#Secrets & Lies (fic) | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

inevitablysomber-dark · 3 months ago

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Loki's Sweet Treat

Dividers by @jiyascepter

Dark!Loki x Honey!Reader

About 20k words, so tread carefully

Honey Duval navigates the treacherous world of high society, facing family tensions, personal struggles, and Loki's dark interest in her. As she tries to protect her family's fragile reputation, Honey finds herself entangled in dangerous power plays and secrets that threaten her future.

Warning:

This story contains graphic content that may be disturbing to readers, including themes of sexual assault, manipulation, and emotional abuse. Explicit scenes involving non-consensual encounters, coercion, and power dynamics are present, which may be triggering for some readers.

The sun streamed in through the tall windows of Lady Jane's sitting room, casting a golden glow on the well-dressed women gathered for tea. The gentle clink of China and the murmur of conversation filled the air, yet I couldn’t help but feel entirely out of place. I lingered at the edge of the room, blending into the wallpaper as I clutched my teacup, regretting my decision to come to this wretched party.

Of course, I had little choice. My family, the Duvals, were barely clinging to their status, and everyone knew it. The invitations I received weren’t because I was welcome, they were because everyone wanted to bask in the schadenfreude of watching the once-prominent Duval family teeter on the brink of losing everything. That’s why I found myself at yet another gathering, pretending to fit in while my family’s fortunes slipped further through our fingers.

Lady Jane, our host, sat near the center of the room, surrounded by her usual crowd of sycophants. I wasn’t sure which was worse, her thinly veiled hostility or the saccharine sweetness she used to mask it. Either way, she made my skin crawl and today, her vitriol was aimed squarely at the Royal Family of Asgard.

“Can you believe it?” Lady Jane sneered, her voice carrying across the room. “That woman, Cyan, is to be our future queen? It’s an outrage! A commoner, raised among peasants, is supposed to marry the crowned prince? What are they thinking?!”

Her audience murmured their agreement, some nodding so vigorously I wondered if their heads might fall off. They all knew better than to cross Lady Jane, who was still nursing her bitter disappointment over not being chosen by the prince herself.

“I was so certain Thor had his eye on me,” Jane continued, her voice dripping with disdain. “But instead, they choose a woman without breeding, without class! Imagine Queen Freya’s humiliation.”

One of the ladies beside her leaned in. “I’ve heard the queen is mortified. She’s so ashamed of the match that she barely speaks of it.”

I tried to tune out their gossip, but it was impossible. This was what passed for entertainment among women like Jane,tearing down anyone who dared to rise above their station.

I took a small sip of tea, my gaze wandering to where my younger sister, Saffron, sat. She was newly debuted, and though she carried herself with grace, I knew she felt as out of place as I did. It was hard not to, with the ever-looming threat of our family’s collapse hanging over our heads.

“The only good thing to come from this debacle,” Jane’s voice cut through my thoughts, “is the ball they’re throwing to celebrate the engagement. At least we’ll get a grand event out of it.”

The other women tittered with laughter, clearly enjoying the idea of a lavish ball more than the prospect of a common-born queen.

And to think," Jane added, her voice lowering, "there were times Thor would have done anything to get under my skirts. What a shame he felt the need to settle for Cyan."

The room erupted into gasps and giggles, and I fought the urge to roll my eyes. The audacity. The rumor about Lady Jane and Thor had been swirling for ages, but I had my doubts. If Thor had ever entertained such an affair, he certainly wasn’t entertaining it now.

I leaned back against my chair, feeling invisible and detached from their world of petty gossip and social climbing. The Duvals may have been struggling, but at least we hadn’t descended to Lady Jane’s level of desperation. Not yet, anyway.

As the conversation continued to swirl around me, I couldn’t help but wonder what it was like for someone like Cyan, entering a world that was waiting for her to fail. And as much as I despised Lady Jane’s cruelty, I also feared for what might be in store for me and Saffron. After all, even those who seemed untouchable could easily be cast aside.

The tea party was a spectacle of opulence, an excuse for the nobility to gather and show off their status. I sat toward the edge of the gathering with Saffron, doing my best to blend into the background. It wasn’t difficult, most of the women here treated us as though we didn’t exist. I should’ve known better than to come, but Mother had insisted we make an appearance. As if mingling with these people could somehow save the Duval name.

I heard the snickers before I even focused on the conversation.

"Honestly, it’s a miracle the Duvals are still being invited to these things," Lady Margaret said, her voice unnecessarily loud. She made no effort to lower her tone, her words clearly meant for my ears. "You’d think they’d have the good sense to keep a low profile instead of parading their desperation."

The other women laughed, their voices high and cruel. Saffron’s face turned pale beside me, her fingers nervously clutching her tea. I clenched my fists under the table.

"They’re just biding their time, hoping to sell off one of those pretty daughters to keep the estate afloat," Lady Sharon added, her gaze flickering over to us briefly. "Though I doubt anyone of real consequence would be interested."

The comment hung in the air, and the group of women dissolved into more laughter. I could feel the heat rising in my cheeks, my heartbeat pounding in my ears. They weren’t even trying to be subtle. It was as if our very existence amused them, as if our struggles were a source of entertainment.

“Pathetic,” Jane sneered. “Trying to scrape by with the little dignity they have left.I would have never invited them had mother not insisted”

The tension within me snapped.

I stood up slowly, forcing my hands to unclench. "It’s curious, Lady Jane," I said, my voice calm though every word was sharpened with intention, "how loudly you speak about dignity when it’s something you’ve long since thrown away."

The laughter died abruptly, and all eyes turned to me. Saffron looked like she wanted to sink into the floor. But I had reached my limit.

Jane blinked, her mouth tightening. "Excuse me?"

I stepped forward, refusing to be intimidated. "I’ve heard the rumors, Jane. Everyone has. You thought lying on your back would secure yourself a crown, as if a few stolen moments beneath a prince would make you queen." I let the words sink in, watching as Jane’s composure faltered. "It’s rather tragic, really, how you’ve convinced yourself that by spreading your legs, you could spread your influence."

There was a collective gasp from the group, their mouths hanging open in shock.

Jane’s face went pale, then flushed a deep crimson. “You—how dare you speak to me like that!”

"I dare because it's the truth," I said coolly, holding her gaze. "You gamble with your pride, and yet here you are, no crown, no prince, no claim, just a scorned woman who can’t seem to grasp why a prince didn’t choose her."

The room had gone deathly silent. Saffron was staring at me, wide-eyed, and the other ladies looked like they couldn’t decide whether to intervene or flee. Jane’s face contorted with fury, but before she could spit out a retort, I leaned in slightly, lowering my voice.

"Next time you want to mock someone’s struggles, Jane, make sure your own failures aren’t quite so obvious."

I straightened up and walked back toward my seat, feeling every pair of eyes on me. Saffron looked at me as though I’d just declared war on the entire room, her hands trembling in her lap.

I could feel Jane’s burning stare, her dignity in tatters, but she said nothing. She couldn’t. The truth had been laid bare, and no amount of biting retort could salvage her pride now.

"Saffron, let’s go." My voice was steady, though my heart still raced from the confrontation. I guided my sister out of the room, her arm linked through mine, and we stepped out into the cool air, away from the judgment and venom of those who thrived on misfortune.

We were still the subject of their gossip, still teetering on the edge of ruin. But I wouldn’t let them crush us. Not without a fight.

Baroness Helena Duval, my mother, paced the drawing room, her eyes sharp and angry as she threw a furious glance at me. My father, Reginald, stood at the window with his back to us, silent, as was his usual stance when my mother unleashed her wrath.

"I can't believe you! Every invitation we had received, every opportunity to mingle with those that could possibly save us, gone!" she shouted, her voice trembling with rage.

I remained silent, standing in the corner with Saffron beside me, while my mother focused all her ire on me. "Do you understand what you've done? Lady Jane is connected to half the nobility in the kingdom! And what do you do? Confront her about her...fraternizing with the Crown Prince?"

She spat out the last words as if they were poison, her tone as biting as ever. But I wasn’t about to apologize, not to Lady Jane, and certainly not for speaking the truth.

Helena's sharp eyes flicked over to Saffron, softening just a touch as she sighed deeply. "Why can't you be more like your sister? Graceful, quiet, and demure. Everything a young lady should be."

Saffron, at those words, dropped her head in shame, and my heart clenched for her. I knew she hated when our mother used her as an example, especially because "graceful and demure" really meant spineless. Saffron had told me that, late one night when we were younger, and ever since then, whenever someone praised her, I knew she felt nothing but shame.

I reached for her hand, giving it a squeeze, letting her know I understood. I wasn’t offended by my mother’s words; I knew this was simply how she thought. To her, Saffron was the perfect daughter, the one who played her role quietly, and I- well, I was the one who didn’t know when to keep my mouth shut.

My mother’s sharp eyes softened momentarily when she noticed me grab Saffron’s hand, but her anger was far from gone. She let out a deep, exasperated sigh, shaking her head before turning to me, her voice dripping with frustration.

“What in God's name possessed you to confront Lady Jane in the first place?” she asked, her tone sharp, though not quite as biting as before.

I raised my chin, meeting her gaze directly. "She called us pathetic," I said simply.

She paused, her eyes flickering with something close to understanding. For a brief moment, the fury drained from her face, and she almost looked sympathetic. Almost.

"I understand your frustration, Honey. Truly, I do," she admitted, her voice gentler now. "But jumping straight into social suicide...was that really the best course of action?"

I bit my tongue, looking down at my feet. No, it wasn’t.

"We are on the verge of losing everything," she said, her voice softer but filled with a different kind of anger. "This was our chance, Honey. The ball, the invitations...they were supposed to help secure our future. Now-now we are outcasts. Again."

I said nothing, knowing full well she wasn’t looking for a reply. But deep down, I couldn’t regret my actions, not when I thought of the smug look on Lady Jane’s face as she droned on about her imagined place in the royal court.

As my mother left the room in frustration, I turned to Saffron, squeezing her hand again. The weight of the world felt like it was pressing down on both of us, and there didn’t seem to be any easy way out of it.

“At least we won’t be wasting any more money on dresses and jewelry,” I muttered under my breath.

At that, my father let out a hearty laugh, walking up to the both of us but locking his gaze on me.

“You realize what you did could ruin us, right?” His voice carried a mixture of amusement and warning.

I dropped my head, swallowing the knot in my throat. “Yes, Father,” I answered, my voice begrudging but respectful.

He grunted, smirking as he leaned down to kiss both Saffron and me on the forehead.

“Don’t worry too much, my dear. We’ll get through this, like we always have,” he said, his tone light, almost dismissive of the severity of the situation.

It didn't erase the weight of my mother’s words or the danger we were in, but my father’s confidence, misplaced or not, eased the tension for moments as brief as these.

The Duvals were enjoying a rare moment of quiet in their living space. Saffron and Mother were embroidering by the window, their needles gliding through fabric with delicate precision. Father and I sat side by side, each absorbed in the local news when our butler, Gerard, suddenly burst into the room, his face flushed with excitement.

"Baroness, Baron! You’ve received an invitation from the palace!" he announced, holding the crisp, cream-colored envelope as though it were made of pure gold.

Mother looked up from her embroidery, visibly shocked. "An invitation?" she murmured, her voice barely hiding her surprise. I could see it in her eyes, she had resigned herself to a quiet fall from grace, expecting our family to fade into the background without further notice. Yet here was a summons, proof that the royal family had not completely turned its back on us.

Father reached for the envelope, breaking the royal seal. He cleared his throat before reading aloud: “You are cordially invited to the engagement party of the Crown Prince Thor and his fiancée Cyan.”

A surprised chuckle escaped my lips. Of all the people to be engaged to a prince, it was Lady Cyan. She had no title and no noble lineage to speak of, yet here she was, about to marry the future king.What a fairytale. The invitation, unsurprisingly, didn’t mention any title for Lady Cyan, she had none yet, but once she married Thor, she would become the Crowned Princess.

I couldn’t help but feel a twinge of delight. Deep down, I couldn’t deny my penchant for stirring the pot of intrigue. And watching someone like Cyan, a peasant girl, rise to a position of power was sure to throw the entire class system into chaos. And with our family teetering on the edge of ruin, what was the harm in finding a little entertainment before we were booted from high society?

The evening of the party arrived quickly. The Royal Garden was breathtaking, every inch of it meticulously prepared for the grand affair. Saffron and I stood by the fountain, sipping champagne and enjoying the soothing trickle of the water as we waited for the royal family to make their entrance.

When they finally appeared, the crowd gasped in awe. King Odin and Queen Freya entered first, regal as ever, their presence demanding respect. Hela and Loki followed, each exuding their own form of royal authority. And then, the couple of the hour, Prince Thor and Lady Cyan.

I nearly choked on my champagne when I saw Lady Cyan.

She looked... awful.

Her hair was down but tangled and unbrushed, her makeup was smeared and unflattering, and worst of all, she wore a dress that had been popular last season, as if she hadn’t noticed the fashion had moved on. Even her shoes were an insult,flats, when everyone knew a proper royal event required heels. It was clear to me that the palace maids had set her up for failure, likely encouraged by none other than the ladies in waiting, who were no doubt snickering behind her back.

A quick glance toward Lady Jane confirmed my suspicions. There she was, surrounded by her loyal gaggle of women, all of them giggling into their gloves like schoolgirls. I could practically hear the whispers, whispers that Jane herself had probably orchestrated.

Yet, even as Cyan stood there, a vision of royal disaster, Thor remained unfazed. He looked at her as if she were the only person in the room, his eyes filled with love and admiration. It was almost endearing, in a sickening sort of way.

When the time came for the royals to mingle, I made sure to stay out of the way. I had no intention of angering Mother any further after the debacle with Lady Jane. Saffron, naturally, trailed behind me like a shadow, her shy demeanor making her hesitant to stray too far. She chattered quietly about a romance novel she’d been reading with her friends, her soft voice blending with the music that floated through the garden. Just as she was getting to a particularly juicy part, where the Duke of the novel had finally caught the Princess in a compromising position, our mother appeared, with Duke Bruce Banner in tow.

Mother’s smile was painfully forced as she practically pushed Saffron into Duke Banner’s path. "Saffron, darling, the Duke was just asking about you," she cooed, already working her magic to arrange yet another another potential match for her favorite child. Despite Saffron’s beauty,for some reason her shy and quiet nature had kept many potential husbands at bay, one would think they’d enjoy it.But Mother wasn’t one to give up easily.

I stood back, watching the exchange with a knowing smile. Saffron might be the favorite, but she hated being paraded around like this. I gave her a sympathetic glance before turning my attention elsewhere. I had no interest in finding a match tonight, especially not when I was feeling like a mere observer to a world that was slipping away from us.

While Mother busied herself with Saffron and the Duke, I slipped away, seeking solace at the border where the Royal Garden met the Royal Forest. The sounds of the party grew distant as I found a quiet bench beneath a cluster of trees, my thoughts swirling as I sipped the last of my champagne. This engagement party was a disaster for Lady Cyan, and no doubt her ascension would continue to be entertaining, if nothing else, it would distract the nobles from our impending downfall.

The sound of a timid "Oh" pulled me from the quiet of my thoughts. I turned my head and found the future Crowned Princess standing a few feet away, wringing her hands and staring at me with wide eyes.

"I'm sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt," Lady Cyan stammered, already stepping back as though she had committed some great offense.

“Nonsense,” I replied, rising from my seat near the edge of the garden. “If anything, I am intruding on your walk.” I bowed my head before making my way elsewhere, but she quickly spoke again, her voice hesitant.

“Could you stay? I mean... if you don’t mind.”

I paused, unsure if I should humor the girl or retreat to the quiet, I had sought. Yet when I looked at her, there was something in her manner that reminded me of Saffron, fragile, in need of protection, utterly ill-suited to the cruel ways of this world. With a slight nod I sat back down, on bench, and she hurried to sit next to me. How unflattering for a future queen.

We sat in comfortable silence at first, the air between us light but unspoken words hanging on the edge of her lips. Finally, she spoke, her voice barely above a whisper.

"I didn't realize the noble world could be so cruel."

I glanced at her sideways. “Prince Thor did not warn you?”

She looked down, a small, sad smile playing on her lips. “He didn’t have time, considering how he picked me from a crowd.”

Now, that caught my attention. “How do you mean?” I asked, leaning in slightly.

Lady Cyan glanced around as if to ensure we were alone, then spoke in a lowered tone, “I used to be... a lady of the night.” She cast her eyes to the ground. “Thor was just a regular customer. I never got the chance to see the royal family, so I didn’t know who he really was. He didn’t use his name either, he just called himself Donar.”

I barely managed to conceal my surprise. This was... extraordinary. “How did you come to be his fiancée?” I asked, genuinely intrigued now.

Lady Cyan sighed. “I was out one morning buying groceries for my mother when a knight seized me and pulled me into a carriage with Thor. That’s when he told me who he really was. He said he wanted me to marry him.”

I blinked, trying to suppress a laugh. “And you thought this was... what? A joke?”

“At first, yes,” she said with a small, embarrassed chuckle. “The next thing I knew, my mother and I were having breakfast with the king and queen.”

Now, this was beyond amusing. I had always known Prince Thor to be impulsive, rumors about him were legendary, but this? This was another level entirely. A peasant marrying into royalty was scandalous enough, but a former courtesan? The whole system was bound to erupt. I could hardly contain my amusement.

Lady Cyan frowned slightly, noticing my reaction. “What’s so funny?”

I gave her a knowing look. “Oh, it’s nothing... except how very on-brand this is for Prince Thor. You should be careful, though. That bit of information? You should keep it to yourself.”

Her eyes widened in panic. “You won’t tell anyone, will you?”

I waved a hand. “Of course not. But be warned, others won’t be so kind. You’d best keep quiet about your past if you want to survive this court.”

Lady Cyan nodded, her expression softening into one of gratitude. “I was just... so grateful to be here. To wear such fine clothing...”

I looked at her more closely. And her ungodly look “Who dressed you for tonight?” I asked, already suspecting the answer.

“Hela had some of her ladies-in-waiting help me,” she replied.

I sighed, shaking my head. “Don’t let them help you again. They made you look ragged, and it was likely intentional.”

Her face fell. “I had a feeling when everyone started laughing at me... The servants say awful things when they think I’m not listening. That Lady Jane should have been Thor’s bride. They don’t know why he chose me.”

My blood boiled. “Fuck them,” I said without thinking.

Lady Cyan gasped, clearly shocked by my language. I rolled my eyes. “Listen, you need to build your own court. Your own ladies-in-waiting, your own servants,and most importantly your own thick-skin. As long as these current people remain, they will never respect you, and they will always try to make you look the fool.”

She hesitated. “I don’t know if I can do that...”

I gave her a stern look. “Do you want to be treated like this for the rest of your life?”

She fell silent.

“You’re going to be queen one day. Prince Thor would give you anything you ask for, that I could clearly see, so use that power. Snuggle up to him, get what you need, and make yourself comfortable. You’ll be here for a long time, Lady Cyan. You might as well rule in comfort.”

She nodded slowly; her gaze thoughtful. I could tell she was unsure of herself, but if she had any hope of surviving this world, she would need to learn quickly. And if I had to give her a push in the right direction, so be it.

“Cyan!” A voice cut through the stillness of the garden, deep and unmistakably male.

Both of us turned toward the sound, and soon enough, Prince Loki stepped into view. His presence carried the same shadowy grace as always, but this time, his gaze briefly flickered to me before settling on Cyan.

“Your fiancé is looking for you,” he said smoothly, though his eyes lingered on me a moment longer. “I suggest you go calm him before he sends out a search party.”

“Oh, right! Of course!” Lady Cyan hurriedly stood, her flustered movements betraying her nervousness. I rose to my feet as well, out of courtesy.

“Thank you so much for the advice...” Lady Cyan paused, her brow furrowing. “I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name?”

“Honey. Honey Duval.” I offered my hand, knowing full well it was improper, but she didn’t seem to notice. She shook it with the casual grace of someone entirely untrained in court etiquette.

“I’m Cyan,” she smiled, her warmth genuine if not misplaced.

“I know” I retort, a smile on my face

I made a mental note: the girl would need to refine such small gestures if she hoped to command any respect in the court. There was more to being a princess than simply having the prince’s affection.

I watched as she hurried away, her pace quickening as she no doubt rushed to find her fiancé before he acted on Prince Loki’s warning. Once she disappeared into the crowd, I turned, ready to find my family, only to realize Prince Loki hadn’t moved. He was still standing near, his gaze fixed on me with an intensity that made my skin prickle.

I immediately curtsied. “Prince Loki,” I murmured, trying to sound composed as I stood straight again, preparing to make my exit.

But before I could take a step, his voice stopped me cold. “I haven’t dismissed you yet.”

I froze, the weight of his words pulling me back in place. “Duval,” he repeated, his voice low and deliberate, letting the name roll off his tongue as though it were some kind of secret he was savoring. Then he moved toward me, closing the distance until he was standing mere inches from my face.

Prince Loki was an intimidating man, far more dangerous than most cared to admit. I’d heard the stories, of course, of the legendary battles between him and Prince Thor, the ferocity with which they fought their enemies and, at times, each other. And though I prided myself on my resolve, I couldn’t help but feel a flicker of fear. His presence, so dark and calculated, was enough to unsettle even the strongest of wills.

“You are of a house with status,Barons, I believe?” His words were a statement, not a question, as though he already knew the answer.

“Yes, Prince Loki,” I replied, forcing myself to keep my voice steady.

He smirked, his eyes glinting with a cruel amusement. “So, then you should’ve known better than to extend your hand to the future ruler of Asgard.”

I stiffened at the reprimand. I knew I’d made a mistake, but hearing it so coldly from his lips made it sting all the more. He sighed dramatically. “But I suppose... what else could one expect from a falling house?”

His words were a dagger. Before I could stop myself, my spine straightened, and the retort slipped from my lips without a second thought. “Nothing as bad as one would expect from a treacherous prince.”

The moment the words escaped me, regret surged through my veins like ice. I had struck too close to the truth, to the rumors that still clung to his name even after all these years. I knew of Loki’s dark history, how, as a young man, he had once betrayed Asgard by siding with Jotunheim in a fit of jealousy, trying to seize the throne from King Odin and Prince Thor. Though he had redeemed himself by turning around and conquering Jotunheim, earning back the trust of the kingdom, the title of “Treacherous Prince” still lingered in whispers.

Personally, I wouldn’t be so quick to forgive someone who’s so eager to switch sides.

Realizing my mistake, I immediately began to apologize, my voice rushing out in a panic. “Prince Loki, I didn’t mean-”

He squinted, annoyance flashing in his eyes, but to my surprise, there was amusement as well. His lips curled into a smirk; his expression unreadable. “Bold,” he murmured, stepping even closer. “But foolish. You may Go.”

Then, before I could react, he grabbed me, pulling me roughly against his chest. My heart pounded as he leaned in, his breath hot against my ear as he whispered, “Remember, I have more power than you. And with that power, I can do far more damage.”

He released me with a shove, and I stumbled back, fear and dread gripping my heart. The reality of what I’d just done washed over me like a tidal wave. Loki was not the type of man to forgive easily, and I had just signed the Duval family’s death warrant with my reckless words.

Terrified, I hurried away, my mind racing as I realized just how dire our situation had become. If Loki so wished, he could destroy us with a single utterance, and I had just given him reason to do so.

Several weeks had passed without a single word from the palace. It was strange, the quiet. The Duvals had not received any invitations to events or gatherings, but oddly enough, things seemed to be looking up,at least on the surface. Duke Banner’s interest in Saffron had become more obvious with each passing day. Bouquets of delicate flowers arrived regularly, along with boxes of sweets, each one more decadent than the last. He must have somehow learned of Saffron’s love for such indulgences. While I found his eagerness unsettling, Mother insisted it was nothing to be concerned about, calling it a sign of his devotion.

But I could see the confusion in Saffron’s eyes. She didn’t know how to respond to the Duke’s affections. Her heart was too gentle, too uncertain. She was torn between her own feelings and the expectations placed upon her. I couldn’t blame her,I had my own storm to contend with.

Prince Loki. The memory of our confrontation still hung over me like a dark cloud, heavy and foreboding, threatening to break at any moment. I had said nothing to Mother, choosing instead to wait for the inevitable disaster. Confiding in her would only shatter this brief illusion of peace.

That afternoon, Saffron and I were sitting in the garden, playing a quiet game of spades, trying to enjoy the mild weather. The gentle breeze was soothing, if only for a moment. But then, a sharp, piercing scream cut through the calm.

Both of us snapped our heads toward the commotion, just in time to see Mother rushing toward us, the head maid trailing closely behind. Her hands waved an envelope above her head, the royal crest glinting in the sunlight.

My stomach lurched. This was it. The reckoning I had feared.

Saffron, always attuned to my unease, clasped my hand under the table, offering silent comfort. She knew everything that happened with Prince Loki. We told each other everything.

Mother reached us, breathless, her eyes wide and brimming with excitement. “Honey!” she exclaimed, waving the envelope as if it were a priceless relic. “You’ve been summoned to the royal palace!”

I froze, my heart pounding. What?

Mother continued, her voice filled with barely contained glee. “You’ve been called to interview as a lady-in-waiting for the future queen!”

The words barely registered. “What?” I whispered, my voice thin and shaky. I glanced at Saffron, seeing my own disbelief reflected in her wide eyes. Surely this was some kind of cruel jest.

But Mother, oblivious to the shock etched on our faces, began reading the letter aloud. The future queen, Cyan, had personally selected me for consideration. Me. Out of all the girls. The words blurred together as my mind drifted back to Loki. Had he said nothing? Was this a game?

Mother’s excited voice pulled me back to the present as she finished reading, her arms suddenly wrapping around Saffron and me in a tight embrace. “This is it! Things are finally looking up!” she squealed, her joy almost tangible. “This is exactly what we needed!”

I remained silent, my thoughts spinning out of control. This invitation, no, this summons,could either be our salvation or the final blow that brought everything crashing down. And somehow, I knew… this wasn’t a coincidence.

I sat across from Lady Cyan in the quiet Receiving Room, the silence hanging heavily between us. She fidgeted, her fingers tracing the edge of her chair, clearly uncomfortable with the weight of the moment. I waited, wondering if she would speak first, but when it became apparent she was at a loss, I decided to break the silence.

"Your Highness," I began, keeping my voice measured, "is there anything you'd like to ask me?"

Lady Cyan blinked, as though startled by the question. "Oh," she replied softly, her uncertainty palpable. "I... I’m not really sure what I should ask. I requested that the Queen and Princess Hela be present, but they... well, they refused."

She seemed embarrassed by the admission, and I realized, once again, how out of place she must feel here. The future Queen of Asgard, yet still lost within the complexities of court.

"Would you like me to guide you, Your Highness?" I offered gently, knowing she needed a nudge.

She nodded, looking relieved. "Yes, please."

"Well," I began, "what do you think of me as a candidate so far?"

Lady Cyan straightened in her chair, her posture suddenly more formal. "I like you. I think you would have my back. Even Loki agrees."

“Prince Loki?” I asked

She nodded “Yes, in fact when I mentioned That I would like to get my own Ladies in Waiting, he suggested you as the first one.”

How Curious.

I raised an eyebrow, intrigued by her directness. "Right.” I chose then to ignore the mention of Prince Loki “So then,Why do you like me, and how do you believe that would benefit you in the court?"

She hesitated before speaking again, her voice quieter, almost vulnerable. "Since I arrived at the palace, I’ve felt like an outsider. No one truly talks to me, except Thor. The conversation we had in the royal garden…" she trailed off, as if collecting her thoughts. "It felt real, like I could tell you anything. And when you advised me not to spread the truth of my past, I felt... safe. You didn’t judge me, and you kept your word so far. I haven’t heard any whispers of it since. That’s why I feel like I can trust you."

She glanced down at her lap, her tone sincere but unsure, as if she feared I might turn her words against her. There was a certain naivety about her, but it was clear she was trying to navigate the treacherous waters of the court. I folded my hands in my lap and smiled softly.

"So you met me and felt that I could be useful to you?" I asked, keeping my voice steady.

Lady Cyan's eyes widened, shaking her head frantically. "Oh no, I don’t want you to think I’m using you."

I couldn’t help but chuckle lightly at her flustered reaction. "That’s the system, Your Highness. Everyone in court uses everyone else to further their own agendas. If you are deemed useless, they’ll find a way to cast you aside."

Lady Cyan nodded slowly, absorbing my words like a student eager to learn. She seemed to be coming to terms with the harsh reality of her new life. This wasn’t the world of commoners she once knew; here, survival depended on alliances and strategic moves.

"So," I pressed on, "since you already had a good impression of me during our first meeting, what is it you’re trying to confirm now, in this interview?"

Lady Cyan shifted, clearly embarrassed again, her voice barely above a whisper. "Well... I wanted to hire you immediately, but Queen Freya said that was nonsense. She told me I should at least have an interview with you first."

It was clear that Queen Freya expected me to decline her request. After all, who in their right mind would willingly work under a former commoner, especially with my family teetering on the brink of ruin? But the Queen, in all her wisdom and grandeur, had overestimated my penchant for pride and underestimated the deep-rooted vitriol I held for the very system that sought to throw me and my family to the dogs.

I couldn't help but smile at her honesty, and there was something endearing about her candor. It was clear she was out of her depth, but there was potential in her, potential that could be nurtured if handled correctly. I leaned forward, my tone reassuring.

"Then, Your Highness, you have my word. If you choose to have me by your side, I will ensure you have what you need to succeed in this court. But remember, loyalty goes both ways. I will protect you, but I ask for the same in return."

Lady Cyan met my gaze, her expression softening with relief. "I understand, Honey. Thank you."

I nodded, knowing that from this moment forward, I had entered a dangerous alliance. The future Queen would need more than just trust; she would need strength. And if I was to help her navigate the world she had been thrust into, I would have to play this game carefully, for both our sakes.

My first week working under Lady Cyan, I made it clear that I was there to observe. She agreed, a bit relieved, I think. I spent the week silently watching the way the servants treated her, the way the butlers undermined her every word, and how Hela’s ladies-in-waiting, who were temporarily assigned to her, blatantly ignored her.

Lady Cyan mostly ate alone with her mother, and when they did, it was pitiful. They served them meals that even my own family, on the verge of ruin, would refuse. But when she dined with Prince Thor, everything was immaculate, like a magic switch had been flipped. Even Prince Thor’s courtiers, the ones supposed to show respect to the future queen, treated her poorly.

And then there was the mountain of paperwork they threw at her, expecting her to understand and manage the upkeep of the palace without any guidance. It was clear that she was not only doing her work but the work of Hela’s ladies-in-waiting as well.

I had seen enough.

"Why haven’t you hired the new staff after I told you to?" I asked her one afternoon.

She sighed; exhaustion etched into every feature. "I haven’t had the time," she said.

"Of course you haven’t," I retorted. "You’re buried in work that doesn’t even belong to you."

As I watched her, overwhelmed and far too thin, I was reminded again of Saffron. Someone kind, gentle, and easily taken advantage of. This was more work than I’d intended to take on, but someone needed to help her.

"First things first," I said, taking hold of her wrist gently. "We’re hiring you a personal chef. You’re entirely too thin, and it’s obvious the kitchen staff has no intention of keeping you healthy."

"Will I be able to?" she asked, her voice soft and uncertain.

I raised an eyebrow at her. "I don’t know. What do your funds look like?"

"Oh, I don’t—"

I didn’t let her finish. I strode over to her desk, pulling out her accounting book. As I read through the pages, it was clear. The funds allocated to Lady Cyan were being skimmed, and heavily. According to the records, she was eating lavish meals, wearing the latest fashions, and buying expensive jewelry. And yet, here she was, sitting in a handdown dress, malnourished and mistreated.

"When was the last time you spent any of the funds given to you?" I asked, holding the book up to her.

Lady Cyan’s face crumpled in confusion. "I didn’t know I was receiving any funds. Prince Thor didn’t tell me."

I shut the book with a sharp thud. "He’s not supposed to. That’s the job of his courtier. His courtier was meant to show you how to manage your paperwork, how your finances work, and how to oversee your responsibilities, both in maintaining the palace and fulfilling your duties to the kingdom."

Cyan blinked, clearly overwhelmed. This explained everything. No wonder she hadn’t hosted any balls or tea parties, and why she was wearing tattered clothing.

"Someone is stealing from you," I said firmly, my eyes narrowing as I considered the possibilities. "And I’m willing to bet the accountant knows exactly who."

I shut her books and tucked them under my arm, turning to Lady Cyan with a calm but firm expression. “Show me where accounting is.”

She perked up immediately. “Oh, okay.” She started to stand, but as soon as she did, I noticed her posture was completely atrocious, slouched shoulders, head bowed. I stopped her with a slight raise of my hand.

“Before we continue, straighten your back, stretch your neck, and hold your head high,” I instructed. Lady Cyan blinked at me but did as I asked. I spent a few moments adjusting her posture, teaching her how to carry herself with dignity. She still moved with a bit of awkwardness, but with practice, she would improve.

As we made our way to the accounting office, I trailed behind her, as any good lady-in-waiting would. When we arrived, Lady Cyan politely asked the receptionist, Miss Elara Merton, if she could meet with Lord Gregor Voss.

Merton barely glanced at us and replied with obvious disdain, “He’s busy.”

I felt my temper flare. “Well, that’s too bad,” I said, stepping past her and bursting into the office. I had no patience left. Lady Cyan was being mistreated at every turn in this castle, and I couldn’t help but think had it been me the castle would have long ago been set ablazed.

There was Lord Voss, in all his disgrace, caught mid-act with a woman who was most certainly not Lady Voss. The woman, mortified, hurriedly gathered her things and bolted from the room.

“What the hell?” Lord Voss spluttered, adjusting his trousers.

“The future Queen of Asgard wishes to speak with you,” I said coolly.

He looked past me and saw Lady Cyan, standing in the doorway, her expression a mixture of shock and expectancy.

“I’m busy,” he repeated, sounding more defensive than before.

“Oh, we can see that,” I replied, feeling a rush of satisfaction at the scene. I couldn’t wait to tell Saffron about this later.

I ushered Lady Cyan into the room as Miss Merton approached, trying to assert some sort of authority. I stepped up to her, meeting her eyes with an intimidating glare that left no room for argument. “Step back,” I said, my tone commanding. Intimidated, she complied, and I shut the door behind us.

I walked up to Lord Voss and fixed him with a stare. “Tell us who has been taking money from Lady Cyan’s funds.”

Voss blinked, taken aback by the direct question, but he quickly regained his composure. “Lady Cyan has been making purchases on her own,” he said with a practiced smoothness. “Just check her accounting book. Her ladies-in-waiting bring in the necessary—"

“So, Hela’s ladies-in-waiting are stealing from Cyan?” I cut in sharply.

“I did not say that,” he stammered. “I was simply—"

“Of course you did,” I interrupted, holding up the accounting book I had taken. “Jewelry, clothing, shoes, and food, purchases made with her funds. Yet, look at her.” I gestured toward Cyan, who stood looking pale and tired, her dress ill-fitting and her frame almost fragile. “She wears none of it, and she’s thin as a pencil. The ladies-in-waiting have been making these purchases for themselves. They are stealing from her.”

“Baroness Duval—” Voss began.

“That’s my mother,” I said, flashing him a cold smile. “Just call me Lady Honey.”

“Right,” Voss muttered, leaning in to whisper, “Lady Honey. Between you and I, I wouldn’t be surprised if she was hoarding it all.”

That was the last straw. I grabbed him by the collar, pulling him close enough that he could see the fire in my eyes. Cyan gasped softly behind me.

“Listen here, you pathetic excuse for a man,” I hissed. “If you do not tell us who’s been stealing from the future Queen of Asgard, the next person walking through those doors will be the Crowned Prince Thor himself.” His eyes widened in fear, and I pressed further. “Or maybe I should let Lady Voss know exactly what you’ve been up to at work, since we all know who truly runs your household.”

Voss paled and quickly surrendered. “Okay, okay, it is Lady Vivienne, a maid named Kelly, and Lord Cyril Vance.”

“How spineless.” I shoved him back, wiping my hands of his filth. With a gentle voice I turn to Lady Cyan “Let us go.” as I have her walk ahead of me

I opened the door for her, and she walked out with her head held a little higher than before. When we returned to her office,she collapsed into tears, overwhelmed by the realization of how many people had been betraying her.

“Lady Vivienne is one of Princess Hela’s ladies-in-waiting, and Lord Cyril Vance is Thor’s courtier,” she sobbed. “What am I to do now?”

I embraced her gently, offering comfort before I spoke firmly. “You fire them.”

She stops to look at me, as if I’d said something ridiculous “I can’t do that,” she protested, shaking her head.

“Then ask Prince Thor to do it,” I suggested.

“But I—”

“Listen, Lady Cyan,” I interrupted softly but seriously. “You need a completely new court. Not only are they insulting you, but they’re also stealing from you. I understand you don’t want to rattle the cage, but you must do the uncomfortable things now so that you can be comfortable later. You have power now. Use it.”

She paused, considering my words. Then, with a hesitant nod, she whispered, “Okay.”

For the next several months, Cyan had gone on a thorough firing spree, and anyone she couldn’t directly remove was replaced for personal matters, leaving them slowly edged out. I was with her every step of the way, ensuring that each word she spoke was met with the respect and dignity she deserved.

The first major task was sending Hela back her ladies-in-waiting. Lady Cyan, with newfound confidence, informed Hela that Vivienne had been embezzling money from her books. I made sure to advise her to suggest Hela check her own accounts. It wasn’t long before Lady Vivienne was escorted from the palace in disgrace.

Thor’s reaction to Lord Cyril’s involvement in stealing from Lady Cyan was nothing short of fury. He dismissed Cyril immediately, along with the maid Kelly, their reputations shattered beyond repair. No person of prominence would dare to hire them again.

During these palace changes, I cleverly slipped in a word about the kitchen staff feeding Lady Cyan slop. If anyone should have a personal chef, it was her. Prince Thor did one better, he replaced the entire kitchen staff, ensuring that the finest food was prepared for everyone in the palace. He made it very clear that if anyone was served less than what was expected, they would face the gallows. Since then,Lady Cyan’s figure has filled out, and she looks much healthier, with her own strength returning.

She also found herself a new accountant. Prince Thor and I convinced her not to continue relying on Voss, given his negligence. Instead, I helped her hire a young man named Edric Hale. He seemed sharp, rigid, and incredibly thorough, like someone who wouldn’t let anything slip by unnoticed. And I was right, Edric was so good at his job that he not only fixed inconsistencies within Lady Cyans books but uncovered six more individuals committing fraud under the royal name. It wasn’t long before Voss was removed from his post, and Hale was promoted to Royal Financial Advisor.

Even Prince Thor’s courtier was replaced, as I recommended Sir Alistair Graves during the hiring process.He was tall, unsettling, and mysterious, Alistair's appearance drew questions from Prince Thor and Lady Cyan alike, but Alistair soon proved himself to be an invaluable asset.I was right again.

Surprisingly, Thor and Alistair developed a close bond, despite his eerie demeanor.

After all this, Lady Cyan finally had time to hire her own ladies-in-waiting. To my amusement, Lady Jane and Lady Sharon applied for the position. Needless to say, they weren’t hired. I took personal joy in turning them down during the vetting process. Instead, Lady Cyan appointed Lady Natasha Romanoff and Lady Pepper Potts, both competent and trustworthy. As the wedding drew closer, the palace bustled with preparations, fully ready to receive her as the Crowned Princess of Asgard.

The first time I noticed Queen Freya's distaste for me, it was subtle, a cold glance from across the room as I sat with Lady Cyan during a court gathering. At the time, I thought nothing of it. Surely, a queen had more important matters to concern herself with than a mere lady-in-waiting. But as the weeks passed, it became clear: it wasn’t just a glance,it was a warning.

Every time Lady Cyan made progress, especially with my guidance, Queen Freya's irritation grew more obvious.

I remember standing in the corner of the throne room when Vivienne was escorted out by the guards. Queen Freya had been across the hall, watching. Our eyes met briefly, and in that moment, I saw a flash of something, annoyance, perhaps even hatred. I had facilitated that firing, and she knew it.

Later, as I escorted Lady Cyan from the council room, the Queen called out to me, her voice smooth as velvet but sharp as a blade.

"Lady Honey," she began, forcing me to turn back. "You've done such a... thorough job cleaning up the mess around the palace." The way she said "thorough" was laced with disdain. "Though, I do wonder, have you left anything for Lady Cyan to do herself?"

I bristled at the remark, but I kept my expression neutral. "Her Highness has made all the decisions. I simply advised her where necessary." I could not allow my mouth to ruin this for me.

The Queen smiled that thin, humorless smile of hers. "Of course. But do be careful. A lady of your... talents should know when to step back. We wouldn’t want to overshadow the future princess, now, would we?"

The words cut deeper than intended. She wasn’t praising me. She was warning me. I was doing too much, and that didn’t sit well with her.

As Lady Cyan continued to gain confidence, Freya’s hostility grew. When Thor replaced the kitchen staff, I could see the Queen’s patience slipping further. I once overheard her speaking to Hela’s remaining ladies-in-waiting about how “some people simply don’t know their place” as I passed through the halls. I had no doubt she was referring to me.

It all came to a head during one of our morning meetings. I was assisting Cyan with the latest preparations for her upcoming wedding, ensuring all the details were perfect, when Queen Freya entered the room, her presence like a sudden frost in the air.

"Lady Honey," she addressed me without looking directly at Cyan. "It seems you’ve become quite indispensable. How fortunate for Lady Cyan."

I curtsied, though my stomach twisted. I knew what was coming.

"You've certainly made an impression," she continued, her voice sharp, "but one wonders if you've made the right kind."

There was no mistake in her meaning. I had been far too effective in my role, far too supportive of Cyan. Queen Freya wasn’t just irritated anymore, she was furious.

Unfortunately, during all of this, I had to deal with Prince Loki breathing down my neck. He insisted on my company far too often, even intruding on Lady Cyan’s morning teas, meant for us to go over her itinerary. He was relentless.

One morning, after Loki had finally left, opting to go train I couldn’t hold back. “That man is infuriating,” I muttered, still editing the itinerary.

“You mean Prince Loki of Asgard?” Lady Romanoff asked with a smirk.

“Who else?” I replied, shaking my head.

“I think it’s sweet that he’s found interest in you,” Lady Potts chimed in, her words slightly tentative. “And, well, at least you’d know your future is secure if you married him.” She was prone to putting her foot in her mouth without realizing it.

I gave her a sharp look but let it pass. “Did you manage to find a venue for the next royal tea party?”

“Oh, right,” she said, quickly handing me a sheet of paper. “Here’s the list of available venues for the date we need. I’ve marked the ones that would be most appropriate.”

Despite her occasional blunders, Potts was excellent at her job. I could always count on her efficiency.

With new ladies-in-waiting and the right servants, Lady Cyan was finally surrounded by a supportive circle. Her transformation was undeniable, and I was proud to have played a role in it.

Lady Cyan’s soft voice broke my thoughts. “Would it be so wrong to consider Prince Loki?”

I nearly scoffed. “If I were interested, perhaps it wouldn’t be.”

“I think you should give him a chance,” she suggested, her large doe eyes gazing at me earnestly.

I sighed. I was ready to dismiss the notion entirely, but those eyes… “I’ll think about it,” I conceded, though the thought made me cringe inwardly.

“That’s all I ask,” Cyan said with a sweet smile.

I shook my head, standing up. “I’ll be back. I need to confirm a few numbers with Edric.” I made my way to the door, hearing the giggles of the other ladies as I left the room.

It took a tremendous amount of work, but for the first time, I felt I had done right by Lady Cyan. She had a proper support system now, and she was ready to step into her role as Crowned Princess of Asgard.

As I walked down the palace halls toward accounting, my footsteps slowed as I passed the training grounds. There, shirtless and glistening with sweat, was Prince Loki, sparring with one of the knights. His lean, muscular form moved with precision, and I begrudgingly admitted to myself, yes, Prince Loki was a very handsome man. But he was oh so arrogant.

Not to mention, something about him made me uncomfortable, a discomfort I couldn’t quite shake. It was the same feeling I got around Duke Bruce and, on occasion, even Prince Thor. Maybe it had something to do with their high positions of power or the way they carried themselves with an air of control. Whatever it was, I had no interest in exploring it further.

Before I could turn away, I caught Loki’s eye. His gaze locked onto mine, and a sly smirk spread across his face as he waved. My heart skipped a beat, but not from admiration, it was more like a warning bell. I quickly dispersed, pretending not to notice, and rushed down the corridor toward Lord Hale’s office.

After finishing my business with Lord Hale, I made my way back to Lady Cyan’s chambers, feeling a sense of relief that the conversation had gone smoothly. But midway through my return, I found myself stopped by none other than Loki himself.

“May I help you, Prince Loki?” I asked stiffly, my posture rigid as I forced myself to remain composed.

A playful grin adorned his face, and his tone was laced with flirtation. “Oh, nothing in particular, just wanting to chat with the pretty girl who’s managed to turn the palace upside down.”

I straightened my spine. “You mean right side up,” I corrected coolly.

Prince Loki chuckled, a sound that seemed to vibrate in the air between us. “Well, regardless. Tonight, I’m headed to a gathering. A close friend of mine is planning to ask for a woman’s hand in marriage. Quite the event.And I was wondering if you’d like to attend” he pushes a lock of my hair behind my shoulder. “With me.”

“I’m afraid I won’t be able to attend,” I replied curtly. “I have a gathering of my own tonight.”

He chuckled again,as if he had some kind of secret, clearly entertained by my formality. “Well, shoot. I’m sure we’ll find a way to get together sometime.”

I forced a polite smile. “Of course.” I curtsied briefly, making it clear the conversation was over, and headed back to Lady Cyan’s chambers, the unsettling feeling from earlier creeping back into my chest.

“Do you want me to say something?” I’d asked her multiple times, my voice filled with the urge to protect her, but she always refused, her shy voice barely more than a whisper.

“I don’t want to cause trouble,” she’d insist, and despite my frustration, I respected her decision. So tonight, as always, I played the role of silent protector, standing close to her, watching her every move, and his.

The party was filled with the usual noble chatter and laughter, but I found no comfort in it. Saffron’s uneasy smile, her fidgeting hands, and Duke Bruce’s ever-watchful eyes were the only things I could focus on.

I was lost in my thoughts when I felt someone brush close behind me, their breath warm against my ear. “Hello, Honey.”

I didn’t need to turn around to know who it was.Prince Loki. Of course. His voice carried that teasing edge, filled with amusement and arrogance, as if this was all a game to him.

I glanced over my shoulder, my irritation barely concealed. “Are you following me, Prince Loki?” I asked, my voice sharper than intended.

He chuckled softly, his gaze lingering on me as though he found the situation endlessly entertaining. “Following you? No, darling, I’m here for a special moment.”

I raised an eyebrow, feeling the knot in my stomach tighten. “And what moment might that be?” I asked, my words clipped.

His smirk widened as he casually nodded toward the center of the room. “That one,” he said, his tone dripping with satisfaction.

I followed his gaze and froze. My heart sank as I saw Duke Bruce Banner on one knee, proposing to Saffron in front of the entire room. She stood there, pale and trembling, but with all eyes on her, there was no way out. Her lips moved in slow motion, forming the dreaded word. “Yes.”

Applause filled the room as the crowd celebrated the engagement, toasting to their future. Saffron’s eyes darted toward me, wide with panic, but all I could do was stare, powerless to stop what was happening.

Loki leaned in closer, his voice barely above a whisper. “Congratulations on your sister’s engagement,” he said, his smirk still playing at the corners of his mouth. “It seems Duke Banner will soon be family.”

I turned to him, my jaw tight with barely concealed rage. “You knew this was going to happen.”

“Of course,” he replied smoothly, his eyes glinting with amusement. “Bruce is a close friend of mine. He’s been planning this for some time.”

I swallowed my anger, trying to keep my composure as I watched Saffron, my heart aching for her. Loki’s smug smile felt like salt in the wound. “Enjoy your evening, Lady Honey,” he added, his tone mocking. “I’m sure there will be more surprises to come.”

With that, he walked away, leaving me standing there, helpless as my sister’s fate was sealed before my eyes.

The past few weeks had been a whirlwind of stress and unanswered questions. Saffron’s engagement to Duke Banner weighed heavily on my mind, though she insisted everything was fine. I knew better. Every night she would come to me, her face tight with worry, sharing how uncomfortable everything made her feel. I’d offered her an out, told her we could make a formal request to call off the engagement, but she refused. She was too afraid of disappointing our parents, especially our mother.

“Everything will be fine,” she’d said with that fragile, hopeful look in her eyes. It made me furious, but I couldn’t force her hand. All I could do was stand by her, ready to step in if things went too far.

And then there was Lady Cyan. Rumors had spread quickly about her being ill, though I had my doubts. Something about it felt... off. The palace was rife with gossip, and yet Prince Thor, always the picture of calm, didn’t seem fazed. If anything, he appeared more focused than ever.

My attempts to see her had been blocked at every turn. Alistair, ever the watchful guard, was always there, standing between me and the answers I sought. A time where I’d tried to visit her, I was met with him stepping out of her chambers just as I approached. It was almost as if he’d been waiting for me.

“Lady Cyan is resting,” he’d said, his tone polite but firm. His cold, calculating eyes met mine without so much as a flicker of guilt. I couldn’t stand how easily he lied to my face. "She needs her privacy."

“She’s been resting for weeks,” I shot back, frustration bubbling in my chest. “Surely she could spare a moment?”

Alistair didn’t blink, didn’t falter. “Her health is delicate. If you truly care for her well-being, you'll give her time.”

His words were a steel wall, and I had no choice but to retreat, fuming. But I didn’t stop trying. Each day, I attempted to get close, whether it was checking in through the maids or attempting another visit myself,but Alistair was always there, standing guard like some immovable sentry.

Pepper and Natasha told me to let it go, that if Prince Thor said she was unwell, it was best to leave it at that. But I couldn’t. Something in my gut told me that there was more to it. And as the days passed, that gnawing suspicion only grew stronger.

It didn’t help that Loki seemed intent on feeding into my doubts, though his information came in small, tantalizing pieces. Each time we crossed paths, he would drop a hint, a little morsel of knowledge that made my curiosity burn brighter. He never gave me the full picture, just enough to keep me coming back for more.

I had just finished reviewing some paperwork with Edric when I stepped out into the hallway. Prince Loki was there, casually leaning against the wall like he had all the time in the world. His eyes immediately found mine, that familiar smirk playing on his lips.

“Lady Honey,” he greeted, his tone smooth. “Busy day?”

“Always,” I muttered, not in the mood for small talk. “Do you need something?”

He pushed off the wall, sauntering over to me, his presence impossible to ignore. “Not at all. Just curious how Lady Cyan is faring.” His voice dropped ever so slightly, hinting at something beneath the surface.

I stiffened, trying to mask my surprise. “She’s unwell, or so I’ve been told,” I replied carefully, eyeing him. “You would know that if you bothered to ask.”

Prince Loki chuckled softly, his hand reaching out to grab my chin. “Oh, I ask plenty of questions, my dear. Just not to the right people, apparently.” His touch lingered longer than necessary, and before I could say anything, he stepped back with a knowing smile. “Keep an eye on her,” he added, his tone soft but carrying weight.

Before I could respond, he was already walking away, leaving me with more questions than answers.

Days had passed, and Prince Loki’s cryptic comments continued to nag at me. I was heading down the palace corridor, lost in thought, when I felt a sudden arm around my shoulders, pulling me into a side embrace. Prince Loki again.

“You always seem so tense, Lady Honey,” he teased, his voice close to my ear. “What has you so worked up this time?”

I tried to wriggle free, but he held me firmly in place, his warmth both irritating and oddly comforting. “Prince Loki, I have work to do,” I grumbled. “This isn’t the time.”

He laughed, his grip loosening but not completely letting go. “Is it ever? You’re always working, always investigating. I wonder... what would you do if you found something you weren’t supposed to?”

I stilled at his words, the weight of them sinking in. He knew something. “What are you implying?”

He smiled down at me, eyes twinkling with mischief. “Let’s just say... not everyone in the palace is who they seem. Keep digging, and you might be surprised at what you find.”

I pulled away from him, trying to regain my composure. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re delightful,” he replied with a wink before walking off, leaving me even more frustrated than before.

I was pouring over documents late one evening when Prince Loki appeared out of nowhere, his presence once again unsettling but familiar. He stood behind me, his hand lightly resting on my back as he leaned in.

“Still working, I see,” he murmured. “Do you ever rest?”

I tensed at the closeness, but his hand was gentle, not imposing. “Someone has to do the work around here,” I replied dryly, not looking up.

“Hmm,” he mused, his fingers lightly tracing down my spine before lifting away. “Perhaps. Or perhaps you’re just looking for something you shouldn’t be finding.”

I turned to face him, narrowing my eyes. “Are you ever going to just tell me what you know, or are you going to keep playing these games?”

Loki smirked, his eyes glinting with amusement. “Where’s the fun in that, my dear? Sometimes, the best discoveries are made through patience... and persistence.”

Before I could respond, he was gone again, leaving only the faint warmth where his hand had been.

I stormed through the palace halls, my frustration building with every step. This was the fourth time I’d been turned away from seeing Lady Cyan, and I wasn’t about to let Alistair dismiss me again. My pulse quickened as I approached her chambers, my mind already preparing for a confrontation.

As soon as I reached the door, there he was, Alistair, standing outside with his arms crossed, as if he were waiting for me. His expression was as unreadable as ever, but I could see the faintest flicker of amusement in his eyes.

“Move aside,” I said sharply, not caring how harsh I sounded. “I’m seeing Lady Cyan whether you like it or not.”

Alistair didn’t flinch. Instead, he sighed and straightened, blocking the entrance with his large frame. “Young One,” he began in that infuriatingly calm voice, “how many times must we go through this? Lady Cyan is ill, and Prince Thor is taking excellent care of her.”

“That’s nonsense,” I snapped, my frustration boiling over. “Every time I’ve tried to see her, it’s been the same excuse. Do you think I’m some fool who will just let it go because you keep repeating the same thing? Lady Cyan hasn’t been seen for days!”

His gaze didn’t waver. “And she won’t be seen until she’s recovered. Now, go back to your duties.”

I clenched my fists, anger bubbling in my chest. “I’m not a child, Alistair! Don’t treat me like one just because you don’t have the decency to tell me what’s actually going on. You think I’m blind to what’s happening?”

Alistair stared at me, unfazed by my outburst. Then, to my utter fury, he reached out and gently patted me on the head, as if I were some bothersome child. “Young One,” he said, a hint of condescension in his tone, “you should focus on your own work and let Prince Thor handle LadCyan. You’re only going to exhaust yourself meddling in things you don’t understand.”

I slapped his hand away, my blood boiling at the insult. “You can’t keep me away from her forever, Alistair.”

He merely shrugged, unfazed. “Perhaps not, but for now, you should go. I won’t tell you again.”

My teeth ground together, but I knew I couldn’t push him further without making a scene. I had no choice but to turn around and leave, but the fire of frustration burned deep in my chest. I wasn’t going to let this go, not by a long shot.

As I walked away, I could still feel Alistair’s patronizing pat on my head, and it only fueled my determination. Something was wrong, and I was going to find out what.

The royal wedding was only a few days away, and I’d reached my breaking point. The palace had become a den of whispers and secrets, and it seemed that the closer we got to the wedding, the more the air thickened with lies. I had tried everything, pushing past Alistair, confronting Prince Thor’s other courtiers, even pleading with Lady Natasha and Lady Pepper to help me get to LadyCyan. But all paths led to closed doors.

And Prince Loki with his cryptic words, his teasing smiles, and half-baked hints. I couldn’t take it anymore.

I stormed through the palace halls, not caring who saw me. My feet led me to the Royal Garden, where I knew he’d be. He always found some quiet corner to lounge in, away from the royal duties he couldn’t be bothered with. Sure enough, there he was, seated by the fountain, leaning back like a man without a care in the world. He hadn’t seen me yet, his eyes closed, hands resting in his lap.

“Prince Loki!” I hissed, my voice cutting through the peaceful evening air. His eyes snapped open, a smirk already curling his lips as he straightened, watching me approach.

“Well, well, Lady Honey. I was wondering when you’d come seeking my company,” he said, his voice smooth as silk. He pushed off the edge of the fountain and stood, his eyes gleaming with amusement. “What brings you to me so... heatedly?”

“I’ve had enough of your games,” I spat, my fists clenched at my sides. “Tell me what’s going on with Lady Cyan.”

His smirk deepened, and he took a few slow steps toward me. “And what makes you think I’ll just give you the answers you seek?”

“Because you know something!” I shouted, unable to contain my frustration. “You’ve been dropping hints for weeks, playing with me like a cat with a mouse, and I’m done! I need to know what’s happening to her!”

Prince Loki raised an eyebrow, clearly entertained by my outburst. He circled me slowly, as if appraising me. “Oh, my dear Lady Honey, I do know many things. But nothing comes for free in this world.”

I turned to face him, my heart pounding in my chest. “What do you want?”

He stopped in front of me, his gaze locked on mine, intense and unwavering. “A kiss.”

My heart skipped a beat. “What?”

“A kiss,” he repeated, his voice low and velvety. “Give me one, and I’ll tell you everything you want to know.”

I stared at him, stunned. This was a new game. A dangerous one. “You’re joking.”

His eyes darkened, and the smirk on his face faded slightly, replaced with something more... possessive. “I never, Lady Honey.”

I hesitated, my mind racing. A kiss? For information? It felt wrong. But I had to know. I needed to understand what was happening, why Cyan had suddenly vanished behind locked doors, why everyone was pretending everything was fine.

With reluctance weighing heavily on me, I nodded. “Fine.”

Loki’s smirk returned, but this time it was darker, more victorious. Before I could even prepare myself, he stepped forward, his hand snaking around my waist and pulling me against him. His grip was firm, and the heat of his body was overwhelming. He didn’t hesitate , his lips crashed down on mine, strong and possessive, swallowing my breath. It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t sweet. It was raw, and claiming. His hand moved to the small of my back, pulling me even closer, while his other hand gripped my neck, tilting my head to deepen the kiss.

I gasped against his mouth, but he didn’t relent. His fingers dug into my waist, his body pressing me tightly against him as if he couldn’t bear to let me go. His lips moved with a fierceness that stole the air from my lungs, and when I tried to pull back, his grip tightened, holding me in place.

The kiss grew rougher, more demanding. His hand slid from my waist to my hip, his fingers brushing dangerously close to my thigh. He groped me as if I were his to take, his hold possessive, his body commanding.

My mind screamed at me to push him away, but my body was paralyzed. My heart pounded in my chest, a mixture of fear and something else , something I didn’t want to name. His lips moved over mine, devouring me, until I was left breathless, gasping against him.

When he finally pulled back, I was dizzy, my knees weak. I could hardly catch my breath as I stared up at him, my lips swollen, my body trembling from the intensity of it all. He looked down at me, his eyes dark and hungry, a satisfied smirk playing on his lips.

“Well, Lady Honey,” he murmured, his voice low and smooth. “A deal’s a deal.”

I tried to steady my breathing, still reeling from the kiss. “Tell me,” I whispered, my voice shaking.

But Loki didn’t move away. Instead, he stayed close, his hand still firmly gripping my waist. He tilted his head slightly, brushing his nose against mine in an almost affectionate manner, a contrast to the possessive way he had kissed me moments earlier.

He pressed his lips softly to my forehead, lingering for a moment as his breath fanned over my skin. “Thor has been spending a lot of time with Cyan,” he whispered, his voice barely above a murmur. “Alone. Uninterrupted. But she’s not ill. Not at all.”

His hand slid lower, caressing my side as he spoke, his lips brushing against my hair. “They’ve been keeping her in her chambers, but it’s not for the reasons you think.”

I pulled back slightly, just enough to look up at him. “Then why?” I asked, my voice trembling.

Loki’s grip tightened for a moment, his eyes locking with mine. “Because she’s trapped, just like you, little honeybee. Thor has no intention of letting her go.”

I stared at him, a sinking feeling of dread filling my stomach.

The day after my tense encounter with Loki, I finally managed to see Lady Cyan. She was glowing, radiant even, but her expression, her eyes, told a different story. As soon as I laid eyes on her, I rushed forward and embraced her tightly.

“Are you alright?” I asked, my voice low, laced with concern.

Pepper and Natasha, standing nearby with knowing smiles, seemed to think my worry was misplaced. “Honey, had been worried sick about you,” Natasha said, her tone light, almost dismissive of the tension that clung to me. It was as if they were brushing off the entire ordeal.

“I’m fine,” Lady Cyan answered, but her eyes,they were haunted. Despite her soft smile, there was a sadness there that pulled at my chest.

I nodded, but I didn’t believe her. Something was wrong, and as the days leading up to the wedding crept by, I tried to coax her into talking. She remained tight-lipped, her melancholy growing more apparent, but she wouldn’t say a word.

Prince Loki, who had been dropping hints and playing his games, was nowhere to be found during this time. It should have unsettled me, but I was too focused on Lady Cyan to care.

Then, the day of the royal wedding arrived. It was the grandest affair Asgard had ever seen, extravagant, dazzling, and utterly flawless in its execution. Everyone was there, dressed to the nines, and the entire kingdom celebrated the union of Crown Prince Thor and Princess Cyan.

But then, during the reception, Princess Cyan disappeared.

I knew where to find her.

I followed my instincts, weaving my way through the palace grounds until I reached the Royal Forest. There, in the center of the garden, was a bench where she sat, her face buried in her hands as she sobbed uncontrollably.

“Princess Cyan?” I whispered as I approached. She looked up at me, her eyes red, streaked with tears.

Without a word, I sat beside her, wrapping my arms around her trembling frame. “What’s wrong?” I asked gently, stroking her hair as she cried.This was meant to be the happiest day of her life. Or so I’ve heard.

She sniffled, wiping her eyes as she extended her hand. “Do you know what this is?” she asked, showing me her wedding ring.

I frowned. “It’s your wedding ring, of course.”

She shook her head, her hand trembling. “No, Honey, it’s a Vowthorn.”

Confusion filled me as I studied the ring more closely. My blood ran cold as I saw it—tiny thorns lining the underside, almost imperceptible unless you looked carefully.

“What do you mean?”

She sniffled again, and before I could stop her, she tugged at the ring. To my horror, pieces of her skin began to tear as she tried to remove it. Blood welled at the edges, and I quickly grabbed her hand to stop her. “Princess Cyan, stop!” I cried, my heart pounding.

“I can never take it off,” she whispered, her voice broken. “I’m bound to him, Honey. Forever.”

My eyes widened as I stared at her bloody finger, my stomach churning with revulsion. The thorns had sunk into her flesh, marking her, chaining her to Prince Thor in a way far crueler than I could have imagined.

“Princess Cyan.”

Alistair’s voice broke through the moment, his presence looming as he stepped out from the shadows of the trees. “Your husband is looking for you,” he said calmly, as if nothing was amiss.

Princess Cyan wiped her eyes, standing slowly as she gave me one last, heart-wrenching hug. “Thank you for everything,” she whispered, her voice hollow.

I held her tightly for a moment before releasing her, watching helplessly as she walked toward Alistair. He smiled, cold, knowing, and I could only stand there, frozen, as he gently escorted her back to the party.

I felt my heart twist, anger simmering beneath the surface.

“Do you understand now?”

Prince Loki had emerged from the shadows, lurking like the serpent he always was. I didn’t bother looking at him, my gaze still fixed on the spot where Cyan had disappeared, her broken form haunting my thoughts.

If I were being honest, I didn’t fully understand. Not yet. But there was one thing I was almost certain of.

“He’s harming her,” I said aloud, unable to shake the memory of her fear, the wedding ring that tore into her skin when she dared to remove it. “But why? I thought he loved her.”

Loki’s laugh was sharp, cutting through the stillness of the forest. It grated on my nerves, and I finally turned to stare at him. “What’s so funny?”

He stepped closer, his smirk both infuriating and dangerous. “Hardly harming her,” he corrected, his tone dripping with amusement. “There may be a bit of pain involved, yes... but the pleasure, from what I’ve heard, is immaculate.” His voice deepens

I rolled my eyes, my patience thinning. “What in gods’ name are you babbling about, Loki?”

He chuckled darkly, as if I were some naïve child. “Thor is playing a different game, Honey. One where control is disguised as love, and desire is wrapped in thorns. You see, your dear crowned prince has no intention of letting his bride go. Not ever.”

My stomach twisted. "That doesn't explain the ring. The pain."

Prince Loki's gaze softened, almost mockingly. “Ah, but pain and pleasure often intertwine. Thor’s made sure she feels both, he wants her to be bound to him in every way. The ring, the restrictions, they serve a purpose beyond mere possession. It’s a reminder. That no matter how much she may try to escape, she’ll always come back to him.”

I clenched my fists, anger rising in me like a tide. "You're saying he's... manipulating her into staying?"

"Isn't that what marriage often is?" Loki raised an eyebrow, his voice deceptively light. He moved closer, until the heat of his body was almost touching mine. "But don’t think of it as cruelty. In Thor’s eyes, it’s love. Just a... particular kind."

I felt sick. "And you? Do you condone it?"

Prince Loki leaned in, his breath warm against my ear. “I don’t condone or condemn. I observe. And I act when it suits me.” He paused, his voice lowering to a whisper. "As I’ve been observing you."

A shiver ran down my spine. His presence, his words, it was all too much. I stepped back, trying to put distance between us, but Loki only smirked, as if he enjoyed seeing me unsettled.

He gestured toward the path Princess Cyan and Alistair had taken. “If you really want to know what’s happening, you’re asking the wrong questions. Thor loves her, yes, but his love is one that consumes, one that binds. Just like the ring on her finger.” His eyes gleamed. "The real question is, how far will he go to keep her?"

Before I could even think of leaving,Prince Loki’s slender fingers grab around my neck, his grip deceptively strong. He yanked me closer, so close that I could feel the warmth of his breath on my cheek, his body pressing against mine in a way that made my stomach churn with both fear and an unexpected flicker of something else, something I didn’t want to acknowledge.

“Now, then,” Loki whispered in a voice as smooth as velvet, his lips barely brushing my ear. “I think I’ve waited long enough.”

“Let go of me!” I demanded, my voice shaking but defiant as I pushed against his chest, trying to create distance. But it was no use, he barely moves, his frame lean yet unyielding as if carved from stone.

“Now, now, little Honey,” he purred, his tone dripping with a sick sort of amusement. “You’ve been so curious about what’s happening to sweet Cyan... I think it’s only fair I show you ”

His lips descended on mine with a force that took my breath away. I gasped, my body instinctively tensing at the sudden invasion. His mouth claimed mine without hesitation, his kiss demanding, harsh, and unforgiving.

My hands pressed against his chest, trying to create some distance between us, but it was futile. Loki was everywhere. His fingers gripped my waist tightly, pulling me closer as though he intended to merge us into one being. His other hand roamed, sliding down my back, groping and kneading as if he were staking his claim.

The heat of his body was overwhelming, and I could feel his fingers curling into the fabric of my gown, tugging me impossibly closer. His lips moved against mine, rough and unrelenting, his tongue sweeping into my mouth with a dominance that made my knees buckle.

"L-Loki—" I tried to speak, to push him away, but my voice was swallowed by the intensity of the kiss. He groaned against my lips, his hand trailing lower, grabbing my hip and squeezing with enough force to make me gasp.

"Shh," he whispered, his lips brushing mine in a cruel mockery of tenderness. "You’ve wanted this, Honey. Don’t pretend otherwise."

His words sent a shiver down my spine, but before I could respond, his mouth was back on mine, stealing my breath once more. His hands slid down to my backside, gripping and pulling me against him in a way that left no space between us. I could feel every inch of him, his body pressed tightly to mine as if he couldn’t bear to let me go.

His lips left mine only to trail down the side of my neck, leaving hot, open-mouthed kisses along my skin. I whimpered as he nipped at my collarbone, his teeth grazing my flesh just enough to send a bolt of heat through me.

"You’re mine now," he growled against my skin, his voice low and possessive. "Don’t think for a second you can escape me."

His hands roamed freely, tracing the curve of my waist, the swell of my hips, and the dip of my back. His touch was rough, insistent, as though he was marking me with every stroke of his fingers. My heart pounded in my chest, a mixture of fear, and confusion

I've never done anything like this before, I’ve never been exposed to anything like this before. For the first time in my life, I feared what would happened next.

Loki's grip tightened, his hands digging into my flesh as if daring me to try and escape. But there was no escape. Not from him. Not from this.

When he finally pulled back, his eyes were dark, filled with an intensity that made me want to run and hide. His thumb traced the line of my jaw as he smirked down at me, his lips swollen from the kiss.

He shoved me hard, sending me crashing to the ground. My head smacked against the cold earth, a sharp pain shooting through my skull as the world spun for a moment.

Using my confusion as an opportunity, Loki climbed on top of me, forcibly lifting my skirts and ripping apart my undergarments.

“Wait” I called out “Loki! Please! No!” my pleas falling on deaf ears as I heard and felt him shuffle about.

I tried to get up, but this only caused Loki to grab my neck once more, shoving my head back into the ground. The pressure on my neck causing me to still.

All at once, I feel a searing pain in my nether regions, and Loki growls with what I can only assume is pleasure. I begin digging my nails into his arm and dragging them down. Tears threatening to spill from my eyes.

The anguish squeezing every bit of breath I had in my body.

He takes one look at my face, at the agony and discomfort he was causing, and he laughed loudly.

“You are a virgin?” he asks, shock laced into his voice.

I swallow, whimpers escape me as I try to breathe through the torment.

“And you worry about the whore?”

He begins moving his body against mine the pain sharp, and persistent, a deep, stretching discomfort catching me off guard. Distress overtaking me as tears fell down my face. It felt as if a fresh wound had been torn open, and he was mercilessly digging into it, over and over, each movement sending waves of torment through me.

A pressure that started small but grew with every motion, my muscles tensing instinctively. It wasn’t just the physical sting; there was an emotional weight behind it too. A feeling of vulnerability, of crossing a threshold I could never return from. It was unbearable, and far from pleasant, a blend of confusion and distress mixed with the ache.

With every grunt and growl Loki worked to steal away my innocence. I became tired, my arms dropped to my side as I allowed him what he wanted. I still cried to myself wondering when this would be over.

He removed his hand from my neck, planting both firmly on to the ground as he worked to move faster. Finally, just when I felt that I could take no more he lets out a final roar pushing himself as deep as he could inside me, causing me to cry out in pain,before collapsing on my worn body.

"See?" he whispered, his voice a low growl. "I told you, Honey. You’re mine."

I stared up at him, panting, my mind still spinning from the events that occurred.

He stood, fixing himself before leaving me on the ground with a chuckle.

I had never felt so ashamed, to allow something so awful to happen to me. I move into a fetal position, wondering where I went wrong.

Afterwards when Prince Loki stood up and fixed his garments I chose to lay on the ground for what felt like hours, my body aching, my mind swirling in the haze of disbelief. Used, humiliated, and utterly broken, I could hardly muster the strength to move. The cool earth beneath me felt foreign, much like the shell of my own body. I wanted to scream, to cry, but the exhaustion and shame anchored me to the ground.

Eventually, reality clawed its way back in. I still had to go home. As battered as I was, I couldn’t allow myself to be found like this. I still had my family’s dignity to uphold, fragile though it was. I closed my eyes, forcing myself to block out the vile memories of what had just happened. Loki's touch lingered on my skin, searing like a brand I’d never erase. But I had to get up. I had no choice.

With trembling arms, I pushed myself off the cold ground. Every movement sent a fresh wave of soreness through my body. My dress was filthy, covered in dirt and torn in places. My hair, usually so neatly kept, hung in tangled clumps around my face. I wiped at my cheeks, but the tears had long since dried. I felt like a ghost of the woman I was when I arrived.

My legs shook as I took one step, then another. My body protested, but I bit back the groan of agony and pressed on. I couldn’t afford to be found here. Not like this.

It was a miracle no one had come across me. The palace grounds had plenty of hidden corners, but in this state, I felt exposed, vulnerable. With every faltering step, I felt the weight of what had been stolen from me. I was no longer Honey Duval, the thorny, snarky daughter of a struggling Baroness. I had become something else entirely.

After what seemed like an eternity, I reached the entrance of the palace. There were still people milling about, blissfully unaware of the turmoil that raged inside me. I kept my head low, pulling my ruined dress around me to hide the worst of the damage. I prayed that no one would take a second look, that no one would notice the way I limped toward the line of carriages.

I spotted an empty one, its driver standing idly by. I approached him as steadily as I could, my voice a ragged whisper as I asked, “Take me home.”

The driver, with barely a glance, helped me inside, and I sank into the seat, every muscle in my body screaming for rest. The door shut, and with the soft lurch of the carriage, I felt myself collapse inward.

I managed to stumble my way through the door without a soul in sight. The house was still and quiet, no sign of my family. Of course, they were all still at the wedding. My parents, Saffron, even Bruce, none of them would have noticed I was missing yet. That gave me some relief, though it was fleeting.

The servants had long retired to their quarters for the night. There was no one to see me in this state, no judgmental eyes to pry at my disheveled hair and filthy gown. I was grateful for the emptiness of the estate.

I moved quietly through the halls, each step painful, my body still aching from the night’s cruelty. When I finally reached my room, I shut the door behind me, leaning my back against it and letting out a ragged breath. My legs gave out from under me, and I slid to the floor, my dress pooling around me in a tattered mess.

I could still feel Loki’s hands on me, the weight of his body, his mocking smile as he took everything I had left. A fresh wave of nausea rolled over me, and I pressed a hand to my mouth, fighting back the bile that threatened to rise.

I was falling apart.

With shaking hands, I dragged myself to the mirror, catching sight of the wreck I had become. My eyes hollow, my hair tangled and dirty, my dress in ruins. I could barely recognize myself.

I stripped off my ruined dress, letting it fall to the floor in a heap. Every inch of my body ached, bruises I hadn’t noticed earlier now flaring with every movement. My mind was clouded with the horrors of what had transpired, but I knew one thing,I needed to wash it all away.

The bathwater was scalding as I stepped in, but I didn’t care. I welcomed the heat, letting it burn my skin, hoping it could sear away the filth that clung to me. I grabbed the soap and scrubbed harder than I ever had before. I scrubbed until my skin felt raw, but no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t rid myself of the feeling of his hands, his breath on my neck, the unbearable weight of him.

Loki’s sins clung to me like a second skin, and no amount of scrubbing could make them disappear.

Tears welled up in my eyes, and this time I couldn’t stop them. They fell silently, mixing with the water, but I didn’t make a sound. I couldn’t. I couldn’t let this break me—not yet. I had to keep going. I had to find a way to survive.

After what felt like an eternity, I dragged myself out of the tub, my skin tender and sore. I wrapped myself in a towel, feeling the weight of exhaustion pulling me down, but I didn’t stop. I couldn’t stop.

I dressed quickly, slipping into a nightgown, my body trembling with every movement. Each bruise, each ache, was a reminder of what had happened, of what I had endured.

Finally, I collapsed onto the bed, pulling the sheets around me as tightly as I could. I wanted to disappear, to become invisible, but the memories wouldn’t let me. They played over and over in my mind, tormenting me, reminding me that I was no longer the person I had been just hours before.

As the night deepened, I lay there in silence, staring at the ceiling, my body too heavy to move, my mind too shattered to rest.

The morning after the... incident, I went to work, doing my best to avoid Loki like the plague. Thankfully, he wasn't lurking anywhere near me, but my focus stayed on my work, burying myself in it to ignore the memory of last night.

Princess Cyan was finally available today, but something was off. She was quieter than usual, almost distant, her glow subdued. I glanced around the room, noticing Natasha and Pepper were unusually silent too. The whole room felt heavy, but I was too preoccupied with my work to dwell on it. There were more pressing things to address,or so I thought.

Queen Freya had summoned me.

When the notice arrived, I paused, the paper trembling in my hands. I could feel my pulse quicken, but I kept my composure as I made my way to the Queen’s receiving room. What could she possibly want? Had something else gone wrong?

The air in Queen Freya’s receiving room was as cold and stiff as the Queen herself. I stood quietly, waiting for her to get to the point of summoning me here. She'd been polite enough, making small talk about the weather and my family’s well-being, but her eyes never softened. Not for a moment.

It wasn’t long before she finally sat back in her chair and sighed, an air of finality in her voice. "Honey, you’ve done quite a remarkable job assisting... Princess Cyan." The way she said "Princess" made it sound like an insult rather than a title. "But I'm afraid your services are no longer needed."

I blinked, completely thrown. "Your Majesty, may I ask what I’ve done wrong?"

She folded her hands and looked at me with the kind of smile that never reached her eyes. "It’s not about wrongdoing, per se. But your absence on the night of the wedding was entirely unprofessional. We cannot risk something like that happening again. What if Princess Cyan needed you? You were nowhere to be found."

My heart raced. That night… my time spent with PrincesCyan had been brief before I stumbled upon her secret. I knew better than to mention it. "Your Majesty, I—"

"There’s no need for explanations, dear," she cut me off sharply. "I am well aware that you have been rather... vocal in your support for Princess Cyan. Too vocal, perhaps."

There it was. The truth. Queen Freya’s gaze flickered, revealing the venom she had been holding back. It wasn’t about my absence or my professionalism. This had nothing to do with any potential failure on my part.

"Your service to her has been... commendable," she continued, her tone laced with condescension. "But it’s not what is needed at court. We must think of the future of Asgard, and Princess Cyan’s role. You... would do better to think of your own future outside these palace walls."

I stood there, stunned into silence.

"There are no second chances in court, Honey. You must understand that. You’re dismissed."

It hit me like a blow. All my work, all my effort to support Princess Cyan, to make sure she was respected, treated as she should be, would be undone by a queen who saw her as a blemish. And I was simply collateral.

I gathered myself, curtsying. "As you wish, Your Majesty."

As I walked out of the receiving room, I couldn’t help but feel the weight of the power Queen Freya wielded. This wasn’t about professionalism or duty. This was about control.

Mother’s eyes blazed with fury, the air between us crackling with her frustration. I stood there, hands clenched at my sides, trying to steady my breathing, but the storm in her gaze only grew.

"What could you have possibly done?" she spat, pacing in front of me like a lioness ready to strike. "Did you offend someone again? Oh, did you open your big mouth to the wrong person this time?"

I flinched at her words, though I knew better than to respond too quickly. I kept my head down, my eyes tracing the intricate patterns on the rug beneath my feet, as if I could disappear into the floor. Her accusations, though harsh, were nothing new.

She stopped pacing, turning to me with that piercing look that always left me feeling smaller than I was. "Speak, Honey. What have you done? You must have done something, or you wouldn’t have been fired as Princess Cyan’s lady-in-waiting! So what was it?"

I stayed silent, my throat tight with the truth I couldn’t say. She wouldn’t understand, not now, not ever. And even if I told her everything, how would I explain Loki?

Her voice broke through my thoughts, sharp and biting. "Answer me!" she demanded. "Do you know what you’ve caused? To be dismissed from court like some common servant, disgraceful! You’ve brought shame upon this family."

I swallowed, the words heavy on my tongue, but none of them would make a difference. My mother was looking for someone to blame, and I was the easiest target.

Her gaze darkened, filled with suspicion. “So you’ve nothing to say? No defense for yourself?”

I shook my head. "No, Mother. Nothing."

For a moment, silence stretched between us, thick with unspoken accusations. She crossed her arms, looking me up and down as if searching for some clue, some evidence of the disgrace I’d caused.

Her lips curled into a sneer

It was another day of being reprimanded by her. But this time, it stung more than usual. Saffron wasn’t here to soften the blow, to offer that silent comfort only a sister could. No, she was off with Bruce’s mother, going over preparations for her own wedding, blissfully unaware of the disaster that had become my life.

I stood there, feeling the weight of my mother’s words, the shame and frustration building up like a dam about to break. Tears welled in my eyes, but I bit them back. Could I even tell her what had really happened? Could I tell her about Loki, about the things that I didn’t even want to think about, let alone speak aloud?

"Answer me, Honey!" my mother snapped, her impatience rising.

I couldn’t. I couldn’t take it anymore. Without another word, I rushed past her, ignoring the startled look on her face. I needed to get away, to hide. I fled to my room, slamming the door behind me as the tears finally broke free.

I didn’t want to see anyone. I didn’t want to hear anyone. I didn’t know what I wanted, but it certainly wasn’t this. This life, this shame, this pain,I couldn’t bear it.

I curled up on my bed, hugging my knees to my chest, wishing for everything to just disappear.

Weeks had passed, and I was growing weaker with each day.

I stayed silent. Lying in bed, withering away, my body betraying me as much as my mind. What could I possibly say? What could my family do if I did tell them? Loki was the Prince of Asgard, untouchable by anyone in our position. And with Saffron dealing with her own issues with the Duke, I couldn’t add more burden to the family.

From what I knew, Saffron wanted to delay the wedding—push it back a year or two, give them time to get to know each other better. But The Duke refused, insisting that he could hardly wait the few days left until they were to be married. The fear in Saffron’s eyes was clear as day. She was terrified, but with me having been fired from the palace, she felt like she had no other choice. Bruce was our only hope of pulling the Duvals out of the pit of "nonexistence," as my mother had begun to call it.

I tried to tell Saffron that she always had a choice, that there was another way, but she wouldn’t listen. The weight of saving the family seemed to matter more to her than saving herself.

We were walking through the Duval garden when I could feel my body rebelling again. Saffron had convinced me that fresh air might do me good, that perhaps I was simply exhausted from being cooped up for so long. But I felt nauseous, my head swimming. Eventually, I couldn’t hold it in any longer. I leaned over, vomiting into the bushes, and before I knew it, everything went black.

When I woke, I was surrounded by my family. Saffron, my father, and my mother, along with a doctor who was wiping his hands clean on a cloth. My mother was hovering over me, panicked, her voice shrill as she called my name. My father stood by, trying to calm her down, while Saffron sat silently at the edge of the bed, her face pale.

"She's awake," my father sighed in relief.

I blinked, trying to shake the fog from my mind. "What happened?" My voice was weak, barely above a whisper.

The doctor cleared his throat, stepping forward. "You've fainted, Lady Honey, but you're alright now. However, there’s something else... You’re with child.”

The words hit me like a boulder.

"That’s impossible," I muttered, though deep down I knew it wasn’t. The memory of Loki’s hands on me flashed in my mind, and I felt my stomach twist.

"I think you know how this happened," the doctor said, his tone professional but laced with an understanding that made the room feel even heavier.

Silence fell, and the air grew thick with tension. My mother was the first to break it, her voice high-pitched with disbelief. "Who is the father? Who have you been with?" Her words came sharp and fast, like a blade cutting through me.

I said nothing. What could I say? How could I explain something I barely had the strength to acknowledge myself?

My father quietly ushered the doctor out of the room, but Saffron remained, her face frozen in shock. She didn’t move. She didn’t say a word.

My mother’s voice rose again, frantic now. "Who is the father, Honey? Answer me!" Her hands grabbed my shoulders, shaking me, but still, I stayed silent.

I couldn’t bring myself to utter Loki’s name. Not now. Not ever.

"If you don’t tell me this instant, I’ll—I’ll..." My mother’s voice cracked, her eyes wild as she searched for something that might break me. She straightened, her face flushed with frustration. "I’ll send you to your Aunt Gertrude."

I blinked, the words settling in the air like an empty threat. Aunt Gertrude. As a child, her name had been synonymous with punishment. The strange spinster, cast aside by the family for reasons never fully explained to me and my sister. I used to shudder at the mere mention of her name, but now... now, the thought of being sent to her estate didn’t stir the same fear it once did.

In fact, I couldn’t remember ever having a true reason to fear Aunt Gertrude. She was an outcast, yes. Blamed for the Duvals’ declining status in society. But what had she really done? No one had ever told me.

Maybe it was because she was different, unconventional, and refused to play the endless games of high society. Or maybe it was because she didn’t fit into the mold my mother had set for the family.

And now, I was beginning to realize... I might not either.

I was much too tired to fight, to resist the weight of my mother’s constant reproach. My head ached, and the room spun slightly as I forced myself to sit up straighter, meeting her gaze. Her threat hung in the air between us, but the words that escaped me were softer than I intended, drained of their sting.

"Then send me," I said, barely above a whisper. "I don’t care anymore."

She recoiled as if I’d struck her. "How dare you," she hissed, eyes narrowing as she crossed her arms. "After all we’ve done for you, after everything our family has sacrificed, this is how you repay us?"

I turned my head, gazing out of the window as she raged. My chest felt hollow, my heart heavy with exhaustion. It wasn’t that I didn’t care, perhaps I cared too much, but what could I do?

She stood abruptly, the anger still palpable in the air between us. "You’ll leave for Gertrude’s after Saffron’s wedding, she will be in attendance, and will take you with her when she leaves" she declared, her voice colder now, resolved. "And don’t expect us to welcome you back anytime soon."

I nodded silently, still looking away. As she left the room, I let out a slow breath, sinking back into the pillows. A strange calm washed over me. The threat of being sent to Aunt Gertrude no longer loomed like it once had.

In fact, the more I thought about it, the less frightening it seemed.

Aunt Gertrude had been cast out for being different, for failing to meet society’s expectations. Maybe, just maybe, I had more in common with her than anyone else in this family.

Saffron looked radiant but terrified. Her eyes darted across the grand hall, her smile faltering every time someone came too close. I should have objected to this marriage, but I couldn't. Not for lack of love or loyalty,no, I simply couldn't find the energy within myself. The truth was, I had no reason to.

On paper, Duke Bruce Banner was everything one could hope for. Powerful, wealthy, and above all else, terrifyingly loyal to Saffron. Since their courtship began, he had proven his devotion in ways that made him seem perfect, like the ideal match for a girl of Saffron’s standing. And with our family’s name teetering on the edge of ruin, he was exactly what she needed. What we all needed.

Mother had remained by my side throughout the day, ensuring that I didn’t cause a scene. Her hands were always just a breath away, offering water, passing sweets, shielding me from questions thrown by fellow relatives. It was the most affectionate she’d ever been, a strange contrast to her usual distant demeanor. Perhaps she feared what the slightest slip would reveal that her daughter carried a secret far more scandalous than a dismissal from court.

My pregnancy was the one secret she seemed determined to protect, at least for now.

I managed to slip away and found Saffron standing alone, staring into the mirror, her smile long gone. Her hands were trembling as she adjusted her veil, and when she saw me, her eyes filled with unshed tears.

“We can run away together, you know?” I whispered, my voice barely audible over the murmurs of guests in the distance.

She looked at me, a sad smile tugging at her lips. "And I know you’re seriously considering that," she said, a soft laugh escaping her. But there was no joy in it, only resignation. “But I can’t, Honey. I can’t abandon my obligations. I don’t have the luxury of running away.”

I nodded, though my heart ached for her. Saffron, my strong-willed sister, had always carried the weight of responsibility on her delicate shoulders, and despite her fear, she would never cast it aside. That was who she was.

She pulled me in close, her breath warm against my cheek. "I’d like to see my little niece or nephew often, though," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "So I expect frequent visits."

I couldn’t help but smile, though tears blurred my vision. "You’ll be the best aunt this child will ever know," I said, meaning every word.

We hugged tightly, holding onto this fleeting moment of peace. It was one of the few moments we’d had where neither of us had to pretend. For just a heartbeat, it was the two of us again,sisters, not trapped by titles or duties, but bound by love.

But we both knew it wouldn’t last. We had already lost, each in our own way.

“Dear!” A voice interrupted our embrace, and we both turned to see Duke Bruce Banner standing at the entrance, a charming but calculated smile on his face. His eyes flickered between us, though it was clear his attention was only on Saffron.

"I truly hate to interrupt a bonding moment between sisters," he said with a grin, "but it’s time for the cake."

Saffron gave him a strained smile before taking his arm. But before she let go of my hand, she squeezed it tightly, a silent promise, a reassurance that no matter what, we would always have each other. Even if the world we lived in forced us apart.

As they walked away, the weight of what was coming settled over me like a shroud. Soon, I would be gone, sent away under the guise of preserving what little dignity we had left. And Saffron would stay, locked in a life she hadn’t chosen but couldn’t refuse.

I watched them go, my heart heavy, knowing that we had both become prisoners of our fates. But for now, we could pretend,for one last time,that everything was still as it had been.

The weight of it all pressed heavily on my chest. A chapter of my life that I had barely begun to understand was forcibly coming to a close, and it was out of my control. I let out a small breath, placing a hand over my belly. The child inside me had yet to show, but the reality of it, the enormity of it, was already sinking in. Would I be a good mother? Would I ever have a chance to make things right?

The carriage rumbled through the forest, cutting a path toward the next town where we would stop to rest. I watched as tree after tree passed by, but the rhythmic movement of the ride made me nauseous. I closed my eyes, trying to calm the twisting in my stomach, but instead, my mind filled with questions.

What will my new life be like?

I hadn’t realized I had drifted off into sleep until a sharp jolt startled me awake. The carriage had come to a sudden stop. At first, there was nothing but hushed murmurs from outside, voices low and indistinct. But then the gurgling screams began.

My heart seized in my chest.

Were we being robbed?

Terror gripped me, and I curled up tightly in the corner of the carriage, trying to make myself as small as possible. My pulse thundered in my ears, and I held my breath, listening as footsteps crunched on the gravel outside, drawing closer to the carriage door. There was a pause,three distinct knocks,before the door swung open.

Green eyes met mine, gleaming with amusement. A familiar, infuriating smirk followed.

"Loki."

Confusion flooded through me.

“What are you doing here?” I asked, my voice trembling.

He stepped forward with all the casual arrogance I had come to expect from him taking a seat across from me, his grin widening. “I’m here to collect what’s mine.”

His words took me aback, my confusion deepening. What did he mean?

Loki sighed, as if I were being slow, and moved closer, his hand brushing lightly against my cheek, a gesture that was oddly tender coming from him. But then his hand traveled lower, resting over my stomach. His voice was soft, but there was a dangerous edge to it. “This," he said, his fingers pressing gently, "and this.”

I recoiled instinctively, grabbing his hand and pushing it away. Panic swirled inside me as I whispered, “How did you know?”

His eyes darkened, the smirk fading into something more serious. “What made you think I wouldn’t know?”

I didn’t know what to say. My mind raced, searching for something that would make this moment less terrifying, but nothing came. The air between us felt suffocating.

Loki sat back, spreading his legs wide and resting his arms along the back of the seat, completely at ease as though we weren’t discussing the life growing inside of me. “Why didn’t you tell your mother about us?”

“There was nothing to tell,” I said quickly, my voice tight.

He laughed then, a cold, humorless sound that sent a shiver down my spine. “Oh, there’s plenty to tell,” he said, his tone darkening. His gaze dropped to my stomach, his eyes narrowing. “Did you think you could keep the child from me?” He leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. “Did you think you could keep yourself away from me?”

I swallowed hard, trying to hold his gaze but feeling the weight of his words press down on me.

Loki leaned back again, watching me with those sharp, calculating eyes. “Since you’re carrying my child, I won’t punish you as I normally would.” His voice was low, almost casual, but the threat beneath it was unmistakable. “But make no mistake, Honey,you will be punished.”

The carriage fell eerily quiet. The weight of his words hung heavy in the air, and I could feel the chill creeping up my spine. For a moment, neither of us moved. The tension was thick, palpable.

Then, slowly, Loki stood, towering over me, his expression unreadable. “You won’t escape me, Honey. Not now, not ever.” He grabbed my hair, banging my head against the wall. “Maybe next time you’ll be a bit more forthcoming about your condition.” He pulls me up by my hair, my scalp burning as I feel my skin being pulled. He begins moving me around, as if molding me to his touch. Before I know it, I am on my hands and knees. I try to move away but Loki slaps my face “No, you will behave.” I still, his hand still in my hair. I feel fingers creeping down my dress before lifting my skirts over my bottom. Tears flow from my eyes as I begin to beg him to let me go. “Please Loki do not do this to me.” He ignores my please as he removes my undergarments, I feel the cool air against my naked skin, and I begin to struggle once more. He pushes me into the carriage seat “If you’d like my guards to join, that please continue to move.”

I still once more.

This could not be happening again. As much fear as I had to be meeting aunt Gertrude, the one thing I was glad to avoid was this.

But it seems to be something I am unable to escape.

I feel his fingers ghosting my bottom, before feeling their way between my lips, gently pushing against my pearl. My breathe hitches as I whimper at the feel. He chuckles slowly rubbing it as my arousal begins to stain his hands.

It wasn’t long before I felt him moving around behind, and I felt something soft and firm poking between my legs.

“Please” I whisper with one final plea

He carefully moves to grab my hips, tightening his hands against them. “You will be mine forever.”

He thrusted into my pussy, prying the flesh apart, pushing until he reached the hilt of his pubic region.

Although there was pain, as expected, it did not feel as terribly as the first time. Slowly he began to move, pushing in and out until his cock was soaked with the juices of my cunt. Although it stung, the feeling wasn’t torturous, in fact, it was beginning to feel pleasurable.

Guilt began to eat away at me as his thrusts became more forceful, and I slowly begin reach a peak. My whimpers becoming moans, as he hovers over me to pinch my nipples.

I don’t realize what’s happened, until I feel vibrations in my body and see stars in my eyes.

“Good Girl.” Loki whispers into my ear as \ he continues to thrust until I feel his body stiffen with his own release. He collapses on top of me, feeling my exposed skin while still inside of me.

I was still wrapping my head about what had just gone on when Loki moved to open the carriage door, a blissful smile playing on his lips as he glanced back at me. His expression was unsettling, a dangerous mix of amusement and calculation.

"I feel like a game of tag," he said casually, as though nothing out of the ordinary had just transpired.

My mind was still spinning, my body worn out, trying desperately to gather my bearings after everything that had just happened. The situation felt surreal, like some twisted nightmare.

"I’ll give you a five-minute head start." His words made my stomach drop as the pieces slowly started coming together in my mind. "If you make it to your mother’s home before I catch you, I will leave you alone forever."

I sat up, quickly fixing my dress, my heart pounding in my chest. Loki was playing a game, one I knew I couldn’t afford to lose. Staying in this carriage with him would lead to nowhere good, but the alternative was no less terrifying.

"However," he continued, pausing just enough to let the weight of his words sink in, "if I catch you first, you’ll have to say yes to my proposal." He smiled wider, his eyes glinting with dangerous excitement. "And we’ll continue to play tag until you do reach your home."

Before I could respond, Loki stepped out of the carriage and, with alarming ease, pulled me out and lifted me onto the ground. His grip was firm but not painful, yet it only heightened the sense of helplessness coiling inside me.

When I looked behind him, I found the coachmen dead on the ground, laying in what I assumed to be blood. I was too scared to speak, so I remained quiet.

"Your five minutes starts now." His grin widened as he glanced at an invisible clock. "Four minutes and fifty-four seconds."

I didn’t waste another second. I took off running, my legs stiff and unsteady beneath me, my body still heavy with the shock of what had just occurred. My heart hammered in my chest, each step labored and uncoordinated as I struggled to push forward. All with his essence dripping down my legs.

This can’t be happening, I thought to myself, as tears welled up in my eyes. This can’t be real.

But it was.

The trees blurred as I stumbled through the forest, branches catching at my dress, my shoes sinking into the uneven earth beneath me. Tears streamed down my face as I tripped and fell hard into the dirt, my hands scraping against the ground as I hit the earth with a dull thud.

I could hear Loki’s voice in the back of my mind, taunting me with his smile, his challenge. The reality of what he wanted, the cruel game he was playing, pressed down on me, suffocating my thoughts.

I lay there for a moment, my chest heaving, dirt smeared across my hands and face. I felt the ground beneath me, solid and cold, but all I could think was:

what am I supposed to do now?

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a-reader-and-a-writer-for-all · 10 months ago

Text

The Life I Didn't Know

Fandom: Top Gun, Top Gun: Maverick, Mickey "Fanboy" Garcia, f!reader Summary: Mickey Garcia thought returning to Top Gun was the most life-changing thing to ever happen to him. And that was before a ghost from his past confronted him on the tarmac. What you tell him next will change both how he views his past and his vision for his future. Word Count: 4591 TW: Lies, Secret Reveals, Hidden Child, Ghosting, Confessions Note: Thank you to @musings-of-a-rose for your ask that inspired this fic 🥰 I'm just sorry it's taken almost 10 months to finish (but I guess it fits thematically 😂). And thank you to @topguncortez and @lorecraft for beta reading for me! 💕

Mickey Garcia always expected the greatest honor of his career would be when he was accepted into Top Gun. However, he never imagined he would be chosen to return as one of the best of the best a few years later. Yet he had done it! Selected along with his pilot and close friend, Payback, as one of the few to train for a top-secret mission. It was a dream come true.

He met most of the other aviators the night before at the Hard Deck, and with one possible exception, everyone seemed very nice and supportive. Then, after the debriefing this morning, he was excited—if a little nervous—about the next few weeks of training. He still can’t believe he was selected as a potential member of the mission. He doesn’t have high expectations for being chosen, but he is still going to try his very best.

After running back out to his car to grab some paperwork, he’s heading for the row of hangars so he can meet Payback to prep their plane for their first practice, a wide grin spread across his face. The fact he is about to fly in a training dogfight with Maverick—the Maverick—still feels like a dream to him. It feels like he’s being trained by Han Solo or Captain Kirk! He is a legend that other legends look up to and Mickey had never imagined he would get an opportunity like this. Could this day get any better?

Mickey should have known better than to send something like that into the universe.

As he reaches the tarmac, Mickey suddenly stumbles to a stop and his face drops as he catches sight of the ghost from his past standing in the way, almost as if waiting for him. But it’s impossible. He double-checked the roster ten times just to make sure there was no chance you were going to be here.

And yet here you are. Five—almost six—years older but still the most beautiful woman he has ever seen.

“Falcon…”

You worry your lip between your teeth just like you used to when you got nervous or were deep in thought, but your eyes shine brightly when your callsign slipped from his lips. “Hey there, Fanboy.”

Oh, God… that voice. Instantly, a thousand memories flash through Mickey’s mind: the first time he laid eyes on you at boot camp with your brilliant smile and Death Star tattoo; flying with you as his pilot, and how he instantly knew he never wanted to fly with anyone else; you dubbing him Fanboy after seeing him nearly burst into tears after running into William Shatner in a coffee shop and him naming you Falcon after the iconic Star Wars ship; all the stolen, secret moments and rendezvous as your friendship blossomed into something deeper despite the risk of Command finding out; the morning he found your letter left on his bunk saying you had transferred and had already left without a warning or a goodbye.

With a Herculean effort, Mickey pulls himself together enough to ask, “Wha…. What are you doing here?”

“I work here. I’ve been an instructor at Top Gun for the past two years.” Your leg is bouncing slightly and you keep clenching and unclenching your hands. “I guess you were in the class the year before I started, but I was so proud when I heard you made it. Of course, I always knew you could.”

Instructors. Mickey groans softly to himself. He had been so focused on what other aviators had been recruited for the mission it never crossed his mind to check who the instructors would be. But it’s too late to do anything about it now.

“So, does that mean you’ll be teaching me?” It’s hard enough seeing you standing before him. But if he has to see you on a daily basis, listen to your lessons, follow your orders…there is no way he’ll make it the next three weeks.

Luckily, you shake your head. “No, it’s all top secret and I don’t have the clearance. I’m not even sure what your mission is. All they’ve told us is that they need the best of the best in the hopes of completing it, so I wasn’t surprised to see your name on the list. I never flew better than with you in my backseat.”

Mickey silently sighs in relief before he jams his hands in his pockets and coldly asks, “If you don’t have anything to do with my mission, what do you want, Falcon? After you disappeared for almost six years, I don’t really have anything I want to say to you. I think it’s better if we keep things the way you wanted it and just pretend the other doesn’t exist.”

He starts to walk around you, but you step in front of him, holding up your hand to block his retreat. “Is that really what you think I did? Left and never gave you another thought? Because you’re wrong. I think about you every single day, Mickey. And I haven’t been able to get into a plane without you in my head. No matter who I’m flying with, your voice is in my headset giving me directions, or doing systems checks, or failing to stump me with random trivia about another movie or tv show just like it used to be.” You take a deep breath as you let your hand drop to your side. “But maybe if I didn’t care, it would make all of this easier. I–”

You are close to tears as your voice trembles with every word, but Mickey is having none of it. “No! Uh uh. You don’t get to do that. You don’t get to act like you’re the one who was hurt here,” he says, jamming his finger accusingly at you. “You’re the one who put in for a transfer without even talking to me about it first, so don’t act like you’re the victim. One day, I’m the happiest I’ve ever been, flying with the woman I love at the stick, and the next, I wake up to a note telling me you’d left to fly with another unit. No explanation. No nothing. I never even got to say goodbye! You just disappeared from my life and you took my heart with you. But you never gave a shit.”

“Yes, I did! I swear!” Tears now begin to flow freely down your cheeks. You try to close the distance between you, but when Mickey steps back, you stop. Clutching your arms across your chest, you beg, “Mickey, I loved you. If there had been another way, I would have moved Heaven and Earth to stay with you but I didn’t have a choice.”

“Really?” Mickey scoffs. “Why not?”

“Because they found out about us.”

Needing no further context to understand what you are referring to, a cold dread washes over him. “W-who did?”

“Command. They heard from a few different people that we were ‘fraternizing’ outside of our duties. That we had started sleeping together a few months earlier and that it had evolved into an actual relationship.”

Mickey shakes his head as, in a softer tone, he says, “I never told anyone. I swear.”

Smiling warmly at him, you say, “I never doubted that. And just so you know, I didn’t either. But someone must have found some sort of evidence and turned us in. I tried to find out who, but I never had any luck. All I know is I got called into the discipline office and they said they were starting an investigation into our alleged relationship and if it were true…”

You take a deep breath as your arms tighten around your chest. “I knew if they went looking, they’d find out about us so I did the only thing I could think of to save our careers. I told them it wasn’t true but if they were still concerned, I would voluntarily opt for a different WSO or even transfer to another unit if that would clear things up. And they took me up on my offer.”

Missing pieces of Mickey’s past suddenly start to click into place. While it was against regulation for pilots and their backseaters to “fraternize” with any kind of romantic or sexual relationship, the rule was hardly ever enforced. However, around the time you disappeared, a pilot in another unit almost botched a mission saving his injured WSO instead of carrying out his assignment. When it was discovered they were in a romantic relationship at the time, Command began taking the regulation very seriously. Mickey recalls the two of you even had a nervous conversation about it at one point but just agreed to be more discreet while on base.

However, it still left some gaping holes in your excuse.

“But why did you do it? Some anonymous jerk claims we were dating and that’s it? We could have fought it. If you had told me what was going on, we could have both denied everything and there was no way they could prove it.”

“Yes, they could.” Your voice quivers slightly even as you scoff humorlessly. “There was one piece of undeniable proof that would have had us both discharged if they had discovered it.”

“What?”

Tears slip from your eyes as you whisper, “I was pregnant.”

All the air is sucked from Mickey’s lungs. He feels like he’s doing barrel rolls in his jet as the world spins around him and an immense pressure weighs on his chest. “You… you were… what?”

You nod gently. “I had only found out a few days before and I was trying to figure out how to tell you. But then the investigation was brought up and it changed everything. All they had was the word of someone else we were dating, but if they knew I was pregnant with your baby, well, that’s pretty solid evidence. I didn’t know if you wanted kids. Hell, I didn’t even know if I wanted kids. So, I didn’t say anything and they transferred me two days later.”

“How could you not tell me?” Mickey whispers, trying to wrap his head around this life-changing revelation. “I would have been by your side for every minute. We could have figured it out together, we could have found a way to make it work. But even if we couldn’t, I loved you. I wanted to spend my life with you. And if that meant giving up everything else, I would have done it.”

“I know you would have. And that’s why I couldn’t say anything.” You take a few steps towards him. This time, Mickey doesn’t move back, but you still keep a little space between you so you don’t overwhelm him. “I knew if I told you, you wouldn’t let me leave and it would be the end of both our careers. We’d both worked so hard to get where we were, I couldn’t let you throw everything away for a kid I still didn’t know if I even wanted. And by the time I had decided, it was too late to change what I’d done. So, when I reported to Command I was pregnant a few months later, I said it was from a nameless one-night stand I met at a bar right after I transferred.”

Mickey’s head is still reeling from everything you have told him, yet he catches one important detail in what you just said. “Wait. You reported it. Does that mean…did you…do we…?”

“Yeah, Mickey,” you half sob as more tears flow steadily down your face. “We have a son.”

“A son…”

It is the final straw. Stumbling over to the nearby wall, Mickey slides down it until he is sitting on the ground and rests his head on his knees. He has a son. A four- or five-year-old son that he never knew about. Someone who was already walking, and talking, and going to school. Who was his own person with his own personality and likes and dislikes. Who Mickey knows absolutely nothing about.

The two of you had never talked about whether you wanted kids or a family. Until the moment you disappeared, Mickey had never doubted you both loved each other deeply but your relationship had been too complicated by rules and regulations to face what might happen in the future. So, the two of you had lived in the moment and tried to enjoy what time you had together instead of talking about the future. But that didn’t mean Mickey hadn’t thought about it. He had known from a young age he wanted to be a father. He helped take care of his younger siblings growing up and he couldn’t wait to have a family of his own.

So to find out now that he has a child is simultaneously exhilarating and devastating. He could have had everything he had always dreamed of, but you had taken all those early milestones, all those precious irreplaceable moments with his son, and Mickey doesn’t know how to accept that. What if his son never forgives him for not being there? Mickey might not have known he even existed until a few moments ago, but that doesn’t change the fact his son has had to grow up not knowing what it was like to have a father. To have a void in his life where others around him had a loving, supportive presence. Will his son even want him in his life at this point?

He hears you walking over to him and can see your feet stop a few inches from him out of the corner of his eye.

In a voice thick with tears, you whisper, “I’m sorry. I’m so, so incredibly sorry. I just…I didn’t…I didn’t know…” You can’t find the words to finish that sentence.

“Why are you telling me this now?” Mickey raises his head to glare up at you, all of his swirling emotions finding a much-needed target to explode at. “Even if I accept why you let them transfer you or that you didn’t tell me right then, why didn’t you tell me at any point during the last five years! Is it just because I’m here? If I hadn’t come back to Top Gun, would you ever have told me?”

You open your mouth to respond but then close it again as you try to find the best way to answer. “Those are all fair questions. I figured if I told you while I was still pregnant or right after I gave birth, we would still get in trouble. My superiors weren’t happy that I had just transferred to fly with one of their WSOs and this happened but they had to accept it. I flew for another month or two but then I was placed on desk duty until I got this job at Top Gun. I hated being grounded but at least I was someplace consistent where I could go home to my family every night.”

“‘Your family’? Do you mean you…?” Maybe his son has had a father-figure in his life after all.

You seem confused for a moment but as soon as you realize what he is asking, you quickly clarify, “Oh, no, no, no! Nothing like that. My mom moved in a month before I gave birth and stayed so she could watch the kiddo while I was at work.” You duck your head to stare at the ground as you mutter, “But no, there, uh, there hasn’t been anyone like that since you. I’ve got one little man who has my whole heart, and between him and work, I don’t have the time or the energy to spend on anyone else.”

Mickey hates the way his heart warmed slightly at that. He should hate you right now, not be happy that you aren’t with someone. Quickly changing the topic before he lets himself dwell on that for too long, he says, “You still haven’t answered my question. Why now? Why are you telling me about him now?”

“He asked about you.”

“What?”

“Well, not you specifically but he started asking about his dad. He doesn’t understand….” Your voice breaks as your lip begins to quiver. Mickey’s resolve wavers and he starts to reach for your hand but then he remembers the reason you are upset in the first place and lets his hand fall. Taking a deep breath, you continue, “He’s too young to understand and I’m too selfish to admit it’s my fault you’re not there, so I just told him his dad was a Naval aviator like me and he’s off protecting everyone from danger. I was hoping…I don’t know what I was hoping, but it didn’t satisfy him like I thought it would. Two weeks ago, he told me all he wants for his birthday next month is to meet his dad.”

“He…he wants to meet me?” Mickey asks.

You nod. “And I didn’t know what to do. I had no idea where in the world you were, if you had your own family by now, or if you would even want to meet him once you knew. But then a few days ago I saw you were coming here and…it seemed like fate. I knew telling you would be one of the hardest things I’ve ever done, but I couldn’t go home and look into our son’s eyes if I didn’t at least try. That’s why I’m telling you now.”

“So this is just a way for you to clear your conscience?” Mickey asks. “You finally tell me I have a son, and that’s supposed to absolve you of everything? You took nearly five years I could have had with him away from me! I missed out on so many firsts!” Mickey suddenly freezes, all the anger evaporating in an instant as a sober realization sets in. “I still don’t even know his name….”

“Miguel. His name’s Miguel.”

Tears spring to Mickey’s eyes as he whispers, “Miguel?”

You smile at the reverence on Mickey’s face. “It was the only name I ever considered.” Pulling out your phone and tapping the screen a few times, you offer it to him. “It turns out it was perfect. He’s the spitting image of his namesake.”

With shaking hands, Mickey takes the phone from you. Looking down, he sees a little boy staring back at him with a wide grin that’s too big for his face, a mess of dark curly hair, and rich brown eyes that make Mickey feel like he is looking into a mirror. You weren’t far off. Miguel looks almost exactly like the baby photos Mickey had seen of himself at that age. However, he can also see traces of you in the toddler’s face; in the shape of his lips and the cut of his jaw. There’s no way to deny it any longer. This was his kid. Yours and his together.

Watching the waves of emotions washing across his face, you murmur, “I swear, I never wanted to hurt you…either of you. I just didn’t know what to do and then, once I made a decision, I didn’t know how to tell you the truth. The longer I put it off, the more impossible it got to tell you. But you did nothing wrong and I just thought he should have another piece of you to carry with him, even if he doesn’t understand it yet.”

Mickey swipes his finger across the phone and the photo changes to one of you balancing Miguel on your hip as you point towards the camera. He looks younger here but the same joy is evident on his face as he clings to you with one arm and to a ratty-looking Spider-Man plush in the other. Another swipe shows Miguel blowing out a candle on a birthday cake shaped like a Stegosaurus. There is a big “4” balloon floating in the background next to a woman Mickey recognizes as your mother. He swipes again to see a picture of you fast asleep in a rocking chair with an infant Migual curled on your chest. He is so tiny that he could only have been a month or two old. You look disheveled and exhausted even in sleep, yet Mickey doesn’t think he can remember a time you were more breathtaking.

He is about to swipe again when something at the top of the picture stops him. Zooming in closer, he inhales sharply.

There is a small framed drawing hanging on the wall just above Miguel’s crib. It’s of two stick people looking at each other with little hearts above their heads. He doubts a single other person would have ever noticed it, but he would recognize it anywhere. He had doodled it on a note he slipped you right after his friendship with you had developed into a romance. And you had kept it all of these years then hung it so it would watch over your son.

Tears that have been threatening to fall finally crest over his eyes as Mickey chokes out, “Can I meet him?”

“You really want to?”

He nods before tearing his eyes from the phone to look up at you. “Yeah. More than anything.”

“Okay, then yeah, of course you can,” you say eagerly as your face lights up. But then it dims slightly as you add, “But, um, I think it’s better if we wait just a few days.” Mickey starts to protest but you hold up your hand. “I know I’ve already made you wait far too long for this, but we need to figure out some things first and I’m sure once you’ve had time to process everything, you’ll have a million questions. I just want you to be as prepared for this as possible so you both feel comfortable. It’s a big deal and Miguel is the sweetest kid you’ll ever meet, but he is pretty shy around new people and I don’t want to just spring this on him without talking to him first.”

Mickey can’t help smiling to himself. He was the exact same way when he was little. “Yeah, you’re probably right. I already have a thousand questions and I’m sure by tomorrow, I’ll have a thousand more. How ‘bout we say Friday after training? I could come over or meet you guys somewhere or whatever you think is best.”

You hesitate for a minute. “I have an appointment Friday afternoon and I’m not sure how long it’ll last. Why don’t we do Saturday morning? We could meet for pancakes. That’ll definitely get you on Miguel’s good side.”

“Pancakes it is.” Mickey climbs to his feet and holds out your phone to you. But just as you are about to take it, he pulls it back slightly. “Um…do you think…could you send me some photos of Miguel?”

Smiling softly, you say, “Of course, Mickey. As many as you want. And I have some videos too. Do you still have the same number?”

“You still have it saved?” Mickey asks in surprise.

You duck your head. “I couldn’t delete it. I stared at it countless nights with my finger hovering over the call button, but I always chickened out. However, I knew one day I’d find the strength to tell you everything, and when that happened, I’d need a way to contact you so I kept it. I’m still just so sorry it took me this long.”

Mickey sighs as he stares off across the open tarmac. “Part of me gets it, you know? It was a no-win situation given the circumstances.”

“Yeah…” you mutter, wrapping your arms around yourself once again. “I felt like I was in my own personal Kobayashi Maru except no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t figure out how to cheat the system.”

Oh God. The ease at which that perfect Star Trek metaphor slips from your lips once again has Mickey flashing back to all the little reasons he fell in love with you in the first place. However, after the secrets you revealed today, he can’t let himself fall back into what was.

“That might be true, but another part of me doesn’t know if I can ever forgive you for stealing these last five years I could have had with my son.” He scrubs his hand over his closely buzzed hair. “Right now, I just don’t know how to feel about you or what you did. However, I do know that I can be pleasant and get along when we’re around Miguel, though I’m not sure if I’ll ever be able to get back to a point where we’re friends again.”

You bob your head, tears dampening your eyes even as a small smile spreads across your face. “That’s fair. That’s more than fair. Honestly, I half expected you never to want to see me again after I told you, so I’ll take pleasant. Thank you, Mickey.”

He nods and holds out your phone. As you take it, your fingers brush against his and Mickey feels a jolt run up his arm as he touches you for the first time in almost six years. And based on the way your eyes widened, you felt it too. The two of you gaze at each other, your hands still both holding the phone between you. Mickey feels his heart start to race slightly in his chest, and he wonders if maybe he’s wrong and forgiving you won’t be as difficult as he thinks it is.

But then you pull the phone from his hand and slip it into your pocket. Taking a few steps back, you mutter, “I’ll send you those pictures. And please do text me any questions you have this week. Otherwise, I’ll call you Friday to figure out the details for breakfast Saturday.”

And with that, you pivot and hurry across the tarmac before disappearing into one of the hangars.

For several minutes, Mickey continues to stare at where you had been standing, still half wondering if anything that just happened was real or not. He always knew returning to Top Gun would be life-changing, but he had never expected this in a million years.

Still in a daze, he stumbles off towards the hangar where his plane is housed. As he approaches, he sees Payback already dressed in his flight suit and busy checking out the plane. He looks up when he hears Mickey approaching.

“Hey, there you are. I thought you were just gonna be a minute.” As he gets closer, Payback does a double-take when he notices Mickey’s face. “Oh, man, are you okay?”

Mickey is still wondering that himself, but he says, “Yeah… yeah, I’m good.”

As Mickey walks past him to put his stuff in his locker and pull out his flight suit, Payback follows him, concern etched across his face. “Dude, you’re a mess.”

“I’m not a mess.”

“Yeah, you are. You look like you’re about to pass out and I can tell you’ve been crying.”

“Yeah, guess I have.” Just then, Mickey’s phone vibrates and he pulls it out to see you have sent him a link to a folder filled with hundreds of pictures and videos of Miguel. Just a brief scan of them makes tears begin to well up in his eyes once more. But when he looks back up at Payback, the smile on his face is so wide it hurts. “But it’s all good. In fact… It’s never been better.”

I have a few ideas for other parts if anyone is interested (but no promises at this point)

Taglist: @valoraxxx-blog, @m3laniehearts, @autumnleaves1991-blog, @rule107, @vintageleather, @impossiblebagelcowboyfreak, @slutforadambanks, @americaarse, @reneki, @ynbutbetter, @sugarcoated-lame, @imagineadream, @sadpetalsstuff, @salty-thembo, @rachelizabethgraham, @duckandrobin, @queenbbarnes, @grincheveryday, @uselesslyromantic, @choochoo284, @littlebadariell, @thescarletknight2014, @dempy, @nik2blog, @dumb-fawkin-bitch, @shirley2996, @kkrenae, @zebralover, @startrekfangirl2233, @memeorydotcom

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sapphzeal · 6 months ago

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' Almost everything he had worn in his past time…Within minutes, he put on everything that he considered physique and sheik and stylish for his liking.'

'Checking every inch from head to toe,ravishing the look from every side,swaying the cape around his body. The mirror that was in front of him helped that choice...All he needs now is a…mask… '

#myart #the secret saturdays #vv argost #doing a scene from the fanfic #fault in your lies fic

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omgpurplefattie · 5 months ago

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During the Dragon Boat Festival, Li Lianhua and his two men come to the city of Suzhou to watch the boat from Tianji Manor race. They find that they are actually very proud of each other.

Partially inspired by a discussion with @junemermaid in the comments of my fic "Sweet Eyes".

No WIP Wednesday this week, as I took this Wednesday evening to kick my oldest WIP out there into the world.

#mysterious lotus casebook #li lianhua #di feisheng #fang duobing #liansanjiao #i am writing #dragon boat festival #secret pride month fic #at least they are very proud of each other and say so

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starsfic · 1 year ago

Note

"you're telling me you made a god? on accident??"

"Well, I wouldn't make a god on purpose until I fully knew what I was doing!" Sun Wukong's voice echoed off the walls of the temple. So did the coos of the little baby monkey he held. "I have no idea what I did or how, I just know that I'm holding a baby god!"

Nezha stood there, unsure of what to do or say. A headache was already beginning to throb at his temples.

It had nearly been five centuries since he had seen Wukong, since he kept his promise and isolated himself from the world after the defeat of the Demon Bull King. And this was how he launched himself back into his life? Holding a newly born stone monkey?

Nezha wanted to laugh. To scream. To strangle him.

To hug him.

"And I'm the first person you thought to come to with..." He gestured to the baby, noting the dark brown fur and amber eyes. They barely looked like Wukong. Except maybe in the little gummy smile. Said smile flashed and Nezha was right. "Them?"

"No, actually, you were the fifth on my list of something like this ever happening." Nezha fought back the hurt that welled up. "But Guanyin is busy, the Queen Mother of the West is testing some new potion, and..." Wukong paused, sounding for a second like he had choked. "DBK and Sanzang are no longer available." Nezha barely managed a nod at the fact that Tang Sanzang, a man who made babies accidentally cry several times, had come in the list before him. "-since you're the god of children you seemed like the best option."

Nezha nodded again. "Thank you. That is a good reason. I'm glad you came to me with baby..." Uh. Um. "What's their name?"

Wukong blinked.

"...they do have a name, right?"

Wukong blinked again. "Y...yes. Yes, absolutely. Of course, I named them!" He burst into laughter, pulling a hand away to rub the back of his neck. Nezha almost launched forward in concern, but the baby stayed right where they were, looking enormously calm. "They're...uh...uh..." Wukong glanced up and something seemed to spark in his eyes. "Qi Xiaotian. Little Sky."

Nezha nodded. He fought back the urge to point out similar characters, similar titles. Instead, he reached out and gently gripped Wukong's hand.

He was still angry with him. He was still hurt.

But, he had to admit, he was glad to see him again.

"I'm glad to meet Qi Xiaotian."

#Monkey Dad and Lotus Uncle AU #AU where Sun Wukong finds baby Qi Xiaotian and goes to Nezha in a panic #Xiaotian ends up being raised on both Flower Fruit Mountain and in secret in Heaven #au #my writing #LMK #LMK AU #Monkie Kid #Monkie Kid AU #LEGO Monkie Kid #LEGO Monkie Kid AU #Li Nezha #Sun Wukong #Qi Xiaotian #prompt fill #prompt fic #fic #fanfic #fanfiction

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btswrckd · 9 months ago

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Secrets and Lies

Mafia member!Namjoon x Fem!Reader

Summary: Part of the War of Hearts universe! You've spent the last 10 years not really knowing just who your best and only friend actually is or just obsessed he is with you, but when an unexpected threat emerges from your mother's past, he's given an opportunity that he just can't pass up.

Warnings: mentions of violence, mentions of guns and other weapons, mention of death, mention of obsessive behavior, Namjoon's kind of a prick to an old one-night stand

A/N: Ta-da!! It's here!! I'm sure there's more warnings I missed and I'm sorry!! As you guys may know, I've been working on 3 separate fics for the War of Hearts verse and I'm still working on them, but I wasn't sure whose story I wanted to put out first. As I'm bouncing back and forth between the stories, I've finally figured out the order in which I want to put them out. Please enjoy guys!

“Are you going to tell me what, exactly, we’re doing here?” Hoseok yawns from the passenger seat of Namjoon’s sleek black Hyundai. Why Namjoon thought of such a car as “inconspicuous”, Hoseok will never know. Honestly, he was pretty pissed that Namjoon had dragged him out of the house at 4 o’clock in the morning to watch random people come and go from some 24 hour diner that sits just before entering city limits. But when the door opens for the hundredth time and a pile of messy hair sitting in a bun atop the head of a beautiful girl comes bouncing out, he rolls his eyes. Now he knows what the hell they were waiting around for.

“Seriously, Namjoon,” Hoseok groans and burrows into the heated seat. “Can’t you stalk your girlfriend without me?”

“Shut up,” Namjoon hisses at him. “She’s not my girlfriend.”

“But you are stalking her, correct?”

“Hobi,” Namjoon warns again, “shut the fuck up.”

He doesn’t hear whatever it is that Hoseok mumbles under his breath, simply shaking his head and turning his attention back to the waitress who’d just finished a 12 hour shift. Without the top of a messy bun flouncing about, he’d have lost you in the mass of cars you were weaving through. You look tired, he notes, exhausted as you slump against the driver door of the beat up old car that you’d been saving up for. He never liked when you took the bus; too many strange men would look your way far too long for his liking. But he didn’t think a car like that would suffice either, even though it meant tracking you was a little easier.

Your head thumps against the steel door of the small car you’d salvaged from a junkyard. “Still,” you remind yourself, “a junker car is better than no car at all. Definitely smells better than the bus.” It was the third 12 hour shift you’ve worked in a row and still had another 3 to go. To say you were exhausted would be putting it lightly. You’re worn out, both physically and mentally, but you have to keep going. Have to keep making money. Have to pay off the medical bills that only seem to keep racking up. The sound of an obnoxious ringtone blares in the dark parking lot and you jump in place as you recognize it as your own.

“Shit,” you hiss, fumbling for your cell phone only to find the caller I.D. belonging to none other than your ex-boyfriend. It’s not that you’re ungrateful for him taking on the task of being your mother’s caretaker, it’s that you wish he’d stop trying to use her dwindling health as an excuse to try and get back together. “Minseok,” you answer, vexed. “What is it?”

“Good morning to you too, sunshine,” Minseok snaps back, taking a deep breath to steady himself. After all, catching an attitude with you when he’s trying so hard to get you back is not going to earn him any brownie points. “Hey, so, you just got off work right? Why don’t you stop by and we can have breakfast? Your mom’s been asking to see you.”

“In time,” is all you can say. It’s all you’ve been saying since you were a teenager. Your mother is all you have left and to keep blowing off chances to visit her breaks your heart a little more each time. You love her so much, but the thought of seeing the frail body in place of what once was a strong and healthy woman makes you want to cry. You don’t know how long she has left or why you keep avoiding her, knowing damn well that she’ll be gone soon. You only know that distracting yourself with work doesn’t make you feel as helpless as sitting at home waiting for the inevitable phone call. Minseok is babbling about something, but you don’t catch what it is when the sound of approaching footsteps has you reaching for the pepper spray attached to your key ring.

Namjoon is amused when you whirl around, pepper spray at the ready even if it is with a shaking grip. He laughs as your shocked face morphs to one of anger and embarrassment. Clearly, you hadn’t expected to be snuck up on in the middle of the parking lot of your job, and that makes him uneasy. You should always be aware of your surroundings. “What are you doing with that, you nut case?”

“Shut the hell up, Joon!” You kick at the loose rocks on the pavement, sending them flying in his direction. “You scared the crap out of me, asshole. What are you doing lurking around a dark parking lot anyways?”

“I could ask you the same thing.” He tilts his head playfully, though there’s no hint of amusement in his tone anymore. You should have gotten in your car and left a long time ago, yet something or someone, namely Minseok, kept you from doing so. He recognized the look on your face when you’d looked at the phone screen. Even from across the lot, he knew who was stupid enough to bother you after a long week of working. With a roll of his eyes, he takes the phone from your hand and ignores your protests.

“Minseok,” he says into the phone, skillfully dodging your attempts to pry it away from him. “How are you?”

“I’m uh,” Minseok sputters, “good. I’m good, I guess. What are you um, what are you doing with Y/N?”

“Me? Oh, nothing really. Just came to pick her up from work. Yeah, she finally scrapped that heap of junk and decided to ride in style. With me. Goodbye, Minseok.” Namjoon ends the call, carelessly tossing the phone back into your waiting hands. Stuffing his hands into the pockets of his slacks, he nods down at you. “Heading home?”

“Trying to.” You prop a hand on your hip and he groans because he knows exactly what’s about to come. “You know I hate it when you do that. Getting under Minseok’s skin does absolutely nothing for you, so why do you do it? And you know he’s the primary caretaker for my mom. Stop trying to piss him off.”

“You never get after him when he pisses me off,” he points out. It was never a secret how much he despised Minseok, especially when you dated that little prick. Nothing makes Namjoon’s blood boil more than the image of Minseok taking you on dates, holding your hand, kissing your skin, touching you wherever he pleased and you allowed. “Anyways, I wasn’t trying to get under his skin. If he feels threatened by me then it’s not really my fault. And what the hell is he still doing taking care of your mom? Isn’t that a conflict of interest?”

“Not everyone at the rehab center knows we dated,” you explain, missing the flash of anger in his eyes. “He’s the only one that mom trusts.”

“You know I can take care of her too.” He braces his large palms against the car door, trapping you between the metal and his body. “I’ve offered a thousand times, Y/N, you always say no.”

“I’ve burdened you enough.”

Namjoon sees the brief downward tilt of your lips, a frown you try so hard to hide from him. He won’t have it. Tucking his finger beneath your chin, he tilts it up to look you in the eye. “You’re not a burden. Neither is your mother. I’ve told you before that all you have to do is ask and I’ll give you anything you want, Y/N.”

“I just want her to be better,” you whisper, casting your eyes to the floor as they flood with tears. There’s no doubt in your mind that if you were to ask Namjoon for private care, he would gladly take care of it without expecting anything in return. That’s how it’s always been with him though. Always giving but never taking. According to his close friend, Hoseok, that’s how Namjoon’s grown up. You’re not entirely sure what his home life was like when he was a child, but his parents seemed to have done a wonderful job raising him. You can’t honestly say you’ve ever met anyone like him in all your 28 years of life.

Namjoon’s finger becomes firm in making your eyes meet his once more. His mouth tightens into a thin line and you know he’s trying to hold back his frustration. When he met you in the hallway at the hospital nearly 10 years ago, you’d just learned of your mother’s diagnosis. To say you were distraught would be sugarcoating it. You were absolutely devastated. He remembers how 18-year-old you had slid down the wall with body wracking sobs, but you’d tried to hide it as your mother was just a few feet behind a closed door. You had wailed into your knees after drawing them as close to your body as possible. He had just rounded the corner of the hall, hissing into his phone about the absolute fucking disaster that was Hoseok’s assignment, when he’d seen you and he felt like time had slowed. Something about you, about the heart wrenching way your body curled up that made him feel…protective. It was his job to protect Taehyung, sure, but you were an entirely different story. You had nothing to offer him. No kind of incentive for his comfort. And yet, when he’d walked over and reached out his hand, you’d taken it. Taken it so damn easily and allowed yourself to be comforted by a complete stranger. It was always a mystery to him, how you’d melted into his body without noticing the blood staining his white dress shirt.

“Joon?” your voice cuts through the hazy fog that was his trip down memory lane. Blinking back your tears, you cup his face to bring him back to reality. It hadn’t taken you long to figure out that when Namjoon spaced out, it took a great deal to bring him back. But not with you. Never with you. Because, somehow, your voice and touch, and yours alone could bring him back in a matter of seconds. When his brown eyes finally clear, you smile softly at him.

“Ah, I’m sorry,” he says, taking your wrists in his large hands and running his thumbs along the veins of them. A smirk plays on his lips when he notices you shiver. Not from the cold, but from him. “I’m supposed to be the one comforting you. Not the other way around. What was it that Minseok wanted anyway?”

“To have dinner. Or breakfast. Or, I don’t really know, but I know it had to do with eating in the same vicinity as each other,” you sigh and slump against the cool metal of your car. “I’m not exactly up for it, but I guess I should go. He says mom’s been asking for me, but I–.”

“What an asshole,” comes a familiar voice. One you aren’t exactly expecting, so when you jump, Hoseok’s deep chuckle cuts through the parking lot. You always wondered how he managed to stalk around without making a single noise. You feel Namjoon tense and tighten his hold on your wrists.

The taller man turns to his friend with a snarl on his face. “A little warning next time, jackass.”

Hoseok shrugs and purses his lips in an innocent way that makes you giggle. A grin splits his face as Namjoon scowls at him for being able to make you laugh when he himself couldn’t. “It’s late. Or early. Or fucking…whatever. Can we just go now? We kind of have someplace to be, you know.”

And by someplace, Hoseok means waiting outside of Choi Hyunwoo’s apartment to grab his ass and get back to Taehyung. He quirks his brow up at Namjoon, rolling his eyes when Namjoon ignores him to face you. He turns his back to give you guys some privacy, but fuck if he’ll stand there all day watching Namjoon make goo goo eyes at you.

“Don’t let Minseok guilt you into seeing him,” Namjoon says, tucking a stray piece of hair behind your ear. “I understand that you feel it over not seeing your mother as often as you think you should. It’s why I’m more than happy to set her up with private home care. That way you can also cut down on your part time jobs. They’re wearing you down.”

“Real charming, Joon,” you snort and shove him away. “But you know I can’t take you up on that offer. It wouldn’t feel right if I couldn’t at least help you pay for her care.”

“Then, for the time being,” he says through grit teeth, “at least let me stave off Minseok.” He’s quick to wrap his arms around your waist and haul your chest to his. Your squeak of surprise makes him chuckle and you blush. “Hobi, do me a favor. Take a picture of this.”

You don’t have time to question what the hell he was talking about because he winds his fingers through your hair, tilts your face up, and pretends to slants his lips against yours. You inhale sharply at the contact, fingers digging into his jacket in a death grip, and oddly, found it far too easy to lean into his faux kiss. Your eyes meet the intensity of his brown orbs, bouncing back and forth as if searching for something. Reason, perhaps? Or signs of insanity. Because why the hell else would Namjoon go to such lengths just to get Minseok off your back?

Namjoon’s gaze deepens, his pupils dilating from the proximity. He can’t seem to remember that it was meant to be fake. He was meant to look like he was kissing you, not actually doing it. But he’d be lying if he told himself he didn’t want to know what your chapstick tastes like. If it’s the usual, nauseating taste. Or if this is one of the rare times you’d reached for the strawberry flavored lip balm. He almost chuckles as he imagines you rummaging through your bedside drawer and plucking your least favorite flavor in your haste to get to work on time. He always tells you to toss the hated flavor in the trash, but you, for whatever reason, never do. Apparently, you only keep it in “just in case” situations. Situations such as running late for work and not having the time to turn your apartment upside down in search of the usual, worn down tube of chapstick.

Distantly, you recognize the faint sound of a cell phone camera going off, but when Namjoon sweeps the pad of his thumb along your bottom lip, your thighs clench together as the feel of the roughly callused finger sets your body on fire. It’s such a simple gesture and yet, you find yourself unable to catch your breath. When he pulls on your lip as he traces a path down to grip your chin, you rise to the tips of your toes in anticipation. You’re far too ready to kiss him, and a part of you panics when a deep chuckle rumbles in his chest. You flush, embarrassed to have been caught leaning into his touch so shamelessly. You consider punching him as you usually do when he manages to fluster you, but then he presses in further, his own plump lips skimming across your mouth in an almost kiss that has you panting with need. Your eyelids become heavy and they close as pure, unadulterated desire pounds deep in your bones and your fingers card through his soft hair. You feel him shiver against the feel of your nails gently scratching the hair at the nape of his neck.

Namjoon knows he has to gain control of the situation soon. It was spiraling, and quickly, and he was more than willing to allow it to happen. But he doesn’t want the first of many kisses to come, be one that stems from him trying to piss off your ex-boyfriend. Because there will be more to come. He will taste you properly and he will continue to do so until you say otherwise. You, and only you, have the kind of control over him that no one ever has. Not even Taehyung.

“Namjoon,” you whisper and you swear an actual groan leaves his mouth because your lips bump against his as you speak. “Please,” you beg even though you’re sure this is an entirely bad idea. Heat pools in your lower belly as you press up against him, his thigh slotting between the apex of your legs, a noise of excitement leaving your throat as he leans in.

“I’m only going to stand here for so long to watch you guys pretend to swap spit,” Hoseok comments in irritation. “It’s hot, sure, but we’ve got more important things to do, Namjoon.”

When Namjoon parts from you, the both of you are panting, breaths mingling in the cold night air. His hand moves from the nape of your neck to slide down along the line of your jaw. His thumb sweeps across your cheek softly and he takes his time to look over your flushed face and heaving chest. Your eyes are still closed, making his chest swell with pride when one shift of his body makes your fingers tighten in his hair.

You don’t even notice you’ve done it, not until you finally open your eyes to find that you are the one keeping him in place. Quickly, you release him and try to create some distance, but you only bump into your car door. You want to be angry with him. You want to question what the hell he was thinking. But most of all, you want to understand why it didn’t bother you nearly as much as you thought it would. You’d known him since you were 18 and never once had it crossed your mind that he’d ever find you attractive. The same couldn’t be said for you, though, because you’d always harbored a small crush on him. You’d thought dating Minseok would quell that ache for Namjoon’s attention, but it really didn’t and you kind of felt bad when a small part of you wondered what Namjoon’s hand would feel like in place of Minseok’s on your skin.

“Send this to him,” Namjoon’s deep voice startles you while he holds out Hoseok’s phone. He watches, amused, as you stare at the picture on the phone. He can see your mind working in overtime as you process the seemingly loving embrace Hoseok managed to capture. “Minseok’s always thought you and I were together at some point, or even hooked up, so it’s not that odd to see us like this.”

“No, you can’t!” you squeak and try to snatch the phone from his hand. That attempt fails as he easily maneuvers out of reach. “Don’t send that, Namjoon!”

Hoseok snatches the phone from Namjoon’s hand and stalks off back to the car. He’s mumbling something under his breath that you can’t make sense of and slams the car door once he’s inside. Sinking down into the seat, he leans his head against the window to rest comfortably in hopes of getting some sleep.

“I have to go.” Namjoon sounds reluctant to leave as he steps away. He knows Hoseok already sent the picture to Minseok so there was no backing out now. In fact, Minseok should be calling you any second and he wishes he could stick around for that conversation, but Hoseok was right. If he didn’t leave now, then they’d miss Hyunwoo and the last thing they need is Taehyung tearing into them for screwing up. “Minseok will be calling soon. Ignore it, go home, get some sleep. I’ll check on you later.”

“But, I–.” you try to protest as he walks off and right on cue, your phone rings with irritating familiarity. “Damn it.”

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“Why are you fucking with your own feelings just to piss off Minseok?” Hoseok questions Namjoon on the ride back home. He pays no mind to the muffled groaning coming from Hyunwoo lying on the floor of the van they’d swapped into later that morning. “It’s only going to get worse from here now. You know that, right?”

“Shut up,” Namjoon grumbles from the driver seat. He can’t say Hoseok’s wrong, he hardly ever is, but Namjoon isn’t willing to admit that. His grip on the steering wheel tightens as the memory of your lips and your touch, it all comes to the forefront of his mind and makes his chest tight. He had hoped that you did as he said and went home to get some sleep, but one quick peek at your Snapchat story revealed a breakfast plate filled with eggs and toast smothered in strawberry jam. Your mother’s favorite.

“You’re still pissed off that she went to breakfast with Minseok?”

“She didn’t go with Minseok. She went to see her mom.”

“Right,” Hoseok hums delightedly, “her mother. Who is currently being taken care of by who, again? Oh, right. Minseok.”

Namjoon uses the rearview mirror to glance back at his friend with a scowl. He knew he should have left his dumb ass back at home with Yoongi after he helped them pull the van from one of his family’s many junk yards. “You can join Hyunwoo in his misery, or you can shut the fuck up.”

Hoseok tosses his head back in howling laughter as Namjoon pulls through the security gates of Taehyung’s home. Pulling up to the front of the house, he gets out of the car to meet Taehyung and Yoongi at the passenger side door. He draws open the side door to reveal Hyunwoo bound, gagged, and covered in bruises. “Hoseok went a little…overboard.”

Yoongi’s low toned whistle makes him wince because he knows that Yoongi knows his lie was complete bullshit. “Damn, RM, you really did a number on this guy.”

“He tried to run,” Namjoon says as if it’s that simple of an explanation. When Yoongi shoots him a knowing look, he rolls his eyes towards the sky. That was, in fact, not what had happened and he had used it as a not so believable excuse to beat the shit out of Hyunwoo. It was a means to vent his frustration and Hoseok had let it happen without complaint. Then again, Hoseok never really complained about any kind of violence. Save for the few domestic ones he’d seen over the years. Oh, he’d always let his knife or gun do the talking then.

Taehyung climbs into the passenger seat and taps on the window as a sign for them to hurry the hell up before his wife comes storming outside. His phone rings while Yoongi jumps in the back with Hoseok and Hyunwoo. He answers it with a smirk on his face while Namjoon reclaims his seat behind the wheel.

Namjoon isn’t entirely sure what the conversation is about but it was pretty amusing to watch Hyunwoo lose his shit. When Taehyung throws out an innuendo that clearly has his wife panicking, he tries to hide his smile as Taehyung pulls the phone from his ear and stares at it.

“She hung up on me,” Taehyung comments in disbelief. He really shouldn’t be surprised that Nabi would hang up on him after his little quip, or the fact that she hadn’t entirely forgiven him for their fight last night. But if there’s one thing Namjoon’s come to learn in the decades of friendship with his six brothers, it’s that they’re all the smartest people he knows…and the dumbest. It’s a good balance of brains and stupidity, it keeps things fresh.

“I’m shocked she didn’t do more than yell at you last night,” Namjoon laughs. “Or that you didn’t kill Yoongi for being an instigator.”

“What good would it do me to be rid of him?” Taehyung catches Yoongi’s eye in the mirror. “But he is lucky I didn’t at least shoot him for it.”

“Jimin was the one who made it worse by giving you the spare key to your guys’ room,” Yoongi defends himself with a roll of his eyes. “Did it not get worse after you opened that door and Nabi nearly tore your head off?”

“Jimin’s not out of the woods either.” Taehyung scrolls through his phone, swiping through picture after picture that Hoseok had sent him earlier. Each of them include Hyunwoo stalking down various streets in his attempt to follow one of Nabi’s best friends. He thumbs through each one until…

“Is this a picture of you kissing Y/N, Namjoon?” Taehyung’s eyebrows shoot so far up that they nearly disappear into his hairline.

“Hoseok!” Namjoon barks back at his friend. “I said send it to Minseok, not broadcast it to everyone we know.”

Hoseok shrugs from his spot in the back. “As I recall, I said I wasn’t going to stand around all day while you guys made out. But you made me wait anyway. So, that’s on you.”

“My god, Namjoon, you really didn’t hold back, did you?” Yoongi is too busy peeking over Taehyung’s shoulder to notice Namjoon holding up his middle finger.

“Clearly, she didn’t either,” Taehyung notes, turning slightly so Yoongi can get a better look.

“Stop it,” Namjoon hisses, reaching out to take the phone from Taehyung. “You guys are like fucking children. It’s a wonder how Nabi can stand the two of you.”

“You’re awfully angry for someone who kissed the girl he’s been pining after for 10 years,” comes Yoongi’s voice.

“I didn’t really kiss her,” Namjoon growls low in his throat and contemplates shoving Yoongi out of the moving van. “And I haven’t been fucking pining, you prick.”

“Someone’s pretty fucking testy this morning,” his senior hisses back, having had enough of Namjoon’s pissy attitude.

“He’s just pissed that she spent the morning with Minsoek,” Hoseok not so helpfully supplies. “Apparently the picture didn’t do much to deter the poor bastard from asking her out again. Remind me why it ended between them again?”

Namjoon grips the wheel so tight that his arm shakes with barely restrained anger. Your relationship with Minseok ended on a relatively civil note. Something that always bothered Namjoon because it would have been easier for you to let go of him, or for Minseok to let go of you if things had just ended badly. But that hadn’t been the case. At least not from what you’d told him. You’d called him one night and, in an eerily calm voice, explained that Minseok had broken up with you. All of the time spent apart because of your part time jobs and having to tend to your mother had finally made him snap. You’d gone on to say that you weren’t really sure why you’d been so surprised. After all, Namjoon had been hinting at it for months but you’d never taken it seriously. It hadn’t bothered you that Minseok chose to part ways, maybe that’s why it angered Minseok when you didn’t want to reconcile. Maybe a part of him thought and still thinks that you didn’t care for him as much as he was led to believe.

Good, Namjoon thinks to himself. Good, because fuck Minseok and fuck his selfishness for leaving you at your most vulnerable, and then turning around and hoping to get back together. Namjoon will be damned before that ever happens.

He tunes back into the conversation when it steers to Nabi’s best friend, Soyoung, whom Hyunwoo had been tailing. They inform him that Soyoung can be just as cruel as Nabi if not more, and Hyunwoo seems caught off guard. Namjoon finds it easy to fall into the cruel amusement his boss and friends have at Hyunwoo’s expense. That is, until Yoongi brings up the subject of what you and Minseok could have possibly been up to if you weren’t answering Namjoon’s calls or texts. Namjoon quickly shuts down once more, sneering at Yoongi’s reflection in the mirror.

“Damn,” Hoseok sighs and pockets his switchblade as they come up on Taehyung’s father’s building. “Now you guys have done it. He’ll be pissy the rest of the day now.”

“Us?” Yoongi hisses, pushing Hoseok’s shoulder roughly as they scramble out of the van. “You’re the one who brought it up first, dumbass.”

“You didn’t have to mention that she hasn’t responded, dipshit.”

“Enough,” Taehyung hushes them as they walk through the back doors of his father’s building. He doesn’t often use them, but given how they’re still holding Hyunwoo hostage, he doesn’t really have a choice now. “We’ll talk about this later,” he addresses Namjoon after stepping into the elevator.

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Namjoon thanks whatever higher power that keeps Taehyung occupied with the Seong brothers at lunch so he can thumb through his phone once more. He’s been waiting all fucking day for you to answer his call, which is yet to happen. He knows he said you needed to get sleep, but damn it, he wishes he could go and check on you. That, and the fact that he and Taehyung are still reeling from their earlier argument is on his mind. Taehyung’s plan to put Nabi and Hyunwoo in the same room as each other while giving Hyunwoo the freedom to move about honestly scares Namjoon. It’s clear that Nabi is capable of handling herself against any normal person, but Hyunwoo has grown up in the center of the mafia, being spoiled and coddled so much by his father that he believed he was entitled to anything he wanted. This included Nabi. It makes Namjoon’s stomach turn sour at the thought of putting Nabi in a situation that could potentially destroy her strong mindset. But Taehyung has all the faith in the world in his wife and Namjoon can’t blame him. Nabi is the furthest thing from timid and weak.

Thunder crashes in the sky above and lightning follows, leaving their entire party to rush inside the cafe Nabi’s chosen to eat at. As they filter inside, Yoongi is hissing underneath his breath about getting caught in the rain while he shucks his jacket off to lay across an empty table. Jungkook and Jimin don’t miss the opportunity to piss him off further by shaking their hair about and spraying water everywhere.

“Damn it,” Hoseok seethes at the two youngest, resisting the urge to slap one or both of them upside the head. “Can you two be any less civilized?”

“Jungkook!” Namjoon slaps his shoulder after the youngest wrings out his jacket over top of Hoseok’s head. As if Hoseok wasn’t one of the most dangerous men in the city. “Behave.”

Jungkook snorts in response and sets his jacket flat over the same table Yoongi has his splayed about. He’s the only one of them to not notice Taehyung drag Nabi off towards the bathrooms and Namjoon’s eye twitches when the Seong brothers do notice and 4 out of the 5 men move to stop them from following Taehyung and Nabi. It would be alot easier if Jungkook would pull his head out of his ass and get it together.

“You can’t really expect us to stand here and do nothing?” Joongki, the oldest Seong brother and Nabi’s cousin, tries to shove past Namjoon.

“Unless you want to walk in on a very intimate moment,” Hoseok warns him while wrangling Jeonghan, Nabi’s other cousin, to an empty booth. “I suggest you sit the hell down and leave them be.”

“Nabi will be embarrassed enough without the two of you storming in there.” Yoongi grips Joongki’s shoulder and helps Namjoon shove him into the other side of the booth. “Know and understand this, Taehyung cherishes your cousin more than any of us here. There’s not a damn thing in this world that could stop him from giving her anything and everything she wants and needs. He will not hurt her, he will not coerce her into what’s happening, and he for damn sure will absolutely not touch her without her express permission.”

“Joongki,” Namjoon catches his attention, “I know you’re smarter than this. I know you would not have let Taehyung put Nabi under our roof if you thought we couldn’t keep her safe. None of us would let Taehyung hurt her. Jungkook nearly got himself killed multiple times just for stepping in between their arguments. Don’t lose your cool because you can’t handle that Nabi’s a grown woman.”

Finally, the Seong brothers seem to accept the words Yoongi and Namjoon speak, and Namjoon sighs in relief now that he can check his phone again. Still, nothing from you and it makes his blood boil. “Son of a bitch,” he grumbles, dialing your phone number and pressing it to his ear. “I swear to God, if you don’t fucking pick up…”

“Yeah?” Your breathless voice hits his ears like a symphony and all of the blood rushes to his groin. You’re met with absolute silence and pull the phone back to check if Namjoon had hung up. “Joon? You there?”

He coughs as his throat dries up and attempts to clear it in hopes of not sounding so gruff when he answers, “I’m sorry. Did I wake you?”

“Just a little,” you huff out another breathless laugh. “It’s okay though. I had to get up and get some grocery shopping done before my shift at the diner tonight.”

“You should have done that after your breakfast with Minseok,” he growls, letting his temper get the best of him. “Then you could have slept longer.”

“I slept long enough.” You know he can practically hear your eye roll. “Joon, I didn’t have breakfast with Minseok. I went to visit my mother and he was there. He does happen to work there, you know.”

“Didn’t seeing my tongue down your throat scare him off?” he snaps back in response. “Didn’t it piss him off the way it pisses me off that he really thinks he has a chance after I sent you to him wet and ready for me?”

“Namjoon!” you gasp, clenching your thighs together as you had earlier that morning. What had gotten into him? He’s never spoken to you this way and while it did get you a little hot and bothered, it also reminds you of the almost kiss you’d shared. Something that most definitely should not have happened. It left you wanting much more and knowing you can’t have it. It’s a line you swore you’d never cross with Namjoon, not when he was your oldest and only friend. It would complicate things and you couldn’t handle losing him if it tore the friendship apart.

“Fuck, I’m sorry,” his voice cuts through your thoughts, making your heartbeat skyrocket. “I’m so sorry, Y/N, that wasn’t okay for me to say. I’m just—.”

“It’s fine,” you cut him off, not wanting to hear whatever explanation he has for momentarily forgetting you were his best friend, not one of the usual girls he sleeps with. “Look, Namjoon, I have to go. It’s going to get late and I won’t be able to get everything done that I need to.”

“Y/N, wait. I—.”

“And don’t stop by the diner tonight.” You’re adamant in this because a few of your co-workers had spotted him this morning and texted you to ask if you’d been dating again. You don’t need them to think you’re attached to anyone, especially not Namjoon of all people. It would only make things awkward when he inevitably got a long time girlfriend and you were stuck having to explain everything.

“Why the fuck not?” Namjoon tries his best to keep his voice down, but he’s not doing a very good job as Mr. and Mrs. Kim’s heads whip his way. “The area around the diner is dangerous, Y/N, I’ll be damned if anything happens to you.” He’s seething and it shows in his voice after hearing his full name from your lips. He’d learned long ago that if he made you angry enough, you would forgo his nickname in favor of his full name, and he never realized how much he hated hearing you say it until right this moment. “Where is this coming from?”

“People will talk, Namjoon,” you mumble, scooting to the edge of your bed in search of your pajama shorts. Your air conditioner has been on the fritz lately and it picks and chooses when to work. Today, it decided it did not want to work. Though it was still nice and cool outside, your apartment was like a damn furnace since the window latch had been broken. Admittedly, you don’t live in the greatest building with the greatest landlord. Or the greatest part of town. But it’s a roof over your head, so you can’t really complain. Namjoon had lost his shit time and time again when it came to your apartment so you decided to stop telling him all of its issues entirely.

“So, let them talk,” he growls, turning away from Yoongi’s questioning gaze. His stare, in turn, had the rest of the guys and Taehyung’s parents staring as well. It makes Namjoon tense up when they notice he’s losing this argument. “Don’t take that chance just because I pissed you off, Y/N. Don’t push me away and shut me out because I’m being an asshole. That’s my fault and I’m sorry. But don’t…” he sighs heavily and pinches the bridge of his nose. He can hear the rustling of your sheets as you move about your bed. His throat bobs at the thought of what the hell you could be doing to make that much noise. “Just don’t, baby, please.”

Baby.

He called you baby and a part of you softens at the pet name. The other part of you gets angry that he would try to manipulate you by saying it. You’ve watched him charm girl after girl when he got bored enough and every single time, they fell for it. You hated it. Hated how they got to see a part of him he would never show you because of your friendship. Hated that he was using those same tactics now to manipulate you into forgiving him. Your chest feels tight and there’s a hitch in your breath when you tell him, “I don’t want people to think we’re together. It’s bad enough Minseok bought into the picture Hobi sent him. I don’t need my coworkers thinking I’m ready to date again. Especially not you.”

He takes offense to that. So much so that his knuckles curl into a fist, one that’s two seconds away from meeting the wall in front of him until Jimin taps his shoulder. It’s enough to make him look up and find that everyone was ready to go after the rain finally settled. Poor Nabi looks ready to combust, her entire face as red as a tomato, and Taehyung looks too fucking smug for Namjoon’s liking. He hangs up without bidding you goodbye because if he opens his mouth to say anything at all, it’ll only upset you even more. Especially not him? What the fuck was that supposed to mean?

His life was never meant for someone permanent or special to be invited into. Not with the constant danger lurking around every corner, or the men he regularly spends time around because of Taehyung and his own family ties into the mafia. While his father treats his mother like a goddess, and Taehyung does the same with Nabi, Namjoon couldn’t see himself treating anyone with that kind of respect while you were around. You occupy too many of his thoughts. He’s aware that all of this falls on him. His unyielding thought process of never fully committing to someone because of you, is entirely his own fucking fault, and he knows it. His parents would be ashamed of him if he were to ever marry and be unfaithful. Then again, who would he be unfaithful with if not you? You’d never allow it. You have too much self respect to ever be the other woman. It’s one of the things Namjoon respects the most about you. Some women didn’t care if they were some man’s side piece in the mob. It meant expensive gifts, expensive trips, hell, some men even bought their mistresses homes in order to keep them happy. It wasn’t odd for it to happen, but Namjoon had taken great care to surround himself with people fully devoted to treating women as more than just play things. He never thought he’d ever actually find friends like that, until he’d met Taehyung, and then Yoongi, and Hoseok, and so on.

He’s never told you what he does for “work” and you’ve never really asked. He can never truly tell you the truth unless he was willing to drag you into his life completely. Obviously, he really is ready, but you’d never plunge into this life head first without thinking of the consequences. It’s a dangerous line to toe and he knows he shouldn’t push, but clearly Minseok had said something to make you doubt him. Minseok had always made you second guess the things Namjoon did and said, and you’d cave under the guilty weight of taking Namjoon’s side over your boyfriends. Minseok had been able to weasel his way into your life and shove Namjoon out to the brink of Namjoon nearly storming to Minseok’s house with Hoseok and Jimin in tow.

Damn. He has to get you away from Minseok. And soon. Because if he wormed his way underneath your skin, Namjoon would well and truly kill him this time.

Parting ways with Mrs. Kim’s car filled with Nabi, her cousins, Jimin, and Jungkook, Namjoon plopped into the driver's side of the van they’d arrived in. Taehyung, Yoongi, and Hoseok follow suit, all silently climbing into the car in a much more gingerly manner than Namjoon himself had. Taehyung, while still sexed out of his mind, still had the decency to ask if his friend was alright.

“Sounded pretty intense,” Hoseok said from the back seat, eyeing Namjoon’s rigid form. “What did Y/N say to piss you off so much? Because the last time I saw that look in your eye, we nearly wiped out the entire Lee family. They still haven’t forgiven us, by the way. Mr. Kim’s got them nearly beating down his door to get to you, Namjoon.”

The tall man pretends not to hear a word Hoseok says because of course he remembers. He’d gotten into a fight with you then too. He vividly remembers how you’d questioned his lengthy absence when you never had before. You’d always figured his business was his alone and you shouldn’t butt in. But that time, Minseok had managed to convince you that Namjoon simply didn’t want to be around because of Minseok’s presence. While that rang true, Namjoon couldn’t exactly tell you that he’d been sent on an assignment to the Maldives with Hoseok to deal with a shipment the Lee family was in control of. He’d been gone for almost an entire month when you finally called, only to ask if he’d tired of you. He could remember the sound of your voice cracking as you tried to hold back tears. He had tried to explain, tried to tell you that it was for work, but he could hear Minseok’s mousy fucking voice in the background, taunting you in a sickeningly sweet way that only he could. You’d said your goodbyes to Namjoon, almost sounding final, and Namjoon. Had. Gone. Feral. Absolutely apeshit and cut down a good portion of the Lee men because he’d been pissed. Later, he’d told Taehyung that the family was indeed skimming some of the product, which was why he’d been sent to the Maldives in the first place. He’d silently cursed Taehyung back then, well and truly hated the man that had become his brother, and for what? A stupid argument that Minseok had incited?

Taehyung clocks Namjoon’s grip on the wheel and winces at how his friend is about to lose all self control and possibly kill what little is left of the Choi family. For Namjoon to completely lose himself again, means that whatever is bothering him has to do with you. Taehyung almost feels bad for him, and he would offer some advice if he didn’t have bigger problems at hand. What he can do is try to free up some time for Namjoon to work things out however he needs to. Though, if this is anything like the situation with the Lee family, Taehyung can’t imagine the hell Namjoon will rain down on the poor sucker stupid enough to even so much as slightly push the wrong button. It would be a bloodbath of epic proportions and Taehyung runs a hand down his face at the thought. They can’t afford for Namjoon to be distracted right now, but it was inevitable. Every so often, Namjoon loses focus and becomes completely and utterly consumed by you. Even if you don’t know it.

Yoongi watches Hyunwoo raise a curious brow at Namjoon’s behavior and the tense silence compared to the friendly banter earlier. When he turns to meet Yoongi’s stare, Yoongi sneers at him so viciously that it makes Hyunwoo visibly recoil. He smirks and looks out the front windshield, watching the buildings pass by in a blur. He can see the cogs in the machine that is Namjoon’s genius brain turn and turn. Something had to have gone completely wrong with you if it’s gotten this bad again. He can see Namjoon’s pupils dilate with the rush of adrenaline he’s sure to unleash on Hyunwoo if he makes one wrong move. He’s quite sure that Namjoon almost hopes the Choi family fucks up so it’ll give him a reason to go nuts. Namjoon lives on fear and chaos, it’s one of the things that made him so frightening and dangerous. It’s one of the many things Taehyung had sought him out for as teenagers. By that age, Namjoon had quite the body count and truthfully, if he and Hoseok had to go toe to toe, everyone knows it would be pretty damn close. What makes him even more scary is that no one would ever be able to tell how much blood stains his hands because of his cool and calm demeanor.

Hoseok almost pays no mind to Namjoon’s disheveled state as he plays with his switchblade, every so often leaning over to knick Hyunwoo’s skin. It was almost torture and Hoseok knows if anyone could appreciate it, it’s Namjoon. However, with Namjoon’s lack of self awareness, Hoseok finds that he must enjoy this by himself. Really, he’s worried that Namjoon’s going to go on a rampage again. It took them forever to clean up the mess in the Maldives. Not to mention the complete shitshow that followed and Mr. Kim had to sort out enough for there to be some sense of civility. Goddamn it, he really doesn’t need another disaster on his hands. The Choi family better pray for themselves because God only knows what Namjoon is cooking up in his head.

Namjoon’s phone rings in the silence and actually makes Taehyung jump a little. He glances down to find the name “Hana” in bold letters taking up the screen. Namjoon lets it go to voicemail because Taehyung’s sure that it isn’t exactly the name he wants to pop up on his phone right now. He doesn’t know who the girl is, but if you catch wind of it, then it won’t be good. The phone rings again and Namjoon picks it up with some bite in his tone.

“What?” Namjoon snaps.

“Oh, hey,” Hana purrs back, giggling even though she can tell how mad he is. “Are you busy? I’m kind of bored and thought—.”

“We fucked once, Hana,” he sneers, “and it wasn’t exactly memorable for me, so find a different dick to suck.”

“Fuck you, Namjoon!” she screeches at his audacity. “You know, I don’t exactly remember you complaining when I sucked your dick, you asshole! Here’s a tip, Namjoon, maybe don’t be a complete prick the next time a woman reaches out to satisfy you. There won’t be many left if you continue on like that.”

“You’re a placeholder, Hana.” Namjoon smirks and the guys in the van inwardly groan because now some poor girl is about to get the brunt of his wrath. “I don’t want anyone else, just one girl, and she’s not you. Maybe some small, pathetic part of you had hoped you were special but you’re really not. I was drunk and bored and you were willing to spread your legs for me, so fuck off.”

Taehyung winces as Namjoon slams his phone back on the center console. Jesus fucking Christ, that was brutal. Namjoon’s not exactly a saint but he’s very rarely crude to a girl. Whatever you’d argued about must have messed him up good if he was speaking that way to someone. They reach the house just after Nabi’s car gets there and Taehyung basically leaps out of the van to usher his wife from the car.

Namjoon locks eyes with Nabi for a second before he turns his glare to Taehyung because not only does he have to deal with the Choi family, he’s still steaming from his conversation with you. He doesn’t see Nabi frown, only concentrating on getting Hyunwoo into the house without her seeing. He shoves Hyunwoo harder than necessary when Yoongi has to prod him forward with a gun. God, he can only hope this was enough to release some of the tension simmering beneath his skin.

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You’re almost halfway through grocery shopping when a sense of dread settles in your chest. You don’t know what it is or how it was even brought on, but you know there’s something not right. You round the corner of the canned food aisle, determined to get away from whatever it was when you bump into a firm chest. Strong hands reach out to steady you while your breath catches. You look up to find a handsome stranger with the oddest smile on his face. It’s not menacing but it certainly isn’t friendly either. “Sorry,” you mumble, taking a step back to create some much needed distance.

He only smiles wider, raking a hand through his dark hair and waving his hand dismissively. “Oh, it’s not a problem at all. It’s my fault, actually. I wasn’t watching where I was going. Are you alright?”

“Um, yeah, I’m fine.” You blink up at him, unsure of whether or not you should even keep talking to him. Namjoon always hated the way you’d become friendly with anyone, especially strangers. You’d called him out on it once, insisting that he was just being paranoid, but he didn’t budge. He always says no one can be trusted, but then you wonder what exactly makes him so trustworthy, or why he trusts you at all. The thought of your best friend sends a pang through your heart and you frown. Maybe you shouldn’t have been so harsh with him earlier. He was only trying to help, but you let your insecurities shine through and lashed out at him.

“Kang Chunghee,” he says, offering his hand in greeting. He can see the apprehension on your face even as you take his hand in yours and shake it. Taking a step too close, he towers over you in a way that almost makes you cower away. His eyes roam down your body from head to toe, but you’re so busy looking everywhere but him that you don’t notice. Your hair, he notes, and face look so much like your mother’s that it’s a wonder why you hadn’t been spotted before now. Then again, his father wasn’t exactly looking to make trouble with the Kim family, but he’d found out about your mother’s illness and insisted on seeking you out. His hand tightens briefly, making you wince, as the memories of his own mother begging his father to leave “that woman” be and come back home to her. He never did, of course, and soon sent Chunghee’s mother spiraling into a world of drugs and alcohol. Both of which killed her not long after your birth.

“Cho Y/N,” you reply with a hiss, trying to pull your hand from his. It takes a moment for him to realize he’d been holding on too tight and quickly drops your hand. You take this chance to scan his face and realize he looks vaguely familiar but you can’t quite place it anywhere. He could just be one of the many patrons that have come and gone from the diner. You meet so many people at your job that it’s not entirely out of the ordinary to run into someone while out and about. As if on cue, your phone rings and you scramble for it in hopes that it’s Namjoon and you can apologize, but you’re disappointed to find that it’s your manager instead. You give Chunghee a polite smile before stepping away to answer the call. She only asks if you can come in a bit early as one of the other waitresses has called in sick. You sigh and check your watch to ask for some extra time to go home and get ready. Throughout the entire conversation, you notice that Chunghee hasn’t left your side at all, and you tense up when he steps closer once more after ending your phone call.

“Ah, I have to apologize,” he says and takes a step back to give you some space. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

“Um.” You shift on the balls of your feet, clutching your phone tight in your hand and contemplating calling Namjoon. You shake your head. No. His paranoia is simply rubbing off on you and this guy hasn’t really done anything to offend or scare you other than being a little too interested. You remind yourself that at one point, Minseok had been the same way before he finally worked up the courage to ask you out on a date. “I really should get going.”

“Oh, of course.” Chunghee gestures for you to go ahead and walk on, bidding you goodbye with a simple wave. Once you round the corner to the registers, his smile slowly fades into a grimace. If your mother is as beautiful as you are, then he can see why his father was tempted by her. His chest grows tight and bile rises in his throat that he has to swallow down. As a child he’d always wondered why his father could so easily cast him and his mother aside. Looking at you now, he sees exactly why. He’s only ever seen photos of your mother and none of you, but his father had told him it’s because he didn’t even know you existed. Not until your mother had grown sick and you’d somehow gotten tangled up in one of the notorious Kim family’s webs. Fool, he thinks of you. If only you had never come up on the Kim family’s radar then you never would have come up on his father’s. Or, he supposes, he’s your father as well.

He gives you all of 2 minutes to get ahead of him before he stalks out of the grocery store to see you climb into a junker car that he can’t even fathom why it would even still exist. He slips into his own car, a much nicer one, and peels out of the parking lot just a little after you do. He takes turn after turn and a muscle in his jaw ticks when it dawns on him that you don’t even notice you’re being followed, and even worse, his eye visibly twitches after parking down the street from a rundown building that you seem to be living in. “For fuck’s sake,” he sighs to himself, running a hand down his face. He’s meant to hate you, to loathe your mother for stealing away his father’s attention and causing his mother to lose her damn mind. But a twinge of guilt eats away at him. His father was never the greatest man, but Chunghee’s certainly lived a much more lavish life than you have. His father may have laid his hands on him quite a few times during his childhood, but you’re so carefree that he’s actually envious, and even still, he feels bad that you’ve had to go nights hungry while he was gifted with so much food that he didn’t know what to do with it. He was 28 when he’d learned of your existence and by then you were already 18, living paycheck to paycheck and working yourself to the bone to afford your mother’s medical costs. Until that point, he and his father had always wondered where your mother had disappeared to. According to his father, she’d up and left one day, leaving behind most of her belongings for the obvious reason that she never wanted to be found again. She’d even changed her name and lived 18 blissful long years in the shadows.

Chunghee can only wonder how she’d never figured out who his father was until it was too late. If he’s correct in his math, she’d already been pregnant with you when she skipped town. Which means she had to have found out that his father was both married and a dangerous man. He can commend her for wanting to protect you, which was far more than his father was willing to do for him. If you weren’t somehow tied to the Kim family, then Kang Himchan would have swooped in and stolen you away long ago. But with Kim Namjoon hovering around so often, the older Kang could only grit his teeth and turn a blind eye if he didn’t want to overstep and start problems.

He’s pulled from his thoughts when you emerge from the building, basically running, and jump in your car to speed off. He looks at the clock on his dashboard, guessing that you took far longer than you thought you would to get ready. He gives you a few extra miles before he starts down the same road you’d gone, following along until he reaches the diner just before exiting the city. It’s far, he realizes as another glance at the clock shows that it took almost an hour to get there. He’d paid no mind to the time when he’d scouted out the diner last night. He’d come out on a whim, wondering if you were well and truly under the Kim family protection, and snorted when you’d gone the entire night without so much as a hint of the Kims around. When you’d left for the night, he’d gotten out of his car to confront you, but then Namjoon had shown up, and Chunghee had frozen in place. He’d been wrong because not only had the Kims been hidden in the literal dark, Jung Hoseok had been lying in wait as well. Anyone in this line of work knows who Hoseok is, and if he’s hovering around you, then this is going to be far more complicated than he first thought. He’s tempted to go sit in the diner, but after the disaster that was the interaction in the grocery store, he doesn’t want to give you a reason to contact Namjoon. So he waits. For hours. 14, to be exact, and he finds himself shifting in his seat every 10 minutes. Why the hell he feels so inclined to sit around for your entire shift, he doesn’t know, but you have to be tired out by now. How the hell would it look if he’s the one that’s exhausted when you’re the one who’s been running around on your feet all day?

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You can feel it. You don’t know what it is or where it’s coming from, but you know you’re being watched. It’s unnerving, and while you’re trying your best to get through your shift, you also want to find out who could be watching. Not wanting to let them know you’re on to them, you keep plowing through orders and customers, running hot plates from the kitchen, cleaning off tables and kitchen utensils, and itching to reach for your phone to text Namjoon. But he hasn’t reached out to you either, making a small part of you actually want to cry because you’ve upset him. It’s not often that he gets angry with you, but when he does, it never takes very long for you to apologize or for him to check on you even if he is mad. So for him to go the entire day without contacting you is terrifying. Especially when you know something is wrong. When your shift is finally over, you say your goodbyes to your coworkers and check your phone as you head to your car. Your shoulders deflate with disappointment, thoughts swirling in your head, so much so that they drown out the sound of approaching feet. Fingers tap on your shoulder, and you whirl around with an ear piercing scream, only to have someone slap their hand over your mouth.

Hoseok looks at you with a raised brow, a little concerned with your pale face and the sweat beading down by your temples. You’re scared and he doesn’t like that. He removes his hand from your mouth, watching as your bottom lip wobbles in an attempt to hold back a sob. He grips your arms tighter than he means to. “What happened?”

You heave out a sigh of relief, shaking your head to clear your thoughts. “Oh, Hobi. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scream like that.”

“You obviously had a reason to, so help me out here, and tell me what could have scared you so much.”

“It’s nothing,” you promise even though you know you shouldn’t lie. Hoseok’s always been good at telling when someone’s lying and you’re not entirely sure why you even tried. You watch him scan the dark parking lot anyways, fingers nearly bruising your skin with the force of his grip. You wince out loud, regaining his attention and he lets go of you.

“I’m sorry.” He frowns, reaching up to pat down your messy hair. “I came to check on you. Namjoon’s been out of it all day and I know you guys fought.”

“It was stupid,” you whisper, casting your eyes to the ground in shame. Hoseok showing up on Namjoon’s behalf means that your best friend isn’t anywhere near ready to speak to you again. You really screwed up this time if he sent Hoseok all the way out here when he could have just called you himself. You feel awful that Hoseok even drove all the way out here in person just because you’re having a difficult time processing everything from the day before. The way Namjoon held you and looked at you, it was far better than you ever imagined, and you let your insecurities get the best of you. You’re doing what you’ve always done when someone gets too close. You’re pushing him away like you used to when you were dating Minseok. The two of you had fought more than usual while you were with Minseok, and this fight reminds you of those times.

“It can’t be that stupid if you guys are this messed up over it.” Hoseok keeps petting your hair with affection, but he’s not fooled. Something else is going on here and you’re not being honest with him. He’s scared you before, albeit playfully, but even when he’d done it in earnest, you’ve never reacted that way. He’ll have to bring it up with Namjoon and hopefully it’ll be enough to pull his head out of his ass. After the disastrous confrontation between Nabi, the Choi family, and Taehyung, Namjoon had been even more on edge and left the house. Hoseok had assumed he’d come to tail you, but he wasn’t picking up his phone, so Hoseok drove out here to check. He’d grown worried when he got to the diner and didn’t see Namjoon’s car anywhere, so he’d gotten out to come ask you when his phone pinged with a message from Namjoon. He’d told Hoseok that he just needed air to clear his head and he was on his way back to the house. Hoseok was ready to leave it alone and go back himself, but his instincts had kicked in, and rightfully so. He considers memorizing the license plates currently in the parking lot to have Yoongi run when he gets back, but decides against it when he hears your car door open.

“It is,” you remind him. “It’s a stupid fight over a stupid thing and Namjoon wouldn’t get it, and I said some things I shouldn’t have. I just want some space, Hobi, is that too much?”

“Yes,” he growls, holding out the car door for you to climb in. “It’s too much for Namjoon and you know that, Y/N. He doesn’t like space when it comes to you and this fight is affecting all of us. We’re his friends too, Y/N, and it’s out of the ordinary for us to see him this way.”

“Then space is exactly what we need.” You slam the door shut, leaving Hoseok pleasantly surprised by your outburst. You’ve never taken that much attitude with him and he’s a little amused by it. You’re careful not to run over his feet as you back out of the parking space, giving him a small wave before driving away. Peering in the rearview mirror, you watch him fade into the background and miss the way his body locks up.

Hoseok turns slightly, meeting the eyes of someone he’s not quite familiar with, before the person rolls up their car window. There, he thinks. That’s what, or rather who, was bothering you. He glares at his reflection in the window as the car drives away, pulling his phone from his pocket to dial Namjoon’s number.

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Namjoon sits in one of the lounge chairs in his small library at the house, his hair sticking up in every direction after running his hands through it. After the confrontation earlier with Nabi and the Choi family, he’d gone out for a long drive. He was tempted to drive up to your apartment, or even stake out the diner, but he wasn’t sure he could handle seeing you without forcing a conversation. The last thing he wants is to disrespect your boundaries, but his skin prickles at the thought of not checking up on you. He could never forgive himself if something were to happen to you. A light knock on the doorframe gets his attention and he looks up to find Nabi leaning against it.

She gives him a soft smile when he gestures to the empty chair across from him, striding across the room to sit. “Are you alright?” “Shouldn’t I be asking you that question?” he snorts in response, pinching the bridge of his nose as the tension in his neck travels up to the base of his skull. “It was a hard day for you.”

She nods slightly. “Namjoon, can I…” she trails off, fiddling with her thumbs anxiously but he doesn’t push, only giving her the time she needs to gather her thoughts. “What I did today, with Hyunwoo, and the gun. How did it look to you guys?”

“What do you mean?” He’s obviously confused because she can’t really mean to think his opinion of her has changed to a bad one.

“Did it look like I was hiding something from you guys?”

“No,” he answers immediately. “Nabi, Hoseok told us that he suspected you weren’t exactly timid a long time ago. None of us really thought you were to begin with. Taehyung didn’t scare you, Jungkook and Jimin didn’t scare you. Hell, even Hoseok couldn’t scare you off even when you know the kinds of things we do.”

She inhales sharply, taking his hand when he offers it in support. “Growing up in this life definitely hardens a person, but sometimes I think I take it too far.”

“We’ve all had to do some unforgivable things to survive this life.” Namjoon’s thumb skims across her knuckles. “I think the way you kept that part of yourself closed off was just a way to protect yourself. There’s nothing wrong with that, even if Taehyung was angry about it. I’m glad you opened up, Nabi, it means you trust us enough to be comfortable.”

“Comfortable enough to ask what’s going on with you,” Nabi quickly changes the subject, jumping right into what she came to the library for in the first place.

“It’s Y/N,” he sighs, dropping her hand and sinking back into the chair. “I may have had Hoseok send a picture to her ex that made us look like more than friends, and she got angry with me. She said she didn’t want me hanging around the diner for awhile to avoid her coworkers asking questions. For whatever reason, she doesn’t want them to think she’s in a relationship with anyone, but before we could really get into it, I had to focus on the situation here and I haven’t called her since.”

“Namjoon,” Nabi admonishes him, slapping his arm lightly. “First of all, as much help as you think the picture was, I can promise you, it wasn’t. Secondly, how do you think she’ll feel if you start showing up around her coworkers and she has to explain that you’re just friends even though they’ve seen more? Honestly, Kim Namjoon, did you even fully think of the consequences that picture could bring?”

Namjoon opens his mouth to argue when his phone starts to ring and Nabi takes that as her victory before slinking out of the room. He shakes his head, amused but doesn’t want to admit it, before answering Hoseok’s call. “What is it?”

“Y/N’s being followed,” Hoseok wastes no time getting to the point. He’s already in his car, speeding after you and your stalker, but he was too far behind to begin with. His palms begin to sweat with what he can only describe as fear when he has to slam on the brakes at a nearby intersection. “Fuck!” he curses, slamming his hands against the steering wheel, losing sight of your car. “I lost them.” “Where?” Namjoon is up and in the garage, car keys in his shaking hands as dread fills his entire body.

“Not far. If you leave now, you should meet her just as she’s getting home.”

Shit, Namjoon seethes to himself. His hands tighten on the wheel as he speeds down street after street. Shit, shit, shit! He tries calling you, but you don’t answer, and he doesn’t want to panic. You’ve just worked another double, he reasons, you always forget to take a phone charger with you so your phone had to have died. That has to be it. For the sake of whoever is stupid enough to follow you, that had better be what happened. The automatic voice echoes in the car as he gets your voicemail one more time. “Baby,” he says after the beep, “I know you’re angry with me, but I need you to pick up the phone.”

Three more unanswered calls later, his body is wound tight as he pulls up to your apartment building, not seeing your car anywhere in sight. He jumps out the driver’s seat and bolts up the stairs to your apartment, pounding on the door, but he’s met with more silence. He has to call his father, has to get their men out there in search of you, he has to. Has to. Has to. Has to.

“Joon?” your voice reaches his ears, but you’re not sure he actually hears you. You take in his heaving shoulders and chest, the shaking of his hands, and lay your palm on his shoulder to get his attention. You gasp in pain when he rounds on you, shoving your back into the wall with his long fingers wrapped around your neck. Your hand wraps around his wrist to try and pry it away, looking into his eyes to find them nearly black with rage. “Joon! Namjoon, it’s me!”

Namjoon’s eyes finally clear, blood still roaring in his ears as he seems to recognize you. He glances down to find his hand around your throat, quickly releasing you. “Oh fuck, Y/N, I’m so sorry!” He holds on to your shoulders as you cough violently, trying to take in all the air you’ve lost, sliding down the wall as if to ground yourself. He falls to his knees in order to maintain eye contact, spearing his fingers through your hair to keep it out of your face, touching his forehead to yours. “I’m so fucking sorry, baby. Are you okay?”

The hold you have on his wrists never loosened, and you use it now in support as the spots in your vision begin to disappear. You’re gasping as you brace your free hand against his chest, unsure if you want to push him away yet. “Jesus fuck, Namjoon. What the hell?”

“I’m sorry! I thought…”

“What could you possibly have thought?” You finally shove him away and stand up, fishing the apartment keys out of your pocket. You shove them in the keyhole, unlock the door, and throw it open as Namjoon follows you inside. Reaching up to your neck, your hand shakes as it feels around your sore throat. “As if Hoseok popping up wasn’t scary enough.”

“Hoseok scared you?” Namjoon’s body grows tense all over again, turning to close the apartment door.

“He didn’t mean to.” You shake your head, shucking off your jacket and tossing it onto the kitchen counter. “I was just a little off tonight, that’s all. Hoseok snuck up on me after work.” Making your way to the cabinets overhead, you pluck out a cup to fill with water. You stand facing away from him to gulp down the water. All day you’ve been wondering what you could say to him, but now that he’s here in front of you, all words are lost. It’s not just because you’re angry with what just happened, it’s that you don’t know how to even process it.

“How many times can I say I’m sorry?” His chest presses to your back, the deep rumbling of his voice vibrates against it, your treacherous body leaning into him. He braces his hands on the counter, trapping you in place, and presses his forehead to your shoulder. “You didn’t answer your phone.”

“I put it on silent,” you whisper, turning your head so your lips skim his ear. The tips of his ears turn red even though you didn’t mean to be directly in his ear, you smile. “I forgot to put the ringer back on after Hobi scared me in the parking lot.”

He hums in reply, one arm sliding across your belly to hook around your waist completely, pulling you against him. The sun peeks through the window, having risen in the time he’s spent in your apartment. “Another late shift, then?”

“Mhm,” you confirm with a nod of your head. You meet his eyes when he raises his head to look at you. You glance down at his lips, tipping your head back just slightly and you swear he groans as he lowers his mouth to yours.

There’s nothing stopping him from kissing you this time. Not a damn thing stands in his way. That is, until there’s a knock on your door that has you jumping out of his embrace before he can actually do anything. He curses whoever is at the door, taking the cup you set on the counter to take a sip of water. His ears pick up the grating sound of Minseok’s voice, and he’s slamming the glass down on the counter before he can stop himself from getting even more pissed off. Striding to the front door, he reaches it just in time to watch you crumble to your knees, but he’s quick to stop you from hitting the floor. “Y/N?! What happened? What’s wrong?”

“She’s go–,” you sob out, tears streaming down your face endlessly. “She’s gone, Joon. She’s gone!” you shriek, gripping onto his forearms as your wails fill the apartment. Your throat is raw from screaming but you can’t seem to stop yourself. You knew it was coming, had always known, but you were never actually prepared for it.

Namjoon’s heart breaks with every body wracking sob you let out, and it hits him then just why Minseok was there. He holds you close, rocks you back and forth in hopes of soothing you, but it isn’t working. From the corner of his eye, he sees Minseok’s fingers twitch, trying to keep himself from reaching out to you, but Namjoon pulls you closer, refusing to allow Minseok to touch you.

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Sometimes you think the skies know when to be gloomy. The gray clouds that loom over the funeral procession feel as though they’re mocking you. Your mother loved rainy days, something you couldn’t come to enjoy as you grew older. You thought they were depressing, always lending a hand in her dwindling health, but she flourished in the rain. She came alive when the downpour would drench her to the bone, and as a child, you would giggle and dance in the rain with her. You remember kicking up puddles, getting your feet dirty and clothes wet, and it was everything to her. Growing older, though, you found that with the rain came runny noses, horrid coughs, sore throats, and missed days of school. You came to detest them until she got sick, and it was all she’d ask for; to see the rain.

People, mostly Namjoon’s parents and friends, and some of your coworkers, gathered around you in comfort. They only want to help, you know this, but they’re not. Most people welcome the condolences and the sympathy, but you can’t seem to. You feel overcrowded, lost in a sea of people that you don’t want to see you break down. So you hold it in. Sometimes your breathing grows ragged as you try to hold back, but you manage to compose yourself before they can gather what’s happening. Namjoon is by your side the entire time, along with his parents, and they’re the only comfort you can find. The only ones you can stand to be around right now. They truly are your only family. Hoseok, Jimin, Jungkook, Yoongi, Seokjin, Taehyung, and Nabi take their turns to cradle you close. They aren’t just Namjoon’s friends, they’re yours too even though Hoseok was really the only one you’d spent an extensive amount of time with. Recently though, they’ve been coming around to the apartment when Namjoon was busy, all of them doing their best to keep you distracted.

You’re sat in front of your mother’s picture with your head resting on Namjoon’s shoulder while everyone else is lined up against the wall, giving you and Namjoon the space you didn’t have to ask for, they just know you need it. Namjoon grips your hand tight, linking your fingers together and bringing up your joined hands to kiss the back of your knuckles. You peek up at him through tear filled lashes, breathing easily when he drops his forehead to your own, but that serenity doesn’t last long. A commotion breaks out at the entrance of the funeral hall, people whispering and darting about in a hurry. Namjoon’s father grits his teeth and demands to know what could be going on, when your breath hitches at the next person who steps foot in the room.

Chunghee has the decency to look apologetic as he catches your eye, taking a moment to dip his chin in greeting before stepping aside to reveal his father, Kang Himchan. He sees Namjoon tense, standing to his full height immediately to back his own father. Chunghee steps towards them in hopes of gaining control of the situation, but Kim Taehyung is quick to meet him. “Taehyung,” he simply says as if this were at all normal.

“Kang,” Taehyung says through clenched teeth, tipping his head in your direction. Jungkook and Jimin are the first to reach you, followed by Seokjin and Nabi. Hoseok and Yoongi take their place on either side of Taehyung.

“What the hell is this?” Namjoon’s father levels Himchan with a look that would send most men running. “How dare you come here and disturb this girl’s grieving. Have you no sense of decorum, Kang?”

“I am here to offer my condolences, obviously,” Himchan keeps his voice steady. Your mother was unknowingly his mistress, but he had loved her dearly, and wants nothing more than to know and understand you. His eyes search the room, finally landing on you, and they soften. You are the spitting image of your mother and it makes him breathless for a moment. He forgets who you’re surrounded by, taking a step in your direction, only to be met by Namjoon’s hard glare. His hackles raise, face turning red with anger. “You dare keep me from my own daughter, Kim?”

All of the air rushes out of your lungs as you struggle to breathe. Your body begins to tremble, view being blocked by Jungkook’s body, but you catch his hand sliding into the back waistband of his pants. A gun, you realize, and look around to find that he’s not the only person hiding one. Hoseok’s hand rests on his hip, the holster becoming visible as his suit jacket moves with him. Jimin and Yoongi exchange a knowing look before they too reach for their hidden weapons.

“I’ll do whatever the fuck I want when it comes to her,” Namjoon snaps back at Himchan, causing the older man to step toe-to-toe with him. He smirks at the older Kang. “That’s not a smart move.”

Before anyone can blink, weapons are drawn, all aimed at different people around the room as more men come barreling in behind Himchan. They surround their boss, standing in front of raised guns without a second thought. You scramble back towards the wall, as if pressing against it enough will make you invisible. Nabi is at your side, shushing you and squeezing your hand tight.

“Enough,” Namjoon’s father bellows, throwing his hand up to stop anyone from actually firing. Putting his hand on his son’s shoulder, he pulls Namjoon back. “This isn’t the time or place, Namjoon. Go to Y/N. We’ve frightened her on an already stressful day.”

“Y/N,” Himchan repeats as though unused to saying your name, a smile playing on his lips at the sound. It was so like your mother to have picked something equally as beautiful as you are. His smile fades as he straightens himself up to look Namjoon’s father in the eye once more. “I’m well aware of her ties to you, Kim, but that is no more. She is my kin. My flesh and blood. It’s time she lives as such.”

“I don’t know you,” your voice cuts through the room, shaky and trembling. “I don’t know what the hell is even going on right now.”

“Y/N,” Chunghee finally pipes up. If he had known this would turn out to be such a shit show, he’d have never told his father about your mother’s passing. Ah hell, he knew it was going to be bad, he just didn’t really want to believe it. “Please, you have to believe us.”

“She doesn’t have to do a damn thing,” Namjoon roars and his friends tense, unsure of what he may do next. “You come here, Kang, declare her your daughter, and expect her to up and accept it? You’re out of your fucking mind. Even if we did believe this bullshit, I wouldn’t let her go anywhere with you.”

“You?” Himchan sneers. “You think you get any say in this? She’s my daughter, Kim. I’ve bit my tongue and kept my distance long enough, but now she needs us. Her mother is gone, her family is nowhere to be found, she is alone. But not with us.”

“She’s mine.”

You let out a small gasp at Namjoon’s tone. You’d only ever heard him use it against Minseok when he was mad enough. You’re not sure what the outcome of this entire standoff will be, but you know you wouldn’t be able to stomach it if anyone got hurt. You’re able to wrestle out of Nabi’s hold enough to slowly approach Namjoon’s side, tangling your fingers with his. “Joon, let’s not do this, okay? Not here and not today. Please?”

Himchan’s surprise is visible on his face when Namjoon heeds your words, backing down almost instantly. He knew you were close to the Kim family and, up until recently, he was under the impression that you and Namjoon were just friends. Everyone else in the room seems to be used to this, and so he has to wonder when the change came about. Hope blooms in his chest as the gears in his mind begin to whirl.

“We should go home for now,” Taehyung suggests, though as Nabi stands at his side, he’s pretty sure everyone knows it’s not his idea, but hers. He tries to hold in a sigh when Namjoon shoots him a glare. “Y/N will come home with us, Namjoon, don’t worry.”

“But I—,” you try to object, unable to accept anything more Taehyung has to offer. Not when he’d already done so much for you as is.

“Hoseok and the guys will move your things in,” Namjoon interrupts, leaving no room for argument. He tugs on your hand and leads you out of the funeral hall, bumping his shoulder against one of Himchan’s goons. He can feel the reluctant pull of your arm, but he refuses to let go, not until the two of you reach his car where he buckles you in safely before sliding into the driver’s seat.

The ride home is tense, the car filled with nothing but silence and what you suspect is grumbling coming from Namjoon even though he thinks you can’t hear it. He’s angry. More like pissed. This isn’t something any of them were prepared for. Hell, it wasn’t something any of them would have ever thought possible. Of all the people on this planet to be related to, the Kangs were the last ones anyone would have figured were your relatives. Not only that, but Himchan had forced Namjoon to show his hand, to show you a world he never should have dragged you into. He never thought he could come to regret befriending you in that hall so many years ago, but now he does. If only because he doesn’t really believe he could protect you from the power the Kang family holds. His own family is rather powerful, there’s no doubt about that, but if anyone could hold a candle to them, it’s the Kangs.

“Namjoon,” you try to get his attention, “you’re angry.”

“I’m worried, baby, it’s different.”

“Because you think it’s true?”

“Because if it is true, then I don’t know if I can protect you,” he begrudgingly admits.

You’re confused as you take in his words. What could you possibly need protection from? Even as you question it, the memory of everyone in there, guns drawn, comes to the forefront of your mind, and you know. You know Namjoon is hiding something. You’ve always known, but you could never have guessed it was to this extent. “Tell me,” you demand quietly and he strains to hear you. “Tell me, Namjoon, what all of that was about. What you’re hiding from me and what you’re afraid of because if there’s one thing I know for sure, it’s that if you’re scared, then I have to be too. So, please, tell me.”

So he does. Namjoon tells you everything, from beginning to end. What his life was like growing up in the mafia, what he’d had to learn in order to protect himself and those closest to him, and more importantly, why he had to distance himself during the 10 years of your friendship. The only thing he left out was how utterly obsessed with you he’d become. He sounded crazy enough as is, no need to tack on that he basically stalked you from the day you met him. You’re quiet after he’s finished, spending the rest of the ride home staring out of the window. Even as he pulls into the driveway, you only stare up at the giant house Taehyung had built for Nabi a few years ago. Once in the garage, you unbuckle yourself at an alarmingly normal speed, as if you hadn’t just been told that your best friend was in the goddamn mafia of all things. What’s more, all of his friends and family are part of it too, and he’s afraid you might fear Hoseok now, but when you step into the house and Hoseok is the first to sweep you up into his arms, you cling to him as you always have.

“You’re not part of them,” Hoseok insists, mainly because from what little of his childhood he remembers, the Kangs were the driving force behind him becoming an orphan. “Even if you were, blood doesn’t make them family, Y/N. Himchan is wrong. We’re your family.”

“Do I have to go with them?” you ask honestly, pulling back to look up at Hoseok. He may not have been truthful with you, but he never lied or coddled you either. “If they come for me, Hobi, do I have to go?”

“Over my dead fucking body,” comes Namjoon’s deep voice and you gasp at the stark difference. How you were never able to differentiate his tones before is beyond you. Then again, you think you may have purposefully ignored the signs, wanting to believe he could do no harm. He snatches you out of Hoseok’s arms, pulling your chest flush against his own and raking a hand through your hair. “There’s nothing on this planet that can take you from me, Y/N, not even Kang Himchan or his son.”

“Chunghee,” you hum. Despite all of the commotion, the only thing he’d had to say was that you had to believe what his father had been saying. You could hear the plea in his voice, wondering why he hadn’t brought any of this up the day he’d run into you at the store. Then it hits you, the realization that he’d done it on purpose. Was he why Namjoon had been so scared that day after your fight? Did Chunghee threaten you somehow?

“Speaking of the Kangs,” Taehyung says as he strides into the living room, dropping himself on the couch while Nabi gives him a stern look. “Princess, I’m tired, and I can bet everyone else here is too. Can I just sit for a second?”

Nabi rolls her eyes, cheeks turning a faint shade of pink at the pet name he’s given her since they’ve been married. She lets out a small squeal when he pulls her onto his lap. “You’re an idiot, Tae. But you’re right.” Turning to face you and Namjoon, she explains, “The Kangs are well known in our circle. Even my grandfather made a deal or two with them, and while they’d given us no reason to not trust them, they’ve made it clear that they’re not out to make friends. They’ve built themselves a solid reputation starting all the way down from Himchan’s great grandfather. They’re a prestigious family, Namjoon, not easy to break through, not like the Choi’s. If you want to fight them, it’ll have to be with some heavy artillery. I can ask my cousins for their support and they’ll grant it, but it’ll take more than that.”

“That’s hot,” Taehyung attempts to whisper in his wife’s ear but everyone still hears it and Jungkook audibly gags. He’s always loved how smart his wife is and he’s not ashamed to show it.

“Stop it.” Nabi swats at his hand, climbing off his lap to walk up to you. “Y/N, you have to understand what could happen if we go to war with Kang Himchan. I don’t want to scare you, but it’ll get bloody and it’ll get deadly, but you have to believe that if anyone can protect you from them, it’s Namjoon. I’m not saying you have to go with the Kangs if they come to collect you, but” –She raises her hand to stop Namjoon from butting in–, “you also don’t have to stay here. If you want to get to know your father and brother, that’s your decision. We won’t stop you from doing it and we most certainly won’t isolate you for their actions and wrongdoings.”

“War?” is all you can say. It’s the only thing that had really caught your attention. That and the blood and death.

“War,” Namjoon confirms, tightening his hold on your waist. “The Kangs won’t let you go so easily, but neither will I. Give Hoseok your apartment keys. He’s taking Jimin and Jungkook to get your things. I don’t trust that they’ll pull some shit if they know you live alone.”

“I can’t just take up a room here, Joon,” you insist even as you hand off your keys to Hoseok.

“Oh, you’re not taking up a room,” Hoseok chuckles, taking the keys from your outstretched hand. “You’re sharing Namjoon’s room.”

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

“This isn’t happening.” You gawk at Jungkook and Jimin moving your things about Namjoon’s room a few hours later. They lug in a suitcase with a good portion of your clothes, most of which is jeans, t-shirts, and a bunch of pajama pants and shorts. Nabi had insisted on going with them to rifle through your clothes, throwing out the tattered pieces you’d shoved to the back of your closet and forgotten about. You turn to Namjoon lounging on his bed, looking as though a bomb hadn’t just been dropped on both of you. “You can’t be serious about this, Joon. I mean, this is your personal space, you can’t be happy about me invading it. The house is practically on full lock down, I’m sure there’s a spare room I can use.”

“No,” is all he says, reaching out to grab your arm and tugging you into the space next to him. “Taehyung’s taken every precaution to protect Nabi and I’ll do the same for you.” He looks as though he wants to say more but decides against it, getting up from the bed to slap Jungkook upside the head when he notices the younger man mocking him.

“Nabi said Taheyung didn’t allow her out unless Jungkook and Jimin were with her.”

Namjoon freezes at your words. Of course you’d ask Nabi what it was like living here, and of course Nabi wouldn’t spare any details. Jimin and Jungkook stare at him, waiting to take his lead and willing to downplay their roles as Nabi’s guards if necessary. He sighs and figures he’s done enough lying to you. He turns to see you with crossed arms and a look that says you already knew what to expect. “The same rules apply to you, Y/N. Until this situation is settled, you can’t go anywhere unless Hoseok and Jimin are with you, or I’m with you, or all three of us are escorting you somewhere. I’m not going to lie to you and say you’ll have everything you need here, but you’ll never be bored. I was going to have Seokjin or Yoongi assigned to you, but Jin’s helping Yoongi with something important and it’s taking all of their focus. Also,” he hesitates as you raise your brows, waiting for him to continue. “You can’t contact Minseok.” It’s entirely selfish of him to forbid any contact with Minseok, but it’s an opportunity he’ll take.

With a roll of your eyes, you sink further into the bed, leaning back into his pillows. “Not that I want to talk to Minseok, but he did take care of my mom, Namjoon. I at least owe him a thank you.”

“Not right now,” he seethes, curling his hand into a fist, and Jungkook and Jimin take that as their cue to leave. Storming up to the bed, he grips your ankles and pulls you down to the edge. He smirks when you squeal in surprise, slotting himself between your thighs. When your squeal turns into a gasp, he knows it’s because you can feel how hard he’s gotten since you’ve been in the room. He plants his palms against the mattress, watching your eyes dart to the veins in his forearms, sliding forward until he’s nose to nose with you. “You can thank Minseok another time, sweetheart, but right now it’s best to keep your distance. If Kang thinks he can use Minseok to get to you, he’ll do it.”

Your brows draw together, regret settling in the pit of your stomach as you play with the collar of his black dress shirt. “My very existence is dangerous, isn’t it?”

“Not to me.” One of his hands comes up to brush the stray hairs from your face. “None of this is your fault. You didn’t even know who your father was until now.”

A light knock on his bedroom door lets him know that it’s Nabi and she’s going to give him about 10 seconds to be ready. He scrambles away from you just as she plows through the door, smiling sweetly before breaking the news. “Taehyung has accepted Kang’s request to meet with you, Y/N. I know we should have talked to you first, but I don’t want your decision to be based on emotion rather than rationale. Is that okay?”

You nod, grateful that she’s on your side and to have her as a friend. Sitting up as she approaches the bed, you note that she fusses over you like a mother would, righting your clothes and smoothing your hair down. You want to laugh, but then you remember that when you were little, your mother would have to step in to make you presentable when you’d been too rough on the playground. Your smile fades. “He’s here now, isn’t he?”

“Goddamn it,” Namjoon hisses, barreling for the door. “You could have given us a bigger heads up, Nabi.”

“That wasn’t my decision,” she barks back at him, and you blink at her in surprise. It’s not very often people can talk back to Namjoon and he’ll just let it happen. “Taehyung surprised me too when he said Kang would be here soon.”

“Let’s just go,” you sigh, getting up from the bed to follow Namjoon to the living room, Nabi not far behind. Your nerves shoot sky high as you get closer and closer to the deep voices of who you now know is your father speaking to Namjoon’s father. Two weeks ago, you’d been wiping down tables at one of your part time jobs, living off ramen noodles and sandwiches, and one more speed bump away from possibly losing the bumper to your junker car, but it had been worth it. You’d do all of it over again to take care of the most precious person to you. How your life got turned so ass backwards, you don’t know, and you’re not entirely sure you want to figure it out.

“She hasn’t had to live up to traditions and customs,” Namjoon’s father sounds as if he’s on the verge of losing his temper. “You cannot throw this on her after she’s just learned of you!”

“That's why she should be moved under my roof!” Himchan snaps back at Mr. Kim and you pause at the entryway of the living room, neither of them even see you yet. “She can learn of those customs and traditions.”

“So you can pawn her off to some low life thug undeserving of her?” Mr. Kim scoffs. “I don’t think so. Y/N is as much a part of our family as she is of yours. Even more so since we’re the ones who have been there for her.”

“I didn’t even know she existed until Harin got sick,” Himchan mumbles, dragging his hand down his face as you finally come into view.

You sit next to Mr. Kim while Namjoon stands beside the couch and Hoseok parks himself behind it. You’re not sure where to begin or what you can even say given his position. If he’s as high up on the chain of command as Mr. Kim, then you’re pretty sure telling him to go fuck himself is off the table. You look around as if searching for something or someone, only to realize he isn’t there. “Where’s Chunghee?”

Himchan sits up straight as you finally address him, offering a polite smile in response. “Chunghee had some business to attend to overseas. As time goes on, I’m hoping your relationship will become less strained.” He frowns when you grow stiff, having misunderstood, though he’s sure the truth won’t be any better. “When I met your mother, Y/N, I fell in love with her at first sight. She didn’t know who I was or even that I was…married. My marriage had been arranged by my father, as his marriage was, and his father before him. In our life, it is rare to find and marry someone we’re in love with. We’re paired with someone we believe can carry a strong bloodline. Your brother is a product of a marriage neither I nor his mother had a true say in. He was only 10 when you were born, even younger when I started an affair with your mother. She didn’t know what kind of life I had and one day she was just gone. Somehow, she’d found out, and left town without telling me she was pregnant.”

“So, Chunghee hates me,” you gather from everything he’s said. “Because of you.”

“Yes,” Himchan admits, shame burning his throat.

Namjoon steps in front of you protectively, effectively cutting off any more access Himchan had. “Are you saying your own son is a threat? You want me to give her to you when your own son could hurt her?”

“I would never allow that,” Himchan insists, but it lands on deaf ears as Namjoon turns to take your hand, ready to drag you back to his room. “I only want a good life for her, Namjoon. I’ve only recently learned of her struggles, ones that you’ve allowed her to go through.”

“Allowed?” you question at the sheer audacity both of them have to treat you like an object rather than a person.

“I didn’t allow a fucking thing,” Namjoon interrupts and Nabi rubs at her temples in exasperation. “She wouldn’t let me help. She’s stubborn that way, but it’s what makes her so strong, Kang. Don’t think for a second I don’t know why you really want her under your roof. You already have someone lined up for her to marry, but that’s not fucking happening.”

“Oh, for Christ’s sake!” Nabi throws her hands in the air, stalking to the middle of the living room and commanding attention in a way that makes you envious. “Unless we’re all forgetting that Y/N’s here, I think maybe we should ask her what she wants. Mr. Kang, I understand tradition better than anyone here, but given that she hasn’t grown up in your care or home, you can’t implement traditional values without her knowledge of it. That’s dangerous and you know it.”

“Who is it?” your voice cuts through the room, stepping around Namjoon to face your father.

Namjoon looks at you as if you’ve grown a second head, mouth gaping open in shock. “You can’t seriously be considering this.”

“I don’t know what else to even do, Namjoon!” You throw your arms up in frustration, turning away from him with tears in your eyes. “I don’t know how I’m supposed to deal with all of this.”

“Not by entertaining this stupid bullshit.” Namjoon’s hands curl into fists and Hoseok quickly takes up the space at your side in case his friend’s temper gets the best of him.

“That’s what I was hoping to talk to Mr. Kim about today.” Himchan faces Namjoon’s father again, taking a deep, steadying breath. “I learned about my daughter 10 years ago, Kim, when she was 18 and forced into working job after job until her fingers bled, and through all of it, your son was there. From my understanding, my father and yours had meant to work together quite some time ago and those plans fell through.”

Namjoon inhales sharply. Is Kang suggesting what Namjoon thinks he is? Could he really be handed everything he’s ever wanted right here, right now? Would you even be okay with that?

“I want him to vet Han Youngjae in exchange for discussing a new business venture that could benefit us both,” Himchan continues, sending Namjoon’s world crashing down. “You know as well as I do that the Han family has been around far longer than either of our families. Youngjae seems to be a good man, but I trust your son’s judgment, especially when it comes to Y/N. I’ve worked with the Han family for awhile now and the arrangement for my son to marry their eldest daughter is being finalized soon.”

“Then why the fuck do you need more ties into that family?” Namjoon’s tone has gone dangerously low, sending a chill down your spine, but rather than fear it’s bordering on something else entirely. “You come into her life, our lives, after she loses her mother and you want to marry her off to a family like the Hans?”

“I want to give her time to adjust to the idea,” Himchan clarifies, searching for some kind of hope that you’ll just think about it. “I truly believe—.”

“I will not entertain this idea,” Namjoon’s father stops Himchan before he can explain any further. “Besides the fact that it’s entirely absurd, Y/N has already been promised to my son.”

“I’m so fucking confused,” you say aloud without meaning to, and Nabi giggles while looping her arm through yours.

Himchan winces at your colorful language, sighing in disappointment. “Y/N, truly, you shouldn’t speak with such foul language, it’s unbecoming.”

“How my fiancée chooses to speak is none of your business,” Namjoon defends you, quickly growing used to the idea of calling you his fiancée. It makes his chest warm and body hum with need.

You startle, bumping against Nabi’s embrace. Namjoon’s casual use of the word “fiancee” makes your throat dry. You rather like the way it sounds, but you have to remind yourself that it’s just to get your father off your back. But then, if that were true, what was all of that back in his room? Namjoon’s been acting rather odd lately, invading your space, holding your hand, kissing your cheek. It’s enough to convince even you that he might actually have feelings for you. You let out a heavy sigh while shaking the thoughts from your head. No, Namjoon was well aware of how much you cherished your mother. He was simply helping you through the grieving process, and now with the looming threat of your father, he’s doing what’s necessary to keep you safe.

“It’s been quite the day,” Nabi’s smooth and commanding voice cuts through the men’s argument, effectively silencing them as they all turn to stare at her. “It’s late Mr. Kang, and while we understand your concerns for tradition and the need to keep up with them, we’ve taken your proposal into consideration and have deemed it unnecessary. As Mr. Kim has already stated, Namjoon and Y/N have been promised to each other. There is no need for her to marry into the Han family.”

“Now just wait a minute,” Kang says through gritted teeth. “Custom states that the engagement requires my approval, which I’m yet to give.”

“You’ve kept tabs on us all this time,” Namjoon reminds him with a wicked smile. “Surely you’re not so naive as to misunderstand just what we’ve been up to in the night’s I’ve stayed at her home.”

“Namjoon,” you hiss, cheeks flushing at his implication. True as it may be that Namjoon has spent a considerable amount of nights at your apartment, he really only slept on the couch and the one time he nearly slept in your bed, he’d conceded and left the room. “Stop it.”

“I’m stating facts, sweetheart, nothing more.” Namjoon turns to wrap his fingers around your free arm and tug you close to his chest. His arm snakes around your waist to keep you trapped against him. Your squeak of surprise makes him chuckle low and deep, making you shiver as he skims his lips across your cheek.

Kang curls his fingers into fists at the display. While yes, he was well aware of Namjoon’s overnight stays, he’d never seen any open displays of affection. He’s not sure if it’s because Namjoon is truly a private person, or if this entire charade is a lie. Either way, he cannot allow the opportunity to tie more of his lineage to the Han family to pass him by. He breathes in deep and exhales slowly to calm himself. “Fine,” he says while straightening the lapels of his suit jacket. “I will let this rest for now, Kim. But be warned, should I find anything false about this ‘engagement’ of yours, Y/N will live under my roof and she will marry Han.”

“You can’t—,” you begin to argue, but Taehyung beats you to it by instructing Jungkook and Jimin to escort Kang to his waiting vehicle.

“Understand this, Kang,” Taehyung seethes while he still has Kang’s attention, “I will not tolerate your persistence of taking Y/N from underneath my roof. If, and only if, she chooses to part ways with Namjoon, I will make sure she gets far away from us and you. Trust when I say this is not a war you want with me.”

“Is that a threat?”

“Take it as you wish,” Taehyung stands tall, sliding his hands into the pockets of his slacks as if to show your father that Kang isn’t nearly as in control as he believes. “But, much like Namjoon, I’m only stating facts. However, I will take into consideration another meeting with you and your son.”

“What?” Namjoon snaps, and becomes pissed when Taehyung holds his hand up to stop him from speaking further.

“I know that customs and tradition are being called into question, and while I don’t agree to forcing a marriage between the Han family and Y/N, it is my duty to consider it should any arrangements between her and Namjoon fall apart.” Taehyung frowns in your direction, knowing that all he can truly do is help Namjoon keep up appearances until this entire mess is sorted out. He can’t step in and completely dissolve whatever deal Kang has made with the Han family, but he can delay it until Namjoon can talk you into a real marriage. He hates it, and is well aware that keeping you from the Han family by forcing you into Namjoon’s family instead is rather hypocritical. He turns back to Kang and sighs in defeat, “I swear to you that I will consider it seriously. In the meantime, don’t hold your breath, Kang.”

Your jaw nearly drops to the floor with the way Taehyung dismissed your father like a child, and the fact that your father actually leaves after being waved away is even more shocking. You look to Nabi for some guidance, but she only shakes your head with a reassuring smile, leaving you to believe that things might actually turn out okay in the end.

#kim namjoon fic #secrets and lies fic #war of hearts universe #bts fic #bts smut #kim namjoon smut

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zentriii · 9 months ago

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Kiyoomi scrunches her nose. She’ll never get Motoya’s obsession with plants. It was fine when it was just succulents, those are easy enough to take care of, but flowers fucking reek.

It’s not a bad smell per say, but it’s stupidly strong in this shop, even with her mask up. They’re pretty at least, she’ll give them that.

She’s debating between the pretty blue flowers and the silly, warm yellow ones. Motoya should have never trusted her judgment, how’s she supposed to resist the urge to tease her for always being in a yellow coloured team? At least Kiyoomi can say she’s escaped it in the Black Jackals cause gold isn’t yellow.

“Is there anythin’ I can help you with?” A pretty blonde girl in a red apron asks. Kiyoomi nearly jumps out of her skin, where’d she come from?

“Um, can I get these?” Kiyoomi points at the two, ready to bolt out of here because Employee Girl is way too gorgeous for her to not make a fool out of herself. Her palms are sweaty and she’s so grateful her mask is covering half her face.

The girl leans in way too close to Kiyoomi’s space and reads the labels, “Cornflower and fressia? I can put them together for you but d’you wanna check out the white freesia’s instead? They’d be real pretty together.”

“Yeah, sure.” Kiyoomi could be asked for her credit card information right now and she’d hand it over no questions asked. What did she ask her for again?

“Great, they’re over this way.” Employee Girl walks away and what else is Kiyoomi supposed to do but follow?

The flowers they stop at all look the same to Kiyoomi but she holds her breath as the girl talks about a few different ones, pointing them out and saying stuff about how pretty things look prettier together. Her name tag reads “Miya O.” A pretty name for a pretty girl. She wonders what the O stands for.

“That sound good?”

Kiyoomi nods, Miya’s voice sounds great in fact.

“Well you’re in luck! We finished our orders for today so I can put it together for ya right now but please submit a request a few days in advance next time. We’re pretty busy during the afternoon so ya picked a decent time to come in.”

Miya picks a few different flowers and the blue ones from before – the cornflowers – and heads to the back. Kiyoomi wants to protest but she’s just a customer and Miya’s an employee doing her job.

Miya peeps her head out after closing the door. She bites her lip before calling out, “Can I ask ya for a favour?”

“Uh, sure.”

“If ya see a girl with my face try an’ clock in, tell her she’s s’pposed to be in bed right now. My sister’s a bit of a workaholic, I stole her name tag this mornin’ for her own good.”

She assumes Miya means that she’s a twin but that’s not fair to her at all. She’s just a girl. Kiyoomi only hopes she won’t have to see the two of them together. One pretty girl’s bad enough for her heart as is.

The time passes by in a blur. At one point she’s keeping a vague eye out for Miya’s clone to walk in while looking at the different flowers; the next she’s being given her bouquet, paying for it, and waving bye to the prettiest girl in the world.

Oh well, it’s not like she’s the main character in a yuri manga.

Kiyoomi drops off the flowers at Motoya’s. She’s supposedly too busy taking care of her sick girlfriends to make the trip herself. Kiyoomi wonders if that excuse is just bullshit since it’s been months and she’s still not met Osamu and Rin yet. Unfortunately, Motoya’s apartment’s stuffy and reeks of sickness so maybe there’s some truth to Motoya’s words.

Maybe.

“You got the flowers?” Motoya closes her room door behind her, thankfully right before a loud sneeze is released by one of her definitely real girlfriends. Well there goes that bet Kiyoomi had going with Yachi.

“Yeah, I still don’t get why you can’t have a normal hobby. These things die in like, a week.”

Motoya fusses over the flowers for a bit, making them nice and pretty in a clean vase that held her last bouquet. “One, Samu gets all blushy when I give her flowers and two, I just like them. It’s low stakes responsibility that forces me to have my shit together.”

Kiyoomi snorts. Motoya’s always had her shit together, even if it looks like a mess on the outside. Her cousin is one of the most ruthlessly competent people she knows.

“Hey Kiyo, where’d you get these by the way?” Motoya asks cutting the store tag off a stem.

“Doesn’t it say there?” Kiyoomi asks. “Miya’s Boutique I think.”

“Well whichever employee rang you up left you a little something.” Motoya tosses the label to her with a smug little smirk.

Kiyoomi wants to shove her hand into her face to wipe it off, but Motoya would lick her first and she doesn’t want to think about where her tongue’s been, sick partners or not.

She takes a look at the what Motoya meant and pretends like the name and numbers aren’t sending a rush of blood straight to her face. She carefully tucks it into a pocket while maintaining eye contact with her menace of a cousin. Motoya can smell the smallest twinge of embarrassment in a crowd and she is not to be trusted to mind her own business.

She laughs at nothing, like the airhead Kiyoomi’s always known her to be, but there’s something unsettling in the knowing glint in her eyes. Kiyoomi firmly ignores it: if it isn’t acknowledged, it isn’t real.

“Oh this is killing me, Kiyo you’ve gotta come over next week. Please I think I’ll die.” Motoya abandons her flowers in favour of hanging off of her arm and giving her stupid puppy eyes. “You can bring whoever left you their number. Actually, please bring them, you’ve gotta.”

Fuck, how’s Kiyoomi supposed to say no to her puppy eyes.

“Fine, but fat chance I bring her over.”

Motoya sniffs hautily, like Kiyoomi’s doing her a great disservice. “You’ll regret it.”

“Doubt it,” Kiyoomi sighs, hoping future-her doesn’t give in to Motoya’s ridiculous demands.

She leaves with a halfhearted wave, feeling preemptive disappointment in herself because she knows Motoya’s not going to let her go so easily. Whatever. She’s got better things to spend her energy on.

How many i's in a “hi” is too desperate to send?

#woaw i called atsumu pretty so many times. i had to replace a few w other words but you alr know femtsumu's the prettiesttt #anyways she's neither a msby member or an official employee of miya's boutique but a secret third thing !!#also she 100% lied abt orders for the day being done and rushed to finish everything she had left lol. she's equally down bad ehehe #toya's gonna have a laugh when omi walks in w atsumu hanging off her while snos and skts have a spiderman meme moment #alright those tags out of the way #HAPPY BIRTHDAY GAIA MY BELOVEDD #woke up saw it was your birthday and wrote this for you my fellow fem skts lover <33 #it's absolute nonsense plot-wise but since it's me writing it. it's cute and incredible and everything ever :D #also if there's mistakes here shh. i was editing while watching suna beeing yeeted and omi get kidnapped on [ ]'s stream on the server #okay real tags:#haikyuu #haikyuu fic #miya atsumu #sakusa kiyoomi #sakuatsu #maz writes #my fic

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allangstnocomfort · 5 months ago

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Sorry Seems To Be The Hardest Word

Chapter 4

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frankiebirds · 8 months ago

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they were in SHOCK

#not fic #criminal minds #criminal minds rewatch #aaron hotchner #jj #jennifer jareau #penelope garcia #criminal minds s01e21 #secrets and lies #i dont know if the shock at this moment is due to hotch saying that or because someone hacked into the feed #but i choose to believe its the former because thats funnier <3 #garcia & hotch #criminal minds 1x21

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supercriminalbean · 2 years ago

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NO SECRETS WITHOUT LIES

A/N: Okay guys here it is, chapter one of my Aaron Hotchner x Reader series. Reader is gender neutral, uses they/them pronouns but is AFAB. This series is going to contain spoilers from season 6&7. This is going to be based around Emily death, and how Reader and Hotch become close due to her death and soon start a Dom/sub relationship. But what’s going to happen when Emily returns, how is Hotch and Reader going to get through it all.

This is series is most likely going to be at least 15 chapters at this point. nothing happens between Aaron and reader until chapter 5 I believe. I will be posting one chapter ever 7 to 10 days, depending on how much works takes up my life and if I have time to edit and write a new chapter thank you.

Words: 4.5k

Warnings: Death. Depression. Death. Fake death. Drug addiction. Drugs. Crying. Emotions. Swearing. (If I have missing anything let me know)

Chapter one:

Grieving.

It's been four months. Four months without hearing her voice. Four months since you felt her touch. Four months now that she has left you, all alone in this world. Having to continue life all by yourself, without her holding your hand, anymore. Four months ago her body was lowered into the ground, and no one has been the same since.

~~~

Every Morning since Emily's death, you grab a cup of coffee and stop at her grave on the way to work. Making sure that even in death, you always have time for her, not wanting her to be all alone. For the first few weeks it helped you grieve, and then it just became a part of your routine. Her grave became a safe place to go, a place where you can just stop for some peace and quiet. An area to go so you can clear your mind, one that has no distractions within. Emily was your best friend for so many years, you had joined the team a couple months after her. She was so happy to no longer be the newbie, which also meant she understood exactly how you felt. She took you under her wing, showing you everything you needed to know about working in the Bau. You grew even closer with Emily when you two realised you lived in the same apartment building. Arriving to work together and some days you would even crash at each other's places, after having a bit too much to drink. Morgan used to joke that you two were actually dating. You two would always just laugh at him, but he was on the right track. Emily Prentiss is your platonic soulmate, and now you have no one.

~~~

The first 10 weeks after her death. When you went home from work, you would have possibly a couple hours to yourself. Before someone would text you asking for company, normally it would be Reid or Garcia. They needed someone to be there while they grieved for their best friend. It took Morgan awhile before he reached out to you for help, you always had to keep reminding him you were there if he needed to talk. You never told anyone it was because you liked to be distracted from your own pain, because they already knew that. Most nights when Reid texted you it was because he was terrified he would go out and buy Dilaudid. You would go over to his place and stay with him until the morning. Other nights you would get a phone call from Garcia or Morgan saying they were having a nightmare and needed someone. You would go over to see them whenever they needed you, it never matters what time or whatever the reason was.

~~~

On the weekend, if there was no case, you were normally helping Morgan with renovations for one of his houses. Other times you were having a movie marathon with Reid or Garcia, sometimes both. You hated the idea of them being alone for long times, knowing where their minds can go.

The last couple of weeks, no one seemed to be reaching out. They all seem to be healing without you, and now you’re left alone with nothing but your own thoughts. That's when you started realising a few things about Emily's death, that never seemed to make sense. You first noticed it at the hospital, after JJ had just broken the news to everyone. Hotch didn't seem surprised, he just looked, emptied. At first you thought it was his way of taking in the news. Reid was crying in JJ arms, but when she pulled away, you saw her and Hotch walking into a room alone. You never thought anything of it at first, your heart having just been crushed. Feeling as if the tears were never going to stop, like your heart could never be whole again. Rossi was holding you closely as you broke apart in his arms, you knew he was crying as well, but he was trying his hardest to be strong for you. There have now been a few times since then, that you have noticed looks between Hotch and JJ. Even catching them whispering together, it always seemed tense and sective. Feeling as if they are hiding something, especially JJ. She was only around for a week after Emily died and then she was away all the time. She tried to say it was for work, but the first time she left, it felt like she was hiding something. A couple weeks ago, during a case the unsub we were hunting had faked his death. When Reid had announced it to the team, Hotch only seemed to tenses up a lot. It took you a week after that to put it all together.

Emily Prentiss is alive, and JJ and Hotch knows.

~~~

The team has just gotten back from a difficult long case. Still down a profiler and Hotch and Garcia trying their best to cover the communications liaison position together. Once the team is finally able to go home. You manage to have a shower, before your phone starts ringing. Only picking it up after seeing its Reid.

“Hey Spence, is everything okay?” Answering the phone quickly.

“(Y/n)” Spencer's cry seeps through the phone. Panic suddenly floods through your body, knowing this isn't like him, something’s wrong.

“Reid, are you okay, where are you?” Gulping thickly as you fear for his answer.

“Home.. I bought, I bought Dilaudid” His voice cuts into your heart, hearing as he stutters through his tears.

“Have you taken it?” Jumping to your feet as you grab your keys.

“No.. but I want to please help me” His words are close to making you break, wishing you could just take away his pain.

“Okay I'm on my way I'll be there in 10 minutes alright, just hold on okay?” Begging him as you pull on your shoes.

“Okay” Is all you hear as the line goes dead. Running out the door fast, forgetting to even lock your apartment.

~~~

You manage to get to his place in under 5 minutes, breaking every road code there is. Running into his apartment building and climbing the stairs two at a time. Fiddling with the key he gave you a couple months ago, trying to unlock his door as quickly as you can. Rushing into his apartment, you could hear his heavy shaking breathing coming from the bathroom. You slow yourself down, taking a calm breath before approaching, not wanting to startle him.

“Spencer, I'm here” Calling out to him as you walk towards the bathroom. Spotting him on the ground leaning against the sink. A small bottle of dilaudid beside him, a package of needles thrown across the room. You reach him, getting down on your knees in front of him. His arms covering his face, his body shaking as he cries. The noises he makes pierce sharply into your heart. He doesn't deserve to be in this pain.

“Hey.. Spence I'm here, I'm right here” Your whisper is full of care and concern. Gently you move his arms out of his face, letting them rest down by his side. Now you're able to see his face, that's pale and stained with tears. Looking completely broken and lost, as he tries to look at you.

“Im sorry, Im so weak Im sorry” He cries out, you pull him into your arms, holding him firmly against you.

“It's okay, I got you spence, you're safe now, I'm here I got you” you whisper softly, as he cries on your shoulder. Rubbing his back comfortingly repeating those words as he calms down.

~~~

Reid slowly calms down, listening to your heart beat. His eyes closed, feeling safe in your arms. Gradually he pulls away, looking up at you, noticing the worry and concern in your eyes.

“I'm sorry (Y/n) I don't want you to see me like this” His voice breaking, sounding raw due to the crying.

“Spencer, I want you to reach out to me when you're like this okay, I’m here so I can help you okay? I'm never going to stop caring for you, okay?” Trying to keep your tone, calm and light, not needing to overwhelm him. You felt so terrified at that moment that he was going to take the drugs before you could get there. Scared that at any moment he could stop reaching out when he really needs you.

“I want to get better, I just don't know how” The hopelessness in his voice cuts straight to your heart. You wish you could tell him the truth about Emily, but you can’t, not yet. Not until you could get Hotch to confirm it. You can not risk getting his hopes up just to get crushed again.

“Let's get you some help, maybe it's time you go back to your AA meetings, I can come with you if you like”

“You're right, I'll start back next week” He sending you a weak, but meaningful smile. You stand up, offering out a hand to help pull him up to his feet.

“Why don't you clean yourself up, and I'll make us some dinner, then we can watch Doctor Who, yeah?” Smiling softly, watching him carefully as he nods walking out, towards his room. You grab the needles and the bottle of dilaudid, shoving them into the bottom of your handbag before heading to the kitchen.

~~~

Reid has a long shower, as you pull out a frozen pizza, placing it in the oven. You've been at his place a lot in the last few months and you know where everything is in his apartment. You're sitting on the couch, with the pizza, getting ready to push play for Doctor Who. As Reid walks out in his pyjamas, sitting down beside you looking more relaxed, more like himself. He takes a piece of pizza as he settles down, stealing the remote from you. Laughing as he puts his favourite episode on.

“Good pizza” He manages to get out, though his mouth is full.

“That's gross Spencer dont eat with your mouthful” Laughing, shaking your head, at his changes of moods. He turns around to face you chewing with his mouth open grinning, knowing it annoys you. Rolling your eyes at him smacking his arm playfully. He settles down as the episode starts playing. You manage to get two episodes in when you start falling asleep during the last part of the episode. When It ends he turns it off, bringing you a pillow and pulling a blanket over you. As you fall asleep,last thing you hear is

“Thank you (Y/N), I couldn't make it without you”

~~~

You could barely get any sleep that night, waking up every half an hour. Having decided to give up on the idea of more sleep, as you watch the sunrise. Your mind seems to be running with the idea of Emily still being alive and how today, you’re going to demand Hotch gives you the truth. After last night, you need to know the truth, then you will be able to tell Reid. The way he is going is terrifying and the idea of losing another friend is something you're not able to take anymore. Grabbing your bag quietly as you walk out, not wanting to disturb Spencer as he needs his rest. Getting into your car, with the intent to get coffee before going to visit the empty gravesite of Emily Prentist. Needing a safe place where you can think clearly about what you're going to do. You really want to just strom into Hotch’s apartment and scream at him. But you know you can't do that, needing to be calm and think logically, especially if Jack is there. As you're driving to the coffee shop, there's some road work, making you get redirected. Sighing frustratedly as you're forced to take the long way. Driving down the road when you notice you're about to drive past Hotch’s apartment building.

“For fuck sake!” Screaming loudly as you slam your foot on the brake, hand pressing hard on the horn. Due to the fact a car had just pulled out in front of you cutting you completely off. The anger in your body has just tripled, as you pull into that car park. Slamming the car door behind you as you storm your way up to Hotch's apartment. Feeling the anger flowing freely through your veins, trying to take deep breaths to control the anger. Surprisingly, it doesn’t do anything to help.

~~~

Your hand bangs loudly against his door, your mind thundering with anger as you wait for him to answer. You weren’t going to leave here without the truth, no matter what happens.

Standing there for a few moments tapping your foot hoping it will calm you down as you run out of patients. Lifting your hand about to knock again, only to have to lower it when you hear the door starting to unlock. Huffing angrily as Hotch finally opens the door, looking at you in surprise and concerned.

“(Y/L) it's 6:30 what are you doing here?” Hotch voice full of concern, stepping back to let you in.

“I am so angry, Hotch, I am so pissed off at you, you think you could do this to us?” You take a deep breath. Trying to keep your voice steady, but it raises with every word as you walk in. Hotch narrows his eyes, closing the door.

“What are you talking about (Y/L)”

“Seriously Hotch, you didn't think I would figure it out, the secret you and JJ have!” Snapping at him, your arms flying outwards. Hotch tenses up, his face hardens.

“Secret, we don't have any secrets (Y/N)”

The anger in your body is fighting hard to take over. Forcing yourself to take a deep breath to steady yourself.

“I am trying my hardest to keep calm right now Hotchner, only because Jack doesn't need to hear me screaming at you”

~~~

Your hand reaching up into your hair, running through it. Taking another deep breath, trying your best to control your temper.

“Jacks at Jessicas, but I would prefer you don't accuse me or JJ about anything” His tone coming out harsh, which earns a loud scoff from you.

“Bullshit, If you didn't have a secret you would want to know what the secret is, I'm a profiler Hotchner, and I'm a pretty fucking good one, so don't you dare try to say I'm wrong” Yelling at him, not meaning to allow your emotions to take over so soon. Hotch crosses his arms, glaring at you.

“I do not know why you're so upset, Yes we have a secret, but it's not that bad” His words fall effortlessly from his lips, making you laugh hysterically.

“Not that bad? Not that fucking bad?! How the hell is Emily alive not a big fucking deal!?” Screaming at him, your hands squeezing into fist. His face softens looking at you, his eyes filling with concern and worry and you feel like you can pick up a little guilt hidden away.

“(Y/N).. I didn't.. I didn’t realise that you were struggling this badly” His voice softened, his reaction throwing you off.

~~~

“Excuse me? I just told you I know you faked her death, you and JJ did, and you're going to try to tell me I'm struggling seriously?” Your voice lowering, looking at him in disbelief.

“I know it hard to move on but”

“Don't you dare try to turn this onto me Hotchner, I know the truth” Your confidence starting to waver, trying hard to keep the doubtful thoughts at bay.

“(Y/N), Emily's Dead” The way he says it, the pure worry and concern, the sadness filling his tone. Was almost enough to crush all the confidence you have left. Shaking your head trying to clear your thoughts.

~~~

“No no, she's alive. I know she is, otherwise what secret are you and JJ hiding, you did admit you have one” Your voice is loud, trying to stay feisty, but honestly you're just sounding broken.

“I'm trying to convince JJ to come back to the team as a profiler, we didn't want the team to know until it can happen” His tone is soft, his body language telling you that it's the truth.

“I've been trying to get her back since Emily's death. It's taken a lot of convincing, but it's looking like it could happen.”

Allowing that information to set in, your body starts shaking lightly, tears springing to your eyes.

“But what.. But at the hospital you and JJ went into another room to talk” Taking a deep breath, trying to watch his body language closely, through the tears.

“We were discussing how we would inform her family, JJ is better with families, but I am the unit chief, we decided we would do it together.” His words breaking all hope that you have left.

~~~

Tears rolling down your face, your legs shaking giving out underneath you, your body crumbling to the floor. Feeling arms grabbing you, helping to lower you to the ground, as you let out a painful sob. Hotch pulls you into his arms, holding you closely as you cry. He strokes your hair gently, as he whispers comforting words, letting you fall apart in his arms.

Guilt filling him as he had to lie to you once more, having to lie to his team everyday when he sees them struggling. He was wondering when you were going to break, he has been noticing that you haven't been allowing yourself to grieve. You have been distracting yourself with work, or with helping the team, asking for more paperwork to complete. Even offered him parenting advice, so you could lessen the stress on him and therefore on the team. He hated the way you had stopped caring for yourself, he barely saw you do any of your passions anymore. Normally you would have a different book with you every case, and most weeks you would bring in some baking, with new recipes you had discovered. You hadn't done any of that for over four months. Everyone had changed, and he hated watching his team in pain.

~~~

You laid in Hotch’s arms for a long time, even after the tears had dried. Feeling completely destroyed and numb. Having gotten your hopes up that it would be possible to see her again, that's all you want in life. Slowly pulling yourself away from his arms, taking a shaky breath.

“I'm sorry Aaron, you didn't need me to do that” Your voice croaky from the crying, your body still shaking faintly.

“It's okay, (Y/N) I told you I'm here when you need to talk” His tone is soft and judgement free. “Why don’t I make us some coffee, and we can talk?”

“No I’ve taken enough of your time, I should go” Standing slowly, Hotch does the same watching you, his hand staying softly on your arm.

“No, please stay, we need to talk about a few things” You can't meet his eyes, knowing as he's the team leader. He has to report when there could be an issue with someone. Giving him a small nod, he walks over to the kitchen, turning the coffee pot on. You head over to the bathroom to clean yourself up.

~~~

Walking back out after cleaning yourself up, you see Hotch sitting on the couch, cups of coffee on the table in front of him. Sitting down beside him picking up your cup, smiling weakly, avoiding his stare.

“Thanks Hotch” Taking a sip of coffee, relaxing into the softness of the couch.

“No problem, you know we need to talk about what you accuse me of right?” He smiles sadly, looking at you concern. He needs to know how you found out, how he can make sure no one else will be able to figure it out.

“Do we have to?” Letting out a tired sigh as you drink more.

“We do, (Y/n) I need to know why you thought Emily was alive, it's unhealthy to think that way” His tone stays calm and soft as he speaks. His voice has always been a comfort for you, not long after you joined the team. Hearing his voice seems to just melt the stress away. Closing your eyes as you try to think about how to answer that. The hope that you had about her being alive is now long gone, and inside all you feel is a big black hole.

“I know that, but it made sense, somethings just didn’t add up and so I guess my brain, put this idea in my brain to cope and I wanted it to be true so my brain made the rest up to help I guess” Sighing, putting the cup down.

“You need to take some time off, I don't want you coming back for a week, you need to grieve”

Your eyes widen, shooting up at him. “No way, Hotch I can't take time off, It will just make things worse please, I need to be working”

“No you don't, you need time to accept it, you know there's five stages of grief, you're still struggling with accepting what happened.” Hotch face harding back up. You always call that his work face, hiding his emotions, putting his professional face on.

“No Hotch, I know what happened, I just had a bad moment okay, I can not take time off, we are already short with profilers, and Reid needs me this week please, he is struggling.”

~~~

Hotch sighs, straightening up, looking back at you.

“(Y/n), you aren't any good to us, if you don't look after yourself, You are an important part of this team but, recently your skills haven’t been as good as they used to be. You need time” Hotch lies, you have been working greatly recently, your skills have been on point. But he needed something to get you to take some time off.

Your hand sliding up, playing with your hair as you start doing some slow breathing technique.

“I know I haven't been myself lately, but please, It's not wise for me to not be without the team.” Your eyes begged for him to let you stay. Hotch’s eyes narrow watching you closely, he raises an eyebrow slightly.

“Something happened with Reid last night, didn't it?”

“Don't profile me Aaron” Groaning slightly. “Yeah alright it did, but he's going to be fine, he just needs me this week Hotch and I need to be working please”

Aarons face filling with concern, his lips tightening into a thin line, the question he wants to ask, written across his face. Shaking your head lightly at his unasked question.

“He was close last night, he rung me for help, I can't leave him when he's too close to the edge”

“He has the whole team’s support, this isn't just on you” Tilting his head to the side slightly, he wanted to tell everyone the truth but he knew he couldn't.

“Your right, but last time, I was the one who pulled him out of the hole, I know you all wanted to help, but it risked your job, I was new I was able to help, I'm the only one he trust enough when it comes to this, and you know that Hotch”

He picks up his coffee looking away from you, thinking deeply about this situation.

~~~

“(Y/n), You are always there for the team, but who do you talk to when things get hard?” Hotch turns his body back to look at you, studying your body langues.

“I have the team” You answer him quickly, tensing up. You don’t open up easily, it's something you have always struggled with.

“Yes you do, but you don't open up to us”

“I do,” Crossing your arms, feeling exposed. “You're the one who doesnt open up Hotch” He scoffs lightly at your words, raising an eyebrow.

“I talk to Dave, don't try and turn this on me, you know that taticed doesn't work on me” He smirks softly, watching as you roll your eyes up at him.

“Fine Hotch, I don't open up to anyone, the last person I did is now dead, so I'm sorry if I got issues.” You huff at him, rolling your shoulders back feeling uncomfortable.

“I'll make you a deal (Y/L)” Smiling at you slightly, acting if he's already won this discussion.

“Oh and what's that?”

“I won't make you take time off, I won't report you which would make you go more often to therapy, but only If you agree to my terms”

Groaning quietly, knowing that, this is not going to be fun. “And what are your rules Hotchner”

“Everyweek, you spend one night talking to me about anything.” Rolling your eyes at his words, sipping on your coffee.

“Seriously, that's not fair” Huffing annoyed, placing your coffee down a little too hard.

“You also have to tell me when you have a bad day, and my rules start now, or you take two weeks off and start therapy on monday”

Staring at him angrily, knowing if you want to help Reid, you would have to agree to his stupid terms.

“Fine, you win.”

~~~

When Hotch gets up to get more coffee, your phone rings. That's when you notice it's now 10am, shocking you with how much time has gone by. Answer your phone when you see its Reid.

“Hey Spence” Forcing your voice to be filled with calm and fake happiness.

“Hey, where you go, you left early” Reid's voice fills the silence, sounding refreshed and relaxed.

“Oh yeah sorry, I was going to wait for you to wake up but I had a few things I wanted to deal with this morning” Explaining hastily, knowing that's not the full truth.

“Oh alright, well Morgan trying to organise drinks tonight, you in?” Smiling softly at the idea.

“I'm in, wait one second Reid, I'll ask Hotch” Pulling the phone from your ear, turning to Hotch who's already watching you. “Team drinks tonight, you in?”

“Not tonight, Jack will be home” He gives you a small smile. Nodding at him, understandingly bringing the phone back to your ear.

“I'm in, but Hotch is busy tonight.”

“Why are you with Hotch?” Reid asks, confused.

“Work stuff, had something I wanted to run by him” The lie comes out instantly, avoiding Hotch’s stare.

“Oh okay, well 8pm, want me to pick you up?”

“Would love that, thanks Reid” Smiling lightly, placing your phone down.

“Really, lying to him?” Hotch smirks lightly. As if his point from earlier was just proven, which just earns him another eye roll.

“You really like rolling those eyes at me huh?” His chuckle deepens, slightly .

“You're not special Hotch, a lot of guys can get me to roll my eyes.'' Smirking at him, cheekily.

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#criminal minds #aaron hotchner #no secrets without lies #aaron hotchner x gender netural reader #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x gn reader #aaron hotchner fic #emily prentiss fake death #bau x reader #spencer reid x reader

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