected it unlike me, who apparently didn’t want to be left with some shred of dignity. What did I become with that fresh slate they gave me? All I could do then was be weak, but it seems like that hasn’t changed one bit.”

Jongho won’t let up with that devastating smile, and you are about to turn away so that you don’t have to see it any longer when he finally lets it fall.

“For what it’s worth, you are rather strong in my eyes. During your fight with Jisung, I’ll admit that I tried to ease some of your pain then. It’s not something you know about — the others know of it by now so I should have told you sooner and I’m sorry for that but I have a special mutation in my genes that gives me the ability to take away and absorb emotional auras. I inherited it from one of my grandparents so it’s something I grew up learning how to use and I carried that over when I joined the crew. I attempted to do that with you because you were in so much distress and I was worried but — b-but your pain was too much for even me to bear. So before you go around calling yourself weak, you ought to give yourself more credit. Just because the pains you bear are different doesn’t mean that they are any less than the pains the rest of us bear.”

Jongho doesn’t say anything more than that; he slings his wine back in one shot like it’s nothing then places the now empty glass on a waiter’s tray as he’s passing by. You don’t touch your own, mulling over the glass as you fall deep in thought. If Jongho could feel that much from you, then it begs the question of what else he might be able to feel from you.

Can he sense that I’m a Siren too? Would he be able to tell that Seonghwa and Wooyoung are Sirens as well?

Your mind shifts to latch onto something else he said. Your pain was too much for even me to bear.

“It’s okay, Y/N. Stand down,” he murmurs. “You need to pick your battles, and this is not one for you to fight right now.” Again you feel that pull of warmth coming from him, like someone is trying to pull something from your chest, but it retracts almost instantaneously. Jongho falters. His eyes squeeze shut harshly, face contorting with something that almost looks like pain in your eyes, but that lasts less than a second before he’s recovered again. It’s not enough to stop the onslaught of emotions coursing through your veins.

You had been too preoccupied at the time to think about that moment until now.

“That time — did I hurt you? When you tried to take it away, did I hurt you even a little bit?”

“Nothing you did hurt me, Y/N. It wasn’t your fault, I promise you didn’t do anything. It’s something I have done time and time again for others on the crew and something I would do again as well. It’s what I’m good at, and something I was born with for a reason. If it helps even a little bit, then why would I not take the temporary pain?”

Every fiber of your being is telling you to fight those words, to tell him that it’s not worth it, your pain should not be a burden he has to bear as well, yet no words fall from your lips. Your mouth stutters uselessly without saying anything, and Jongho just keeps smiling like nothing is wrong. The clenching in your chest is not fine, however, and you force yourself to turn away from him in the hopes it will alleviate that pain. Instead, your eyes travel to a head of bright red hair that is so starkly different than anything else in the room that you have to stare right at it. It would be nothing odd or out of the ordinary to you since the crew you are now part of has such a wide array of hair colors. It would be something you look right past without much thought.

And yet you find yourself staring right at it. Right at the girl who turns to look around the lounge with red hair sweeping through the air.

You jolt.

Something hits your shoulder hard enough to tip your drink over and spill some of the red wine onto the floor. Your hand retracts from Jongho’s arm to touch the knife hidden behind the fabric of your skirt. You’re forced to pull your gaze away from the girl, finding the man who bumped into you to just be a stumbling drunk man with little sense for spatial awareness and direction. Jongho wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you a bit closer to his body. The man continues on without any regard for you or the wine he just spilled. Jongho takes your glass with his free hand, discarding it at the nearest flat surface before redirecting his focus back to you.

“It’s okay, Y/N, everything is okay.”

“I’m fine,” you murmur back, but your gaze goes straight back to where that redhead just stood.

“You look like you just saw a ghost.”

Instinct tells you to stay put and continue on with the mission, putting that familiar face to the back of your mind. But again your heart is clenching painfully in your chest, racing so fast that you feel the pounds echoing in your ears, and you know you can’t let go of her that easily. Not when she’s this close to you.

“I think I did.” You pull away from Jongho to go chasing through the crowd after that red hair, but the Berserker moves with you in a rush.

“Y/N, we can’t get off track. There’s only six minutes until it’s your turn to go to the counter.”

You wave him off with a dismissive hand rather than responding with words. Moments later, you find your target again, just as she is turning to head for the hallway that Yeosang went down not too long ago.

“Soojin?” You throw the name out as a last resort, mostly a desperate attempt to see if you are right and your eyes aren’t playing tricks on you in this heady yellow haze.

She freezes in place. It gives you just enough time to shove past the crowd and get closer to where she stands. You close your fingers around her shoulder, tugging with as little force as possible so that she turns to face you. There’s not a doubt in your mind when you see her face. She seems to recognize you as well based on the way her eyes are blown wide as saucers. The girl — well, you suppose she would be a woman by now — glances past your shoulder to look at Jongho. Her throat rolls as she swallows around nothing.

“You must have me mistaken for someone else,” Soojin whispers, bringing her gaze back down to you. She dips her head a bit then pulls away from you to head down the hall. You think back to Jisung — the threats and odd comments he made combined with the newly resurfaced memories of Hyunwoo lingering at the forefront of your mind, and you know without a shadow of a doubt that you can’t let her go this easily.

“P-Please, Soojin — I need to talk with you. It’s important, please, I have so many questions and no one else to ask.”

“I’m sure you do, little scapegoat,” she huffs back. “I actually have work to do though and a client waiting for me, so I’m not all too inclined to speak with you. I’m not sure why you came here, but I don’t think I have the answers you’re looking for either.” You don’t have a chance to keep her from leaving after that because she turns and leaves so quickly that it leaves you reeling. Jongho tugs you back by the arm, pulling you from the hallway and out into the lounge again before you can chase after her.

“What the hell was that?” He hisses under his breath.

“She — I-I knew her. She w-was my teammate, one of the p-people assigned to my unit in the military. I… I had no idea she ended up here of all places. Jongho, I have to talk to her, please, I have to. This c-could be what I need! If Jisung won’t tell me the truth, then maybe she knows something. She has to know something o-or else I—”

Your voice dies in your throat, but your unspoken desperation seems to reach Jongho nonetheless. The key to whatever memories you lost could lie in Soojin. Things happened so quickly at the end, perhaps she learned of something before leaving Eros with the others.

“She called you a scapegoat,” Jongho says. He swallows hard, Adam’s Apple bobbing with the motion. “What was that about?”

Truthfully, you hadn’t gotten that far. You didn’t even think to question that part but it is odd and not something you recall her calling you in the past.

“I’m not sure why she would say that. All the more reason to speak to her and ask. Jongho, please!” You attempt to pull away from his grip as you speak. The Berserker doesn’t budge, too strong for you to fight like this, and he doesn’t let up even when you try to slap his hand away.

“I’m sorry, Y/N.” He yanks you back to him and brings his free hand up to rest on your forehead. This time, you can physically feel the panic in your bones ebbing away and being pulled to your forehead where Jongho touches you. It’s a frightening sensation but the influence he has over you takes that fear away as well, leaving you in a daze of confusion because you know you should feel bothered right now but you cannot bring yourself to feel that way even as Jongho pulls away from you. His jaw twitches just a hair, not moving much beyond that, then he grits his teeth to hiss out his next words. “Wooyoung is our mission. You have to focus. You have two minutes to get up to that counter and do your job. We can try to track down your teammate later, but not on a mission like this.”

You have it in you to at least be angry enough to tug your arm out of his grasp.

“Don’t touch my emotions like that again. I understand you trying to take my pain, and as much as I hate that and despite the thought of you taking my pains for me, this is different. Emotionally sedating me for the sake of completing a mission better is different.”

You don’t give him a chance to reply before you’re heading off for the counter where Yeosang stood not too long ago. The woman who previously occupied the space behind it has disappeared, now replaced by a young man who must be younger than you from the looks of it.

“How can I help you, ma’am?” He asks as you sidle up to the desk.

“I’d like a room, an hour’s worth.” You fumble a bit with your pockets as you try to fish a credit chip out without exposing the knife strapped to your thigh, but the boy doesn’t look up until you slide the chip across the counter.

“Of course, of course,” he hums. “Do you have any preferences for pleasure tonight?”

“A male short in stature with black hair and tanned skin,” you recite back, forcing a smile onto your lips when the boy glances up at you. He tilts his head to the side. You swallow the saliva gathering in your mouth as the stare grows unsettling then he shakes his head and speaks again.

“Would you like someone more submissive or dominant?”

“Hm? Oh, um…” That wasn’t part of the plan. Surely Yeosang would have mentioned it if he had known they would ask. But what would he have said if they asked him the same? “Um, submissive is fine, I suppose?” The boy hums again then motions towards the hallway where Yeosang and Soojin both headed down.

“Your room will be on the second floor, Room 213. Please take the stairs at the end of the hall.” He passes a keycard your way along with your credit chip, leaving you with a grin and a soft-spoken, “Your courtesan will join you shortly. Enjoy.” You bristle at his words but manage to smile a little bit as you take both the card and your chip back. You leave the counter to head for the hallway, not pausing to look back at where Jongho might be, but you ping your wristband as you go. Nothing has come in from Yeosang’s side again so it’s safe to assume he doesn’t have Wooyoung with him by now. It leaves you and Jongho with more pressure and either more or less of a chance to recover him, so you can only hope for the best as you climb the stairs to the second floor.

Room 213 is empty as expected when you slip inside, and it’s free from that odd yellow fog outside as well, so you bask in the freedom and breathe fresh air deeply while you can. It’s a basic and standard room — much more like a small hotel room than anything else from the cabinet near the door and the double bed pushed up against the wall. There’s a metal sink as well close to the window but nothing else adorns the room leaving it rather dismal and simple. Not that you expected these people to treat the courtesans with even an ounce of respect; it’s still disheartening to think of Wooyoung being stuck in such a small and cramped space without a choice.

Whatever peace you thought you could have is cruelly interrupted less than five minutes later as a series of shy knocks reach your door. You blink up from where you sit perched on the edge of the neatly made bed. Is this how Yeosang felt waiting for his door to open? You inhale sharply, heart pounding mercilessly in your throat and choking you with the strength of an actual hand. And shamefully, you can’t even bring yourself to look at the door when it slides open, too afraid of not seeing Wooyoung standing behind it.

“Y-Y/N?”

You snap your head towards the door so quickly that your neck pops with the effort, eyes blinking open faster than ever, and even when your gaze settles on him, you still can’t quite believe he’s really before you. In that moment, the two of you merely regard each other with stunned stares like neither of you can believe this is possible, and in that time, the door slides shut again to leave you together in the all too small room.

“Wooyoung.” You bring yourself to your feet, standing on shaky legs as you face him. “W-Woo—”

He cuts you short by barreling into you with such force that it knocks the air out of your lungs. The metal around his neck scrapes against your skin hard enough to cut but you pay it no mind as he squeezes his arms around your waist and releases a heart-wrenching sob into your shoulder. Reason returns to you then, bringing you to ping your wristband again; although this time you tap it three times to alert the others that you have Wooyoung with you now. There is nothing more to do after that other than to hug him back as his tears soak your neck and shoulder.

“I-I didn’t — I di-didn’t want to lose hope b-but… fuck it was s-so hard not to and I was st-starting to think I wouldn’t ever s-see you again,” Wooyoung sobs. You almost want to cry with him if not for the small blinking light in the upper corner of the room that catches your eye and sends a surge of panic through you.

“The cameras, Wooyoung. They’re still on, we need to—”

“Y-Yeah, they’re — they only c-check if you hit the button by the bed.” Wooyoung pulls back from your shoulder, at last, rubbing at his tear-stricken cheeks so hard it makes his skin blossom with red. He pauses to catch his breath, or at least steady himself enough to speak without choking on his words. “That si-signals that you’re unsatisfied so they’ll c-check and see what’s — what’s wrong before sending a new courtesan.” Wooyoung puts his hand in yours and laces your fingers without hesitation. The touch seems to offer him some more comfort that helps calm his small hiccups and cries. “Is Y-Yeosang okay?”

“He’s alright, yeah,” you whisper back through a smile. “Misses you something awful, but he’s here too. He tried to get to you first, but they must have sent someone else to him. Jongho came as well. To get you. We came to get you, Wooyoung.”

Those words make Wooyoung’s eyes well up with sickening haste. He sinks to the bed before another sob forces its way out, and you sit down beside him like the mattress might collapse if you move too quickly.

“I’m so glad. So fucking g-glad. Being in a pl-place like this without Yeosang — it’s fucking hell.” Wooyoung sinks his teeth into his lower lip just to keep it from trembling.

“Have you…” Surely it’s not a question you have any right to ask, and part of you feels like Wooyoung did need your help but merely did not want to bring you to this place, even if just to watch through his eyes. Still, you swallow the nerves and force the question out. “Have they made you work yet?”

“It’s not important whether they did or not,” Wooyoung says through a weak smile, but that tells you all you need to know. It sounds too rehearsed and monotonous, like he’s been told to say this even if only by himself. “B-But what’s the plan? How are we getting out? Is someone coming to get us?”

“Um, we’re to wait the allotted time here until we get news from one of Hongjoong’s contacts here. He’s a hacker, and he’ll take care of the surveillance system so that we can open the window and get out that way. We’ll meet Yeosang and Jongho in an alleyway not too far from here after that. Then head back to the ship on a transport car.”

“Thought of everything, huh?”

“I sure hope so.”

“It should work just fine. We’re on the second floor though, so it’ll be quite the fall. Just remember to not go face-first.” Wooyoung’s smile is infectious, and you laugh along with his jest, hand squeezing around his. “How is Seonghwa doing?”

“A-Ah, I nearly forgot you knew about that. Um, he’s alright but Hongjoong didn’t think he was well enough to come on the mission with us.”

“Captain is up then? Yeosang mentioned he’d been out for quite some time because of his injuries. That’s great news that he’s up! I — he’ll be happy to hear that I have some info about where Mingi and San are being held too. I can tell him when we’re back on the ship. B-But Seonghwa is okay otherwise?”

“Yunho said there’s no lingering signs of health issues so he’ll be okay physically. I… I have so many questions that I don’t even know where to begin.” Wooyoung’s smile stretches a bit wider.

“I assumed you would. That’s okay though; we have a full hour to use anyways, so you can ask me anything while we have the time to be alone together. I would say we could do it later when we’re back on the ship but Yeosang probably won’t let me out of his sight for even two seconds from now on. It’d be best for us to get it all out now so we don’t have to hear him scribbling in that damn notebook of his.” Wooyoung can’t hide his elation despite the teasing words, and you know that getting to see Yeosang again soon means more to him than you could ever understand. Yeosang must be feeling the same way himself, waiting out this hour with painstaking patience.

“What happened in the days you didn’t let me in? You went quiet for so long I was getting worried.”

“Ah, we shouldn’t start there,” Wooyoung murmurs, glancing down at the floor. He pauses. The breath of hesitation leaves your stomach in knots. “Nothing you want to hear, I promise. That’s why I didn’t try to bring you in. It wasn’t anything pretty, but I assure you there was nothing they could do to hurt me physically. I’m too far gone for that sort of torture. It’s… over and done with now. More scars to add to my collection, and more for Yeosang to cry over probably. We’ll both be fine. You’re probably wondering about the whole connection thing and us both being Sirens and such, right?”

“I — admittedly yes, but looking back now it seems almost obvious? I can’t believe I didn’t see it sooner, I guess. But yeah, specifically that connection or whatever it is. Yeosang said he didn’t know much at all about it.”

“Right, yeah, I don’t know much myself either, to be honest.” Wooyoung presses his lips into a pout. “It’s hard to say what exactly it is. Seonghwa’s books don’t really have anything about this sort of occurrence, but what I’ve gathered from it so far is probably all that Yeosang told you. ‘There’s no place in the universe that you can hide from each other’. Daichi told me that once.”

“He told me the same actually.”

“Mhm, I think he knows a bit more about it than he claims to. For me, I can almost hear you in my head when you’re in distress, even when you’re far away. Except it doesn’t sound like you’re scared or anything like that. It almost sounds as though you’re softly singing to me? Like… I’m on a boat with gentle waves and you’re singing to me through the water. When I’m asleep and dreaming and you reach out to me for help, I can close my eyes and find myself on a boat like that. A white boat on a black lake. And I hear you singing to me in the water, look down, and see a tiny flickering light through the darkness. For years I’ve had that dream.”

“Yeosang… he talked about you having such a dream. Swimming in a black lake and trying to reach someone but not being able to?”

“Yeah! Um, I’ve woken him up so much because of that very dream. I would have that dream time and time again before you joined the crew, desperately swimming to reach you but it was like something was blocking me from getting to you. Like I could never reach you no matter how fast I was. I would never be able to get in. Then suddenly — one night I did, and I woke up in a box of fabrics in the cargo bay.” Wooyoung shifts to look you in the eye, a weak laugh slipping through his lips. “That feels so long ago now.”

“I’ve been wondering how to thank you for that,” you murmur. “If not for that moment, I would have died.” The skin around your nails suddenly seems a lot more interesting, and you busy yourself with picking at it mindlessly rather than looking back in Wooyoung’s direction. He doesn’t let your hand drift far from his though before he’s tugging it right back into his grasp. His other hand finds its way atop yours as well, holding your joined ones together tightly.

“I didn’t do it to get a thank you. It was just… the right thing to do. It’s sad that we live in such a bad and awful society where you feel the need to thank me for doing something as simple as that.”

“Did you not thank Yeosang for saving his life once upon a time?” You dare to ask. Wooyoung is a bit startled at first, caught off-guard by both your sudden question and the content behind it, but he laughs loud and clear without restraint.

“For someone who claims to hate talking about his life, he sure does talk a lot, doesn’t he?” Wooyoung brushes his bang out of his eyes, pushing the strands that have quickly grown unruly and long to the side. “Yeosang never lets me thank him. Any time I’ve tried, he shut me down before I could finish. Honestly, he saved my life twice. Once when he chose me from that lineup of slaves and spared me a crueler fate, and once when he broke those chains and set me free.”

Chose… me…? Then it wasn’t Yeosang’s mother who picked Wooyoung out for him?

You don’t get to dwell on that thought for long because Wooyoung simply continues to ramble, more and more peace coming to his shoulders as he calms down further.

“Yeosang only ever thanks me. As odd as that is.”

“Did you — have you ever saved his life then?” You already know the answer to that question, but it’s already hanging in the air between you by the time you catch yourself.

“Yes.” Wooyoung is beaming by now, lips stretched wide as he grins. “I got him out of prison when they charged him with treason.”

“And that’s what he thanks you for?”

Wooyoung’s smile doesn’t falter even as he shakes his head in denial.

“He never claims to have saved me, not even once. Instead, Yeosang says that I saved him.”

“B-But why? Objectively he did save you, so why does he not acknowledge that?”

“Because, Y/N, there’s a difference between loving someone and being in love with someone. Yeosang and I loved each other for many years before. But just loving each other wasn’t enough for Crown Prince Kang Minhee to break my chains and commit treason. When ”I love you“ turns into ”I am in love with you“ and ”I am in love with the mere idea of you“, then Yeosang set me free. Even though I would never have asked him to do it, he chose to on his own accord. So he thanks me and says that I saved him because of that. Because I trusted him enough to put my life in his hands time and time again and let him fall in love with me. He claims it to be a difficult thing — allowing an Elitist to fall in love with you. But with Yeosang… he has only ever made it easy. There are times where it is difficult and frustrating, where I wish that he could be anything other than an Elitist, for fuck’s sake, times when I would rather break his neck in an absolutely non-sexy kind of way, but that’s part of love and loving someone. That’s why he’s grateful to me. It sounds selfish and egotistical to say, but after having him repeat himself for so many years, I’ve grown to accept that even if I don’t believe I deserve it.” Wooyoung speaks with a raw conviction that you’ve heard before. It’s the same tone Hongjoong used when speaking to Seonghwa in the medbay, the same tone Yeosang used when talking about Wooyoung and their past together.

Even if you wanted to formulate a response, you don’t think you would be able to because of how overwhelming the emotion in Wooyoung’s voice is. He’s had every opportunity to blame Yeosang for the misfortune in his life, claim that if only Yeosang hadn’t picked him from the start he would be better off, claim that Yeosang got him out of being a slave only to put him in a more dangerous position. Wooyoung could even blame Yeosang for not protecting him well enough to keep him from being kidnapped and tortured.

Yet not once has Wooyoung blamed him.

Perhaps you were being unfair in pushing the blame onto Seonghwa’s shoulders when he didn’t fight your decision to go with Jisung. Is it so wrong to want someone to fight for you? Yet Yeosang has fought every day for Wooyoung and continues to do so. Wooyoung, who has been through hell and tortures he does not wish to speak about, asked about Yeosang’s well-being before anything else. Yet if they were in your position — if Wooyoung were the one agreeing to go with Jisung to save the others, would Yeosang not drop everything to fight for him?

Your mind screams back at you, telling you that it’s different, the situations aren’t the same, the relationships aren’t the same, and you cannot compare yourself to people like Wooyoung and Yeosang who have had years to figure this out. And so, you don’t compare yourself to them.

Rather you compare Seonghwa and Hongjoong to them. How Seonghwa’s worst nightmare is not being able to save Hongjoong from himself. The sheer will and determination in Hongjoong’s eyes when he said he would never let Seonghwa’s demons overtake him. You can’t help but wonder if perhaps that is similar to what Wooyoung and Yeosang have. Neither are anything remotely close to what you have — had, your mind suggests ever so helpfully — with Seonghwa yourself.

“It may be selfish, but I don’t want you to push me away. I would rather be hurt and still have you in my life rather than to be perfectly fine without you.”

That memory slips through unannounced and unasked for, and the mere prospect of why it’s coming back to you while you’re having such thoughts scares you so much that you slam the door in that memory’s face and throw away the key before it breaks loose.

“But anyway that’s — I rambled a bit too much, that’s not the point, um, have you ever had similar dreams like those? The ones I had, I mean? Before waking up in my body or before you came to the crew, any time you can remember. I know you haven’t had much opportunity yet, but you’ve had a few experiences by now.”

“I can’t recall ever having those sorts of dreams. That dream you mentioned about the lake — I had a dream that I was drowning in a black lake the night you came to save Seonghwa, but when I wake up in your body, it’s simply that. All I know is falling asleep and waking up like a passenger in your consciousness. I don’t have any control like you’ve had over my body.” Wooyoung’s eyes are oh so expectant and pleading, and it twists something painful in your gut. You want so badly to have information for him, to be able to give him answers or even a hint as to what could be going on, but frankly, you have nothing to offer. “I’m sorry, Wooyoung. I-I feel utterly useless in this whole situation. I d-don’t know what’s wrong with me or my head, I just can’t remember at all and I don’t… You and Seonghwa seem to have this whole Siren thing figured out, how it works, what sort of abilities you have, how to use them. I, on the other hand, have so many gaps and missing pieces in my memories. I’ve had one or two moments where I consciously used some sort of ability, then Seonghwa tried to help me learn, but other than that I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“It’s okay!” Wooyoung rushes to reassure you, squeezing his hand tight around yours as he smiles again. “Y/N, please don’t worry about that. I don’t expect you to have an answer right now, it’s really okay. We’re gonna figure this out together now that you finally know what I am and we’ll be back on the ship soon. And I can help you understand more about being a Siren in general too! If we can get to the Dreamscape together, maybe Daichi will be willing to talk.”

“Last time I was there, he tried to kill me and told me that if I kept asking questions he would end my life,” you snort. Wooyoung’s smile drops into a grave expression that doesn’t fit his features.

“In the beginning — when I first started seeing Daichi, that is — he wasn’t like that. He wanted me to find other Sirens. That’s what ultimately made Yeosang choose Captain’s crew because Daichi had told me there was a Siren there. Then as more time went on, Daichi seemed to get more and more frightened by the idea of Sirens finding each other. He started telling me that someone dangerous would find me, someone I should guard myself from.”

“He warned me of the same when I first came aboard. But Seonghwa mentioned how Daichi’s job is to guide Sirens to each other?”

“That’s true, yes, but Daichi seems to have changed his mind along the way. I can’t understand why, but I’m sure it will make it a lot more difficult to find two more for Captain.” Your conversation dies a bit there, leaving both you and Wooyoung to stew over the predicament. According to Daichi, you spent years denying your identity and refusing to listen to him, so you never made an effort to find any Sirens like both Wooyoung and Seonghwa have been apparently. Still, it leaves you more curious than before, especially given what all happened in your latest escapade in the Dreamscape.

“Tsukio can find you anywhere, even while far away! This mental connection you share, this link — the two of you are a dyad, a yin and a yang, a pair that cannot be severed. No matter how far apart you are, the two of you will always be able to come back to each other.”

“Did he ever tell you that we will always be able to come back to each other?”

“Come… back to each other? No, I’ve never heard him say such a thing before.”

“I remember seeing you in a dream before, not the Dreamscape but an actual dream. But that dream felt more like a memory, and I asked you about it once in the medbay. I know you told me no then, but does it have anything to do with what Daichi said possibly?”

“Hm, I suppose it could?” Wooyoung leans back and looks up at the ceiling. You can’t figure out what’s on his mind just through his expression, and what he says next doesn’t help much either. “But I don’t have any sort of memory like that.”

“You — you were wiped with a serum too, weren’t you?”

“Did Yeosang tell you that as well?” Wooyoung asks through a frown. “Did he mention how guilty he feels about that too? Probably, that would be very much like him to do so. Guilty for things that aren’t even his fault… but yes. Yes, my memories were wiped too.”

“I have another question. I’m sorry for asking so much all at once. Yeosang never gave me a clear answer though, so I’m still curious, but why haven’t you told Hongjoong about this?” Wooyoung doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he sinks his teeth into his lower lip and refuses to look your way for a bit. The silence drags but it’s nothing uncomfortable or unsettling. It isn’t like you’re on a time crunch right now either, so you’re more than willing to wait until he is ready to speak.

“It’s something stupid and selfish honestly,” he whispers after a bit. His other hand finds purchase on the bed, picking at a loose thread hanging off the sheets. “I didn’t expect Yeosang to take it so seriously, but now he’s adamant even when I try to tell him otherwise. Really it’s just that when I was still a slave, I didn’t always have to wear the collar. It dampened and muted my abilities so I couldn’t use them freely. Shocked me a lot too whenever I foolishly tried to use them without permission, leaving some really ugly and awful scars. Yeosang always treated the wounds when that would happen.”

His hand travels up to touch the band of metal hanging about his neck. You follow the movement with your eyes. You can’t miss the spreading scars underneath the metal as he shifts it, like little lightning bolts of pale skin hiding beneath it, and you wonder if that’s what you felt the first time you woke up in his body.

“I have a lot of scars from lots of different things. It shouldn’t be any different, and it shouldn’t even matter because it’s stupid and childish and I need to get over it. Even though the collar is dead and doesn’t work, like it doesn’t mute my abilities anymore or anything like that, just the idea of having it on keeps me sane. Being a Siren is both a blessing and a curse. Some abilities you’re born with are crueler than imaginable and can be used to do horrific things. The things I was forced to do with mine are not something I ever want to revisit again. So… I keep the collar on because the trauma I suffered while wearing it for so many years keeps me sane. Merely the idea of wearing it prevents me from using my abilities because I was conditioned into a state where if I tried doing anything while the collar was on, I would be hurt. When it comes to visiting you, it’s different because I’m asleep when that happens. And whenever people other than Yeosang or myself try to touch it, I get thrown back into the memories of his father taking it off me to use me as a weapon and I-I can’t — it’s too much to bear.

“I trust Hongjoong. I really trust him and admire him and respect him so much. As much as I do Yeosang even if it’s in a different way. But I have an innate fear of authority that tells me no matter who it is, the people who have power over me will abuse it. That if anyone above me knows I’m a Siren, I’ll be used again, and I’m afraid of that. So it’s not that I don’t want to tell Hongjoong. Just that as long as I have this collar on and as long as these demons linger at the edge of my mind, I don’t think I can ever tell him what I am.”

You want to express an apology for bringing those memories back or at least offer an ounce of consolation because you can almost feel the pain radiating off his body in waves. But the moment you reach out to pull him into a hug, the door to your room slides open out of nowhere. You jerk, and Wooyoung lifts an arm to protect the both of you, but you take the initiative in pushing him down to the bed. In one swift movement, you climb in front of him, one knee down on the mattress and the other stretched out in front of Wooyoung’s body. The blade against your thigh is cool on your fingertips, but you don’t pull it out quite yet. The flash of red hair before you stops you at the last second.

Soojin?

The girl is already halfway in the room, door sliding shut behind her, and the second it’s fully closed, she turns to twist the lock into place.

“W-Wait, we’re n-not supposed to lock the doors!” Wooyoung protests, leaning up over your shoulder to see better. Soojin levels him with a sharp glare. You reach behind you to push Wooyoung back enough so that he’s hidden behind your shoulder, matching Soojin’s stare with equal intensity. The girl steps closer to you, draws a single finger up, and stabs you hard in the chest with her dull nail.

“You and me need to have a chat after all it seems.”

“What do you mean?” You clench your fingers around the handle of your knife, still not completely at ease with the woman standing in front of you.

“What do I mean? I mean that my fucking client downstairs just tried to fucking murder me and gave me a message from Han Jisung of all people! Seeing you and hearing from that bastard on the same day after being free from that past for several years? That’s no fucking coincidence, Y/N.”

“Murder!? How did you — how did you get away?”

A laugh of disbelief escapes Soojin’s lips as she pulls back a few feet.

“I killed him, of course! What else was I supposed to do? I dumped the fucker’s body out the window for staff to clean up later. This sort of thing happens frequently enough for them not to question it, and besides, I told them it was a jealous worker so they won’t really care all too much about him. But what the fuck is going on? Why are you here and why did Han Jisung just tell me my time is up and try to have me killed?”

“I… I-I don’t — I’m not with Jisung, I know nothing about that at all. He—” You cut yourself short with a sharp inhale, eyes darting across the floor like it has all the answers in it. “Wait, he knew I would be coming here though. Did he know that you worked here?”

“Unfortunately, not by choice though. We ran across each other around a year ago in the city, and I mentioned working at the House in passing.”

You shift to motion back at Wooyoung and pull your hand off the knife on your leg at last.

“He was brought here against his will by Jisung. Well, whoever Jisung is working with at least. I only came to get him out. We’re — he’s part of the crew I’m working with now. Jisung knew where he would be and that I would come to get him.”

“And he’s still a psychopath when it comes to you then?” Soojin scoffs, brows knitting together to accentuate her disbelief. “He tried to have me killed just so that I would stay out of your business?”

“I don’t know, Soojin,” you exhale. “It doesn’t make any sense why he would do that. I already made a deal with him and he’ll get to take me regardless of what happens here.”

“T-Take you?” Wooyoung interjects. “Take you where?” His hand latches around your elbow and squeezes hard. You ignore the man in favor of maintaining your focus on Soojin, however, much to his dismay.

“Unless you know something Jisung wouldn’t want me to know and he couldn’t even risk the thought of us running into each other and speaking.” At that, Soojin tilts her head to the side in confusion.

“What could I possibly know that you don’t?”

“What happened before you left the crew?” Her confusion intensifies to a dramatic degree.

“Have you gone mad? Do you not remember or something? You were always a bit bad with memory, yeah, but has it gotten this bad?”

“Please, Soojin, I’m begging you please just tell me what happened before the crew fell apart. I know you called me a scapegoat for a reason, please.” You reach out across the empty space between your bodies, having to stand to reach her, but when you do, you close a hand around her wrist. Soojin blinks between where you hold her and your face without speaking for so long that you think she’s going to refuse you again.

“I called you a scapegoat because I thought you were in on Jisung’s plan at the time,” she says finally, pulling her other hand up to run through her hair. “You would’ve done anything for him so I thought that was just another part of it.”

“What did I do?”

“I should be asking what you remember happening instead.”

“What I remember is stealing documents and plotting to dismantle the military from the inside out with you guys but I fucked up. I know I fucked up and got caught and Hyunwoo took the blame for me and it got him fucking executed.” Soojin leans back, hand tugging out of your light grip.

“I know nothing of what happened after Ash, Juyeon, and I left Eros. But before we left…” It’s her turn to hold you by the wrist. She turns your arm over and exposes the inside of your left arm, right where that damned brand sits against your raised skin. “You didn’t deserve this. It wasn’t your burden to bear. You were the scapegoat, and that’s why the team fell apart, that’s why we all broke up and ran away. You didn’t plan to steal anything, nor did you plot a thing. Neither did Hyunwoo. It was all Jisung; Jisung wanted to dismantle the military and kill the king. When Juyeon, Ash, and I found out what he was planning to do, we brought it to Hyunwoo. All Hyunwoo said was that stopping Jisung wasn’t something he could do. So he told us to leave while we still had the chance and that he would take care of things. He would take the blame so that no one else would have to get hurt. But you didn’t want him to do that, so you ran off and carried out Jisung’s plan for him.”

“Which part? Did I k-kill the king… before Hyunwoo died?”

Soojin heaves a deep sigh.

“The last night we were all together as a team, you snuck out of the barracks and infiltrated the palace. You stole the documents Jisung wanted — whatever the fuck they were because I don’t even know why he wanted them in the first place if he was going to kill the king anyways — and you killed the king that night too. Everything went to shit. It all happened too fast for the rest of us to know what was really going on. You just came back to the barracks and turned the lights on and…”

You don’t realize how hard your head is pounding until the woman trails off, voice dying in her throat, and then it hits you will so much force that you feel your body beginning to lurch. You would fall over, most likely smack your head on the sink as well, if not for Wooyoung jumping up and catching you by the waist before you can fully go down. And thanks to him, all you do is hunch over and hold your head in your hands as a stab of pain sears through your skull.

“Breathe, Y/N, breathe for me,” he urges as you slump your weight back against him. “You need to breathe, okay? You’re hyperventilating. One breath every five seconds, slow it down, you’re okay.”

“Th-There was blood. There was blood, wasn’t there?” Looking at Soojin fills your vision with pure crimson, but it’s not because of her hair this time.

“Yes,” she whispers back, not daring to speak any louder than that. “You were… drenched in blood that wasn’t yours. And we were so scared you had been hurt somehow. I carried you to the bath and cleaned you but you didn’t have a single scratch on you.”

“O-Oh god,” you choke out. The red in your vision turns coppery as a different image takes over and a new memory swarms your head.

“What the fuck did you do!?”

Hands squeezing hard around your throat, shoving you under bloody waters.

“Let her go!”

“You ruined everything! How could you do this? Why are you so fucking useless? I told you to sit still and not do anything!”

The water spread to your nostrils and forced its way in as you struggled to find air.

“Jisung, release her right this instant!”

The hands around your throat just grew tighter.

Wooyoung eases you down to the floor when the rest of your strength leaves you. He keeps a hand at your waist, using the other to hold your head to his chest in a desperate attempt to control the wild tremors shooting through your body. You keep a hand pressed to your throbbing temple but it does nothing to alleviate the pain you’re in, one that feels as though something is trying to rip your head in half with their bare hands.

“C-Can’t remember more. I can’t, I do-don’t want to remember anymore, I — it hurts. It hurts too much, it hurts so much.”

“Shh, it’s okay, it’s okay. You don’t have to remember anymore, okay? You’re good, you’re done, no more. No more.” Even through the pain, you can’t miss the desperation in Wooyoung’s tone. His hand moves for your arm where your wristband sits, buzzing uselessly against your skin. “Y/N, what does this mean? Is something happening?”

You want to answer, You even open your mouth to do so. Yet the moment you do, the taste of that metallic soapy water fills your mouth and you choke on air.

“Y/N, please, what does it mean? Are we in trouble?” You think you shake your head but the panic in Wooyoung’s eyes isn’t reassuring and you aren’t sure you have any hold over the muscles in your body right now. “Please, do you know where our friend is?” He asks, directing his focus to where Soojin kneels in front of you.

“The brunette?”

“Brunette? No, no, I’m talking a blond?”

“J-Jongho,” you force out, gritting your teeth until your jaw hurts from the force. “Jongho… here too.”

“I saw that name on the register,” Soojin cuts in. “I checked it to find what room you were in and saw his name further down on the list.”

“Please get him and bring him. Please, I know you — we just need your help right now, please,” Wooyoung begs. His grip on your waist tightens a little as Soojin hesitates, and it doesn’t let up until the girl nods and leaves the room in haste. Wooyoung brings you back to his chest once she’s gone, matching your shaky breaths as he gently rocks you back and forth. “I can’t… know your memories or the pain you’re feeling right now, but I know what it’s like to suddenly be hit with memories you forgot you had. Ones that were suppressed behind an iron wall. I know what it’s like to have it slip out and hit you.”

“It fucking hurts.” You clench your jaw again, feeling a burn of pain up the side of your face with the movement. “Like someone is stabbing my b-brain with a da-damn icepick.”

“Are the memories painful?”

“I d-don’t know. I can hardly think straight. My head hurts. That’s all I can think about.”

“The serum… I’m assuming it’s the same one I was given back then. It can’t take away memories. Yeah, they tell you that it’s a wipe, but that’s only because they don’t want you trying to find those old memories. It can’t remove parts of the brain like that. They just use it to lock away memories but there’s no guarantee of it being permanent, so when you do remember something they tried to lock away, it hurts.”

“D-Does it hurt you like this too?”

“Yes, but I’m — pain isn’t something that bothers me all too much, and I’m lucky enough to have Yeosang nearby when it happens. I’ve got a prescription for the pain from Yunho too. We can… we can get you something long-term back on the ship.”

Another stab of pain hits as the door slides open, metal grating hard on your ears, but this time Jongho stands with Soojin. He rushes over to join you and Wooyoung on the floor in a panic, obviously torn between being excited to see Wooyoung again and your current crumpled state.

“Yeosang’s hour is up and he’s waiting at the meeting point. Captain hasn’t buzzed in on the contact yet.” Jongho reaches down to lay a hand against your forehead. You’re quick enough to turn your face further into Wooyoung’s shirt, inhaling the sickening floral scent that clings to his skin.

“Don’t even think about trying to take it away,” you hiss.

“I can’t take physical pain, don’t worry. I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

“Here, something for the pain.” Soojin interrupts the moment to lean over you with a cup of unknown contents. “Fast-acting pain reliever. Every room has some in it just in case patrons get too out of hand. We keep it in the cabinets, I promise it’s nothing bad. It’ll numb you and make you a bit sluggish for a while, but it’ll also take the pain away.”

“Thank you,” Wooyoung murmurs as he takes the cup from her hands. He helps bring the cup to your lips, pushing some of the murky grey liquid inside into your mouth, and you struggle not to gag around the taste of it. He doesn’t stop until the entirety of its contents are drained into your mouth then tilts your head back to keep it down when some threatens to drip out the corners of your lips. An unknown hand comes down on your knee.

“Y/N, I’m so sorry.” Soojin. “I didn’t mean to hurt you with this information.” You swallow hard only to choke a second later on the putrid aftertaste clinging to your tongue. Wooyoung lets you cough into his shoulder without complaint, passing the now empty cup back to Soojin.

“You couldn’t have known,” you murmur after escaping the coughing fit. “It’s not your fault.”

“I didn’t know what they would do to you after we left the planet,” she sighs through the quiet of the room. “I should have expected it honestly, knowing Jisung, but maybe I hoped he would be better than that. He always manipulated you so it only makes sense that he would try to manipulate your memories too. Do you at least know what happened a little bit better now?”

“Y-Yeah, yeah.” You try to pull away from Wooyoung and get up but his grip on you doesn’t let up. “My memories were taken away for a second time and replaced with something else. So instead of only losing fourteen years of my life, I lost eighteen and spent the last three years believing those manipulated memories to be real. I’m peachy.”

Another buzz from your wristband pulls your attention away, and Jongho glances down at his own too.

“Cameras are down.”

“Let’s go then,” you mutter.

“Are you okay to move? Don’t push it if you’re not strong enough.”

“We need to go now while we still can,” you protect, letting Wooyoung help you to your feet even if it’s on shaky legs. Jongho gives a curt nod then heads for the window, no doubt to pry it open. Soojin catches you by the arm before you can fully turn away.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. Even if you can’t remember all of it, there are still things I regret saying and doing to you. I should have known back then how much Jisung was manipulating you and not pushed so much blame onto your shoulders.”

“You can get out now with us, Soojin. While you have the chance.”

“And do what with that freedom?” She huffs out a dry and lifeless laugh. “Wander aimlessly? Ash and Juyeon are both missing in action. I have no clues or leads on where they might be or if they’re even alive. I don’t have anything left out there beyond the House.”

“I… if I hear anything out there about them, I promise I’ll send you a message. I’ll find a way to get news to you, maybe through my captain’s contact or something. I swear if I can help you get out of this hellhole I will.”

Soojin reaches up to ruffle her hand through your hair, mussing the loose locks more.

“You always were a good kid, Y/N. Too good for the life you were forced to live.” It hurts to watch her smile. It hurts even more to let Wooyoung guide you to where Jongho waits by the now open window. “Go while you can, you three. The medicine will wear off in a few hours, but hopefully, you’ll have access to something better by then. I’ll make sure you get out safely.”

Jongho dips through the open space first, hopping down to the pristine streets below with little issue.

“Send Y/N down next!”

You can’t tear your gaze off Soojin. You don’t know when you might see her again or if you even will, and it hurts to leave her behind like this but she just keeps smiling at you with bright eyes and blinding hair.

“T-Thank you, Soojin. Please stay safe, if you can.”

“Always.”

With that, Wooyoung hoists you over the ledge of the window and dangles you far enough down so that your fall is softened a bit. Jongho catches you by the legs, taking the brunt of your weight before you hit the ground. Wooyoung drops down beside you without warning a second later. As Jongho eases you down, you dare to glance up at the window you just left from, and it shuts slowly without a sign from Soojin inside.

Wooyoung rushes back to your side and loops an arm back around your waist when you start to slump forward again.

“That’s — that’ll look too suspicious,” you mutter, pulling his arm back to his own side.

“We just dropped out a fucking window. I’m sure that would look more suspicious.”

“I’ll be okay.”

Yet two steps later, you’re stumbling over your heels and Jongho comes to your rescue this time. He tugs your arm through his own as he walks forward without saying a word. You can only lean your weight on him and slump your chin against his shoulder.

“Thank you…”

Silence drapes over the three of you as you make your way to the meeting point with Yeosang. You aren’t in as much pain as you were earlier (Soojin wasn’t bluffing when she said fast-acting) but the medicine is already making you a bit groggy. It feels a bit like you’re wading through sludge just trying to walk a few steps, and frankly, Jongho is the only thing keeping you going at this point. Wooyoung lingers at your other side. Every once in a while, you feel his worried gaze find its way to your form. He might even be speaking to you at some point because you hear something that sounds vaguely like his voice through the radio static in your ears, but there is far too much on your mind and too much to think about right now for you to pay any attention to that.

If… if I killed the king before Hyunwoo’s execution, then who did I kill that night? Did I kill anyone at all? Was that memory fabricated? What have I been working towards all these years if that’s a lie?

Funny how your search for answers only left you with more questions instead. There are too many questions to keep track of and not remotely enough answers to them. You know you won’t be able to have those answers yet either, not while San and Mingi are still missing and Jisung is bothering you. Where would you even look for answers now? Jisung would never tell you a thing, Hyunwoo is dead and gone, and now you’re leaving Soojin behind.

The one thing that reaches your brain through the static in your ears is a dry and choked sob. You pull yourself out of your thoughts as Wooyoung disappears from your side. It doesn’t take much to guess why. You’ve reached the meeting point, the all too small alleyway where Yeosang waits for you three, and Wooyoung is running straight to him with reckless abandon.

“Y-Yeosang, angel, Yeosang, my god I’m—” Wooyoung’s voice dies in a cracked sob when he reaches the Elitist. His hands barely brush the man’s shoulders because Yeosang drops to his knees in front of Wooyoung, face hidden but no doubt bearing tears, and he balls his fists around the flimsy material of Wooyoung’s pants. He presses his forehead to Wooyoung’s hip, hands traveling further up to press against the small of his back. Wooyoung can only card a hand through Yeosang’s hair in response, but it’s enough for now. It’s enough for both of them like this, with Yeosang’s knuckles white from the pressure of clinging to Wooyoung, and you and Jongho maintain your distance as best you can to give them this moment.

“Are they happy?” You whisper to Jongho even though the answer is blindingly obvious before you. The Berserker’s lips twist into a small grin.

“I don’t think there’s a word strong enough to describe how they’re feeling right now.”

Yeosang pulls his head off Wooyoung’s hip and stares up at the man with tears on his cheeks and stars in his eyes. Wooyoung dips down to the Elitist’s height, pulling his face up to his own and slotting their lips together like nothing else in the universe exists around them. Again, it’s raw, as all emotions between these two seem to be, but it belongs to them and it’s something you can’t take away from them. When they part lips to gulp in desperate breaths of fresh air, Wooyoung places his forehead over Yeosang’s and takes the breath from his lungs like that. They don’t exchange words but there doesn’t seem to be a need for words either, not until Yeosang seems to catch hold of himself and come back to his senses.

“The car is waiting for us at the other end of the alley. Driver’s already pulled up.” Jongho nods when the Elitist drags his gaze over to where the two of you stand. Yeosang lets Wooyoung pull him back into space after that, unable to contain a smile as the Siren continues to press more kisses to his cheeks. You and Jongho trail behind them to the other end of the alleyway. Seeing them together like this makes it worth it. You knew it would and you were striving to bring them this moment, but seeing it unfold before you like this increases that feeling tenfold.

Once in the car, Yeosang sits Wooyoung down in one of the cushioned seats then drops to the floor between his legs even when Wooyoung protests and tells him to get up.

“Stop, that’s weird! It looks weird, Yeo, please! It looks like you’re trying to su—”

“Shut up,” Yeosang mumbles back as he drops his head to rest against Wooyoung’s thigh. “You’re the one who makes everything dirty. Get your head out of the gutter.”

Wooyoung obviously doesn’t mind all too much because he returns to toying with the Elitist’s blond locks moments later as you and Jongho settle into the seats beside the pair. And from where you’re sitting, they really do look like young boys again, more than just a former slave and ex-prince but also less than that. Just… boys who fell in love despite the odds set against them.

“I’m sorry, Woo, I’m so sorry.”

“Shh, angel, I know. It’s okay. We’re okay.”

You tune out of the conversation there. It’s far too intimate and personal for you to encroach on, and the medicine has you falling asleep in your seat anyways. Jongho seems to pick up on that, reaching over to pat your leg.

“Rest while you can.”

A hum comes as your reply as you slump to the side, head hitting the side of the car with a loud thud. Jongho exhales a quiet laugh and pulls you over to rest against his shoulder instead.

“’m sorry for snapping at you,” you murmur. You’re forcing your eyes to stay open long enough to get the apology out but it’s growing more difficult by the second. “I didn’t mean to, I was afraid… of her slipping out of my grasp but… that’s no excuse.”

Your fluttering eyes snap wide open when something presses down hard on your nose. You blink uselessly at Jongho and the finger he hovers over your face.

“Stop talking nonsense, yeah? Rest. I’m not going anywhere.”

“You’re not?”

“Hm, no, I’m not.”

“Promise.”

“I promise I’m staying right here.”

“And we’ll get San back?” You mumble just before the drowsiness wins.

“We’ll get your San back too, I promise.”

✧✧✧ a/n: yall imma be honest this chapter feels like a whole fever dream and a half but i love it nonetheless she’s my Baby i hope you guys love her just as much and enjoy her <3 lots happened but also not a lot happened? i feel like the wc is so dramatic for Not A Lot but yaknow that’s life ! next chapter we’re getting juicy and bringing a part 16 move back bc teehee that’s what i do best u know me anywho let me know what u think as always i love u all im so happy to bring u guys this chapter and so excited for the coming ones!

taglist: @faeriewoobin @sugarrimajins @atinyinwonderland @sparklychangbin @jeong-uwu @jeonartemis @anothershorthuman @xxbluestrifexx @haotheheckk @noonawriter @lostscenarios @nlost21 @mirror-juliet @okokokok123-45 @purple-aeon @theoinkypiglet @toothlessshiber @atinyarmyx1 @simpforhyunjin @hwangwoosan @vampire-jimin @softyubi @drumboydowoon @chatsgotmytongue @just-a-starfruit @babydolljo @scintillating-souls @khjssss @rawrrainn @hewwo-from-the-other-side @icekdy @eggteez @bangtanxberm @uglychildd @lucymultistan

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dontcare77ghj · 3 years

Text

Siren

Steve x reader x Thor x Bucky

These humans had kept you captive for months, perhaps even longer, as you had no semblance of time in this prison.

You were born a siren. Raised with a pod of your own kind until these humans had taken you.

You had been stupid to rise to the surface that you now knew. The elders had always warned you against going near the above world because of the human world. The elders never elaborated beyond it was dangerous.

But you were young, and you thought you knew better.

So you had risen. You had dragged yourself up onto a rock and stared at the clear blue sky above you. The stone was warm. Sun was beaming down onto your skin, and for the first time in your life, you watched as your tail split into a pair of legs.

And for those few blissful moments, you felt at peace.

Until the elders surfaced and were glaring at you in full fury.

They had screamed and screeched at you to return to the water or be banished from the pod. You had begged to know why you couldn't be here, why it was dangerous above water.

You never got your answer as you eventually sunk back into the water and felt your legs shift back.

Just as you were all about to submerge and return to the pod, a burning pain entered your shoulder.

An unearthly scream had left you as you gazed at the hook embedded in your shoulder. As you were being forcibly dragged backward, you watched as the elders submerged and left you.

You had been bound, collared, and forced into a tank where you now spent your miserable days.

These humans had known about your kind for decades and were only waiting for one of you to be stupid enough to rise so they could capture them.

Whoever your capturers were, they were experts in their field. They had captured many enhanced people and creatures, as they called you, that were not supposed to exist.

They experimented on you. Every day of your life here was torture, and you felt hopeless. You were trapped in a tank and collared with something that meant you couldn't use your powers against them, and your tail chained to the bottom of the tank.

The only comfort you had was the fact your soulmate was still out there.

Injuries that were not your own continued to appear on your body, and every time you saw one, a flicker of hope began to build.

They were still out there.

Everyone had a soulmate in the world, and the way you could identify them was by your matching injuries.

But not all injuries transferred to one another. Most were more of a phantom pain that you would share, but bigger injuries, larger bouts of pain, were shared.

"Your lip is split." A man in the cell beside you said. "Is it your soulmate?"

"They're always injured." You nodded, gently touching the cut that didn't hurt.

"Look who's talking." Loki snorted. "How long ago was it, darling, that they were cutting you to test how fast you healed?"

"Not long enough." You grimaced.

Loki was the only one in this hell hole you could talk to. There were only three other prisoners left here now. There was a girl who could project nightmares out into the real world, the collar stopped her from projecting, but she was trapped in her own. There was a man who could turn into solid rock but never spoke. And a young boy whose powers you didn't know, but he sat there mumbling prayers to himself all day and night.

A loud clang interrupted the two of you. Your head snapped to the doors to see two guards and a doctor enter the room.

"It'll have to be this one." The doctor said, gesturing to the cell on your other side. "So even if they risk facing the electricity, the bars will be too strong to break." He told the guards. "When we've finished our tests, you'll bring them back here."

"Yes, sir." The guards both nodded and with that, the three left the room.

"Looks like we're going to get some new roommates." Loki shrugged. "And I have no welcoming gift for them, shame."

You weren't sure how much time had passed when the doors open once more. You hadn't thought about your new prison mates since the guards left. Your mind had been too occupied by the pain you felt.

"Get your hands off him!" A blonde male yelled, struggling against the guards holding him.

"Oh, dear," Loki murmured.

"Hey! Hey! Hey! Easy now!" A long brunette exclaimed as he and the blonde were thrown into the cell beside you. The brunette rushed to the cell door and held onto the bars. "Mother fucker!" He swore, yanking his hands away.

"All the cells are electrified." You informed them.

Both men's heads snapped towards you, and you watched as their eyes grew wide.

"You have a tail." The blonde said, staring down at your scaled appendage. "

"Forget the tail, Stevie, look. Her lip. Her shoulder." The brunette said, pointing to your scared shoulder. Your hand immediately flew up to cover the ugly scar.

Your eyes narrowed at the two, and before you could hiss something at them, you noticed something very peculiar.

The matching split lips the two sported.

"This can't be real." You muttered, watching the two closely. The blonde tugged his shirt down to reveal the same distinct scar on your shoulder.

"Soulmate." The two said.

"Soulmates." You repeated, confused.

"I guess this means you're also mated to my brother, darling," Loki said, breaking the moment.

Your soulmate's heads snapped to him.

"Loki?"

"How long have you been here?" Steve asked you as Bucky searched for weak parts of the cell.

"I'm not sure." You admitted. "We're not told how long we're here, and time is different from home."

"What is the date, Captain?" Loki asked, standing as close to the bars as he dared.

"October 17th, 2018," Steve told him.

"Y/N was here before I, and I've been here five months," Loki told them.

"How did they get you?" You questioned your soulmates.

"Caught us by surprise," Bucky said, moving to stand beside Steve. "We've been looking for this one since he disappeared." He told you, nodding his head in Loki's direction. "We found a lead and went to check it out. They were waiting for us."

"How did they catch you, Loki?" Steve asked, raising a brow. "And how have they kept you hidden for this long?"

"In all honesty, I don't know." Loki sighed. "I was exploring an occult shop the little witch recommended me, I leave, and the next thing I know, I am trapped in this disgusting excuse of a prison."

"What is the point of this place? They took our blood and some other things." Bucky told them.

"This is a testing facility." You said. "We're their experiments. This stops us from using any of our powers." You told them, tapping the collar that sat against your throat.

"I believe that this collar is why no-one can locate anyone in this facility," Loki added.

"How do we get them off?" Steve demanded as he tried to pull at his.

"You can't." You shook your head. "Only someone not wearing one can remove a collar."

"Shit," Bucky swore, running his fingers through his hair.

"It's fine, Buck. The team will find us. Thor will find us." Steve assured everyone. "We're getting out of here."

"I have been here five months, Captain." Loki shook his head. "Your promises do not inspire hope."

No-one had come. In however long since Steve had made his promise, no-one had come.

But this didn't surprise you. No-one ever came, except for the doctors and the guards.

They always came.

Since the arrival of your soulmates, the three of you had worked on strengthing your bond as best you could. The two told you stories about their lives and their third, your last soulmate, Loki's brother, Thor. In turn, you told them about your past and what you were.

"What do you miss most about your home?" Bucky asked out of the blue.

"The whales." You said with a fond smile. "They traveled all the oceans, and I'd always listen to their stories."

"Did your pod not travel much?" Steve wondered.

"No. The elders always said the pod belonged in one place. We weren't supposed to question them." You shrugged.

"Something tells me you didn't listen to that rule much." Bucky teased.

"There was no reasoning for their rules. No explanation. Who wants to live like that?" You smiled. "What's Thor like?" You asked your two soulmates.

"Kind," Steve said as Bucky said,

"Fantastic."

"He's always joyous," Steve told you. "Always ready for a laugh."

"Stands up for the little guy," Bucky mentioned. "He's going to love you, doll." "I hope so. My interactions with Norse Gods are pretty minimal." You said, looking over at a sleeping Loki.

"So was ours before. Trust us, you'll be more than fine." Steve smiled.

Before you could respond, the familiar sound of the doors being thrown open interrupted you. At the noise, Loki sat up, Steve and Bucky stood, and you watched as the guards made their way towards you.

You tensed when your cell door was thrust open, and three guards approached your tank.

"Watch it." One guard snapped at another who pulled your tank too roughly. "Perkins will kill you if you hurt her."

"What's he care? He's gonna cut her open anyway." A guard snapped, yanking the tank once more.

"Careful, you're gonna-" The guard started to yell, but it was too late. Your tank was jolted forward and smashed against the ground. As soon as you were no longer in a body of water, your legs began to shift.

And now you were laid on the floor, completely naked, clutching a bleeding cut on your cheek.

"Look what you've fucking done, Paul." The guard snapped, reaching down to grab you by the arm.

A loud yelp escaped you as the man yanked you to your unsteady feet and held you tightly against him.

"Get your hands off her!" Bucky shouted, kicking the bars of the cell.

"Ed, look." The third guard said, gesturing to the two men, the two men who had matching cuts to yours.

"Who woulda thought America's golden boy would be mates with a fish?" Ed laughed, dragging you forward. "You think Perkins knows about this?"

"Fuck no. You know, Perkins woulda already set up new experiments if he did." The third man shook his head.

"Maybe it's time he knew," Ed murmured. "D, you're with me," Ed said, opening Steve and Bucky's cell and throwing you in. A grunt left your mouth as you hit the floor before you were in Bucky's arms. "Paul, clean up this fucking mess. And get a new tank." He ordered.

"Shame Perkins won't let us play with the merchandise," Paul said, staring at you as the two other men rushed out. "You look good for a fish." He added as Steve and Bucky growled, and Bucky turned, shielding you from Paul's eyes.

"Here, doll," Steve said, pulling off his shirt and helping you into it as Paul left.

The long-sleeved blue material was soft and fell almost to your knees. In your pod, there had been no such thing as covering up or modesty. Everyone was bare from the torso up anyway, but if this shirt would hide you from the guards prying eyes, you would never be taking it off.

"Are you okay?" Bucky asked, pulling back slightly to look you over. "How much glass got you?" He questioned, checking your available skin.

"I'm fine."

"Don't think we can't feel your pain." Bucky rose a brow.

"My feet hurt." You mumbled after a second.

"May I?" Steve asked, holding a hand near them. The blonde gently pulled your feet onto his lap once you nodded. "I can't tell if there's any glass in them, but they're both bleeding."

"It's okay. I'll heal." You promised him. "Hi." You smiled, looking at the two up close for the first time.

"Hi." Steve grinned, taking your hand.

"This is a pretty neat trick, doll," Bucky said, putting a hand on your knee. "They know about this?"

"Yes." You nodded. "They've already done their tests." You added with a grimace.

"We're going to take you away from here, Y/N," Steve promised you. "One way or another, we're getting out of here."

"Hope breeds eternal misery, Captain." Loki interrupted.

"When have you been one to lose hope, Loki?" Bucky asked his soulmate's brother.

"I have not lost hope, Sargent. I am merely trying to warn the woman from putting much stock in the belief of escape. Ask how many bodies she has seen dragged from this place." Loki said, causing you to look down.

Too many.

"We started this mission to find you, Loki. The team will find us, Thor will find us, and everyone in here is getting out." Steve firmly stated.

"I'm sorry, Captain, but it appears we'll have to disagree here."

After Loki's comment, it had gone silent, minus of course, the mumbled prayers of a boy.

The three of you had sat, huddled towards the back of the cell with you still sitting on Bucky's lap.

"I wouldn't go back to my pod." You said, playing with Bucky's fingers. "When we get out. I don't think they'd have me back anyway."

"Why's that, doll?"

"I didn't listen to the elders, and I never passed my rites of passage." You shrugged.

The rites of passage were a series of trials that a coming-of-age siren would complete to show their dedication to the pod. One of those trails was to drown a human.

And that, you couldn't bring yourself to do.

"You can come back with us," Steve told you. "The Tower has plenty of space for you to have a room of your own."

"Or you could share our room," Bucky suggested.

"Or you could share our room. Whatever you're comfortable with, doll." Steve promised.

"I might have to stay close to you three. Seems someones got to make sure you three don't get injured." You teased.

"Trust me, doll, that's all, Steve." Bucky quietly chuckled.

The doors crashed open for the second that day. The three guards from earlier reappeared, along with another three, with two doctors behind them.

"Congratulations on finding each other!" A doctor cheered as the cell door was pulled open, and guards pulled the three of you to a stand. "We've never had two soulmates here before! Let alone three!"

"Really, what a shame we're the first," Bucky muttered, glaring at the guards restraining you and Steve.

"I mean, who would have thought two super soldiers would be mated with a siren? There are so many questions, so many trials we must now have." The doctor rambled as the three of you were dragged from the room.

"Unfortunately for the three of you, these new trials and tests won't be pleasant." The other doctor informed you all as you stumbled on your unsure legs.

"Like anything that's done here is pleasant." Steve scoffed.

"But you know what they say, pain equals progress." The first doctor shrugged.

"Did anyone ever teach about gentle?" You snapped as the three of you were forced onto metal tables and strapped down.

"Or how to treat a lady?" Bucky asked before grunting as his collar shocked him. Both you and Steve made noises of discomfort.

"Small doses of pain can be felt through the bond!" The first doctor cheered as the other wrote it down.

"That was a small dose?"

"We continue down the scale!"

"Who the fuck taught you what a scale was?" Bucky grunted what felt like days later. "Because that did not go up in a scale."

The two doctors had worked on the three of you for what must have been hours. Blood covered the three of you and dripped onto the floor as you all tried to catch your breath.

"I see your attitude was not affected by the tests." The second doctor scoffed as the first rapidly wrote down his notes.

"We only have one more test for the day." The first doctor said, nodding at the guards who began to set up for the next test.

"You have been alive as long as Sargent Barnes here, haven't you, Captain? Tell us, did you feel it when this happened?" Steve was asked as the doctor trailed his fingers over Bucky's arm.

"What,you're gonna cut our arms off now?" You asked, watching the doctors in a panic.

"Perhaps in time. But we have a much more pressing question for today." He said as a hose was pulled out. "I wonder what would happen to the Captain and Sargent if we cut your tail." He told you, and suddenly you were soaked.

Your legs shifted back, and your panic began to build.

"Wait, no, please, don't do this." You begged, attempting to wrench your body off the table.

"You've done enough testing! You don't need to do this!" Steve yelled.

"This is all in the name of progression." The first doctor said, ignoring your pleas as he sat at the end of the table, a tray of tools beside him.

"There is no progression in this!"

"Roberts begin recording." The doctor ordered. "Beginning test one, removing scales. As recorded before, scales are incredibly tough to remove by tweezers. So we will be cutting them out." He stated calmly before using a scalpel to expertly slice your scales.

A loud scream left you as your soulmates exclaimed loudly in anger and pain.

"Male subjects can feel female's pain even in this form!" The doctor grinned. "Proceeding onto next test!" He said, holding up what looked like the nose of a sawfish.

"If you fucking touch her again, I'll rip your head off!" Bucky yelled as your voice got caught in your throat.

Both doctors ignored Bucky's threats as they continued with their experiments.

Just as the sawfish-looking tool touched the base of your tail when the lights and machines of the room turned off.

"What happened?"

"Must be an electrical short." A guard said, causing Steve and Bucky to laugh as a loud, echoing boom reached your ears.

"Get out there." Roberts snapped to the guards, who immediately rushed outside.

"You're dead now." Bucky laughed. "Nothing's going to save you now." He said as the guards began to yell.

"Perkins," Roberts said, backing up. "I believe it's time to run."

"Run? Never! These are our experiments. No-one can take them from us!" Perkins scoffed before the door boomed open.

There stood a tall blond man. His blonde hair was long and slightly matted with blood, and electricity was dancing on his skin.

"You dare touch my soulmates!" He boomed, raising his hammer as his eyes glowed brightly.

Electricity filled the room, and soon, both doctors were unconscious on the ground.

"Steven. James." The man sighed, rushing over to the closest man.

"Thor." Bucky smiled as Thor began to rip the bonds holding him. "We have someone for you to meet."

"This is Y/N, our other soulmate." Steve smiled, tilting his head towards you. "Y/N, this is Thor."

"Hi." You smiled, teeth stained with blood. "I'm normally not this blood-stained, I swear."

"I believe that. It is wonderful to meet another soulmate, but perhaps introductions are best made once we are out of here." He said as he and Bucky ripped Steve's bonds, causing you and Steve to laugh.

"That's probably for the best." You nodded. The three men made their way over to you, and Bucky pulled the hose away from you, causing you to shift.

"Did you find Loki?" Steve asked the God.

"Aye. We found the prison first, and Loki told the three of you had been taken. He and the others are with the rest of the team." Thor told him as the two helped you to your feet.

You attempted to take a step, but you had never walked on your own before, and so, you began to collapse. You were caught by thick arms and pulled into a burly chest.

"Are you alright, darling?" Thor asked, looking you over in concern.

"I'm fine. Just not very steady." You said, your cheeks burning red.

"Allow me," Thor said, handing his hammer to Steve and pulling you into his arms.

"Thank you."

"Of course. Anything for one of my soulmates."

"Are you trying to give us grey hairs?" Bucky asked, bandaging a cut on Steve's cheek, a cut you all now had.

"I didn't mean to trip, you know, Buck?" Steve muttered, looking down.

It had been two years since you had met your soulmates. Two years since the three had freed you from your prison.

The four of you were on vacation right now. It was the first vacation the four of you had taken together and your first one altogether.

Tony had loaned you one of his many houses, this one by the ocean, much to your pleasure.

"How is him tripping giving you grey hairs, James?" Thor asked in amusement.

"I don't know. It just is."

"I'm pretty sure they have cures for grey hairs, Buck." You mentioned. "You could borrow Clint's hair dye if it really bothers you."

"I'm telling him you said that." Bucky laughed.

"I'll protect you from the archer, my darling," Thor said, throwing his arm around your shoulders.

"Good because I don't think Bucky wants to clean up any more injuries. And Clint's a bleeder." Steve said, causing the three of you to laugh.

God, what you would give for it to always be like this.

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morganaspendragonss · 3 years

Text

holly's august extravaganza day 4: a friend in me

📍 anon - I don't know but I feel like Carlos and Nancy can have such an awesome best friend dynamic. Maybe something sad/scary regarding Nancy happens where she has to make a report at the precinct and Carlos doesn't tell anyone as she made him promise so he starts to just check on Nancy and they just develop this caring, supportive, beautiful, fun, full of banter friendship to the amusement of TK and the 126.

kept this separate from your original ask because i want to keep those other prompts you sent alongside this one for later 😊

ao3 | 2k | hurt/comfort, brief references to gun violence, mostly just carlos and nancy being besties

Carlos has never seen Nancy look so small.

She’s sitting hunched over in one of the interrogation rooms, shock blanket around her shoulders, hands seemingly moving of their own volition to tear the empty styrofoam cup in front of her to shreds. As soon as Carlos had seen her being escorted into the precinct, shaking like a leaf and clutching her coat like a lifeline, he’d persuaded the officer with her to let him take over the case. His association with the 126 is well known so the officer had been reluctant, but Carlos had managed to wear him down, saying that he doesn’t really know Nancy that well.

And it’s—it’s not exactly a full lie. Through their hangs and TK’s stories, he’s coming to see Nancy as a force of nature, a woman who will let nothing and no-one stand in her way, whether that’s out on the field or during a game of Monopoly. But of her personal life, Carlos knows next to nothing; she mentioned a sister a few weeks ago, and TK delights in teasing her about her growing crush on Marjan, but that’s about it.

He needs to make more of an effort, he decides. When they’re anywhere else but a police station.

Carlos knocks lightly on the door to announce his presence before entering the room, sending her what he hopes is a reassuring smile. Nancy visibly relaxes at the sight of him and she drops the remains of her cup, though Carlos doesn’t miss the continuing tremble to her hands.

“Hey Nancy,” he says, sliding into the seat opposite her. “How are you doing?”

Nancy’s lips twitch, the corners barely curving into the beginnings of a wry smile. She breathes out shakily, meeting Carlos’s eyes for the briefest second before staring back down at the table. “I’m not great,” she answers, and for her to admit to that… Well, Carlos suspects it’s not a regular occurrence.

He nods, reluctantly pulling out his notebook and pen, hesitating before flipping to the next blank page. Nancy tracks his movements, resignation clearly etched all over her features. Carlos glances at the two-way mirror—not that it does him any good—then reaches across the table to take Nancy’s hand.

“We don’t have to do this right now,” he murmurs. “If you need more time, just say the word and I’ll leave. Or if you’d prefer to talk to someone you don’t know, we can do that too. Anything you need.”

The sudden tightness of Nancy’s grip is unexpected, as is the flash of panic in her eyes.

“Please, don’t go,” she whispers. “I don’t—” She cuts herself off, shutting her eyes and breathing slowly for a few seconds. Slowly, her hold on Carlos begins to loosen until her hand is slack in his, then she draws both hands into her lap and straightens in her chair. When her eyes reopen, she seems more like the Nancy Carlos knows—strong, confident, assertive—though there’s still clearly an undercurrent of fear underneath it all.

“I’m fine. Let’s do this.”

Carlos bites back an are you sure and settles for clicking his pen, his smile unwavering. “Can you run me through what happened, exactly?” he asks. “Take your time.”

A second or two passes, then Nancy nods, her voice steady when she speaks. “I was restocking the bus at the end of shift. I was alone; Captain Vega was in her office and TK was with the others in the showers—he did try to help but he’d had to go into a fire on our last call to help a patient and the smell of smoke was giving me a headache, so I told him to go.”

Carlos pauses in his note-taking, mentally filing that last piece of information away for follow-up as soon as he sees his boyfriend again. Judging by the amused quirk to Nancy’s eyebrow, she’s fully aware of where his mind has gone, so Carlos clears his throat and motions for her to continue, forcing his thoughts back to the present.

“Like I said, I was alone. I didn’t mind it; it was kind of relaxing, you know? Then this guy appeared from nowhere and pointed a gun at me, saying if I called out or turned on the siren or anything, he’d shoot. I thought—” She inhales sharply, her knuckles going white on the tabletop and her jaw clenching tightly. Her voice sounds different when she next speaks, more controlled, as though forcing each word out. “I thought it was happening again. I thought he was going to take me somewhere, make me his personal pet paramedic, something like that.

“Turns out, he just wanted drugs. I gave him what we had on the rig and he seemed satisfied, so I figured he’d shoot me anyway ‘cause I’d seen his face, right? He didn’t—obviously—but it looked like he was considering it.” Nancy pauses and flicks her gaze up at Carlos, biting her lip. “I think he might have done it,” she admits quietly, “but he got spooked by one of the guys making noise so he just bolted. I’m not sure how long it was between that and TK coming back and finding me. I’m sorry.”

Carlos shakes his head. “It’s okay. We can check the cameras at the station. With luck, that should get us an ID, maybe a license plate if he drove. I think that’s almost everything; just one more question, if that’s okay. Can you tell me what you gave him exactly?”

Nancy nods. “Morphine, Ativan, tramadol… I’d have to check stocks for the exact amounts.”

“We’ll do that, don’t worry about it.” Carlos taps his pen on the pages before flipping his notebook shut and leaning across the table again. “Are you okay?” he asks softly. “Speaking as a friend and not a cop, if there’s anything you need, anything I can help with, let me know.”

She smiles wanly. “I’m okay. I just want to go home and forget all this ever happened.”

“Fair enough. I’ll walk you out to your car.”

Carlos half-expects her to brush him off, but she just nods and allows him to escort her back through the precinct and out to her car. He dithers awkwardly, shuffling his feet as Nancy turns to him, one hand on the door handle.

“Thank you, Carlos. For real. I have the feeling it wasn't a coincidence that you were the one in that room with me.”

The tips of Carlos’s ears go pink as he finds himself caught out. “That, uh… That would not be inaccurate.”

“Well, thanks.” She pulls open the car door and Carlos takes a step back, wanting to wait until she’s safely away to go back inside. Nancy ducks as if to get in, then pauses and straightens again, biting her lip as she looks back at him.

“Hey, Carlos?” she says. “Can you do me a favour and not tell the others? Not even TK. They— They know vaguely what happened, but I’d prefer it if the details and, uh, some of the other stuff I told you could be kept between us.”

He agrees immediately, just grateful that she trusts him enough to handle this for her. “No-one will know any more than they need to,” he promises, which seems to relieve her. She thanks him again, then gets in the car and drives away, Carlos watching after her with one hand raised in farewell.

It grows from there.

It’s not intentional exactly, but one text to check up on her soon turns into a steady stream of messages, stories and jokes and even the occasional meme passing back and forth between them. Carlos especially appreciated Nancy's carefully curated collection of dirt on TK, which, as a concerned boyfriend, it is his duty to know. Many a conversation has been spent griping about TK's accident prone ways or sighing over his latest mishap.

Lovingly, of course.

Nancy, 15.48: you’ll never guess what happened this time

Carlos, 16.22: ?

In answer, he receives a picture of a dejected-looking TK sprawled on the floor with Buttercup’s front paws squarely resting on his chest. Buttercup’s tongue is lolling out, a wide grin on his face, and in the background stand the rest of the crew. All of them also seem to have their phones pointed towards TK—probably the reason TK looks so down, as Carlos knows his boyfriend couldn’t be upset with Buttercup to save his life.

Nancy, 16.26: he thought he’d try to teach buttercup some tricks. turns out, dog trainers exist for a reason

Carlos has to stifle a laugh—technically, he is supposed to be working—but his attempt at being subtle is thwarted when his phone repeatedly pings with similar texts and photos from Paul, Marjan, and Mateo. He screenshots the sudden influx of notifications and sends it to Nancy before saving every single photo.

Nancy responds with a laughing emoji and a promise to keep him updated.

Not all of their conversations are about TK, naturally.

Carlos, 19.10: I don’t understand why you don’t just talk to her

Nancy, 19.12: i do talk to her. every shift, actually

Carlos, 19.13: Nancy

Nancy, 19.13: carlos

Nancy, 19.14: i don’t even know if she’s into women, alright? it’s not like i can just march up and ask, that’s like waving a banner saying ‘hey, i’m in love with you’ in her face

Carlos, 19.16: Oh, we’re talking about love now, are we?

Nancy, 19.17: can it, reyes

Carlos, 19.20: Noted. Look, take it from someone who’s been navigating gay relationships in Texas his whole life. Sometimes you just have to go for it. Ask her for coffee, test the waters, see where it leads. You never know, it might work out. I mean, look at me

Nancy, 19.24: wow, way to rub your happiness in my face 😑

(Carlos doesn’t find out if she follows his advice, but he does notice her and Marjan showing up to their hangs together)

(Nancy does not appreciate his smugness)

Without even realising, they become a formidable team. This fact is highlighted one game night about three months after the incident, when Nancy and Marjan blow into his and TK’s house, a determined glint in both their eyes.

“We’re switching up the teams,” Marjan declares, much to TK’s outrage.

“What? Why?”

“Because,” Nancy continues, “we’re tired of losing to you guys. You’re like, freakishly good at board games and it’s not fair. Plus, we have to watch you both being all lovey all the time when you’re on the same team and it’s exhausting. We want to see you being competitive for once.”

TK pouts, but Carlos just shrugs when he looks to him for backup. “It’ll be fun,” he says, smiling at Nancy and Marjan. TK still looks put out, so he leans in close and half-murmurs, “C’mon babe. How about a prize for the winner?”

TK perks up considerably at the suggestion, and, going by the twin looks of despair on Nancy and Marjan’s faces, they caught both the comment and the innuendo. Marjan groans and Nancy raises her eyes skyward, as if pleading for divine intervention.

“This was a great idea, actually,” TK says, grinning. He quirks an eyebrow at Nancy. “You and me, Nance?”

That seems to shake Nancy out of her silent prayers for strength. “Uh, no. I’m with Carlos.” To emphasise the point, she strides forward and grabs Carlos’s arm, dragging him to the couch. He nudges her gently when they sit, smirking at the disgruntled way she digs into the snack bowl.

“You did say you wanted to see us being competitive.”

“Shut up.”

In the end, TK ends up paired with Mateo, and Marjan with Paul. It’s clear from the outset who’s going to win—Nancy and Carlos dominate the board, and not even Paul’s master strategy is enough to catch up with them.

They win by a comfortable margin, fist-bumping in celebration. There’s a general air of bemusement in the room, and when Carlos looks round at the others, he finds four pairs of eyes fixed on them.

“What?”

“Since when have you two been such a good team?” Paul asks, leaning back in his chair and raising an eyebrow.

Carlos shrugs, sharing a smile with Nancy. “Guess we just are.”

#911 lone star #911 lone star fic #carlos reyes #nancy gillian #marjan marwani #tk strand #tarlos #lone star #911ls #holly's august extravaganza #fanfiction #my fanfiction #writing #my writing #📍 anon

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sp00kworm · 4 years

Text

SIREN (A Monster Metal Band)

Chapter 1 - Meeting the Band

Pairings: Various Monsters x Reader

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“And today we have some very, very special guests with us in the studio!” The radio-announcer cooed over the microphone, into the silence of your tense apartment. You turned up the volume, clutching the pillow in your lap and your phone in the other. “With us today we have the up and coming band SIREN!” He roared as the microphones turned on for the men and they laughed over the stereo. You clutched your pillow tighter as the interview started for real.

“Here in the studio with us today we have the entirety of the band line-up. Vocalist, Zadok. Lead guitarist, Duncan. Rhythm guitarist, Senoz. Bassist, Blagden. And our favourite drummer, Khadba!” They thanked the announcer with a chorus of gentle laughter, and you readied the dial up number, knowing exactly where the interview was going.

“So, we all know that you guys are performing in our city in a few days’ time. I’m sure every fan listening is excited for the show! You have some real reputation, guys, truly.” The announcer laughed with them before he started with the questions, “So, Zadok, rumour is that you’ve been recording some new vocals with famous artist Lady Conch?”

Zadok’s gentle laughter hummed through your speakers, “It’s an ongoing project, but she’s a lovely woman. We’ve worked together before and I’ve appeared in her solo work before. It’s hard to find male Mers for her music so we’re basically friends at this point.”

“Interesting!” The announcer hummed, “I never thought that would be an issue for merfolk in music, but you learn something new every day!” He continued, “Duncan! How about that new guitar deal you and Senoz have with Irontars?”

Duncan huffed over the microphone before Senoz laughed and started the explanation, “We have a new deal with specific models around our specific tastes. Duncan has a very uhh…” Senoz clicked and cackled, his voice echoing strangely, “Dark taste. It looks like a very big axe. I went for a slicker look but it’s a lot of flames.” He cackled.

“We’re a metal band, Senoz. I can go as dark as I like.” Duncan said gruffly before adding, “I like my guitars like I like my partners.” He purred, “Sharp and a bit insane.”

The announcer laughed it off before continuing on through the last question, “Here I have an interesting question from a fan for Blagden! They asked just how it is on tour while catering to such a very specific diet?”

Blagden hissed before answering, “Bicorn diets aren’t that hard to get. Mostly meat. But I can eat everything other people can. Zadok and I go fishing when we’re at the coastal cities. Fresh is better but no.” He leaned into the microphone, “I don’t have to eat people’s husbands.” He huffed and you heard the sound of hooves clacking against the floor as he settled back into his seat.

“A good revelation, thank you for answering.” The announcer added as he reached his final question, “Khadba, our favourite new addition. Before this, the band ran on hired drummers for each tour, so, how does it feel being a permanent member with this new album?”

Khadba coughed awkwardly, “It’s been a ride, but I’d say that the music is much, uh…” He stuttered for a moment, “The music is much more personal with me I’d say. I’ve had a long time to get to grips with the music in recording and even before this I was a fan of the guy’s work.”

Blagden growled, “He’s a fucking liar. He practically told us our tempo was garbage. Zadok hired him on the spot after one sound test!”

Duncan roared with great laughter, “It was a time. I’ve never had someone tear my work to pieces so well!”

The announcer laughed with them before he went back to the audience, “Now, let’s play a song from the new album! This one is called Deep Dark featuring some very special vocals from your deep-sea merman, Zadok.”

“You’re too kind.” Zadok hummed before the voices cut out and the song blended into being, beginning with that could only be described as merfolk speak. You relaxed gently against the cushions as the gentle bubbling voice rang out. You looked at your coffee table and snatched up the latest issue of Metal Talks, admiring the front. There was a glossy latest picture of the band on the magazine. Zadok’s white eyes were close to the camera lens, his white skin glowing with purple bioluminescence as he opened his mouth full of sharp long teeth for the camera. Duncan was perched in the back with his axe guitar gripped in one hand, his body covered in black fur. Duncan was the largest member, a giant black, curly haired Minotaur with curly tresses that hung between his two great ivory coloured horns, covering his great green eyes. Senoz was a grey skinned demon, his four, blue eyes glinting with mischief as he too posed with his guitar, decked in skin-tight leather and heavy metal cuffs, his three tails poised up behind him. Blagden, the Bicorn was truly petrifying with his black thoroughbred, sleek fur rippled and his great mouth open to expose his predator teeth. You traced a finger over his dual black, unicorn horns and the curling pair of ram horns behind his ears, admiring his great shaggy mane. Khadba was placed in the back, his arms crossed and drumsticks in one hand. His moss coloured skin and grey steel eyes were intimidating, his face and ears littered with piercings to match the gruff look on his face. You admired the tattoos over his arms depicting burning skulls and giant demons before the song drew to a close.

“After that zinger we’re back in the studio with SIREN!” The announcer called and you readied yourself as the bit you had been waiting for finally arrived, “And now, we get to the part you’ve all been waiting for, the giveaway.” He hummed, “Today, from the charitable guys here, we will be giving away an exclusive early entry ticket and backstage pass for the gig!” The guys hooted in the studio before going quiet as the man shuffled his papers, “The question is…” You felt your heartbeat in your chest as you listened with bated breath, “How long is Duncan’s guitar solo in the song ‘Burn’?” He quickly read out the number for the call lines.

“You know, I don’t even remember how long that solo is.” Duncan huffed before grumbling.

Senoz cackled, “I know!” He jeered before Duncan snorted hotly at him.

“The lines are open! Get those guesses in!”

You tapped the call button and prayed to all that was good in the world that you would get through with your guess. It was the longest solo in the band’s discography. You knew you had a chance.

The phone was quickly busy in the studio and you listened to the hold music with your bottom lip between your teeth, worrying at the skin as person after person guessed, and was met with the loud siren. Incorrect. Fifteen people in a row guessed it incorrectly. You were in with a chance.

“And now we have another guess on the line! Tell us your name sweetheart!” The announcer said. Suddenly, you realised that he was speaking in your ear as well.

“Uhm… Oh gosh…” You stuttered your name and listened to announcer.

“Now, let’s have your guess. How long is Duncan’s guitar solo in the song ‘Burn’?” He tapped the countdown effect.

“Good luck, darling.” Zadok’s lilting voice tickled your ear.

You took a deep breath before replying, “The solo is one minute and forty-seconds long.”

Silence. You felt your heartbeat in your stomach.

“CORRECT!”

“Fuck me. I didn’t even come close and it’s my solo. Well done.” Duncan hummed down the microphone as the rest of the band laughed and chuckled behind him.

“You’ve won the backstage pass and early entry ticket!” The announcer cheered before you were quickly snapped onto the line for your address and name for the premium postage and for the band’s team to know who you were. Your mouth hung open before you quickly coughed and started to try and rattle off your address to the woman, brain frazzled and still in disbelief.

“What?!” Tom shouted from behind the bar, “You won?!” He howled in disbelief, before he slammed his fists against the countertop, “I’ll give you the money for the other ticket!” He begged, “I wanna go and you have a spare ticket now!” The brown-haired werewolf grinned with pointed teeth before clutching his hands together, “Please!” He begged again, “I’ll get on my knees for it!”

“Tom, please just chill out!” You begged with a laugh as you tucked your bag away under the bar, “You give me the money and I’ll give you my standard ticket, stop freaking out!” You promised as you struggled to tie your apron behind your back.

“Here. Let me give you a hand.” Tom tugged the ties tightly and deftly tied a knot around your waist before he let you turn back around and stroked at his beard with a clawed hand. It was a sign he was close to the full-moon and his shift, “How about we meet for a drink then before?” He asked, deep brown eyes glinting.

“No can do! The backstage stuff starts super early and I don’t want to be drunk and meet them all. The last thing I want to do is embarrass myself.” You lamented, “Do you remember when we saw Clutch after their show?”

Tom barked a great, gruff laugh at the memory of the gig you had gone to when you were both younger, “Of course I do! How could I ever forget?” He teased, “You went flying over Rakesh’s tail!” He chuckled and wiped a glass down, “Your face met the concrete, after you cracked his ass on the way down.”

“Oh great, I’m glad you got a laugh out of it!” You bumped your hip against him with a scowl before tugging at the tail poking through the back of his jeans, “I wasn’t laughing! He nearly tore me apart!” You huffed, “Such a highly strung dude…” s

“You’re telling me!” Tom huffed, “I nearly had to shift and throw him off!” He tapped the top of his arm, “He got in that bite, which hurt like a motherfucker for three weeks, by the way.” He stuck his long tongue out at you and scratched at his brown curly hair, his hairy arms exposed out of the rolled sleeves of his shirt.

“Boo hoo.” You joked, “You’re big enough to punch a Naga, so I’m sure you can take the consequences of it.” With a smile you took out a new bottle of whiskey for the premium top shelf brands, “But again, thank you, I might have ended up in a mess without you there…well and security.” You hummed as you sorted the shelves, stood on top of the stool.

“Be careful.” Tom grumbled as he went past you, “We don’t want you spanking a customer on the way down.” He joked.

“Fuck off, Tom.” You snarked back at him.

The ticket arrived the next day, and you rushed from your sofa when the delivery man knocked on the door, keen to sign for them and stash them away for the show. The postman jumped as you slammed the door open and turned his pad towards you with the parcel in one hand. After signing he handed you the thick, padded envelope and then nodded, quick to leave you to your ticket and pass. You grinned and stashed them in your lockable drawer before gushing to Tom over the phone. The night of the show came slowly. You had to work up until the day, and every shift had felt like it had taken an eon. Everything was slow and long, but finally the day arrived. Your instructions were to arrive about two hours before the main opening time, where the venue staff would greet you and take you through to the backstage. You were allowed to see the backstage operations before meeting the band you were far too obsessed with. At least, you reasoned, you weren’t like the fans stealing hair. You’d seen a lot of horror stories online. You admired the band members and you wished you could explain it without sounding very small and sad.

The concert hall was giant. It was an arena which accepted shows of all kinds. You looked up as you walked inside the doors to the ticket booth. There was security everywhere. A pair of Orc security guards watched you curiously as you smiled at the venue staff and showed them the personalised pass. It was pictures with a picture of the band on hard plastic, like a credit card.

The woman behind the desk grinned, “Boys! You’ve got someone to show around!” She wiggled her finger at the two security guards and watched them huff before she collected her clipboard and handed you a printed tote, “That’s for your merchandise choice. Now, if you’d like to come this way these two handsome Orcs will show you to the backstage.” She cooed.

“Hey. I’m Frank. This is Droz.” The elder Orc shook your hand, his greying hair tied back in a long traditional braid. He was the typical soft green colour but Droz was a charcoal grey, his eyes red and his tusks large and more prominent. Droz was studded and pierced in most places, his hair cut short and styled into a wicked hawk down the middle of his head. He nodded at you but didn’t say anything.

“Ignore him. He’s quiet.” Frank cackled before shoving his elbow into Droz’s gut and opening the door for you towards the main stage area, “Comes with being part Gargoyle.” He snarked at Droz. The other male tailed behind the two of you but opened the rail for you to go behind the barrier.

“This is the way you’ll come out to watch the show later as well.” Frank added as he showed you through the curtains.

Your heart slammed against your ribs as you clutched at your pass over your chest, holding it tightly, like a life line, as Frank showed you past the curtain and into the mess of road crew and wiring.

A heavy hand laid itself on your shoulder, “They’re good guys.” Droz rumbled behind you, “Don’t be nervous.”

You huffed awkwardly, “That’s easy to say but hard to put into practice.”

Droz shrugged, “I know but it’s good to hear it.”

“That’s the longest sentence I’ve ever heard you say, Droz.” Frank joked as he navigated through the roadcrew and made it into the back area of the venue. There was a very long corridor in the back with the dining area, small kitchen and shower room with areas for both the crew and band to chill out. You looked at the dingy hallway and felt your anxiety skyrocket.

“No need for the fright. They’re all in the lounge area waiting for you, all dolled up and pretty.” Frank chuckled before opening the door halfway down the left side of the corridor. He opened the door, and you hid behind Droz before daring to peer inside.

The entire band went quiet as Frank slammed the door against the wall. Duncan’s forest green eye peered through the curls of his hair between his horns and he grinned with flat teeth as Zadok and Senoz span around quickly.

“Can you put your tails away you freak?” Zadok smacked at Senoz’s ass as the demon grinned, crazed, his four eyes blinking in pairs as he slinked closer to catch a glimpse of you. Droz rolled his eyes and shoved you into the room before offering a shrug and closing the door, leaving you with Frank and the band.

“This is our cute little winner I take it?” Senoz purred as he took your hand and bowed, pressing it to the hot skin of his forehead as Zadok battled against the tails twisting and smacking to greet you.

“Yep. This is the lucky one.” Frank confirmed, “Play nice, hm? You need to get the photoshoot and autographs out of the way and give away the merch.” He clicked a pen and snapped it against his itinerary before waving himself out of the door.

“We always play nice.” Zadok’s low timbre vibrated as his gills flipped and shut tight against his neck. The singer was dressed in sheer fabric, the netting showing his torso off, and tight leather trousers. He offered you his white scaled hand, “A pleasure to meet you. I’m going to assume we don’t have to introduce ourselves, but for the sake of politeness, I am Zadok.” He shook your hand and smiled, white eyes and teeth exposed as his skin rippled with a deep blue light, “As for the rest of these hooligans then. Senoz is the drooling idiot next to you.”

“Rude as fuck.” Senoz snapped at the smaller male, blue eyes burning before he went back to sit next to Duncan, squeezed in on the sofa next to the Minotaur. The rhythm guitarist was dressed in a leather waist coat and tight trousers, his tails punched through a great hole in the back.

“Duncan, the man behind the longest guitar solo in our history.” He joked as Duncan flipped his hair back between his horns and waved once, uncrossing his hooves off the table and placing them on the floor. He was dressed only in a pair of leather trousers with a thick, pair of suspenders over his shoulders, showing off the piercings in his nipples.

“A pleasure.” Duncan nodded and flicked his tail at Senoz and his wiggling.

“Over in the armchair is Khadba. He’s warming up his arms so forgive him if he doesn’t wave.”

Khadba nodded his head at you but didn’t say anything as he drummed his sticks on a warm up pad, heavy arm muscles straining against the simple band shirt and his cargo shorts hiding very little of his legs, decorated with chains and bones.

“And last but not least, Blagden.” The Bicorn snorted at you but waved one hand before he kicked at Khadba’s stand and hissed at the Orc’s anger. His mass of flowing silks swayed with him as he reached to prune at his hair.

“Fuck off, Blag. I’ll put you through the chair.” Khadba growled as he tossed his great black braid down his back, the rings in his hair clicking. The Bicorn tugged at his tusks and the Orc was quick to kick Blagden’s backwards knee, grinning at the pain he had caused.

“Its lovely to meet you all.” You croaked before uttering your name and trying your best to smile without freaking out.

“You have a cute name.” Senoz purred as Duncan’s eye peered through his curtain of hair.

Duncan huffed at him, “Can you please stop laying it on so thick. No one wants to sleep with you.”

“That wasn’t my intention.” Senoz grinned at you, “But if you’re down, sweet thing, I can show you what all my mouths can do.” He purred before Zadok clawed at his scalp and threw the Demon’s head back towards Duncan.

“Keep yourself in line.” Zadok warned, “This is a fan. The media is watching.” His bioluminescence burned into an angrier looking pink before he smiled at you with long, thin sharp pointed teeth.

“He’s right, as always.” Blagden’s black eyes fixed on you before he held up a purse mirror to groom his hair around his horns, “How about we have a drink and a chat, hm?” The Bicorn reached for a beer on the table and threw his long face back to drink the great bottle, pouring it past his sharp teeth.

“What do you drink?” Khadba asked quietly as he stood up, placing his sticks on top of his padded stool.

You took a deep breath as Duncan made space for you to sit, “Something strong, please.” You begged quietly.

Zadok gave a great, hissing laugh at you and he took hold of his own drink, “Just a bit nervous, huh?” He asked gently as he sat in one of the armchairs.

You let out a sigh, “I’m shitting myself.” You confessed, “You guys are my favourite band and I just… Everything I want to say sounds super lame and I don’t want to fuck this up.”

Duncan eyed you, “You’re not goin’ to fuck it up, sweetheart.” He snorted, the ring in his nose bouncing as he spread his furry arms over the back of the seat, “We’re not exactly prim or proper.” He rolled his green eyes and scratched at the base of one of his horns.

“Especially not Duncan. He comes from a farm.” Senoz cackled, the noise echoing mysteriously in his body.

“I’ll puncture your other arse cheek.” Duncan thumped at the demon, “Farm work is the reason I don’t look like a twiggy mother fucker.”

“Boys. We have a guest.” Zadok scolded them both with a hiss, the bony fins on his head flaring.

“Here.” Khadba placed a Vodka and mixer in front of you, “To take the edge off.” He smiled before returning to his seat with a large Orcish mead.

“Thank you.” You smiled and took a drink before realizing just how strong it was, “Maybe only the one for me.” You joked.

“So, on to the actual part of this contest win!” Senoz clapped and Zadok reached for the list itinerary with a curse.

“Merchandise?” He asked the room.

Duncan stood up, his curly hair rippling down his back as the sofa bounced back into shape, relieved of his weight, “They put it back here.” He rumbled as he opened a big box labelled ‘exclusive’ and peered inside. He pulled free a shirt before huffing, “How about you come choose, eh?” He left it open and moved aside for you to squeeze in and look.

“Holy shit. This is exclusive Fanclub stuff!” You cursed as you pulled free the shirt, lanyard, and various stickers. You looked at the pin badges before there was another item that caught your eye, “They made plushies?!” You cooed as you dragged free the soft plush of Duncan.

“When the fuck did they make that?” He looked at you and laughed, a great bark of one breath before he shrugged and pulled his hair from his eyes, “Fine just take it. Before I change my mind. You want one of each of the rest too?”

“Please. Oh gosh, thank you so much.” You let Duncan dump the rest of the items in your bag.

“Where’s the plushies of the rest of us?” Senoz whined as he peered into the box, “No way there’s only Duncan!?” He hissed, “Bull shit.”

“Too bad, Senoz. You’re not kid friendly enough.” Blagden hissed at him as he took great pleasure in peering at what else they had to do, “Picture as well.” His talon tapped the list and Zadok nodded before he shouted for Frank.

“Behaving?” Frank asked as he walked in, “Or are you calling me in to drag Blagden off someone?” He chuckled before Zadok leaned back and tapped the clipboard.

“We need the photographer.” The merman smiled.

Frank nodded, “Sure. I’ll go and grab him. Best get situated. He’ll not want to be in here long.” Frank closed the door behind him with a click and you took another calming breath before you tucked away your bag and chugged the rest of your drink in an effort to calm yourself down.

“Don’t make yourself sick!” Khadba chuckled as he tucked his braids back over his shoulder.

“That’s not a good look on a photo.” Senoz teased before walking around you and looking at your outfit.

“Mate. Stop it. It’s concerning.” Duncan pulled him into the sofa and smacked his hoof against the Demon’s leg.

“Now then,” Zadok smiled, “What sort of poses are you wanting. Obviously we can’t do anything sexual or which could injure us.”

Blagden chortled before purring, “I don’t think that’s what Lady Conch had to say last time you saw her.” The guys shook their heads, “I heard you two through the walls.”

“Enough, Blagden.” Khadba sneered, “Fan in the room.” He punched the Bicorn none too gently, “Remember your fucking manners.”

“Uhm.” You tried to ignore the fury on Zadok’s face, “I would just like a big group photo if that’s okay? Maybe with you guys all crowded around and me in the middle. Maybe we could do some funny back to back things?” You asked quietly to the three men around you.

“Sure thing.” Zadok smiled thinly, “Duncan will have to crouch big style.” He teased.

“Not my fault you’re all fucking tiny.” The Minotaur clicked his tongue.

“I suppose it isn’t.” Zadok looked down at the list in his lap before humming, “This has been kind of lame…” He clicked his fingers, “How about single portraits with each of us too? We’ll sign each.” He smiled.

“How about you actually talk to ‘em huh?” Senoz shook his head and smiled, touching a tip of a horn before he offered his hand, “What do you do for a living?”

You swallowed, “I just work in a bar.” Awkwardly, you continued, “Me and Tom, my friend, we always go and see shows like these and dream about having a rock bar. The place we work is this trucker place. The music is decent, but it gets rowdy.” You laughed, “But its purely luck I won this…” You hung your head, “I’m glad I did…You guys are my heroes. I listened to everything. Anything new from when you first supported Howl. It was just so pretty and hard! Amazing!” You gushed, “All your music has got me through some hard stuff and I just felt like I should tell you all that.”

“Here.” Khadba stood over you, offering a tissue, “You’re crying.” He hushed you.

“I’ve never heard anyone talk about our stuff like that.” Duncan wrapped a warm arm around you and gave you a squeeze as Zadok sat in silence.

“I’m glad it makes you happy.” Blagden offered from across the room.

Senoz nodded, “Music is the soul. If it helps you heal, then that’s good enough for all of us.” He patted your head and you wiped at your makeup before blubbering.

“Thank you for listening to us.” Zadok whispered, his fins flattening against his skin, “To know my work makes you feel such things. That is enough for me to continue to sing.” He touched your hand with his cool fingers before Frank opened the door with the photographer.

“You alright sweetheart?” He asked with a glare at the band.

“Yeah.” You sniffled, “I’m alright!” With a smile you stood up and binned the tissue, “I think I know exactly what kind of photo I want to have!”

The photographer pinched his nose and peered over the top of his sunglasses, “I haven’t got all day, you know.” He lisped a little and you noticed the red eyes. He was a vampire, “I have to set up with the media.”

“Come on.” Duncan barked a laugh again as he led you over to the backdrop set up in the corner.

“Are you sure you’ll be okay?” Frank asked as he helped you hop over the barrier to stand right in the centre stage. You were ready, having left your bad with Frank and Droz in the back, your new shirt pulled on after peeing. You were set for an awesome night. Before Frank could ask you another question, Khadba appeared from behind the curtain with a plastic cup in hand.

He waved once as he strode over, his rings and chains clinking before he offered you the cup, “A drink. On me.” The Orc nodded and smiled, revealing the silver rings around the base of his tusks, “I was easier on the Vodka.” He promised as he left you with Frank, “Have a good time, alright?”

“Thank you, and I will, I promise.” You shouted with a smile as he headed back behind the curtain, “You can go as well, Frank. I’ll be fine! People will be heading inside soon, and I know you have some checks to do.” You smiled, “Thank you for looking after me. You’ve been wonderful.”

“You’re very welcome.” He grinned with a nod, “Now you be careful. They’re no doubt going to get very rowdy.” He wagged his finger before disappearing behind the curtain. You nursed your drink for a few moments more before the curtain twitched again and Blagden appeared.

His black eyes quickly caught sight of you, and he huffed before offering you a small, plastic case, “Don’t burst your eardrums, cutie.” He tossed you the purple case, “Its going to get loud.” He made a horns sign at you before sauntering away, his heavy hooves clicking as his slick black fur disappeared back behind the curtains. You opened the case and looked at the industrial earplugs before smiling and slipping them into your pocket for the gig. The doors slammed open behind you, and you braced yourself for the onslaught of people as you texted Tom to elbow his way to the front.

Tom shouted your name as he made his way close and you were quick to snag him by the shirt and pull him into the gap next to you. The werewolf was far less monstrous today. His eyes were still bright and orange, but he was not sporting his tail and snout.

“That crowd right there was a nightmare.” He sighed with relief as he laid his forearms on the banister and shuddered, “How was the meet?” Tom teased as he tugged his unruly hair backwards, “Did you suck face?”

“Absolutely not!” You smacked at his arm, “I had a bit of a cry, we had loads of pictures and I hung out with possibly the coolest band ever.”

“Oh, so just the normal then?” Tom snarked, “That sounds amazing. Sounds like you had fun.”

“Here look!” You showed him your phone and grinned clicking on the camera album, “They’re all very sweet.” The pictures were very safe. Zardok had his arm around you, his fingers up in the sign of the devil. Duncan was looming over the back of you with a monstrous glare. Senoz covered your eyes and opened up his mouth in a scarily wide grin. Khadba’s was a little awkward but he was smiling softly as you held his drumsticks with a smile. Blagden had you pose back to back with him, his snout tossed in the air like a regal pony.

Tom gave you a smile, “Honestly, I’m really happy for you…Though I am jealous Duncan isn’t cold in only suspenders and trousers.”

“Tom he is covered in curly fur!” You laughed as you slipped your phone away, “You’re the same when you shift!”

The werewolf hummed, “But would I wear leather suspenders? I think not.” He snapped his fingers at you before looking at the empty drink in your hand, “They’ve fed you alcohol? Lord save us all.” Tom mocked a prayer before you elbowed his side.

“Khadba gave me one!” Tom went cross-eyed to look at your one finger held up to his nose, “I’ve had two in total and that’s it. I promise.”

“Maybe I needed to word my warning a little more strongly.” He tutted before laughing at you, “You’re dangerous with one. Let’s see how you manage two making you do stupid things.”

“I’ll be fine, Tom. Stop being such a mother hen.” You joked before taking a sharp breath as the room was plunged into pitch black.

“I hope you brought your wig.” Tom teased next to your ear, “Because we’re about to get our hair fucking singed off.”

The darkness made the fans in the arena roar with joy and you grinned as the support act appeared on the stage, guitars held up for the audience to see.

“Well, maybe not just yet.” Tom lamented before readying himself at the front for the show.

The support band were excellent, and you cheered at the front after their performance, already sweating and far too hot. Tom grinned before going to fetch you both a drink. He returned with cold plastic cups.

“Water, I promise.” He clinked his plastic cup with your own and pulled his hair back away from his face as you looked at the stagehands drop a great sheet cover over the stage. It was dark and they worked by torchlight to set up for SIREN.

“I’m so excited.” You cooed, “I never thought I’d see this…”

“Come on, don’t get all gooey on me.” Tom chuckled and grinned with sharp canines as he shrugged his flannel off to expose his own band shirt, “I’m excited as well. This is going to be insane!” He laughed, “So much better than their support show.” He looked wistfully at the stage and downed the rest of his drink just as the lights snapped off. The crowd roared behind you and you threw your cup over the barrier as you bounded against it and peered up as something was placed in the centre of the stage behind the sheer purple curtain.

There was a rumble over the speakers before the purple sheet dripped down to the floor. There was a pitch-black tank in the centre of the stage. A great hissing noise blended into something close to a whale song before white light lit up the water. The crystal-clear water held Zadok. His white skin glowed with burning purple light as he twisted in the water, a microphone taped to his chest and throat as his eyes opened, pure white. His mouth opened to reveal clear needle-like teeth as he released another great bellowing noise into the dark room. It was silent otherwise, except for Zadok’s haunting song. You peered into the water as he twisted and released a series of clicks as water began to slosh and crash in the speakers. The merman’s claws and webbed hands reached out of the water before he pulled himself free of the water and slid into the darkness of the stage, his bioluminescence lighting his path as he let out a gentle noise and merged into a soft human sounding lilt. Your mouth hung open in awe as he stood at the front of the stage, humming before he opened his mouth wide.

“And now we stand. Silent. Darkness.” There was a pause before his eyes flashed and he hissed, “THE COLD DARK WATER.”

Suddenly, the spotlights flashed as Khadba’s cymbals crashed and the guitars roared three chords together. Blagden’s bass rumbled on in the background as the guitar rolled with a lilting scale and Zadok continued to sing centre stage, dripping water from his skin as he kneeled at the front of the stage, glowing brilliantly as the lights died and flashed once more with another thunderous crash and guitar strum. There was silence before the guitars wailed and the song truly began and you looked up as the crowd roared, listening to the beginnings of the chorus eagerly before the water crashing started again and Zadok’s haunting melody reverberated around the stadium. Tom jumped with a cheer next to you as the song grew into a thunderous noise like water crashing against the cliffs, and you watched Zadok fall to his knees as the storm calmed and the water settled. He settled down and hummed into the microphone as he finished the gentle ending. The guitars faded as the spotlights went off one by one and you grinned as the water trickled and dropped to a stop. The crowd cheered and you smiled as the lights came on properly to reveal the band.

“Are you motherfuckers ready for some mind-blowing music?!” Zadok screamed at the audience as Duncan’s guitar gently plodded onwards with an intermediate tune. Blagden sauntered over to him, his bass rumbling as he grinned and the two of them stood back to back as Zadok introduced the next song.

“Now this one is an oldie. A very old song named Blood.” He purred before Senoz grinned and started the introduction riffs.

“AND NOW ITS TIME TO BURN!” Zadok howled into the microphone sometime later. Duncan thudded to the front of the stage, slick with sweat, his curly hair tossing left and right as he slammed one hoof on top of the box and slapped at his bare chest. The crowd cheered as both Senoz and Duncan started the song. With a huff and a toss of his head, Duncan launched himself into the solo, his finger dancing over the frets as he felt the music in his legs, stomping on top of the box as Zadok headbanged towards the others, growling low into the microphone occasionally as Duncan’s fingers tore down the frets in another feat of speed. You screamed at the front as he ducked low, his hair flying over the top of his horns as he continued into a reverb before throwing the plectrum down to you with a wink and a great shake of his head, his fur rippling as he stomped his way over to Senoz to continue the song. You held the plectrum tightly to your chest. In the middle of the show you watched Senoz and Blagden butt heads in the middle of the stage, their horns rammed together as the song blurred into the next, stomping and kicking at each other’s legs as they battled each other in how fast they could strum their way up and down the necks of their guitars. Khadba interrupted their duel with a crashing solo, his tattooed arms bulging with overworked muscles as he spun his stick between beats, sweating in the heat of the spotlights. The crowd roared at the solos and screamed with Zadok until it was the end of the show, and the band stood to take the applause, sweating, panting and smiling as the crowd clapped and cheered.

Tom grinned at the end of the show, his eyes wild with happiness as you both stood still, waiting for the rest of the crowd to filter out of the hall. You smiled at the stage as the crew were quick to start cleaning up.

“That was insane.” He huffed, his shirt tucked into his jeans as he wiped at the sweat on his chest, “Where’s all your stuff?” Tom asked with curious, half-shifted yellow eyes, snorting softly with the excitement of the gig still burning his nerves.

You smiled and pointed to the curtain, “Backstage. I think Droz will have them. He’s security. We might have to wait a little bit to see him though.”

“Oh, getting in with the security as well I see!” Tom teased, “Who’s that waving at you? Through the curtain there.” He pointed again and you squinted at the grey hand.

“That’ll be Droz.” You whispered as the last few stragglers collected stray plectrums and setlists before it was just the two of you. Tom shrunk away as the intimidating frame of the Orc hybrid came into view. He held you bag in his hand and you smiled brightly, tired and sweaty from the gig.

“Thank you, Droz, you’re a lifesaver.” Gently, he handed you your bag, appraising Tom with a curious red eye.

“Your welcome. It was nice having you.” Droz grumbled, spinning the ring in his nose before he gave you a wave, “I’ll tell Frank you got off safe. Be careful on the way home.”

“Thank you!” You shouted as he disappeared into the back.

“So, are all of the band that ripped, or just him?” Tom joked as you shouldered your merchandise.

“Says you! Come on. Let’s get home. I think this was enough excitement for anyone, my heads ready to explode.”

“Never have I felt so exhausted.” You groaned in your seat as you sat down in the café near your apartment. The city was at least quiet by the time you woke up today. It was around ten, and most people were at work. You waited, half asleep, for the server to dump your coffee on your table with your meal and hummed quietly as your phone vibrated.

‘I hope you didn’t end up with one of the hotties from last night at home!’

You scowled at Tom’s message.

‘Fuck off. I’m tired and you’re not helping.’

He pinged your phone a few more times and you ignored it as your food and coffee was placed before you.

“Thank you.” You smiled and turned in your seat to look around. That was when you saw the one person you didn’t expect to see.

---

Chapter 2 - Duncan

Chapter 3- Zadok

Chapter 4- Senoz

Chapter 5 - Blagden

Chapter 6- Khadba

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piracytheorist · 3 years

Text

Small Signs (1/1)

Fandom: Resident Evil 7

Summary: Ethan wakes up, thinking of his wife, who has been missing for three years. Little does he know today will be the first news of her he'll get since she disappeared.

Word count: 1.4k AO3

Another dull day.

Another day Ethan wakes up and the other side of the bed is cold.

One would think that he would get used to it, after all this time. But no. Some days he still finds himself waking up and instinctively reaching to hold her.

She always responded to his touch, no matter how deep her sleep. She would sigh and move her body closer to him, then nestle there until she actually woke. He would wait for her to wake up, work honestly be damned, he'd think sometimes.

He stretches his arm, laying it where she would've been, hand on the pillow, fingers running softly over the fabric. He would’ve been mad to think that her scent could have stayed on it after three years.

He sighs. Three years of confusion.

Work be damned, he used to think, but it's the only thing that has managed to keep his mind occupied. His co-workers realized quickly that he was dealing with Mia's disappearance on his own way and time, and they left him alone about all the "You should move on" stuff as soon as they started.

Not that he doesn't appreciate their sympathy. But they’re not in the know.

Even their friends feel distanced to him now. They’ve mourned Mia already, and he’s now the odd one out. He still enjoys their company, but despite the remarks on how it isn't too early to start going out again being rare, sometimes it feels like they can’t get it.

He just wishes he had any fucking way to explain to them the very last message he got from Mia.

"Stay away. Forget that you ever knew me. Have a good life."

It still sends shivers down his spine to think of it. He remembers the moment he watched it the first time clear as ever. How he'd stayed frozen, almost shivering from shock, in front of his computer, for who knows how long after the video had ended. The sirens blaring in the background. Mia's distraught, tired, dirty face. Her telling him to forget her. Completely. As if she never existed.

A part of him – a small one, but a part nonetheless – was almost angry at her request. She'd lied to him – and admitted so – and after all those years of being together, she just expected him to forget all about it? Their love? Her admittance? Her guilt?

Her?

He groans in frustration. Despite anything else, he feels guilty for being even that little angry at her. And for the life of him, he can’t believe she didn’t love him. She couldn’t have just left him… there must have been another reason.

Maybe he should do as she said and have a good life. Maybe he should really move on. Maybe he should just do as their friends want to tell him but won't.

But still... If they had known...

The police had instructed him to not tell anyone about Mia's last video. Even if they hadn't, he still had no idea how to even start that conversation.

"Yeah, first she sent me that sweet message, with the promise of coming back soon, and that same night she sent me this one and it scared the shit out of me. And then she disappeared without a trace. Can you see now why I can't really move on?"

If only he knew what happened. Without a body found, he believes he'll spend eternity hoping he'll get news of her. Not that a body is difficult to get lost and destroyed to the point of no recognition, that fucking voice he hasn’t been able to mute even three years later, says again.

If only he could just know what happened. How, or why she disappeared. If she died, at least if it was quick and painless. At this point he's gotten used to the jab inside his chest at the thought of her actually being dead. It still hurts as much as first, but the pain comes less often and more anticipated.

He wants answers. What was with the creepy video, why she lied to him, what she hid from him.

Who is he kidding? Most of all, he wants her.

It isn't like that every day. He gets up with his alarm clock and loses himself in the morning prep routine, focuses on work, goes back home and finds ways to spend the day by either cleaning, tidying up, maybe distracting himself with a beer with friends and then goes to sleep, hoping the next day will provide opportunities for distractions again.

He's given up on the piano. He was pretty mediocre at it already, so it's not like he has any memories of himself playing exquisite sonatas and Mia sitting next to him, being entranced by his fingers dancing across the keys. But he's supposed to be happy for it. He's supposed to give heart to it.

He doesn't feel like he has much of a heart left. Sad thought, he's aware. But it's also true.

The alarm clock on his phone finally rings. He silences it and gets up.

That one small difference, waking up a few minutes before the alarm, stains his entire day. When he opens the cupboard to take the coffee jar, his eyes fall on the sugar jar and he remembers how Mia took her coffee with sugar, and how that jar has barely seen any use in the past three years. When he washes his now empty coffee mug, the lack of a second cup to wash brings a feeling of emptiness in him. When he brushes his teeth, Mia’s old toothbrush is almost taunting him. He didn’t throw it away at first, because, well, she could have returned at any time, right? After the designated three months since she’d first used it passed, he felt as if throwing it away would send out a sign of resignation to the universe, or something. So there it stays and haunts him.

He’s almost managed to forget about that and ignore its existence. But today, being such a day, when he opens the towel cupboard to take out a new one, it catches his eye. An unopened pregnancy test box, probably expired by now.

The last pregnancy test Mia’d had was negative. “When I come back, we’ll try again. It will be positive, then. I know it,” she’d said.

He just had to change the towels today of all days, didn’t he?

He thinks that getting out of the apartment will make him feel better, with some – relatively – clean air in his lungs. Instead, it makes him feel emptier. No goodbye kiss, no see you later, her house keys still and always missing.

Even with work he can't get his mind off. Especially when an old man calls him for help with his computer and starts talking about how it was a gift from his lovely wife.

Is it too much, that he once dreamed – and sometimes, his traitorous mind still dreams – of himself and Mia growing into an adorable old couple like them? Is it because he was so damn happy, that the universe decided a different path for him?

Ethan feels thankful, albeit reluctant, when Jim invites him out for drinks that night.

Had he been asked, he'd never believe that his sullen mood that day would be a sign. A sign that, while Jim would be talking about a particularly demanding and annoying customer, Ethan's phone would ring with a notification. That he'd turn it on and in a shocked state he'd see that he got an email. From Mia.

Dulvey, Louisiana. Baker Farm. Come get me.

It's her account, he knows it. He even knows the password; he had logged in a few times over the past three years in the frail hope it would somehow bring her to him. Last time was one and a half month ago, on their anniversary.

He doesn't even stop to think. Louisiana, fuck, that's nearly across the country.

Well, no time to waste then. He starts picking up his stuff.

"You okay?" Jim asks.

"Yeah. I- I gotta go."

"Something wrong?"

"No, I just- I gotta go."

"Ethan, what the hell?"

What the hell indeed.

He nearly runs to the exit, not looking back at his friend.

Mia is out there, calling out to him, and he's going to get her back.

A/N: Boi has no single clue what nightmare he's getting himself into XD

Anyway, I headcanon that Ethan plays a bit of piano. There are enough appearances of pianos both in RE7 and RE8 (and even a puzzle with one) so I'm going with that. I feel that it's just a hobby to him, so practicing everyday is not his priority, and after Mia disappeared it would just feel wrong to him. Boi's sentimental af.

I looked all over the game's credits, and I couldn't find if the dude Ethan calls at the begining of the game has a name (or even who voices him, lol), so I gave him one myself. I just thought it'd be cool to tie it in that way.

Also, hey, this is the first time I write for this fandom. Yay me! Here's to probably writing more fic!

#piracytheorist writes #Ethan Winters #Mithan #Resident Evil #Resident Evil 7 #re ff #re7 ff #I have no single clue how to tag this lmao #writing for new fandoms be like that #I'm expanding my fandoms list how cool is that

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air-in-words · 3 years

Text

My Sorting Hat Chats Journey

So, hi! I'm back!

I've been doing fun stuff off in the real world, but I decided to talk a little bit about my own Sorting Hat Chats sorting journey, and how it says a lot about self-acceptance, and how understanding who you really are can sometimes only come from being an active participant in life. Here we goooo...

The Beginning

So, my initial sorting was a Burnt Badger/Bird. This had struck me, because I'd never considered myself a Badger in ANY media. I was seen by my friends as a borderline loner, someone who didn't need anyone else. And yet, all the signs were there.

Looking back on my life, I've always migrated in groups, always looked for a nesting ground, and truly that's all I want. A place to nest, a place to rest, where I can feel safe and surrounded by people who love me. But, after a childhood filled with bullying, I found myself embarrassed of my bold face need for friends, and, for some reason, decided getting too close to people for too long was unwise, so I could probably never have a permanent home. And yet, I always found myself in these little "groups," little packs of people that all travel together.

I've always had these friend groups, where everyone knows each other, we all hang out together, and yet it always manages to eventually fall apart. I asked one of my friends how this keeps happening, and who keeps setting up these groups. She blinked sort of vaguely and said, "uh, you do." It was such a strange realization to look back and see myself as the "shepherd" I was, always creating a flock wherever I went. I had always been the spoke of my friend wheels, the only one that was friends with everyone, or actively tried to be friends with everyone. And I would attempt to hold it together, but it would always ultimately shatter, and I'd leave to find and form another. Family is important to me, and it isn't enough for me to bond with one person. I like for all my friends to be friends with each other, for us all to hang out together and enjoy each other's company.

So, although I still struggle, Burnt Badger came out on top, and I believe is still at the top to this day. I still search for belonging. I still search for family. And, yet, my heart seems to have no intention of unburning. Until recently, I had no idea why.

On the other hand, the secondary I received, Bird, seemed to fit like a glove, and was very obvious to me. I've been called the Encyclopedia before, I was made fun of for being caught reading the dictionary like it was a book, and I always seem to have a "fun fact" for every occasion. And all of this seemed to flow directly into me trying to use these facts and this knowledge to win people over, to get to see me as someone that could be their friend, or that I could be reliable as a member of their "group." So, Burnt Badger/Bird simply made sense. The reasons for me avoiding unburning my primary were irrelevant.

The Now

I'd been gone from this side of Tumblr for a bit, and decided to return on a whim. Saw @wisteria-lodge still posting as much as ever, and saw a lot of my posts had been passed around in the meantime (thank ya by the way) and decided to dive back in, because since then, so much of my life has changed. I've had certain people out of my life for a while that were a hindrance on my self-acceptance, I've moved out of my childhood home, and left a job I've had for the past 5 years. I've been forced to constantly LIVE, to make choices, actual choices, and have been offered the chance to be who I truly am, unapologetically.

So, I took the quiz again, curious if I would come up any different.

I got Burnt Badger/Burnt Snake.

This time, I was almost insulted. A flush of memories, of past feelings came to me, most of all the need to push back, to insist in exasperation I'M NOT A LIAR, as though I was tired of defending myself. As hard as I tried, I somehow couldn't seem to get Bird secondary to reappear.... at all. Which was so crazy, because before, that was pretty much all I could get.

So, I went to the experts, the aforementioned wisteria-lodge and @sortinghatchats .

I looked through the Snake secondary tags and found myself lost in memories I had pushed down, so far down even I couldn't find them, wracked with shame and a need to hide this side of myself, something I'd hidden so well I'd pretty much convinced myself it had never existed.

Being a Bird had always been a choice for me. I decided that was what people must want, becoming intelligent, knowing all of these things, showing off, that would make people like me. But, although I can devour books like nobody's business, and I tend to worry and whinge before every major decision, feeling unprepared, I would always find myself falling short of my own expectations. The amount of times I'd promised myself and others to create a plan and study hard, ultimately fail to do so, and then lie to everyone about it was astounding. My public image continued to be "air-in-words the smart girl" but my private image was still LIAR and FAKE.

I would still somehow get all A's. I was very good at remembering facts and excellent at taking tests. I always thought of them like little tricks themselves, meant to trip you up, but if you paid attention, you could figure out the patterns and be able to bluster your way through stuff you might not even fully understand. You can figure out certain words through context clues, and I was always very comfortable trusting my memory with little preparation beforehand. And yet, I still lied and told everyone I'd studied, at least as a child, before high school.

Math was what eventually messed me up, and sent my self-image whirling into the ground. My grades suddenly went from straight A's to D's and F's. My parents were aghast, what had happened??? I was so intelligent, so smart, such a good student. What had gone wrong?? And, although I never admitted it outloud to them, I knew the answer. With math, you can't trick your way out. You either know how to do it and give the right answer, or you don't. And I had never studied a day in my life, never practiced, never worked hard at all. It was my horrible little secret and math had outed me. It continues to out me, because rather than actually work at it and get better, I managed to keep my grades through high school afloat by leaning on my other grades and taking remedial math courses with a teacher who loved me very much and would let me off easy. To this day, honestly, I can barely count. I might actually have some form of dyscalculia, but I know that if I were willing to try a little harder I could get better. But, why would I do that, when this way works just fine? Just coasting through? But, again, no one could know. Not even myself.

Through high school, I began letting people in on my secret Snake, because being a "slacker" was suddenly cool. I still couldn't let my parents know, or the teachers, but coming clean about not being a keener was what earned me new friend groups. I wasn't some weirdo who actually studied all the time: I was a kid who maybe did 60-70% of my homework and slid by on my good memory and general interest in learning. And my reputation. My reputation was key to my success.

College would be the thing that completely threw me to the ground. There were simply too many sirens singing at me, distractions pulling me away from my work. I'd never looked less like a Bird than in college. I was always skipping class, always not studying, and in fact, would openly fail most of my courses. And I just didn't seem to care. I slid into what I guess must have been a sort of neutral zone, but I wasn't happy. The mask was slipping off and I needed out. I couldn't keep up this charade anymore. It was stifling, trying to be a Bird, going to college for a very Bird degree, surrounded by actual Birds, it was all very much what I didn't want. I wanted something less "academic," less, well, boring. Maybe more Snake like.

And, so, here we are. Currently dropped out of college, living in an apartment with my friend, away from my parents' prying eyes, and with a new job that I chose for myself. On the brink of finally understanding myself, and maybe accepting myself as I am.

My Badger primary is burned because of my Snake secondary. Because I thought I was a sham, a liar, a con, and I didn't feel like I deserved to have people close to me. Those traits are bad, and I was a bad person. No one should be tricked by me.

But, after reading some of the stories from the experts and other Snake secondaries, I found this crazy thought, that perhaps being this way isn't a bad thing. Maybe I'm not a bad person. Maybe it's okay to be who I am. Maybe I can use these "powers" for good, and they aren't inherently evil.

So, at least for now, I'm choosing to identify as Burnt Badger/Burnt Snake with Bird Model. Seeing how it feels to accept myself and not try and force myself to be who I think I should be, or who others want me to be (which is a Snake secondary thing in the first place. Lol!)

For Fun, Here's Some Crazy Actual Snake Secondary Things I've Done That I'm Trying to Be Less Ashamed of Now

When I was little, I used to make up crazy stories about things I'd done to seem more interesting. The one that makes me cringe the most is that my uncle has a statue in his backyard that comes to life and goes on adventures with me. My uncle DID have a statue in his backyard that I really loved but no, it didn't (and still hasn't) come to life.

Some of these, I can't explain, like this one, where I somehow had more than one teacher convinced I'd handed in every piece of homework before the one I was giving them the sob story about that day. I literally had a teacher look me in the face, tell me I'd been handing in my homework really well thus far and knew I was trustworthy, so they'd let me slide with no mark against me. Meanwhile, I had missed the homework for the past THREE WEEKS IN A ROW. I just smiled and let it go. Variations of this situation happened throughout high school and college. And, no, I had no good reason not to do the homework. I just didn't want to do it. Lol.

I usually live in the "neutral state" around my close friends, since I think it's disrespectful not to be straight with them, but I have had to turn it on to help them occasionally. One of my friends was having issues with an ex of hers, she was thinking that maybe she should go back out with the guh, and I had been my blunt, neutral self the whole time, telling her flat out that that was a bad idea. But, it wasn't working. "Neutral state" isn't like a Lion's forceful natural state, I guess. So, I decided I would have to push her in a certain direction to help her get through it. I told her she should go back out with him, and although she did sort of call me out for lying, knowing I didn't actually want that, I told her she should if she really think she should. The dude didn't last one date without showing his ass again, and she thanked me for making her do that. Lol.

Finally, at least for this list, my most prized shameful memory, is when I was taking an acting class in college. We were supposed to create a wordless scene as our final, and I hadn't prepared anything, so I just skipped the day we were supposed to do them. But, I decided to show up for the last day to see if I could still somehow pass. She's going through the grades, and looks up and asks me, "I don't have anything written down for you, I can't remember, did you give a performance or not?" I knew I hadn't then, but decided to give one now. I told her yes I had done one, don't you remember came up with a name on the fly. The same friend from the last story was staring at me like she was about to burst. She thought for a moment, then exclaimed, "ah, of course! Yes, I think I remember. I remember you'd done pretty well. What grade did I give you?" I hedged my bets and said A-. Lol. I had never been filled with more pride shame in my life.

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coffee-imagines · 4 years

Text

Betrayal

Pairing: Draco x muggleborn reader

Warnings: acrophobia (fear of heights) blood, injuries, torture, death

A/N: honestly just not really having a good time right now so the angst continues. Some of the dialogue in here is from prompts I found so I don’t take credit for those.

Summary: When Death Eater’s loyalty gets tested, Draco is surprised to get you as his assignment.

———————————–

The stronger the order of the Phoenix became, the more skeptical Voldemort became of his followers. Draco being the youngest of the bunch, as well as being closer to the opposing side, they had to test him more than any of the others, knowing his Achilles heel would do the trick. You still remembered when you’d been bombarded in your own home. It came as a surprise to everyone that the thing that could possibly hold Draco back from his true potential was a mudblood.

You’d been left in the basement of Malfoy manor for what seemed like a week before you’d heard anything from anyone. No matter how much you called out to anyone you never got a response. There was no way you could get any sleep on the cold rock of a floor, most nights you would stay in the warmest corner you could find, only falling asleep when the exhaustion finally consumed you.

“Y/N!” You heard his voice call from the other end of the basement, making you shoot to your feet and make a run for the doors.

“Draco, thank god. Get me out of here. I’m so happy to see you.” You explained, gripping the bars for dear life.

“I can’t.” He shook his head making you feel like you’d gotten slapped in the face.

“What do you mean?” You asked looking up to him, pressing yourself further into the bars. “Draco, what’s going on?” You asked, the worry dripping with each word.

“If I knew...” Draco’s voice cracked, his hands wrapping around the bars, exposing the dark mark that you had known nothing about. “If someone had told me the plan…” He explained, his forehead resting against yours. “You know I would have done things different right?” He asked, making you pull away.

“No. I don’t think you would have.” You explained, shaking your head, moving away from the bars and back to the corner you’d been sitting.

The following day had been what you would’ve thought to be the worst day of your life, but little did you know it would only be half of it. It started off with small dueling spells here and there that would knock you to the ground, some others giving you the worst feelings you’d ever experienced. Draco couldn’t bear using his hands just yet, trying his best to use the simplest of spells that wouldn’t hurt you too much. It wasn’t long before the others caught on to this, not allowing Draco to see you until he got the courage to lay his hands on you in a way he’d never dreamed of doing before.

“Y/N.” Draco whispered over to you one day catching your attention. You slowly made your way over, your arms wrapped around yourself in order to keep warm. “I’m getting you out.” Draco lied through his teeth, but you’d been too tired to see it.

“Thank you.” You gleamed, almost bouncing on the tips of your toes when you watched Draco’s shaky hands fumble to open the door. “I’ve missed you so much.” You cried into him once you were able to wrap your arms around him.

It caught Draco by surprise, not expecting to feel you around him ever again. He’d hesitantly returned the hug, almost melting into you. He hadn’t ever wanted to put you in this position, but he was in too far deep to get you out now. The only idea he had was to kill you, and in that moment that was the only thing he could think of, trying to find the easiest way to do it. He’d walked you to his room, and the second the door locked behind you he’d made his decision.

“Imperio.” Draco whispered with a flick of his wand making your entire body relax.

Draco had savored it, thinking it’d be his last moments with you. There wouldn’t be anymore running from you, and you’d finally feel at peace for the first time since you’d been taken from your home. He planned to kill you far before the spell wore off, letting you live your last moments in pure bliss.

“I love you, please this will end soon, I promise.” Draco whispered when he’d turned you around to face him, caressing your cheek.

“I love you too.” You smiled, holding his face in your hands before he pulled away.

“Go jump.” Draco instructed hesitantly with a tilt of his head toward the opening on the balcony.

Without a thought in the world you walked over as if it were nothing, almost as though you were in a trance. There was nothing that could stop you, nothing but Draco. There was nothing that hinted to him making you stop, your feet inching closer to the edge. You gasped when you looked down, being on the top floor finally hitting you from the distance that your eyes took in. It had always been a fear of yours, Draco being the only one who you ever told. There were countless nights you’d woken up from a dream about falling, and you’d never laid your hand on a broom after your first lesson.

“Draco.” You whimpered, finally coming to your senses, your nails trying to dig into the brick wall next to you.

“Come here.” He demanded, grabbing you by the back of the shirt before pulling you back against him.

“How dare you do that to me?!” You exclaimed, throwing yourself away from Draco’s touch. “Why would you ever...” You choked out unable to continue, looking at Draco in a way he’d never seen before. The fear that you’d been hiding for weeks was finally showing, and this failed attempt to kill you had brought it out.

Another week had passed before you had gotten out of the basement. It had been a mistake, the door had somehow been left open, and you’d taken the first chance you’d gotten to make a run for it. A smile broke out on your face when you saw a wand laying on the first chair you’d come across. You froze in your spot when Draco had come into the hall, him doing the same when he’d realized what was going on. His eyes flickered from the wand in your hand back to your face before flashes of light started to fly across the room.

Any spell you both could think of was getting thrown at the other to then be blocked. It went on longer than either of you thought it would’ve. Draco had expected you to be rusty considering the amount of time you’d been away from a wand, and the exhaustion you must’ve felt after everything he had been putting you through in the past two months.

“Expelliarmus!” Draco had finally been able to shout out between one of your spells. You’d been caught by surprise the wand flying from your grip far away from you. Draco started to make his way toward you, but you made a b line in the direction of the door, only to be stopped by him. “If you ever do that again!” Draco yelled, gripping your hair tightly, making your head ache. “I won’t hesitate to kill you.” He threatened and you clenched your jaw.

“You can’t break me that easy, Malfoy.” You spat, a sense of victory filling you when Draco flinched at the use of his last name. Never in the years you’d known each other had you ever used it, but now it hit him like a brick to the face. “I will do everything, and I mean everything, I can to make this so much harder on you.” You seethed, a wince falling from you when he gave your hair a harsh tug before throwing you down the stairs and back into the basement, locking the door with a simple flick of his wand.

It hadn’t taken long after that for you to see a change in Draco. His demeanor had become much rougher and darker than you’d ever seen it. It wasn’t long before Draco would walk into the basement with you, using a knife and his fists to do most of his dirty work, no longer getting what he needed from spells. Draco had taken it upon himself to disfigure your face, hoping to disconnect you from all the things he’d have to do in order to prove his loyalty.

“Stop.” You coughed, holding up your hand to shield yourself from Draco’s clenched fist. “Why don’t you kill me already?” You asked looking up at him. “Save yourself the trouble and just do it already.” You continued.

“I will deny you death until you beg for it.” Draco spat in your face making you flinch. There was something in his voice that made you believe it. Draco didn’t want to kill you, not really. He knew there was no way to get you out, but he couldn’t ever seem to bring himself to kill you whenever he tried.

“Have fun...” You choked out, spitting out the blood that had been collecting in your mouth before you could finish. “Watching someone you love suffer.” You coughed, another pained scream leaving you when your finger was bent further back than it was ever intended.

It seemed the time came sooner than either of you expected. A few days more of torture and a couple broken bones later you could hardly stand to take in a simple breath, each time feeling a sharp pain somewhere in you. You could barely move, the only thing keeping you going was Draco’s blows and punches.

“Kill me.” You’d finally whimpered out after an hour making Draco’s whole stature falter.

“What?” He stammered, unable to hide the complete shock on his face.

“You said you wouldn’t until I begged you. So please.” You begged, your hand limply grabbing his wrist.

“Y/N...” Draco trailed, his grip loosening on your hair.

“No please!” You cried, gripping him as hard as your tired hand could, pulling him closer. “I can’t take it anymore. They’re never going to let you stop. Please.” You wailed, feeling Draco’s head rest on yours.

“Okay.” Draco mumbled to himself, gripping the knife with a tighter shakier grip than he ever had before. “I love you.” Was the last thing you heard whispered in your ear before the knife was pushed into your chest.

———————————–

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rex101111 · 3 years

Text

Doctor visits (and what purpose they serve)

Rating: T

Summery: Anji, Baiken and Eri visit the doctor for a perfectly routine check-up.

Faust grows very sick of two of them, for different reasons.

AN: Finally. FUCKING FINALLY I ON GOD FINISHED IT. THE FIRST ERI PIECE I DID IN A WHILE. AND ALSO A BAIKEN ANJI FIC. HECK YEAH. also first time writing Faust let’s hope I did okay. enjoy.

ALSO. 50TH STORY ON AO3. HECK YEAH. okay here you go.

Faust was sure nothing gave him as much trouble as giving children a physical. Not because of the children themselves, of course not. They were always nervous the first time, of course, but with a light dosage of silly faces and liberal application of cheap magic tricks, they always came around.

No, the children were never the problem, their parents on the other hand…

Whether they were nervous themselves, protective, or worst of all bored, they never failed to prove to be a headache during what was supposed to be a quick and easy check-up. And that was under normal circumstances.

And, as most things tended to be for Faust, today was in no way normal.

Firstly, the child. Forgetting any of her outstanding physical traits, Faust had seen many varieties of weird shit and a horn was comparatively mundane, she was quite unlike any child he had ever met before. She flinched and quaked at every metal object in his office, as if it was meant for her. She barely spoke a word since she sat on the medical bed, only mumbling her answers when he asked her questions about her health and diet.

She had signs of malnutrition (thin limbs, underweight, slightly pale skin), but they were clearly in remission for the past few months or so. She had faint signs of every form of child abuse he had ever had to deal with in his office, but all of them muted and in recovery, slow as it was.

And then, as he went on, she started to straighten her spine and look him in the eye…hole more directly. She still shook when he brought out his stethoscope, but it seemed controlled, somehow.

About half way through, he decided he’ll give her two lollipops, an extra brave girl deserved an extra reward.

…secondly the…well, he hesitated to say parent. If only because he had no idea how the person in question would react to the title. Baiken and Anji could never find their way to him quietly, it was always a big thing. He either had to stich up a life-threatening wound while Baiken cursed at him, or untie some mess Anji had somehow gotten himself into.

And now, they bring this interesting child into his practice. The bright red eyes made some very loud klaxons blare in his head, but every other thing about her gave him pause. She was dressed comfortably, in a ruby red kimono, and was hiding from him behind Baiken’s leg. Children being nervous around a stranger was normal, and Faust would readily admit that he was very strange indeed, but something about her posture and how tightly she had gripped the fabric, not to mention the hint of bandages peaking from her sleeves, made a different set of warning sirens sound off.

Anji kneeled down and patted the girl on the head, the gesture seeming to calm her, before he looked at Faust, “Doctor!” He cheerfully greeted, “so good to see you after such a long time!” He pointed towards the young girl like he was presenting something fantastic, “You see, me and Baiken had recently added a tiny companion to our merry little band,” he graciously ignored Baiken clicking her tongue, “and well, it just hit us the other day that we don’t know anything about her medical condition!” Anji stood up dramatically and puffed himself up for something no doubt very long winded, “so you see, we came here for a very important task! We need-“

“She needs a check-up,” Baiken had gruffly surmised, putting her hand on the child’s head, “you got a free slot today or what?”

Anji visibly deflated, one could almost hear the high pitched whine of rushing helium, before he cleared his throat, “uh, yes, that.” He shuffled his feet quietly while Baiken shook her head with a wry smirk and Eri looked between them, wide eyed and confused, “so…do you?”

As it so happened, he did, so now here he was, testing the little girl’s, Eri’s, reflexes while Baiken attempted to glare a hole in the side of his head, her sword clicking in and out of her scabbard with repeated flicks of her thumb.

“Better watch that hammer Doc,” the samurai growled lowly, narrowing her eye at him, “she makes a sound of pain and you stop feeling any,” teeth grinding against each other and an extra loud click, “permanently.”

The threat itself would have usually gone ignored. Faust was used to Baiken’s almost comical mistrust of medical professionals, he long figured that whatever cost her an arm and an eye soured her on the whole business and he could hardly begrudge her a bit of grumbling in light of that.

With Eri here, the threat seemed to hold significantly more weight. Every time he pulled some new device or tool she refused to let him anywhere near the girl until he told her exactly what it was and exactly what he intended to do with it to her. He had to repeatedly stamp down his frustration with her lack of knowledge, if she hadn’t made a habit of deliberately skipping physical checks, she would know nothing in this office could hurt a fly…well, unless it fell on the fly but that would be hardly fair to blame him on.

And honestly, it would have been heartwarming, if it didn’t make this check take up much, much longer then it needed to. That being said, he made a point of making as small an impact as he could on Eri’s knees, the legs kicking up lightly in response. “Very good dear.”

He got up and walked to his papers, sitting in a chair as he started writing down his newest data while pointedly ignoring Baiken continuing to glare at his back. As well as her reaching away from her sword to rub a single, slow circle on Eri’s back. A gesture that seemed to visibly and quickly calm the girl down.

For all the wonderful, odd things Faust had seen, the one thing he never imagined he’d see is someone that Baiken actually tried to comfort. Well, aside from the times Anji had brushed death’s door in his clinic and she held his hand while he recovered. But then again, that was an exception…and then again, Anji always seemed to be an exception when Baiken was concerned.

That is, apparently, until Eri showed up.

The dancer himself was waiting outside, no doubt yammering Fanny’s ear off, and the look he gave Faust as he handed over Eri and Baiken was…odd. There was something tense in Anji as he saw them off into the room, though that was quickly hidden as Faust decided to give Anji his full attention for a moment.

He pushed those thoughts aside to return to the matter at hand. He opened one last drawer, taking out a syringe. Considering how Eri reacted to everything else he pulled out…he almost feared her reaction to this more than Baiken’s. Almost.

Taking a deep breath, bracing himself for the worst, he turned around on his chair with the syringe in one hand, the other raising up in a gesture meant to calm, “alright dear we’re almost done.” Since his head was still attached to his neck, though Eri froze on the bed, he hazarded to keep going, “all I need to do is take a small blood-“

“No!”

Things happened very quickly after that, like dominos getting blasted by a leaf blower towards a very big and red button. Eri curled almost completely inwards on herself, shivering in panic and shuffling away.

Baiken looked at her in alarm, looked at him, looked at the needle, and then she glare-fast-deathSWORD!

Shink!

Through some miracle Faust did not dare to question, he somehow managed to pull out his clipboard and place it in the path of Baiken’s strike, and further, in a display of what could only be divine slapstick, the sword was stuck in the board instead of cleaving it clean in half and going on its merry way to do the same to his bag and face.

Though by the sounds of straining wood and low growls, along with the chair he sat in making some very distressing sounds of its own, that miracle wouldn’t last for long.

“Five seconds.” The samurai hissed while her arm quaked trying to continue its trajectory, ”explain the fucking needle.”

He didn’t need to be told twice, “blood tests!” He squeaked with no regard for his dignity, “need blood for blood tests! General health! Vaccinations! Any other minor health problem that can’t be determined with a non-invasive examination!” The explanation tumbled out of his mouth in a hurried panic, a flower bloomed at the top of his head, its petals wilting, as he smiled a rictus grin under his bag. “One point five milliliters! Tops! Promise!”

A few heart-attack inducing moments passed, and then Baiken finally, mercifully, retracted her sword. “Hmph.” She huffed tonelessly, before turning her head to the still shivering form of Eri on the medical bed.

Almost instantly, all the tension in Baiken’s shoulders vanished and she sighed. His head swirled in lingering panic trying to square this Baiken with the one he was used to, finding little success.

Turning his attention to the young girl, he finally gathered enough of his wits to feel very worried. “Oh dear…” He looked between Eri and Baiken, the latter stone like as she stared at the young girl, and raised his nearly sliced clipboard in her direction, “uh, should we call Anji or-“

“I’ll handle it.”

He felt like he got slapped by a fish, which was odd since May wasn’t due for a check-up for another week, “what?”

“I said I’ll handle it.” She repeated tiredly, sheathing her sword and walking towards Eri with an oddly calm stride. As she reached the bed, she carefully and slowly lifted her hand and touched Eri’s shoulder, the young girl flinching almost violently at the contact. “Hey, kiddo,” Baiken, undeterred by the reaction, whispered gently to the young girl. “Kiddo, it’s just me.”

The sheer difference compared to what was a person trying to rip him in half not a minute ago was nearly surreal, and he had never heard Baiken talk like that to anyone. And yet here she is, slowly rubbing circles on Eri’s shoulder with her thumb until the young girl took enough control of her hiccupping sobs to look up at her.

The relief Eri showed towards Baiken was even more surreal, he should probably check if he mistook his morning aspirin for something a bit more potent. “I-“ The halting voice of Eri knocked him out of his incredulity, the girl sniffing miserably. “I-I can’t…” Something dark and stomach-churning passed her expression, “It’s…it’s just like-“

“It isn’t.” Baiken declared quietly, her voice going tight, “The doc ain’t nothing like…” Her shoulders bunch up for a moment before relaxing again, “…he ain’t nothing like him Eri.” Baiken looks at him over her shoulder, still in his chair waiting to see if getting up would be worth the effort. “He’s a bit of a kook, but he’s good at his job…everything considered.”

Faust did his dignity a favor and choose to take that as a compliment.

“…I trust him.” Faust pushed down the minor elation at hearing that, Baiken was in the middle of something and a victory dance would probably undermine it. “I wouldn’t bring you here if I didn’t Eri.” She then put her hand on Eri’s head, mussing up her ivory hair. “I promise.”

He had the slightest feeling he was intruding on something, so he elected to mess with the buttons on his jacket when Eri started to wipe her face. Part of him was happy that Baiken could find someone to be this gentle with. All that anger building up in her was a recipe for both misery and high blood pressure.

Another part of him, a part that remembered a small, motionless body on an operating table, couldn’t help but…worry. Baiken was strong enough to defend herself…but could she-?

“Doc.”

He nearly ripped a button when he fell off his chair in surprise, though he quickly caught himself and stood up to his full height, nearly hitting the ceiling light. “Ye-“ He cleared his throat mid-squawk. “Yes?”

“Get another needle,” She continued, sitting on the bed next to a now calm, but still sniffling, Eri. “Do me before you get to her.” She raised her scarred eyebrow at him. “I’m due for physical, ain’t I?”

It took him a moment to catch on, but soon he relaxed his posture and clapped his hands in realization, “as a matter of fact you are, now that I think of it!” He went back to the drawer to take out another syringe. He then sat on his chair again, backwards, and wheeled himself before his two patients. He pulled out a handkerchief for Eri out of one of his pockets before he went on cheerfully, “And a lucky thing that you are Baiken, because this affords me to explain to Eri exactly what I need to do.”

He looked at Eri, another flower, healthier than the last one, blooming on his head as he leaned slightly towards her, “would you like that Eri? I promise it’s very interesting.”

Eri stared at him for a moment, her eyes lingering on the flower, before she sniffed one last time and wiped her face, nodding quietly.

“Wonderful!” He exclaimed, taking out a cotton swab and soaking it with rubbing alcohol, “first things first, we need to clean and sterilize the area where I intend to put the needle.” He wiggled his fingers rapidly and waved his head back and forth, “there’s all sorts of creepy crawly germs on your skin, and they have no business getting into your body, so we need to make sure they aren’t anywhere near the needle.”

Eri, to his eternal relief, actually giggled a little, her lips lifting up slightly in not-quite-a-smile. She watched him rub the swab on the crook of Baiken’s elbow, “why there?”

“Excellent question my dear!” Faust praised with a raised finger, before pointing to the blue vein in the crook, “you see, this vein is in an easy to access location, and is almost flush with the skin, so there’s no danger of putting the needle through anything important.” He then took the needle and began piercing Baiken’s skin. “And now…”

Eri watched him pull back on the back of the syringe, the tube filling with blood for a moment before he took it out and placed the swab on it.

Baiken, naturally, never made a sound or even twitched during the whole process. Didn’t so much as breath in to brace for it. If Faust hadn’t just finished extracting blood, and knew Baiken well enough, he would have been very concerned. Well, more concerned about her than he usually was at any rate.

“There! Now we just tape it down to stop the bleeding,” saying so he took out a length of clear tape out of another pocket and used it to hold the cotton swab in place. “And voila!” He stood on his feet and took a dramatic bow, “all finished.”

Eri’s eyes shone with admiration, getting caught up in Faust’s performance and clapping excitedly for him. He showed his gratitude for her applause with the required grace, taking another two bows. Baiken scoffed quietly but didn’t interrupt, Faust knew her well enough not to be offended by the fact she didn’t clap.

“Alright then.” Faust said finally, sitting back down on the chair and taking out the second syringe, “now for your turn dear.” He looked at her arms, covered from wrist to armpit in bandages, freshly changed even, and made an effort to not be obvious as he braced for what he would see underneath, “if you would please?”

He tried to make the request as gentle as possible, but still Eri’s mouth pressed into a thin line, her hands freezing mid-clap before grabbing her forearms tightly. She looked at him for a long moment, before looking aside at Baiken. The samurai smirked, the expression strangely warm, and nodded briefly.

Taking a breath to steady herself, Eri began to unravel her bandages with a determined look on her face.

What Faust saw underneath them made his skin crawl and his blood boil. The cruelty was evident on every scar, but what really got stuck in his craw was the precision. Whoever made those marks on Eri had a hand as steady as a rock, not a single mark of hesitation or second guessing. Such precision was born of either practice, or innate talent, and he wasn’t sure which option made him more sick to his stomach.

(He felt more than a little hypocritical, but if there was one thing he and Bald-the good doctor agreed on, was that such marks should never appear on children.)

“Doctor?” The small voice nearly made him gag from the memories it brought up, but he managed to take back control of himself quick enough for his vision to coalesce enough to see Eri looking up at him in concern, “are you okay? You were quiet for a long time…”

He opened his mouth before he closed it, his mind drawing a blank. He looked aside at Baiken, who raised an eyebrow at him, her look half dubious and half worried herself.

“I’m fine dear.” He finally managed, waving away her worry, “I just remembered something, don’t worry about it, alright?” He waited for her to nod, before returning it more energetically, “wonderful, so, back to business.”

The swab, “it’s a bit cold and might tickle a bit, okay?”

A quick, halting nod. Followed by a quick burst of laughter.

“Pump your fist a bit dear?”

Biting her tongue, she made an adorable effort of making and opening a fist. The way she did it made it clear that she never had to fight anyone, which made the strain in his chest unclench a bit.

“Right…” The needle in his hand began moving, “brace yourself dear…”

Despite the courage she showed before, some of it crumbled in the face of the sharp point so close to her flesh. There was no uncertainty in her eyes, she knew exactly how the needle would feel.

Faust breathed through his nose and counted to five.

Almost as if by instinct, Eri buried her face in Baiken’s nearby shoulder, her free hand grabbing on to the fabric much like she did when she first showed up. But her other arm stayed where it was, she didn’t try to pull it away or hide it from the doctor, she simply did as he instructed and braced herself.

Three. He’ll give her three lollipops.

He grabbed hold of her offered arm by the wrist, and brought the needle close to her vein, “deep breath,” Eri did as he said, and the second she finished taking in air he finally sticks the needle in. The girl flinches, but only digs her face deeper into Baiken’s shoulder with a restrained whine.

He takes out one point five milliliters, Baiken’s eye welded to the tiny measurement lines, and takes the needle out. “Almost done.” With professional efficiency, he stops the bleeding with a cotton ball, before covering it with a Band-Aid.

A pink one, with a picture of a unicorn on it.

“…really doc?” Baiken is half-way to smirking, but the tone of her voice makes it look like a grimace, “what, you got a stash of those?”

“Of all the things I do, this is what draws you up short?” He asks innocently, gesturing at himself. “Besides, I thought it would be appropriate.” Baiken opened her mouth before closing it and making a yeah good point shrug, Faust then turned to his patient, “now Eri, how are you feeling?” He tapped her wrist lightly, the Band-Aid smiling up at her as she looked at it, “any pain? Itching? Discomfort?”

The girl shook her head, “N-No, I’m okay.” She takes one last, lingering look at the unicorn, her lips twitching upwards for a moment, before picking up her bandages to re-wrap her forearms with practiced ease, and then looking at the doctor with a bit of apprehension, “i-is there anything else?”

“Oh no,” The doctor waved off, standing up from his chair with a clap of his hands, “we’re all done for today, and you were very brave.” He leaned down to her eye-level, “and do you know what you get for being very brave?”

Eri looked at him doubtfully, before shaking her head.

Without a word, Faust pulled out three red, plastic covered lollipops, and handed them over to the wide-eyed girl, “a well-deserved reward, that’s what.”

“Damn straight,” Baiken agreed, patting the little girl on the back with a toothy grin, “good job kid, you’ve earned it.” Then her face did something that nearly made Faust’s eye twitch, it went stern, “just don’t eat ‘em all right way yeah? There’s gonna be dinner soon.”

Upon hearing Baiken, of all people, say something that stereotypically parental, Faust could feel his patience for the universe at large rapidly approaching its limit. He took Eri down from the bed and began ushering the two of them out of his office. “Alright, then let’s leave, we’ve kept Anji waiting for long enough.”

Eri unwrapped one of her rewards, stashing the other two in the clothing folds on her chest, and popped it into her mouth as they walked. Baiken looked down at her with an oddly soft expression that left her face as soon as they caught sight of Anji and Fanny.

The dancer was engaged in what seemed like a very exciting and very one sided conversation, the nurse smiling politely at him with all the energy of someone who has been on the rack all damn day and just wants his executioner to get a move on already. If Anji noticed, and he almost certainly did, he made a great show of not being bothered by it.

His focus shifted instantly when Eri and Baiken came close enough, Anji’s smile lighting up his face as he walked towards them, “Eri! So good to see you again!” He kneeled down to meet her gaze properly, “and I see you’ve a reward as well!” He put his hand on her head and warmly ruffled her hair, smile reaching his eyes, “good job dear.”

Faust found this sight slightly easier to stomach, Anji had always been the more emotionally open of the duo. But still, to see those two this attached to this little girl…something about it boded ill, and he wasn’t sure why.

“Shorry it took sho long…” Eri twiddled her thumbs with the lollipop still in her mouth, “it was kinda shcary…”

“Oh don’t worry about it sweetheart.” Anji waved off with a chuckle, “I had some very pleasant company to pass the time with.” He turned around to smile at Fanny, “isn’t that right, miss nurse?”

“Oh yes Mr. Mito.” Fanny nodded cheerfully while writing something on a nearby clipboard, “it was a very engaging conversation.” Anji nodded back, but as soon as he turned his head to look back at Eri, the nurse lifted the clipboard to show what she wrote, the polite smile unmoving on her face.

It read, in very fancy but firm writing: “Never leave me alone with him again. Ever.” The word “ever” was underlined. Four times. With a separate, red marker.

Faust mentally penciled tomorrow off for Fanny, she’s earned her own little “lollipop”, so to speak. “I’m happy you were patient with us Mr. Mito,” He began, before he sighed, “but I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to wait a bit longer.”

Eri simply blinked at him innocently still busy with her treat, while Baiken and Anji snapped their gazes to him in unison, like a pair of hawks on a hunt, shoulders tense and eyes sharp.

“Nothing serious!” He was quick to assure, the two relaxing only slightly, “It’s simply that Ms. Baiken reminded she is well past due her own checkup.” He turned to Baiken with a smile under his mask that was perfectly professional, “isn’t that right, miss Baiken?”

The samurai’s stare quickly morphed into something that screamed me and my big mouth before she bared her teeth and shook her head, “you know you ain’t going anywhere near me, yeah?”

“I am fully aware yes.” Faust nodded diplomatically, “but the fact remains that you do need a check-up, so I am offering a compromise,” he gestures towards his ever-loyal nurse, “I think that you will find Nurse Fanny to be entirely professional, and as a female physician she would know better what you would find uncomfortable or not.” He clears his throat. “Better than me, at any rate.”

Baiken looked at Fanny, who had jumped to attention with a slightly overeager smile on her face at being called to action, a bit dubiously, but before she could voice her misgivings, Anji jumped in with a hand on her shoulder, “excellent idea doctor!” He squeezed her shoulder with a smile that was only slightly sharp at the edges, “if we’re here and worried about our health, why not make the most of the visit?”

Baiken shoved her elbow into her partner’s stomach with a scowl, “I don’t need-“

“After all,” Anji continued smoothly, with one arm rubbing where the elbow had impacted while he smiled a bit more sharply, “since we put Eri through this rigmarole, why shouldn’t we do the same?” Anji leaned a bit more into Baiken’s space, and while the dancer while still smiling Faust was certain the samurai began to sweat a little, “all in the interest of health, of course.”

After a moment of heated glaring, Baiken visibly sagged with a sigh, “fine, whatever.” She leaned out of Anji’s grasp, the dancer letting her go easily, and turned to Fanny, “alright nurse, let’s get this over with yeah? I got other shit to-“ A tug at her kimono stopped her, and she looked down to see Eri grasping the white cloth with a worried look on her face, “…don’t worry kiddo.” She mussed Eri’s hair a bit, “I’m just making noise, I’ll be back out before-“

“Can I come with you?” Eri interjected quickly, as if saying it any slower would drain her courage, “I-I mean, I was scared at the doctor’s, s-so, I want to be there with you too.” She worried the white cloth in her hands and looked down at her feet, “y-you know, i-if you get scared.”

The idea of Baiken being afraid of something as mundane as a checkup, for all of her bluster, was just this side of ludicrous, but Faust managed to hold on to his laughter long enough for Baiken to sigh quietly again, much softer this time, turning to Fanny with a light smirk, “is it okay if I bring a guest?”

Fanny smiled warmly as she opened the door to the examination room, “of course! Little Eri won’t be a bother at all, please!” She motioned for the two to come in, “let’s get started, shall we?”

Baiken scoffed, “ya hear that kid? You’re my backup.” She smiled with her teeth at the little girl, who nodded excitedly at the gesture instead of cowering in fear as most would in response to one of Baiken’s smiles, and started following her guardian as they entered the room.

Anji spoke up, “maybe I can-“

“You stay here,” Baiken stabbed at him irritably, “your bull earned you an extra half hour of boredom, now sit.” She glared him down into the nearest plastic chair, and turned back to the room…before sparing her nurse one last doubtful look, “…you don’t still have that huge-ass needle, right?”

“Oh don’t worry miss Baiken!” Fanny reassured as she began to close the door, “I only use that for emergencies.”

The last thing of Baiken to be seen before the doors closed is her face morphing into the very picture of deep concern.

And thus, the two men were left to themselves. Anji went to a nearby chair, sat on it very slowly and deliberately, and turned to Faust with a very thin smile, “you have the look of a man with a lot on his mind, doctor.” Anji’s smile grow wider but stayed as thin as paper as he patted the pale yellow plastic chair to his left in invitation, “how about you have a seat and you can unload all of those worries to your old friend Anji, eh?”

Anji Mito was certainly very friendly, of that Faust would gladly attest, but his friend? That was stretching it a bit, “I’ll stand, Mr. Mito, thank you.” He took out the vial of blood he took from Eri out of his pocket and moved it in his palm for a moment, “and yes, I have a great number of worries to bring to your attention.”

Anji stared at him for a moment, before something in his eyes shifted and changed, the angle of his gaze sharper than it was a moment ago. Wordlessly, he motioned for Faust to begin, his smile painted on.

Faust knew subtlety would be a waste of time, so he went straight to it. “She’s a Gear.” Not a question, but simply a statement of fact. He looked down at the vial, the color in it shifting in the florescent light of his practice in ways that normal blood simply did not. “Is That Man involved in this?”

“Ha!” Anji barked out harshly, clapping his hands once, “well, aren’t we perceptive! Good catch doctor!” His smile opened up and showed a few teeth, “did the red eyes and horn give it away?”

Faust clenched his free hand but kept his calm, “answer the question Mr. Mito.”

Anji was quiet for a moment, before his smile shrunk slightly and he shook his head, “no, I’m intimately familiar with his work. Trust me, Asuka had nothing to do with this.” He laughed a little nervously, “if he did, we’d be on the run from Mr. Badguy right now.”

Faust sighed, conceding the point, “fair enough.” He moved to his desk to shuffle a few of the notes he’s made about Eri during her check-up. “What information do you have about where she came from?”

“Next to nothing.” Anji answered almost too cheerfully, “the circumstances of us meeting Eri sort of…put a damper on any effort to find out about her past.” He coughed into his palm, “it was part of the reason I brought her to you doctor.” A smile as sweet as arsenic stretched his face, “would it be too much trouble to ask you to send that blood sample to Illyria?”

Faust rubbed his forehead over his paper back with a weary sigh, “I’ll try to get it to Paradox directly.” He was beginning to understand Baiken’s short temper more and more, “…regarding those circumstances…” Anji’s smile slipped right off, “…I’m guessing she came into your company from…the person who gave her those scars?”

Anji blinked at the doctor for a moment, and then smiled again, this time a bit more honestly, “yes, those would be the broad strokes.” He laughed a bit coldly, something in his eyes far away, “I’d rather keep the bloody details to myself, if you wouldn’t mind.” He looked at Faust from the corner of his eye, tone reassuring, “purely for your own safety of course, plausible deniability and all that.”

Faust grit his teeth, but decided to let that particular battle die in favor of more pressing concerns, “how long have you been traveling with Eri?”

Anji straightened his posture and nodded briefly, “six months.”

“Ah, how taller has she grown in that time?”

“Not an inch.”

Faust nearly fell backwards from shock. Of all the things Gears were known for, rapid maturation and growth was foremost of them. Yet Eri looked no older than 7 years of age. “…stunted growth?” He muttered in disbelief, cold sweat on his brow. “In a Gear?”

“Another reason to come to you, specifically.” Anji answered plainly, his smile going flat and his gaze burning a hole in the wall in front of him. “I’m no medical expert, but something tells me those scars might have something to do with it.”

Faust gripped his table nearly hard enough to dent the metal, only barely keeping a grip on his control with a few deep breathes and a glass of water. Anji politely looking away just long enough for Faust to pull his mask up to drink.

After a moment, Faust walked towards Anji and finally took the seat he was offered next to him, sitting down heavily with his head in his hands and his knees drawn up to his ears.

Anji waited without a word, his eyes glued to the door his two girls had vanished behind, but Faust could still feel his gaze, somehow, boring a hole into him as well. Faust shook his head again and straightened up, looking down at Anji, “there was another wound, on her shoulder.” Faust stopped for a reaction, but only got a raised eyebrow, “it was fresher than the rest, what happened?”

“Why didn’t you ask Baiken?”

“It was a closed, clean wound, it was not my place to ask unprompted questions of my patients.” Faust explained tensely, “And I didn’t want to upset Eri besides,” that earned him an agreeing hum from Anji at last, “how did it happen?”

“A few opportunistic young men thought it a good way to earn a lot of money in a very short amount of time by throwing themselves at Baiken and myself,” Anji shrugged, though he stiffly looked away as he did, “…poor Eri got caught in the middle.”

“Assassins.” Faust bit out between his teeth, “Eri got caught in the middle of a fight you had with assassins.”

“She was kept safe the whole time.” Anji tossed straight back, finally meeting the doctor’s gaze again. “It ended well, like it always does, doctor.”

“You and I both know that’s a load of nonsense, Mr. Mito.” Anji’s eyebrows knitted together and his lips drew into a thin line. “Does Eri know how to defend herself?”

Anji laughed, utterly mirthless, “have you seen her? You want us to teach that girl how to fight?”

“Are you and Baiken going to change your lifestyle?” Faust forged on, his nerves on edge, flashes of a bloody surgical table and a horribly small body bag on his mind, “if not, are you simply going to continue to expose Eri to all this danger? Do you take her out on bounty hunting missions with you?” He nearly pressed his face to Anji, who simply stared at him stone faced, “that girl is completely dependent on you two, have you any concern for her safety?”

“Doctor.”

Anji Mito vanished.

In his place was a man with his face, but not his eyes. They were the same color and shape, but they suddenly threatened to swallow Faust whole with the sheer emptiness he saw there.

There was a hand on the collar of his shirt, pulling him along as the man that was not Anji Mito stood up from his chair. Not a trace of the flighty dancer remained, and in his place was the man that spent a significant period of his life hiding in shadows and whispers.

He spoke, and there was the hint of dried blood on his tongue as he did, “as you said, that girl is dependent on the two of us,” the man narrowed his cold, empty eyes, “be certain, we know that very well, knew it from the moment she came into our care.” The hand on his collar tightened its grip, “make no mistake, every effort we’ve made since then had been to ensure that she is safe, that she is happy.”

Finally, something filled those abyssal eyes, anger.

“That girl is everything we could have been, that girl has a future not yet stained with blood and secrets, eyes not yet worn and hollow, and I intend to make sure it stays that way.” He bared his teeth, and Faust felt like he was facing a dangerous animal, “so don’t you dare think for a moment that either of us would treat her callously.”

Finally, impossibly, Faust found his tongue, “you think you can protect her from everything?” He gripped the hand clenching his collar, “with the life you lead? Are you that delusional?”

“With all due respect,” the animal growled, something vicious and cruel crawling up his throat, “you are not the first person I’d ask regarding the safety of children,” his heart leapt into his throat, but the man kept going, “you are hardly the expert there, Doctor Baldhead.”

It took every inch of restraint he had, but somehow Faust kept from pulling a scalpel from his pocket to slice open the throat in front of him.

His point apparently made, the man that was not Anji Mito released Faust, and sat back down without a word to look at the door again. A few breathless moments passed as Faust looked down at him and got his breathing back under control, finally letting out a sigh, “…I will admit, my judgement is clouded from…past experiences,” he shook his head, “…but I stand by what I said, you can’t protect her forever.”

Another heavy moment passed, nearly crushing the both of them…before Anji Mito returned with a weightless laugh, “no, I suppose not.” He looked up at the doctor, a mirthless smirk on his face, “but we can protect her long enough to make a path for her to follow.”

Faust looked down at the man for a moment, shaking his head before beginning to walk to his desk, “what path would that be?” He reached his desk, and turned around to lean on it to look at Anji, “because from where I sit, there’s two.” He held up one finger, “one; she stays be your side, which means you need to teach her all she needs to know to be able to keep pace with you two.” He grits his teeth, “and all the bloody details that would include.”

Anji met Faust’s gaze evenly, but his hands gripped the cloth of his lap.

“And second,” he held up the second finger, “…is that you let her go, put her somewhere safe, where she would never need to raise a hand to harm anyone, that she would never need to protect herself again…” He stopped, something finally clicking to place, “…and never see you two again.”

On Anji Mito’s nearly inscrutable face, something like sadness passed for a brief moment. It was gone as soon as it appeared, and another paper smile took its place, “whatever path she’ll have, it will have to be her choice, wouldn’t you agree, doctor?” Another mirthless chuckle, “from what little I know of her life before we found her…she’s had enough of her life dictated for her, methinks.”

Faust sympathized with his nurse, because after that relatively short conversation with Anji Mito, he felt ready to curl into a ball and sleep the rest of the week away. He could have let that conversation end there, let himself end the day with at least a bit of sound mind, but something was eating at him, a question he knew he had no right to ask. That was utterly unprofessional of him to even consider asking.

But, then again, he’s been plenty unprofessional today, what’s a bit more?

Taking a breath to brace, he once more dunked his head into the shark tank that was Anji Mito’s headspace. “The person who gave Eri those scars…” He started, his grip on the table tightening, “…do you know anything about them?”

“Oh? Him?” Anji asked innocently, as if he hadn’t given that a thought in ages, “ah, I wouldn’t worry too much doctor.” The way he said that, and the smile it came with, only made Faust worry more, “last I saw of him, he was laying on a street somewhere, bleeding out of a hole between his eyes.”

Faust blinked at Anji, whatever tension and anger he gain from examining Eri deflating like a particularly sad whoopee cushion.

“I’d put him out of your head, doctor.” He turned to him with a smile as bright as a flickering florescent bulb, a hint of that emptiness back in his gaze, “I know I did.”

Before Faust could question-no, scratch that-call bullshit on that, the door to the examination room opened, revealing a slightly annoyed Baiken, a satisfied Fanny, and Eri still sucking on her lollipop.

“There they are!” Anji exclaimed, his cheer back on his face in full force, and Faust could even believe it was genuine this time, as he went to Baiken and Eri, “so! How did it go? Any sharp or metal things go into anywhere unpleasant?” He was rewarded with a smack upside the head from a very unamused Baiken, which only got a laugh out of him, “sorry, sorry, I couldn’t…” He stopped of a sudden, looking at Baiken’s face in confusion, and Faust took a second to see he was looking at Baiken’s mouth.

Or, more specifically, the small plastic stick hanging out of her mouth.

Anji blinked at her, “…what-?”

Baiken grabbed the stick, and pulled out a bright red lollipop.

“…how?”

“Eri gave it to me.” Baiken said simply, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, “said I earned it for being…” her mouth twitched to stop from becoming a smile, “…brave.”

Anji blinked in surprise, first at Baiken, and then at Eri, who nodded resolutely to show she was perfectly serious. After a moment, a smile slowly forming on his face, too slowly to be a conscious effort, and Anji laughed with more warmth than Faust had heard from him all day, “well! Can’t argue with that!” He bent down to look, and smile, at Eri at eye level. “Good call there Eri.”

The blinked before looking down with a bright blush. Baiken ruffled her hair while Anji grasped her shoulder.

And Faust understood the anger completely. Understood the insult of doubting these two.

But still, with a clear mind, he, as always, stood be his prognosis.

“Mr. Mito.” He called out, the man still leaning down as he turned to look at him, “I would like you to keep our conversation today in mind, alright?”

Anji, to his credit, only glared for a short second before he nodded, “of course, doctor.”

“Huh?” Eri looked between the two, “what did you talk about?”

“My own check up dear.” Anji lied smoothly as silk, “I set it a few months from now since I had one not too long ago,” he ruffled her hair again, “don’t worry about it.”

“…Okay.” Something shone in the girl’s eyes, but she went back to her treat with a quiet hum.

Anji stood up, met Baiken’s razor sharp gaze, and mouthed “later” silently before he turned to the doctor, “well! I think we’re all done for today!” He put a hand on Baiken’s shoulder to turn her towards the door, “say goodbye to the doctor Eri.”

Turning to Faust and Fanny, she waved goodbye in a way that made the doctor want to cry, before running to Baiken left side to grab her hand as they left.

Anji and Faust shared one last, slightly loaded stare before they stepped out the door.

(Faust closed his practice earlier than usual that day. Fanny didn’t question it, or the way he fingered the bottom of his paper bag, or how stiff and deep his voice had gotten near the end of the day.

She helped him take his medicine, and he went to bed, images of not-himself standing above a perfectly clean surgery table, waiting for his next, his last, patient swirling in his mind as he slept.

Baiken slapped Anji upside the head. She didn’t know why, exactly, she just had the feeling he had earned it.

Anji didn’t argue with that.

Eri offered him her last lollipop, but he refused, he hadn’t been brave for a long while. He wanted to earn it properly.)

#Guilty Gear #Baiken #Anji Mito #Eri (bnha)#Stuff rex wrote #doctor visits

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