#and all the thoughts ive been having just got an adrenaline shot

[idkdudethisisntpermanent]

Over the Limit - pt.iv

jenna ortega x female reader

part i | part ii | part iii | part iv

summary: You and Jenna each reflect on your own choices and the growing tensions between you both. Torn between loyalty, responsibility, and personal longing, what does this growing conflict mean for the future of your alliance?

word count: 12.8k

————

"So, victory sex?" Hunter teased, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

"Victory sex?" You echoed, genuinely confused. "With who?"

"Who else? Your little Viper girl," he replied, rolling his eyes like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

After dropping Jenna off at home, you'd shot Hunter a quick text, asking if he wanted to come over. After the whirlwind of the race, and the intense feelings stirred up by Jenna, you needed someone to debrief with—someone who knew about the tangled situation you'd gotten yourself into. Fortunately, your mom didn't know Hunter was part of the Sinners, so he was in the clear to hang out without raising any suspicions.

"Come on, Hunter, I barely know the girl."

"Doesn't seem that way to me," he shrugs, taking a seat on your couch and kicking his feet up onto the coffee table. "You let her wear your jacket, didn't you?"

Did everyone see that?

You roll your eyes and flop down beside him, letting out a tired sigh. "That doesn't mean anything."

"Uh-huh. Whatever you say." Hunter smirks, but his teasing tone amplifies after a beat. "But there's no way you didn't feel Racer's High after winning."

You didn't need him to define Racer's High. You knew he was referring to that primal, raunchy, adrenaline rush of a feeling that overtook you once you won the race a few hours ago. You shudder remembering how much you yearned for Jenna in that moment.

"So, how are you feeling about it all? The race, the attention... her?"

You hesitate, considering how much to say. You trust Hunter—he's the only one in the crew you can really open up to, but you're also not ready to dive into the whole Jenna situation. Not with everything going on, especially since you're not sure how deep things go with Percy and this "Ghost Smoke" deal.

"I don't know," you finally say, running a hand through your hair. "The race was wild. Winning felt... intense. I get why people get hooked on that feeling."

Hunter raises an eyebrow. "And?"

"And... I can't shake the feeling that there's more to this. Like, there's this whole side to racing I'm not seeing."

He leans forward, elbows resting on his knees, watching you carefully. "What do you mean?"

You glance at him, trying to gauge how much you can say without tipping too much of your hand. "I don't know, man. I've been hearing things—whispers about this new stuff called Ghost Smoke floating around Brimstone. You heard anything about that?"

Hunter's eyes narrow, and for a second, you think maybe you've pushed too far. But then he exhales slowly. "I've heard the name. It's bad news, Y/n. Real bad. That shit's spreading fast, and people are already getting hooked. Some of the younger guys are sniffing around for it. Why are you asking?"

You shrug, trying to play it cool. "Just heard it mentioned. Thought it might be connected to some of the things I've been noticing. You don't think the Vipers are involved, do you?"

Hunter goes quiet, his face unreadable. Then he leans back, crossing his arms. "I don't know, and I'm not looking to find out. You shouldn't either. Percy's been getting into things outside of racing, and if Ghost Smoke's part of that, it's not something you or anyone else in the crew wants to be tangled up in."

You nod, though his answer doesn't satisfy you. Not because you don't believe him—but because you have this sinking feeling that the situation is bigger than either of you realize.

The conversation shifts after that, and the rest of the night passes with more casual banter. But the unease never fully leaves your mind.

"Looks like Madison's got a thing for you."

You raise an eyebrow, laughing lightly. "Mikey? That girl's never even cracked a smile at me. Pretty sure she barely tolerates me."

Hunter shrugs, smirking. "Nah, trust me. She was asking about you the other day in the garage."

Your brow furrows slightly. Was it because of what I asked about Percy? A small part of you wonders if Madison's caught onto your suspicions.

"And even during the Viper and Raven races, she was giving you these weird looks."

"What does that even mean, Hunter?" You roll your eyes, half-amused, half-worried.

He chuckles, clearly enjoying this too much. "Hell if I know, but winning that race definitely got you on some people's radar."

Maybe at one point, being on the radar of a few girls would've mattered to you, but not anymore.

————

While Hunter crashed on the couch, you spent the entire night tossing and turning in bed. If someone had told you a month ago that you'd be neck-deep in street races and shady dealings—all for the sake of a girl—you would have called them insane.

When dawn finally broke, you shuffled out of bed and headed into the kitchen, finding Hunter gone and your mom brewing a fresh pot of coffee.

"Morning, Mom," you yawn, stretching your arms out. "Did Hunter leave already?"

"You just missed him. He said he'd be back later," she replies with a gentle smile.

You hum in response, pouring yourself a cup of coffee, savoring the warmth. It was in these quiet, mundane moments that you hated the path you were on more than anything. Between the mess with Jenna, the unpredictability with Percy, and the weight of secrets and family legacies, you sometimes wished you could just be normal—not tangled up in rivalries or trying to make sense of feelings you didn't dare admit.

"You've changed," your mother's voice broke you out of your thoughts, catching you mid-sip.

"Changed?" You raise a brow, joining her at the dining table. "What do you mean?"

She sighs, studying you with a mix of curiosity and concern. "You seem... happier in some ways but also more stressed. Something's weighing on you."

You stare down at your coffee, catching your own reflection in its dark surface, letting your mother's words sink in. Of course she'd notice something different—you're her child. But she's right; you have changed. And now, in this rare quiet moment in the chaos your life has become over the past month, you're finally realizing just how much. You've changed so damn much—and the thought terrifies you, especially because you can't even pinpoint when it happened.

Or you do. And that was the scary part.

A month ago Anton told you to find what's your purpose, your drive. What makes your heart race. What's worth risking everything for.

But you'd been so careful, you tell yourself. You abandoned her the first night you met, didn't even share your name—but now, she's got far more than just a name. She's got you feeding her intel, leading her through Brimstone like her own personal guide, pulling you deeper into a world you swore you'd keep at arm's length.

When did it happen? When did you start dropping her home, buying each other jackets, eating ice cream together—and, hell, when did you start racing? Racing, something you'd vowed never to do. And now here you are, about to walk into a private meeting that likely involves drug lords fueling Brimstone's biggest epidemic—all because she needs leverage on Percy. Leverage to protect herself from some mystery he's holding over her, something she still won't tell you.

You try to rationalize. She's got leverage on you, too. She's got footage of you stealing her dad's car. But deep down, you know she'd only pulled that card to hook you in. She wouldn't actually use it. You knew that. You knew her.

Except—you didn't. You didn't really know a damn thing about this girl, yet here you are, throwing caution to the wind for her. Risking everything for her. Breaking your own rules, doing things you'd avoided for the past twenty years...all because of her. And all way too fast.

Maybe it's because you're finally sitting in front of your mom, and to her, you'll always be her little girl. And facing her now, all you can see is the woman who once opened the door to find cops there, telling her that her husband, the father of her nine-year-old kid, was dead. You remember watching her piece together her shattered heart, all while carrying the weight of resentment for the racing that took him. And now, somehow, you're part of it too. How could you put her through this?

"Y/n?"

Your mom's voice snaps you out of your thoughts, and you lift your gaze from your coffee to her face.

"I've been calling your name for a while now. What the hell is going on with you kid?" she asks concerned.

Everything you wished you could tell her was everything you couldn't. Everything she warned you to stay away from.

"Look I know I haven't been the best mom," she sighs. "But I did it because I care. I'm strict because I know how quickly things can go south in this shithole of a town."

"You're not a bad mom, stop—"

"I can tell there's something on your mind, I don't know if it's good or bad. But I want to know Y/n/n."

Just as you were about to respond your phone pinged and of course it was Jenna.

Hey Oil spillage, just got news that the meeting moved. It's on Friday at 10p.m. now.

Wonderful news. After the realizations you just had, you were not ready to face Jenna again. In fact you would rather anything but see her. And now you can avoid her for six more days. Without replying to her message, you turn off your phone and turn your attention to your mom.

"I guess I've just been thinking about my future and what that looks like." You decide to open up a little, seeing no apparent harm.

Your mom nods slowly, her brow furrowing slightly as she absorbs your words. "And I also have to consider the fact that we're in Brimstone," you add, your voice dropping a notch.

She looks at you intently, searching your face for clues. "I get that this place can feel limiting, Y/n. But remember, it doesn't have to define you. You have the power to change your path."

You take a sip of your coffee, contemplating her words. "It's just...sometimes it feels like I'm caught between what I want and what I should be doing."

"And what do you want?"

"I don't know! I don't know what I want," you finish, softer now.

She squints, registering the tension in your voice. "Then, what do you think you should be doing?"

Racing. The Club. The Sinners.

But you can't say that. Not to your anti-racing mom, but clearly your face says it for you.

"Y/n," she sighs. "There's no place for you in that life."

"You don't understand, Mom! It's easy on paper to say 'stay away.' But people talk. I'm the daughter of a founding member; they expect me to be part of this."

"And how exactly are you hearing all this talk?" she asks, voice tinged with sass. "I thought I told you to stay away from Anton and that whole club."

"I am!" you lie. "But people at the warehouse still talk," you lie again. "Is working in a warehouse really what you want for me? For the rest of my life?"

"If it keeps you out of that club, then yes, a thousand times over. That club killed your father. I don't get your fascination with it!"

"Maybe I like cars! Maybe I want to feel close to him by doing something that mattered to him. You never even talk about him," you say heatedly, pushing yourself back from the table.

"Sit back down," she says, rubbing her temples.

You sit, your frustration simmering.

Your mom's eyes, usually a fortress, softened with a sigh. "You're right, I don't talk about him much. Not because he wasn't worth it, but because it's painful. But let me tell you something about your dad, something I should've told you sooner."

A shadow of confusion crossed your face.

"He was a founder, sure," she admitted, a bitter smile playing at her lips. "One of the Y/l/n brothers who started this whole thing. But that's not the part of the story that matters. Not the part that should define how you see racing."

Your heart stilled, anticipation prickling at your skin. "What do you mean, then? What's the part I'm missing?"

Her eyes narrowed slightly, focusing on a memory only she could see. "Your dad wanted out."

The weight of her words hung between you, more jarring than the rumble of any engine. The idea of your father—the man who had seemingly built his entire world around speed, thrill, and the camaraderie of the club—wanting to leave felt impossible.

"What do you mean, 'out'?" you asked, the question barely a whisper.

She sighed, running a hand over her tired face. "He didn't start the club for the glory, Y/n. Not for the rush or to become some legend everyone would talk about. He did it because he felt trapped, and for a while, racing felt like freedom. But when things got bigger, more dangerous... he saw where it was heading. He knew it wasn't sustainable. He wanted out before it swallowed him whole."

You stared at her, trying to process this new version of the man you thought you knew. The stories you'd grown up on were all about victory, triumph, the unmatched skills of your father and the empire he helped build. But no one talked about the nights he lay awake, second-guessing the choices that led him there.

"Why didn't he leave, then?"

Her eyes glistened with a pain that seemed older than time, a sorrow she'd carried long. "He did, or... he was supposed to. That last race—the one that took him from us—it was meant to be his farewell. He promised me it would be the last time, that after that night, we would start over, somewhere far away from all of this."

You felt like the ground beneath you had shifted. The race that defined so much of your past, the race whispered about in awe and grief—it had been an ending, but not the kind you ever imagined.

"He was going to walk away?" you asked, your own voice thick with disbelief.

Her eyes shimmered with unshed tears, the weight of old promises and lost dreams shining in their depths. "Yes," she whispered, a tear finally breaking free and rolling down her cheek. "He was tired of what it had become—the danger, the violence, the way it devoured everything good. He wanted out for you, for us. But fate had other plans."

You looked at her, seeing not just your mother but a woman who had lost everything for the sake of someone else's ambition. The image of your father—legendary racer, fearless leader—began to fracture, replaced by the vision of a man who was trapped, fighting for freedom that never came.

"And now," she said, drawing a shaky breath, "you have to decide if you're going to chase his ghost, or choose a different path."

Suddenly, the image of racing, of the thrill that had always called to you, shifted. It wasn't just the adrenaline, the wind whipping past and the engine's roar. It was what lay beneath—the fear, the drive to outrun something that couldn't be escaped.

"So, what does that mean for me?" you asked quietly.

Her fingers tightened around her cup, eyes meeting yours with quiet intensity. "It means you decide if racing is freedom or a cage. For your dad, it became both. You don't owe this club anything."

You sat back, absorbing the truth. Racing had always felt like destiny, an inheritance carved into the fabric of who you were. But now, for the first time, it seemed less like a birthright and more like a choice—a choice you'd have to make on your own terms.

"Do you ever... want to get out of here?" you ask, almost too quietly, afraid of the answer. "Out of Brimstone?"

A question you should've asked your mother years ago, but is only leaving you now.

She raises her eyebrows, surprised by the question. It lingers in the air between you for a moment before she sighs, looking out the window to the tired streets beyond. "Sometimes," she says finally. "Sometimes I think about it, yeah. The way this place drags people in, holds them down... It scares me for you, Y/n. I don't want you trapped here. I want you to have options, a life that's bigger than this town."

"Then why do you stay?" you press, voice softer now.

A flicker of something unreadable crosses her face. "It's complicated," she says, her voice tinged with a weariness you hadn't noticed before. "Your father was here. This was where we met, built our lives, and after he... after everything, I felt like leaving would be... giving up on him. Like walking away from the one thing he was part of."

"But you don't owe this place anything," you say, echoing her earlier words back to her. "If it's just a memory keeping you here, then... maybe we both deserve better."

She nods slowly, her gaze returning to you, eyes softer, more vulnerable than you've seen in a while. "Maybe we do," she admits, voice barely a whisper. She makes a gesture with her hand of tapping a cigarette into an ash tray—a habit you noticed since you were a child. Something she does out of nervousness.

For the first time, it feels like you're seeing eye-to-eye, both carrying parts of the same burden—one that isn't really yours to carry. You've both been holding on, afraid of what letting go might mean.

You never thought you had a bad relationship with your mom. You both just worked and worked, trying to make a life for each other. Survival mode felt like autopilot—there was no time for bonding or deep conversations. Showing care meant keeping each other going, making sure you both were okay. Talking like this felt foreign, almost like a new skill you were both trying to learn. You wonder what prompted it, this sudden need to speak the things you both usually left unsaid

"So Hunter told me you had a girlfriend—"

You face palm, "for fuck sakes."

————

"Dude you told my mom I have a girlfriend?"

"She asked me if there was anyone special in your life!" He puts his hands up defensively.

You groan, feeling a wave of annoyance wash over you. What the hell are you supposed to tell your mom if she asks about this again? The image of her face pops into your mind. "Hey Mom, here's my supposed girlfriend I met at a race I snuck off to behind your back. Don't worry, she's not a Sinner—she's a Viper, though."

Luckily, Hunter had walked in earlier from whatever he'd been up to that morning, sparing you from answering your mom's question on the spot. Now, all you have to do is figure out what to say when she inevitably brings it up again.

It's still morning as you both settle into your room, falling into the familiar rhythm of your routine. You sprawl on your bed while he spins around in your chair, his energy infectious. Hunter dives into the latest gossip, animatedly sharing every detail, and you find yourself drifting in and out of his words, letting the sound of his voice wash over you.

You phone then starts ringing, and his voice suddenly stops. You glance at the screen, and let out a heavy sigh. You've really got to change her contact name.

"Who is it?" Hunter asks, hopping off the chair and leaning closer to your phone.

"Is she not your fave Viper anymore?" He jokes, sitting at the foot of your bed. "Come on, pick it up!"

You hesitate, staring at the screen as the name blinks back at you. The tension in the room shifts, Hunter's playful smirk fading as he senses your reluctance.

"Seriously? You're just going to let it ring?"

You shake your head, biting your lip. "I—I can't, Hunter. What do I even say?"

He leans forward, a look of mock seriousness on his face. "How about, 'Hey, Jenna, what's up? Oh me? I'm just living my perfectly normal life—definitely not spiraling into an identity crisis because of you?"

You roll your eyes but can't help the smile that threatens to break through. "You're ridiculous."

"Yeah, but you know I'm right," he insists, nudging your foot with his. "Just answer it! What's the worst that could happen?"

A million thoughts race through your mind, each one heavier than the last. You're scared of what her voice will bring up—the memories, the feelings, the undeniable shift in your life since you met her. "What if she wants to see me again?"

"Uh, hello?" he raises a brow, giving you a look. "Isn't that the best-case scenario? Getting cozy with your fine, rich Summer Valley girl?"

You hesitate again, and the ringing seems to grow louder. Hunter's eyes are wide, filled with mischief and encouragement. "Come on! Just answer it already!"

"Huh, looks like I can't anymore, the ringing stopped," you smile, relieved that the ringing was cut short.

Hunter's expression shifts from playful to incredulous. "What the fuck, man? Why didn't you answer?"

You shrug, but inside, a storm of emotions brews, each thought heavier than the last. Jenna represents everything you're trying to escape, and yet everything you're drawn toward. She's the pull of a world that's dangerous, one you've seen tear lives apart—your life apart. And every second you spend with her, it feels like you're slipping further down a path you might not come back from.

You can't let that happen.

"Because I can't keep doing this," you say, the words coming out softer than you'd intended. Each moment with her feels like a step away from the life you once knew, from the version of yourself that kept your family safe. You're drawn to Jenna, but she's also a stark reminder of how much you've changed, of how close you're getting to undoing everything your mom worked so hard to protect, everything your father was trying to leave.

She makes you feel alive in ways you haven't felt in years. But that feeling comes with a vulnerability you're not sure you can handle. If you keep this up, you'll lose more than just yourself—you'll risk letting down the family that depended on you to be the strong one. The thought sends a cold chill through you.

"I don't think I'm doing the right thing, Hunter."

Hunter lets out a quiet sigh, watching you closely. "You were doing alright last night. What's got you all worked up now?"

You hesitate, the weight of it clawing at you. Saying it out loud feels like crossing a line you can't come back from. "Things just... feel different," you say, voice barely audible. "I've been doing things I never thought I would, getting in deeper than I should. I don't even recognize myself anymore."

Hunter frowns, studying you. "You're not a completely different person just because you're out there racing. Isn't this what you wanted?"

"It's not just about racing." You rub your face, trying to calm the frustration simmering beneath the surface. "Jenna's got this... hold over me. She's made me cross lines I thought I'd never touch. She's tied up in a world I swore I'd stay away from."

Hunter's gaze softens, like he's trying to understand. "Maybe she's just got you seeing things differently. Doesn't mean you're losing yourself."

But that's the problem—you can feel yourself losing your grip, and the need to push her away rises, desperate, like an instinct. You know that the closer you get to Jenna, the deeper you risk sinking into something that could destroy you both. "Maybe it's better if I keep my distance," you murmur, more to yourself than to him. "I can't let this go any further. She's in the Vipers, and that's not a world I can afford to be part of."

Hunter shakes his head, not fully understanding. "So you're just going to shut her out? Because of some fear? Even if she hasn't been around long, what you two have—it's something real—"

"No." You cut him off, a hint of desperation in your tone. "What I have with her isn't real. Not really. We just thought... we could help each other. But that's all it is."

Even as you say it, though, you can feel the lie settle in your chest, heavier than you expected.

Hunter doesn't know the whole story with Jenna and Percy, or how you got roped into digging up dirt on him. You bite your tongue, stopping yourself from saying too much. A part of you wishes you could tell him, though—because if he knew you were supposedly getting mixed up in things like Ghost Smoke, he'd be the first one pushing you to cut Jenna out of your life for good.

"Alright, let me ask you this," he says, leaning forward. "You've had your first race, you were technically a Sinner. But from what you're saying, it sounds like you've made up your mind. So, what—you're sticking to your car hijacking ways, no racing, right?"

You hesitate—even after everything your mom has told you today, and he catches it.

"There's still a part of you that wants it, Y/n. You're not sure, and that's okay. This isn't about you changing; it's about something else. Unless you can look me in the eye and say you're completely done with this racing stuff, I don't see why you have to push her away."

You don't know why either. Maybe this wasn't about racing entirely and how much you've changed. But it feels foolish now to drag yourself deeper into this world after learning your dad died trying to leave it. Point is, you need to step back before you lose yourself completely.

And as much as it hurts to admit, that might mean losing the girl who makes your heart race. Looks like you found what makes your heart race, but not what's worth risking everything for.

————

"So, should I throw the microwave at your head now or later?"

Jenna tears her gaze away from her phone, frowning at her sister. "What are you even talking about, Aliyah?"

Aliyah grins, enjoying the confusion on her sister's face. "You don't remember? You told me ages ago that if you ever fell for someone again—or got caught waiting on a text—I should throw a microwave at your head."

Jenna sighs, the memory of that ridiculous pact making her groan. "Yeah, well... Wait—hold on. I am not falling for anybody!"

Aliyah raises an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. "Uh-huh. Says the girl who's been glued to her phone all day waiting on a text. Sounds exactly like someone not falling for anybody."

Jenna scoffs, rolling her eyes, but she can't hide the faint blush creeping up her cheeks. "I'm just... checking my messages. It's not that deep."

Aliyah chuckles. "Right. Not that deep. Just let me know when to start unplugging the microwave."

The older of the two shakes her head, a small smile tugging at her lips despite herself. "You're so dramatic."

"I just know you too well. Face it, sis—you're hooked."

Jenna scoffs, though her expression softens. "It's... complicated," she admits quietly, her fingers grazing the edge of her phone. "She's—" She stops, catching herself. She's. But she's not about to explain all that to Aliyah.

"Complicated?" Aliyah finishes, feigning shock. "You? In something complicated? Never."

"Okay, fine, enough!" Jenna laughs, trying to brush off her nerves. But her sister's words stick with her. She can't ignore the fact that she's thinking about her way more than she should be. And she knows all too well that if Percy found out, it would be a whole new problem.

Aliyah flops onto the bed, scrolling through her phone with a satisfied grin, fully aware that she's already planted the seed.

The Viper tries to focus on something else, anything else, but her mind keeps drifting back. "You're hooked."

Aliyah tilts her head, watching Jenna with a knowing look. "You don't even deny it. Whoever this person is, they've got you in knots."

Jenna rolls her eyes, trying to dismiss it, but the truth settles heavily in her chest. "It's not like that," she says, almost to herself. "It can't be."

Aliyah raises an eyebrow. "Why not? Because of Dad? Or because of that sleaze Percy?"

Jenna's jaw tightens at the mention of the men, and she looks away, fighting the urge to share too much about her mystery Brimstone girl. "Let's just say... it's not as simple as having someone in your life and calling it a day," she says finally.

Aliyah's playful demeanor fades a bit, sensing the weight in Jenna's voice. "Jenna... are you in some kind of trouble?"

For a moment, Jenna considers coming clean, but she shakes her head, forcing a smile. "When am I not in trouble?"

Aliyah's smile falters slightly, guilt seeping through her playful demeanor. She shifts in her seat, Jenna wouldn't even know this kind of trouble if it weren't for her.

Jenna catches the look in her sister's eyes and instantly regrets her words.

"Aliyah, don't," she says softly, the tension in the room shifting. "You know I don't blame you."

"I know, but I can't help feeling responsible," Aliyah whispers, looking down at her hands. The unspoken reality—that Jenna's entanglement with the Vipers was to shield Aliyah—lingered between them, heavier than any words.

"Dad shouldn't have made you—"

Jenna reaches out, squeezing her sister's hand. "We're in this together, remember? Whatever happens, I'm the one who chose to stay."

Aliyah looks up, eyes glistening with unshed tears. "But it's not fair. You shouldn't have to carry this for me."

Jenna offers a small, sad smile. "Family isn't about fair. It's about being there, no matter what."

Aliyah's shoulders slump as she bites her lower lip, a familiar crease forming on her brow. The guilt that's been gnawing at her shows clearly in her eyes, and Jenna's heart clenches at the sight.

"I hate this," Aliyah whispers, her voice wavering. "Every time you walk out that door, I keep wondering if you're coming back. And it's because of me."

Jenna's tough facade cracks, and she leans forward, wrapping an arm around Aliyah's shoulders. "Hey, don't go there," she murmurs. The words are steady, meant to reassure, but the tightness in her chest betrays her. For a moment, she lets herself imagine a life free of this cycle—a life where neither of them has to look over their shoulder.

"I won't be stuck for long," Jenna finally admits, a determined edge creeping into her voice. She pulls back just enough to look Aliyah in the eyes, hoping to pass on some of that conviction. "I'm working on something, alright? This isn't forever."

Aliyah searches Jenna's face, her eyes widening with hope and hints of disbelief. "You mean it?"

Jenna nods, "I mean it. I promise."

Suddenly the sadness in Aliyah's expression is replaced with a smirk, "Does she have anything to do with it?" she asks glancing at her sister's phone.

"Don't change the subject," Jenna says, trying to sound stern but unable to keep the corner of her mouth from quirking up.

Aliyah's smirk grows, the earlier heaviness giving way to something warmer, more familiar. "I knew it. Your mystery girl isn't just another risk, is she?"

Jenna rolls her eyes but can't fully suppress a small, reluctant smile. "It's complicated, Ali. She's... well, she's a lot more than I expected."

Probably the biggest risk of all, Jenna thought

Aliyah's smirk softens into a genuine smile. "Good. You deserve more than this mess, Jen."

Jenna's heart tightens at her sister's words. "Yeah," she whispers, more to herself than to Aliyah. "Maybe I do."

Suddenly an idea stirs into the younger Ortega's mind. In a swift motion, her hand darts out and snatches Jenna's phone from the bed. Before Jenna can fully process what's happening, Aliyah is already on her feet, eyes dancing with mischief as she clutches the phone to her chest like a prize.

"Aliyah!" Jenna's voice sharpens "Seriously? Hand it over."

Aliyah tilts her head playfully, a smirk tugging at her lips. "Relax, big sister. Just checking if your mystery girl left a love note or two."

Jenna takes a step forward, trying to maintain her composure as she reaches out for the phone. "I mean it, Ali. Give. It. Back."

Aliyah shifts her weight, effortlessly dodging Jenna's reach as she chuckles. Taking advantage of the height, she holds the phone above her head, reading the chat messages. "Greaser? Pet names already?"

"Aliyah."

"Left on read for almost three hours? And here I thought you had game."

"I don't like her."

"Sure you don't," Aliyah teases, tapping the screen. "Let's see if your non-existent feelings show up when I—"

Before she can finish, the familiar ringing tone starts, and Jenna's heart drops. Aliyah's eyes widen with mock surprise. "Oops. Guess we'll see soon enough."

"Aliyah!" Jenna lunges, grabbing the phone from her sister's hand after the phone rang for a while. Without hesitation, she swiftly hits the end call button. The silence that follows crackles with tension as Jenna clutches the phone, her face flushed.

Aliyah bursts out laughing. "Wow, if that's not feelings, I don't know what is."

Jenna takes a steadying breath, unable to mask the way her pulse races. "It's not like that," she insists, more to herself than to her sister.

She couldn't help but wonder why you didn't answer your phone. You had more than enough time to answer the phone while it was ringing.

————

Two days have passed since you left Jenna's call unanswered. The rhythmic clinking of tools filled the garage as you worked tirelessly on your latest project—the stolen Aston Martin. For the past two days, the garage had been your refuge, the metallic smell of oil offering a sense of your old routine amidst the chaos. In that span, you had buried yourself in work, starting early in the morning and ending late into the night, determined to keep your mind from straying.

You stepped back to study the Aston Martin, now wrapped in a deep green that gleamed under the fluorescent lights. The change from the initial black colour was supposed to help, to make the car feel less like a painful reminder of her. But as you ran your hand over the freshly smoothed surface, sighing at the ghost of memories it evoked, you realized that nothing had changed. No matter how much you worked, every inch of that car still spoke her name.

Your phone buzzed on the workbench, a sharp intrusion that pulled your attention. A name lit up the screen—Jenna's. A message providing you the address of the meeting, nothing else. Seeing her message made your chest ache with a guilt you tried to ignore. You glanced at the glowing screen, your resolve wavering for a moment before you shoved the phone into a drawer, the metallic clang echoing in the small space.

Out of sight, out of mind.

As you smoothed out the last stubborn air pockets on the Aston Martin's fresh wrap, the sound of footsteps echoed in the garage. It was nearly 1 a.m. and no one should be around at this hour.

"Y/n?"

You turned at the familiar voice, eyes narrowing slightly before recognition softened your expression. "Mikey?"

She walked toward you, eyes curious as they swept over the car. "What are you doing here so late?" she asked, curiosity lacing her voice.

You shrugged, forcing a nonchalant tone. "Just working on a car. Needed the distraction. And you?"

Mikey tilted her head, not satisfied with the answer. "I felt like going for a drive. Thought I'd stop by first."

Her gaze shifted between you and the green Aston Martin, catching the tension in the air.

"This is the car you rolled up in with your girl right? What was on the surveillance?"

Ahh yes my girl. Now you need to come up with a believable break up story for the crew.

You clenched your jaw at her question, the mention of Jenna sending a pang through your chest. "Uh, yeah," you muttered, hoping to keep the conversation brief. Mikey's sharp intuition wasn't something to underestimate.

"Trouble in paradise?"

You sigh, "something like that, I don't really want to talk about it."

Mikey nods carefully, and deliberates her next words before speaking, "Did you want to join me on my driv—

"Okay I brought Chinese!" Hunter's voice booms through the garage.

Hunter set the bags down on a nearby workbench, the crinkling of paper and the scent of takeout breaking the heavy silence. He glanced between you and Mikey, sensing the charged atmosphere and shooting you a raised brow.

"Am I interrupting something?" Hunter asked, his usual playful tone laced with curiosity as he tossed a napkin your way.

You caught it mid-air, forcing a smirk to hide the knot in your chest. "Just working late," you replied, shrugging as if that explained everything.

Mikey's expression softened, the slight edge from moments ago replaced with a grin. "Nope, you're just in time. I was about to drag Y/n out for a drive," she said, her voice lighter now, as if trying to pull you into an easier conversation.

Hunter's brows lifted. "Oh? That's a miracle. She's been glued to that car for the last 48 hours" he teased, nudging your arm.

The mention of the past few days made your stomach tighten. You hadn't told Hunter or anyone else why you'd been so buried in work. The truth was, it kept you from thinking about Jenna. The guilt, the confusion—it all seemed simpler when muffled under the sound of engines and the smell of oil.

Mikey leaned against the Aston Martin, folding her arms. "Come on, you've been cooped up in here long enough. What's a quick drive gonna hurt?"

Before you could answer, Hunter grabbed a takeout container and tossed another to you. "Food first, you too Mikey. And then drive second," he said with a grin. "Don't think we'll let you skip out on both."

You took the container, a reluctant smile tugging at your lips. Maybe stepping away from the garage—and everything it represented—would be good for you. Even if just for a moment.

You could tell a lot about a person from how they drove, and never in a million years did you think Mikey would be a careful driver. She would teeter on surpassing street limits, but was a relatively relaxed and smooth driver.

The car rolled through the night, the city gradually giving way to quieter roads framed by dark silhouettes of trees. A comfortable silence settled among the three of you, broken only by Hunter's occasional commentary and Mikey's bursts of laughter when he cracked a particularly absurd joke.

"Remember that time you tried to drive with only three wheels?" Hunter leaned forward from the back seat, his eyes dancing with mischief. "You swore it would work."

You chuckled despite yourself, shaking your head at the memory. "And you were the one who dared me to, you idiot."

Mikey laughed, the sound deep and genuine. "And you actually tried it? That's commitment."

"Or stupidity," Hunter added, and the three of you erupted into laughter that carried through the night, momentarily easing the tension that had wrapped itself around your chest for days.

The conversation meandered through old stories and lighthearted teasing as the car hummed smoothly down the open road. But then, in a pause between topics, Mikey glanced sideways at you, her gaze more serious. "So, do you plan on racing again anytime soon?"

The question hung in the air, a sudden shift in the atmosphere. Before you could respond, Hunter's smirk dropped. He leaned back in his seat, his voice more subdued. "Don't bother, Mads. She doesn't know."

Your eyes flicked to Mikey, watching her reaction. She didn't miss the slight hesitation in your expression, the way your hands clenched. Her brow furrowed, a mixture of concern and curiosity flashing across her face.

"Still figuring it out, huh?" she said softly. "If you haven't made up your mind yet and you're not already back on the track, it's probably a no."

You kept your gaze on the road, the rhythmic whoosh of the wind outside acting as a buffer for your thoughts. Mikey's insight stung more than you'd admit; she was right. Your lack of being back on the track had to mean something.

"Maybe," you said finally, offering no real answer. Hunter glanced between you and Mikey.

Mikey settled back in her seat, a subtle understanding flickering in her eyes as her expression softened. "Trust me," she said, her voice calm yet pointed. "Most racers, when they're trying to get something off their mind, they hit the streets and push their limits. But you? You're here, spending your nights working on a car. That says a lot about where you really want to be."

She was the first person to openly discourage you from racing, and you couldn't help but appreciate it. It felt different, almost liberating—a break from the endless pressure to prove yourself. For once, someone saw the side of you that wasn't caught up in the thrill, and it was a relief.

But there was also that suspicious part of you. Mikey was close to Anton, and she knew how much Anton wanted you in the crew. Does she fear that you'll replace her spot in the club if you join? You brush off your intrusive thoughts and try to enjoy the rest of your drive.

————

Two more days had passed since Jenna had sent the text with the updated meeting address, and the silence on the other end gnawed at her. She leaned against the balcony railing outside her room, eyes skimming the darkened city skyline in the distance each blinking light a reminder of how life pulsed and moved without pause.

The air was crisp, biting against her skin as she shivered, but it did nothing to numb the restless ache in her chest. She scrolled back through the last messages, the words on the screen staring back at her like a mockery of the certainty she'd once felt. It wasn't like you to go this long without responding, but then again what did she know about you? You were the definition of uncertainty, you couldn't figure your own shit out how could you help with hers. She should've seen the red flags for your ghosting tendencies from the first time you met. You had no reason to help her, there was no personal gain.

Aliyah's voice broke through her thoughts, calling from inside. "Jenna, you're doing it again."

Jenna blinked, tearing her gaze from the phone as Aliyah stepped out onto the balcony, eyes filled with concern.

"You're still thinking about her, aren't you?" Aliyah's tone was soft, not judgmental, but knowing.

Jenna sighed, slipping her phone into her pocket as if hiding it would erase the gnawing uncertainty. "I can't help it. Something's off. She's... pulling away, I can feel it."

Aliyah's expression shifted, guilt briefly clouding her features before she masked it with a small, encouraging smile. "Maybe she just needs time. You know how it is—this life, this... chaos we're in. It's not easy."

Jenna met her sister's eyes, searching for reassurance that felt out of reach. "Yeah, maybe." But it wasn't enough. Aliyah didn't know the extent of your relationship. How you were going to help her get dirt on Percy. How you were her best bet.

Jenna had noticed for a while now that Percy was spending a lot more time in Brimstone, and that anything she could find would be found in that shady town.

"I saw the messages with her... something about a meeting? If she won't go with you, maybe I could?" Aliyah ventured, her tone eager but tentative.

Jenna's reaction was immediate, sharp. "Absolutely not. It's too dangerous."

Aliyah crossed her arms, a defiant glint in her eyes. "Come on, Jenna. It could be good to do something together for once."

"I'm serious, Aliyah. This isn't up for discussion. It's not safe," Jenna said, her voice firm, eyes blazing with protectiveness.

Aliyah lifted her chin, stubbornness radiating from her. "Too late. I don't care," she declared, turning on her heel and striding out before Jenna could argue.

"Aliyah, wait—"

Jenna's phone pinged, jolting her from the tense silence that followed Aliyah's departure. For a split second, hope fluttered in her chest—a foolish, fragile thing—as she thought it might be you, breaking the days of silence that gnawed at her. But that hope quickly crumbled as she glanced at the screen.

It was from Percy.

Get yourself dolled up. Race tomorrow night. Be there. And you're on my arm. Look the part, don't embarrass me.

Jenna stared at the messages, her fingers itching to throw the phone across the room. He knew exactly how much he got under her skin and used it at every opportunity. And tonight was no different; he needed her there, not just as a racer, but as his accessory, some trophy to drape over his arm. Like she was at the Sinner race almost a month ago. It was a power move, one he'd pulled too many times, trying to keep her bound to him and his schemes.

Another ping. Don't even think about bailing. You know what happens when I'm not happy.

Jenna scoffed, fingers hovering over the keyboard. She could imagine Percy already preening in the mirror, smugly counting on her to show up, loyal and subservient as always. She could almost hear his oily tone, the mock concern he would flash when she hesitated, only to follow it with another thinly veiled threat. Percy loved to remind her how "lucky" she was that he'd given her a place in the Vipers—and what a shame it would be to lose it.

Jenna pushed away from the railing, the metallic chill of it seeping through her skin as she stood upright. The city lights looked dull now, swallowed by the storm brewing in her mind. Her fingers hovered over the keyboard, a part of her tempted to tell Percy to shove it. But she knew better. Defying him could mean losing her only leverage, the tiny foothold she had in this game of shadows and lies.

With a sharp sigh, she typed out a reply, each keystroke feeling like a betrayal to herself.

Swallowing her disgust, she replied. Fine. I'll be there.

It was almost too easy to imagine the smirk that would be stretching across his face as he read her reply. She could feel her muscles tense, a quiet storm brewing beneath the surface, made worse by the fact that she'd lost any sign of you as a reprieve.

The phone slipped back into her pocket, but the weight of it pressed heavier than ever. The ache in her chest turned sharper, a reminder that even though she needed you, even though you were the one who was supposed to stand beside her, the silence between you spoke volumes. She just wished it wasn't so deafening.

Her eyes drifted to the hallway where Aliyah had disappeared moments before. She couldn't let her sister get pulled deeper into this mess, not when it felt like she was barely holding her own head above water. Yet, with every passing moment, the line between protecting the people she loved and keeping them at a distance grew blurrier. And Percy's summons felt like another shove towards the edge she was already teetering on.

Tomorrow night, she'd play the role. But Jenna swore, as she stared out at the city, that she would find a way out of this tangled mess.

Aliyah popped back into the room, her eyes bright but cautious as she took in Jenna's guarded stance. "Hey, so, the family's heading out to catch a movie right now. Are you coming?" Her tone was light, hopeful even, as if she already anticipated the answer but wanted to hear it anyway.

Jenna's gaze shifted to her sister, the corners of her mouth pulling into a tight line. The unspoken question lingered between them, though Aliyah's expression faltered as she awaited an answer.

"Is Dad going?" Jenna's voice came out sharper than she intended, and Aliyah's smile dimmed slightly.

"Yeah, he is," Aliyah admitted, her eyes darting down for a moment before meeting Jenna's again, trying to read her sister's mood.

Jenna's jaw tensed as she looked past Aliyah, the weight of years of resentment and disappointment pressing down like a vice. "Then no," she said flatly, the finality in her voice leaving no room for argument.

Aliyah's face fell, but she nodded, understanding etched into her features. She didn't push, didn't try to convince Jenna otherwise. The silence between them grew heavy, filled with all the things they weren't saying.

"Okay," Aliyah said softly, turning to leave. But before she stepped out, she cast one last glance over her shoulder, eyes shadowed with a mix of concern and quiet resignation. "Just... don't stay up all night, okay?"

Jenna forced a smile that didn't reach her eyes. "Yeah. I won't."

But as Aliyah's footsteps faded down the hall, Jenna knew she was lying. The night was already hers to wrestle with, haunted by the things she couldn't change and the person she wished she didn't need.

————

Before you knew it, Friday had arrived—the day of the meeting. The meeting you weren't planning to attend. You started your day the same way you had over the past few days—in the garage.

You had been avoiding your phone all morning, afraid of what new messages might appear. Each buzz was a test of your resolve, a reminder that giving in would undo everything you had decided. You needed to stay strong, keep your distance, and not let the past pull you back in.

The project car in front of you demanded all your attention. You poured every ounce of focus into it, the sleek curves of the Aston Martin glistening under the dim garage lights. Tonight, you were determined to take it out for a spin, using it as an excuse to push out the stress gnawing at your mind.

The garage was unusually quiet, lacking its usual bustle. The regulars, including Anton and Mikey, were conspicuously absent, skipping their usual stops at the garage. You welcomed the peace; the last thing you needed was their relentless teasing about the car's dubious origins.

The sound of footsteps broke the monotony, and you didn't need to look up to know it was Hunter.

"Got a minute?" His voice came from the doorway, casual but laced with concern.

You nodded, wiping your hands on a rag before tossing it aside and standing up. "Yeah, what's up?"

"So you're really done with Jenna?" he asks wasting no time.

You couldn't even bring yourself to say the words.

"I'm hoping the drive with Madison the other day doesn't mean yes," he frowns. "I don't think she's right for you."

"Neither do I dude. I never said I wanted anything with Mikey. We literally all went on a friendly drive, nothing more."

"Good, she kind of gives me an off vibe," he shares. "I mean, she's cool and all, but there's just something... I don't know. 

Hunter leans against the workbench, studying you. "But that still leaves Jenna," he says, quieter now. "Are you sure cutting her off is what you really want?"

Your chest tightens, and you look away, focusing on the glint of metal on the project car. "I don't know," you admit. "But staying away feels like the only way to keep things from going up in flames."

Hunter's eyes narrow with concern, but then he smirks, the corner of his mouth curling up. "Just don't forget—sometimes running from the fire only makes it burn hotter when it catches up," he finishes with a wink.

You roll your eyes, but a small chuckle escapes despite the tension in your chest. "Trust you to turn everything into a dramatic line."

————

Hunter left around the 6 p.m. mark and time slipped through your fingers, and before you knew it, the clock had struck 8 p.m. The Aston Martin stood before you, polished and ready. It looked solid, steady—exactly what you needed. Without a second thought, you grabbed the keys, took a breath to steady your nerves, and slid into the driver's seat. Tonight, it would be just you, the car, and the open road.

You eased the car through the streets of Brimstone, your hands gripping the wheel, your mind drifting as you weaved through the winding roads. The town looked different at night—darker, quieter, with the occasional flicker of neon signs casting long shadows on the empty streets. You passed by abandoned buildings, alleyways where the stray figures of drug addicts huddled together, their glazed eyes staring into the nothingness that had consumed them. They barely registered your presence, too lost in their own world.

You drove without a clear destination, allowing the car to take you wherever it wanted to go. The sound of tires on asphalt was the only thing keeping you tethered to reality. The rush of the road beneath you, the flicker of streetlights, the occasional blur of other cars passing by—it was all you needed. Just you and the road.

And then your mind went to her. Of course it did. How could it not when you were sitting in this car. You were fooling yourself by thinking a single car wrap can get the job done.

You remembered the day you took this car, how you spilled your guts to her in the midst of your chaos. The way she'd listened—really listened—and kissed your cheek when you dropped her off. The memory was so vivid, you could almost feel her lips on your skin again.

She should be heading to the meeting now. The one you weren't going to attend. The one she was walking into, blind. No idea what it was really about, no clue what she was getting herself into. Alone.

For all you knew, she thought Ghost Smoke was some sort of cereal. But no. You knew better than that. She wasn't stupid. She was smart, and she could handle herself. You tried to tell yourself that, tried to calm your racing thoughts. She could handle herself. She would be fine. Nothing bad would happen.

But even as you tried to convince yourself, the doubt crept back in. The image of her walking into that meeting—unprepared, vulnerable—made your stomach churn. You couldn't help but picture the worst. What if they used her? What if she got caught up in something deeper than either of you realized?

But then, as you took a sharp turn, you found yourself on the road you hadn't meant to be on. The track.

The place where it all went down.

You didn't intend to end up here. Not tonight. But there it was, the race track standing still under the muted glow of the moon, the outline of the old fence barely visible against the darkness. The stories rushed back like a wave—your father, Anton's dad, both gone in an instant after the crash that took their lives. The race had been their last, the night that changed everything.

You slowed as you approached the entrance, the cars long gone. There was no movement, no sign of life, just the emptiness that had followed the tragedy. The track had been abandoned ever since. The Sinners stopped racing there out of respect, unwilling to return to the place that had claimed so much.

You parked the car on the side of the road. For a long moment, you just sat there, the hum of the engine ticking down as the silence of the night pressed in. The weight of the past, of your father's legacy, of everything you thought you knew about this town and the racing world, settled on your shoulders.

You couldn't help but feel the ghosts of the past watching, waiting, taunting you—what are you going to do Y/n?

You shifted the car into drive, the road ahead a blur.

————

"Can you not be mad at me anymore please?"

Jenna rolls her eyes, frustration evident in her posture. "I told you not to come. I seriously can't believe you followed me here."

Aliyah huffs, crossing her arms. "You're in this mess because of me, and god forbid I want to help! It's not like your girlfriend was dying to come with you, so you should at least be grateful I'm here."

Jenna's stomach clenches at the mention of girlfriend, but she holds her tongue. She's too tired for this. She could've corrected Aliyah for the thousandth time, but it wasn't worth the fight now. Better to focus on getting this over with. At least until this little mission was done, she needed to push all thoughts of you to the back of her mind.

You're not here anyway. You're not helping her anymore.

Aliyah continues, clearly trying to lighten the tension, but there's a note of sarcasm in her voice. "Seriously, there's no way you're not happy I'm here. Look at this place!" She gestures toward the imposing, dark warehouse ahead, a shudder running through her as she takes it in. "It's straight out of a horror movie."

Jenna doesn't disagree. The place does feel like something out of a nightmare. She can feel the resentment bubbling inside her, a sharp, unwanted feeling that she tries to push away but can't. How dare you ghost her, leave her to face this alone? If you were here, Aliyah wouldn't be, and maybe she wouldn't feel so exposed, so vulnerable. But you aren't, and her little sister is. The sting of abandonment hangs in the air, heavier than the looming shadow of the warehouse ahead.

Jenna sighed, feeling the weight of the situation pressing in from all sides. With one final glance at the door to the meeting place, her shoulders slumped in resignation. "Fine," she muttered, voice tinged with exhaustion. "But stay close, stay quiet. Don't do anything stupid."

Aliyah gave a small, relieved nod. "You've got my word."

Jenna leads the way into the dark warehouse, the sound of their footsteps echoing off the cold, concrete floor. The place is completely abandoned, with broken windows casting faint, eerie light into the room. There's nothing in sight but dust and the lingering smell of stale air.

Aliyah looks around nervously, her eyes darting from corner to corner, but all she can see are the dim shadows creeping along the walls. The place feels like a ghost town, unsettlingly empty.

"Is this really the right place?" Aliyah's voice is low, the uncertainty clear in her tone.

Jenna pauses, squinting into the darkness, trying to make sense of the scene. She's not sure why the meeting is set up like this, or why it feels like they're walking into the unknown, but she can't let herself doubt now. "Yeah," she answers, her voice steady but with a hint of something unspoken. "This is it."

They keep walking, the air growing colder as they venture deeper into the warehouse. Aliyah keeps glancing at her sister, confusion written across her face. "What exactly is this meeting about?" she asks, her voice tinged with concern. "I mean, what's going on here? Is this about the club or—?"

Jenna cuts her off, shaking her head slightly, her gaze focused ahead. "Don't worry about it," she says, her tone sharp and final. "Just stay close."

And then, they saw him.

He was standing in the far corner of the warehouse, facing away from them, his silhouette sharp against the dim light filtering in through the broken windows. Dressed all in black, his figure was imposing in a way that sent a chill down Jenna's spine. He hadn't noticed them yet.

Instinctively, both sisters ducked behind a stack of old, dusty boxes, their breath held as they exchanged a look. The quiet tension between them thickened, and in that moment, everything felt so much more real—so much more dangerous.

On the phone, the man spoke with a low, almost mechanical tone. "Yes, boss. I'm the first one here, waiting on the other two."

Jenna made a mental note on the words. So this was a meeting between three people. Percy would be one of them.

Aliyah's voice was barely a whisper. "Do you know who that is?"

Jenna didn't answer at first. Her eyes stayed fixed on the man, analyzing his every movement, trying to make sense of the situation. Finally, she shook her head. No, she didn't know him. But something about this felt wrong—like they were in deeper than they had anticipated.

She reached out, squeezing Aliyah's hand tightly to calm her nerves. "Stay quiet," she murmured. There was no turning back now.

Jenna's heart skipped a beat when the door creaked open, and two figures stepped into the dim light. Percy walked in first, his usual calm confidence unmistakable, but it was the figure beside him that made Jenna's breath catch in her throat.

She remembered seeing him at the Raven race. The night you were racing. What the hell was he doing here? Her mind raced, the weight of the situation crashing down harder than before. Why was he with Percy?  Was he the club leader? This meeting was about something far worse than she could have imagined.

Aliyah's grip on her hand tightened, her eyes wide with uncertainty and fear. But Jenna couldn't look away. She barely registered the tension in her sister's hand, too focused on the strange alliance before her.

Without a word, Percy and the Raven exchanged brief glances before walking further into the warehouse with the mysterious person in all black. The air around them seemed to thicken, the sound of their voices indistinguishable.

Jenna's pulse quickened as her instincts screamed that she needed to get closer, to hear more.

She crouched low, glancing over at Aliyah with an intense, silent plea. "Stay here," she whispered sharply, her voice low but firm, knowing the weight of the situation.

Aliyah nodded, her face pale with fear.

Jenna barely gave her sister another glance before she began moving, silent as a shadow, staying low to the ground as she crept closer to the three men. 

But the floor of the warehouse wasn't as kind as she hoped. Her foot caught on a jagged edge, and in an instant, her body lurched forward, her heart skipping a beat.

Time slowed, the rush of panic surged through her, and in that split second, her heart seized with terror. She was going to fall—she was going to make a noise and blow their cover. Aliyah was going to be in danger.

She braced for the inevitable crash, for the sound of her body hitting the ground and the betrayal of her hiding place.

But just as the world tilted beneath her, strong arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her back from the brink. Her heart raced, her breath catching in her throat. She blinked, disoriented, but when she looked up, her world seemed to freeze.

There you were, standing in front of her, holding her steady. The realization hit her like a punch to the gut. You were here. You had come for her.

In the six days you had ghosted her, Jenna had planned what she was going to do if she ever saw you again. First was a slap, possibly the silent treatment—a taste of your own medicine. She even toyed with the idea of keying one of your cars. But falling into your embrace, wrapping her arms around your neck and letting out a sigh of relief was certainly not part of the plan.

For a moment, neither of you moved. You could feel her breath against your chest, soft and steady, and despite everything, her warmth was exactly what you needed.

Jenna pulled back slightly, her hands lingering on your arms as she looked up at you, her eyes searching for something—answers, maybe, or just reassurance. She was still upset with your disappearing act. "You really are something," she muttered, her voice softer than usual, almost vulnerable.

You couldn't find the right words, not when your heart was racing from the sudden rush of emotions. Instead, you simply nodded, gently brushing a stray lock of hair behind her ear, a quiet acknowledgment of everything unspoken between you. "We'll talk afterwards," you whispered.

She nodded, knowing you both have a bigger issue to deal with at the present moment.  You notice Jenna worriedly glance behind you and you follow her gaze to see another girl you've never seen before.

Jenna noticed the fear that was once on her sister's face melted into a mischievous grin as she looked at her, raising an eyebrow and pointing a finger at you while mouthing, Greaser?

You'll have to figure out who that is later, but for now you take your attention away from the girl who is very close to you, and look up at the scene in front of you. Pissy, the Raven crew leader, and an unfamiliar man.

“Who thought holding the meeting here was a good idea?” Percy muttered, annoyance dripping from his tone as he glanced at the dust clinging to his shoes.

“We can’t afford any slip-ups,” the unknown man replied curtly. “Let’s keep this brief.”

The Raven crew leader smirked, eyes glinting in the dim warehouse light. “We’ve already pushed about fifty keys of Ghost Smoke into Brimstone over the past two weeks,” he said, voice smooth but full of intent. “No hiccups, no heat—just a steady stream. And trust me, the streets are starting to bite. By the time the next batch hits, they’ll be begging for more.”

"Okay, and you Percy? How's the Vipers' distribution going?"

You clenched your jaw as the conversation confirmed your worst suspicions. These guys were flooding Brimstone with product, exploiting the town's vulnerable, turning the Brimstoners into their playthings. From the corner of your eye, you noticed Jenna stealthily recording the exchange between the three men, every tense word.

Percy shifted uneasily, a flash of frustration in his eyes. "We've moved about eight keys so far," he said tightly, the disappointment in his voice evident. The number wasn't enough compared to the Raven's progress. "It’s not easy for a Viper to operate on Sinner territory without drawing attention."

"Maybe if you'd stop cozying up to your girl at races and focus on your job, things would be different," the unknown man snapped, his tone biting.

His girl?

"Relax," Percy retorted, his voice strained but defiant. "No one wants Brimstone to become a zombieland more than I do. Some of those Sinners have been getting way too fucking cocky."

Jacob, the Raven leader, let out a low chuckle and placed a hand on Percy's shoulder. "Easy there," he said, smirking at the unknown man. "I can’t blame the guy. It’s hard to stay focused when your girl’s a knockout like that." He finishes with a whistle.

A whispered "ew" sounded behind you, and you felt Jenna tense, a silent fury radiating from her. Anger roared in your chest. Not only were these men scheming to drown Brimstone in Ghost Smoke, but now they were talking about Jenna like she was just another trophy. The rage that simmered inside you sharpened into a razor's edge.

But now was not the time to get angry. You had to remain calm, get all the info you can and get the fuck out of there.

Jacob, the Raven leader, crossed his arms, his gaze sharp as he looked between Percy and the unknown man. “And what if this operation doesn’t go as planned? What happens if someone decides to interfere? I know you tried this once and failed.”

The tension in the room crackled like static. The unknown man’s expression darkened, a slow, menacing smile creeping across his face. “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that,” he said, voice low and chilling. “We wouldn’t want a repeat of Bullet and Apex.”

You freeze.

But before you could fully process the implication, a sudden noise shattered the silence about 15 meters to your left.

“Hey! Who’s there?” one of the men barked, eyes narrowing in suspicion.

Heart thundering, you whipped your head in the direction of the sound and spotted the familiar mop of curls.

Hunter.

He was crouched low, eyes wide with a reckless determination that sent a jolt of both dread and relief through you. Before you could even react, Jenna’s urgent voice sliced through the fog of panic clouding your mind.

“We have to go,” she hissed, fingers locking around your arm like a lifeline and yanking you into motion. The edge in her voice snapped you back to the present, and your body jolted into action. The girl—clearly someone Jenna trusted—was already sprinting ahead, weaving between crates like shadows. You cast a quick look back, your gaze catching Hunter’s for a split second as he, too, bolted to follow.

This was a fight against time, and survival was the only thing that mattered.

Jenna’s grip on your hand anchored you as you both tore out of the warehouse, feet pounding the ground as adrenaline roared through your veins. The cold air bit at your skin as you charged towards the first car in sight—yours.

“Stop right there!” A shout from behind sent a surge of terror down your spine.

“Hey!” you yelled to the girl ahead. She glanced back, eyes sharp, just in time to catch the keys you tossed her. She was closer to the car, and with no time to spare, she slipped into the driver’s seat.

The three of you scrambled in—a blur of limbs and frenzied breaths. Jenna flung herself into the passenger seat, while you and Hunter dove into the back, your heart hammering in your chest like it might explode.

“Go, go, go! Step on it, Aliyah,” Jenna commanded.

Aliyah didn’t hesitate. The engine roared to life, and the Aston Martin peeled away from the warehouse, tires screeching against the asphalt. The last thing you saw in the rearview was the shadowy figure of the man pursuing you, growing smaller as you sped into the dark night, leaving danger and revelations in your wake.

No one dared to speak. The air in the car was thick with tension, the adrenaline still simmering just beneath the surface. Once Aliyah had put enough distance between them and the warehouse, she eased off the gas, slowing to a steady, legal pace. They were in Summer Valley now, the bright lights of the town casting fleeting shadows across their faces.

Ten minutes ticked by in silence before the red glow of a traffic light gave them a momentary pause. It was then that everything unraveled at once.

“Hunter, what the hell are you doing here?” you demanded, voice tight.

“How the fuck did you go from boosting cars to this?” Hunter fired back, eyes wide with disbelief.

Aliyah leaned back, throwing a teasing look Jenna’s way. “You didn’t tell me Greaser was cute!”

"Since when did you know how to drive?” Jenna shot back at Aliyah.

The car was filled with a low hum of murmured conversations, each person settling into their own thoughts as the road stretched on.

“Did you follow me here?” you asked Hunter, still in disbelief.

“Yeah, I did. And I’m glad I did.” His voice was filled with concern. “What the hell are you mixed up in, Y/n?”

“I don’t know, man. I’m just finding out about all this today, too.”

Hunter let out a frustrated sigh. “We need to tell Anton. They’re trying to destroy Brimstone.”

You exhaled, mirroring his sigh. “Yeah, this is bad. Real bad.”

As soon as Anton’s name left his lips, your mind raced back to the meeting. What the men had said.

Hunter could see it in your eyes—he knew exactly what you were thinking, and the tension in the air between you both grew thicker.

Up front, Jenna’s voice broke the silence. “Okay, yes, I get it! She’s cute. Can you just… shush? She’s right there,” she muttered in exasperation, turning back to her sister, who was practically grinning.

Jenna slouched back in her seat, her mind a whirlwind of thoughts. This was not what she expected when she set out to gather dirt on Percy. She couldn’t wrap her head around it—Percy, the same person she thought she knew, was tangled up in a plot to destroy Brimstone. Yeah, he was a jerk, but this... this was murder, drawn out and deliberate.

The crew she had once considered family was directly linked to the distribution of Ghost Smoke, targeting people from the town over.  She knew there was always a rivalry between Brimstone and Summer Valley, but she didn't think it would resort to elimination techniques. The shock of it all left her breathless, the pieces clicking together with an unsettling finality. 

She got her dirt. But this feels far from over.

Despite everything, Jenna couldn’t ignore the pull to check on you. She knew you had to be feeling the weight of it all—learning that your town was the target of such destruction. But there was also the anger. The unresolved frustration from you walking away earlier. She couldn’t just let you back in without confronting it, could she?

But as the drive wore on, the pull to turn back softened, and she glanced at you instead. You were lost in your own world, staring out the window, looking like you’d retreated into yourself. Nothing could touch you right now. And she didn’t blame you. Tonight had been a mess.

She turned her gaze to Hunter, raising an eyebrow, silently asking if he knew how to handle this. He met her eyes, shaking his head in that subtle way that said, Not tonight.

Jenna nodded in acknowledgment, her expression a mix of concern and frustration. She gave a quiet command to Aliyah, who turned the car toward their place. The drive was silent, the weight of everything hanging thick in the air. When the car finally stopped, both girls exited, but Jenna couldn’t help but glance back at you one last time. Her gaze softened, seeing how much this was affecting you. You didn’t look at her once as you stayed seated in the back, your face unreadable.

Somehow, without even realizing it, you found yourself sitting in the passenger seat of Hunter’s car. The shift had happened so subtly that you hadn’t even registered the transition. You assumed once the girls had left, Hunter must've taken over the drive. But the ride felt endless, every minute dragging in uncomfortable silence, like you were trying to outrun the truth without really knowing how.

When Hunter finally pulled into his driveway, the car came to a stop, and the air between you two felt suffocating. No words were spoken for a long moment.

Finally, Hunter broke the stillness. His voice was low, sincere, and filled with an understanding that made your stomach churn. “I’m sorry, Y/n,” he said, his tone full of empathy. “That must’ve been a hell of a lot to take in.”

It wasn’t easy, not by a long shot. You could feel the weight of the words pressing down on you like a heavy stone.

Bullet and Apex. Your dad and Anton’s dad, their racing names. You had tried to convince yourself that you had misheard at the meeting, that it was some twisted misunderstanding. But as you turned to look at Hunter, his pitiful eyes told you everything you needed to know. You weren’t wrong.

Your father and uncle’s deaths wasn't an accident. They’d been taken from you on purpose. And now, the truth of that hit you harder than anything else.

[xerospaced]

Bruuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuvvvvvv

I really just got confirmation that we want the same thing like... 🙃🫠🫣🥹😲😫😭😍🤯😱

And not none of this bullshit. Done playing with silly little people.

This is THE thing.

And it's in my hands. Step up. Get right. And claim it.

Or absolutely fumble what could be the greatest bag I'm likely to receive.

BITCH

Man.

Fear of failure is real and CRIPPLING.

And when I say niggling doubts of every which variety have rendered me fucken useless.

There was a point I knew I was capable and that belief had me Thriving.

Couple setbacks, bullshit distractions, and a loss of confidence have brought me to this stagnant point of lacking and I am OVER IT.

I've just turned thirty and this is it.

This is the make or break chapter of my life.

If I do it right I can have exactly what I've always wanted (with someone who is greater than anyone I could've dreamt up).

If it get it wrong, I'm setting myself up for a life of regret and lacking.

I cant have that.

What really hammers everything home is that what this person needs from me is what I want, and have always wanted, for myself.

Literally, me being what I wanna be a doing what I wanna do is exactly in line with what they require in a partner.

So there is nothing desired that I don't want for myself anyway.

Be what I wanna be and I can have the life I want with the person I want and that's that.

Ain't that ultimately the goal we all share.

All of these mental blocks and whatever can't be what stops me. I can't allow it.

I've worked through em before it paid off. And I will again. And this time I won't lose my way.

[helioooss]

normalcy

synopsis: after getting fired from your job, you somehow set yourself up to become the personal bodyguard of asia’s it girl; minatozaki sana. the contract said 6 months…but they do say opposites attract…right?

w/c: 7k+

warnings: fluff, kissing, minor violent scene with injuries involved, etc. etc. like always, read at your own risk

a/n: honestly? i really enjoyed writing this but ive read it so many times that i just want it off my drafts

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

the sharp glow of the gym lights flickered, illuminating the worn pages of ‘the trial’ by kafka. you closed the book with a sigh, feeling the weight of your plight settle into your thoughts. reading was slowly becoming your balm, your silent rebellion against the monotony of life.

today, though, was worst than routine. today was about fists and consequences.

it was meant to be another uneventful shift, the kind you’d become numb to over the months — wiping down benches, checking in with regulars, occasionally offering form corrections to those who were willing to listen. your black work polo, embroidered with the gym’s logo, was slightly faded from too many washes and the familiar scent of rubber flooring and sweat clung to the air.

you knew the place inside out, even if you never quite felt at home here.

as you heaved another sigh at the reception desk, you noticed a commotion near the squat racks. a woman in leggings and a loose tank top stood, flustered, her face a mix of anger and embarrassment.

across from her, a man had his phone angled at an obvious tilt, his thumb suspiciously poised over the screen.

“is there a problem?” you asked, trying to keep your voice even as you approached. you were used to minor disputes, arguments over who got the next set, someone hogging the water fountain; but this was different.

the woman’s eyes darted to you, desperate. “he’s taking pictures of me,” she said, her voice low but urgent. “without my permission.”

“oh, come on,” the man scoffed, tucking his phone into his pocket. he was the type you’d seen too many times — overconfident, built just enough to look intimidating, but his demeanor screamed entitlement. “it’s a public space. besides, you should be flattered.”

you clenched your jaw. you weren’t particularly confrontational, but something snapped inside you at the casual dismissal. maybe it was the way the woman seemed to shrink under his gaze, or perhaps it was the months of barely restrained frustration you’d been bottling up.

“delete the photos,” you demanded, stepping closer.

he smirked, a slow, mocking curl of his lips. “or what?”

you weren’t sure when your fist clenched or when you decided that words wouldn’t be enough. all you remembered was the flash of anger, the way your knuckles collided with his jaw and the shock on his face as he staggered back.

the gym fell silent, all eyes on you.

“what the hell?” he shouted, clutching his face as he sat up on the floor.

you felt a pang of panic, but it was drowned out by a strange sense of satisfaction. “don’t do that ever again.”

the woman mouthed a silent “thank you,” but the damage was done. within minutes, your manager, kyle, a man who was perpetually stressed and underpaid, was rushing over and pulled you aside.

“you can’t just hit customers, y/n,” he said, his voice barely masking his disbelief.

“he was taking photos of her without consent,” you insisted, still shaking with adrenaline.

“i get that, he’ll be banned and a police report will be made, but we have procedures,” he insisted, rubbing his temples. “this isn’t how we handle things.”

“so what? we just let guys like him get away with it?” you shot back, already knowing how this conversation would end.

“he’s already threatening to sue if i don’t fire you,” he answered, with a sigh. “i’m letting you go, effective immediately. i’ll have your final check ready tomorrow.”

“yeah alright,” you clenched your jaw, turning to pick up the rest of your things off the desk. “i hope all of you pricks who just stood by and watched this woman get assaulted never have daughters!”

you left the gym with your head held high, but by the time you reached your shared apartment, reality hit hard. you were unemployed, with bills stacking up and a sense of failure settling in.

jeongyeon and dahyun, your housemates, were already home; slumped on the couch after a long day of security work.

you all met in university and from then on, you’d been stuck together. of course, the degrees you had didn’t line up with your careers now, nonetheless, you were all happy.

you think.

jeongyeon had a beer in hand, while dahyun was half-asleep, scrolling through her phone.

“hey,” you said quietly, dropping your bag by the door before shutting the door behind you.

“rough day?” jeongyeon asked, looking you up and down; hair disheveled and a huge rbf plastered on your face. she had a way of reading your mood with unnerving accuracy.

“i got fired,” you admitted with a heavy sigh, flopping onto the armchair as you ran your fingers through your hair.

dahyun perked up, suddenly alive. “no way,” she added, nearly falling over her own alertness. “what happened?”

you recounted the whole story; the boring shift, the spoiled boxers in the showers and the creep —each detail bringing a mix of disbelief and amusement to their faces.

“that sounds like a bitch of a day, but you punched him?” jeongyeon asked, eyes wide. “damn, y/n. i mean, that’s kind of badass, but also not great.”

“i know,” you sighed, running a hand through your hair. “but he deserved it.”

“well, it’s not like you were planning to stay there forever,” dahyun offered, trying to sound optimistic. “but we should find you something soon. rent’s due soon.”

“hmm,” you frowned, thinking about all the bills you had to catch up on. soon enough, you wouldn’t be able to afford a bottle of soju. “yeah, that was really impulsive of me.”

jeongyeon’s face lit up suddenly. “actually, i might have something. it’s not what you’re used to, but it’s really decent money.”

you raised an eyebrow. “what is it?”

“a security job,” she explained. “it’s temporary, six months. i was supposed to take it, but i just got offered a permanent managerial role at my current gig, so i can’t do both.”

“what’s the catch?” you asked, sensing a hesitation in her voice. “i know you’d be taking it if it was really good money.”

“it’s not a typical security job,” jeongyeon admitted. “you’d be a personal bodyguard, and i can’t do that shit, y’know? the background check is really tedious but i’d do it for the money.”

“okay, shut up,” dahyun leaned forward, intrigued. “who is this for?”

“minatozaki sana,” jeongyeon said, her tone dropping to a whisper, as if saying the name too loudly would summon the heiress herself.

you blinked, unsure if you heard correctly. “wait…the minatozaki sana? heiress sana?”

“yep,” jeongyeon confirmed, taking a sip of her beer. “the nepo baby herself. her old guard retired, and they need a temporary bodyguard ‘cause she can’t keep one for more than a year. i know it sounds crazy, but the pay is amazing, and it’s only for six months.”

the minatozaki family was a powerful family in asia; they had their names on everything — from the phones you use to the planes that you ride. they were the definition of old money; an empire of wealth and influence that seemed to operate on a different form of existence.

“you’re talking about the same sana who’s always on magazine covers, right?” dahyun added, her eyes wide with disbelief. “the one who throws tantrums over the wrong brand of mineral water?”

“and insists on separate dishes for every meal course,” jeongyeon nodded. “yeah, that’s her.”

you felt a mix of intrigue and apprehension. you’d read about sana in passing, her life a blur of extravagant parties, expensive vacations, and notorious diva behavior. she was everything you weren’t: loud, glamorous, and perpetually in the spotlight.

meanwhile, you preferred the quiet solace of modest living, your life small but safe.

“are you sure about this?” you asked, trying to gauge jeongyeon’s seriousness. “are you going to refer me instead?”

“as sure as i can be,” she replied. “i mean, it’s not ideal, but it’s a job. and who knows? maybe it won’t be as bad as it sounds, plus, they would probably want someone like you.”

“or maybe she’ll drive you insane within a week,” dahyun said, half-joking. “either way, it’ll make for some interesting stories.”

the weight of your decision was pressing down on you. you were hesitant, but with rent looming and no other prospects, you found yourself nodding. “okay. i’ll do it. for six months, that’s it.”

jeongyeon pursed her lips, nodding along. “six months and that’s it.”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

the minatozaki mansion loomed ahead, all marble pillars and glass windows, like something out of a luxury real estate magazine.

as you slowly walked up the driveway, a sense of unease settled in.

this was a world you’d never been a part of, and you felt distinctly out of place in your borrowed suit, the fabric slightly too stiff, the collar too tight.

“miss minatozaki awaits you,” a uniformed maid opened the door and led you through a maze of hallways, each more opulent than the last. no one seemed interested in talking to each other - their heads kept low.

finally, you were brought to a sunlit lounge, where minatozaki sana herself lounged on an oversized chaise, scrolling through her phone. she looked up as you entered, her expression one of bored curiosity.

“so, you’re the new bodyguard?” she asked, voice lilting and slightly mocking. her accent was a blend of japanese and english, perfectly polished.

“yes, ma’am,” you replied stiffly, feeling the heat of her gaze.

she waved a hand dismissively. “don’t call me that. it makes me sound old.”

“then…miss minatozaki?” you tried, unsure of the protocol.

“absolutely not,” she shook her head in disapproval.

“sana?”

“better,” she said, a smile tugging at her lips, but it wasn’t a kind smile; it was more like the satisfied grin of someone who had won an unspoken game.

as you stood there, you couldn’t help but think back to dahyun’s words. maybe she would drive you insane within a week. or maybe, you’d find a way to navigate this strange new world.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

the first week was a whirlwind of adjustments — both to the demands of the job and the peculiarities of sana.

as it turned out, being the bodyguard to asia’s most notorious nepo baby wasn’t just about keeping her physically safe. it was about managing her whims, tolerating her tantrums, and, on occasion, playing peacekeeper between her and whoever happened to be on her bad side that day.

it hasn’t even been long and you were already learning the hard way that her life was filled with chaos — both the glamorous and the outright ridiculous kind. today’s chaos revolved around a botched spa appointment.

you were in the staff room, sipping a much-needed coffee, when hana, one of the housemaids, burst in — looking panicked.

“y/n, we need you!” she exclaimed, almost out of breath.

you set down your cup, already feeling a headache coming on. “what’s going on?”

“sana,” she said urgently. “the spa messed up her facial treatment, and she’s…not taking it well.”

you hurried to the spa room in the mansion, where the unmistakable sound of sana’s angry voice could be heard before you even reached the door.

“are you kidding me?” she was shouting at the terrified spa technician. “this is not the organic serum i use! how could you get it wrong?”

“i’m so sorry, miss minatozaki,” the technician stammered, looking like she wanted to disappear. “there must have been a mix-up —”

“no excuses!” she snapped, her face flushed with anger. “i demand to speak to the manager who set this appointment up!”

you stepped in quickly, your presence catching sana’s attention. “hey, what’s going on?”

“what’s going on?” she repeated, her voice sharp as she turned to you. “they used the wrong serum on my face, y/n! do you know what that means?”

“i understand,” you said calmly, moving between her and the trembling technician. “but let’s not make a scene. i’m sure we can fix this.”

“fix this?” she scoffed, crossing her arms dramatically. “my skin is everything! this could ruin my whole week.”

“it won’t,” you reassured her. “let’s have them redo it properly. no harm done.”

she glared at you for a moment, as if deciding whether to keep throwing a fit or let you handle it.

finally, she sighed dramatically, waving her hand dismissively. “fine. but this better not happen again.”

the staff let out a collective sigh of relief as you guided sana back to the treatment chair, your calm presence diffusing the tension.

later, as you both left the spa room, she turned to you with a small, begrudging smile. “you’re not bad at calming me down, you know.”

“just doing my job,” you replied, but there was a hint of amusement in your voice.

you were used to keeping a low profile, slipping in and out of situations unnoticed. however, in sana’s world, invisibility wasn’t an option. you were always under scrutiny, whether from sana herself, her overbearing manager, or the hovering entourage of stylists, assistants, and PR personnel.

on the surface, she was everything you expected her to be. she was loud, glamorous, and seemed to find amusement in the smallest inconveniences.

one afternoon, while being driven to a photoshoot, sana’s driver took a wrong turn. she rolled her eyes dramatically, sighed, and declared it to be “the worst day of her life.”

“i’ve had worst,” you sat quietly in the front seat, staring out the window. you had lived through truly bad days; the kind that left lasting imprints on your mind. this wasn’t one of them.

for her, you guessed, the scale was different. the world revolved around her, bending to her every demand and adjusting to her moods.

“what’s your problem?” she asked suddenly, breaking the silence. her eyes narrowed, a challenge in them.

you blinked, caught off guard. “what do you mean?”

“you’re too quiet most of the time,” she said, as if it were a flaw. “it’s creepy.”

you wanted to laugh at the absurdity of it, but you kept your composure. “i’m here to do my job, not to entertain you.”

“boring,” she replied, drawing out the word. “but at least you’re not as fake as the last one.”

not knowing how to respond to that, you simply let the conversation die out. this, you realised, was part of the game: sana testing boundaries, seeing how far she could push before you pushed back.

she was used to getting reactions, usually adoration or frustration — your indifference seemed to both confuse and intrigue her.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

by the end of week three, the initial awkwardness had given way to a strange kind of rhythm. you followed her to meetings, fashion shows and charity galas, always a step behind, always alert.

it was a bright monday morning and the mansion staff was already bustling to get sana’s breakfast ready. everything was going smoothly until someone made the unforgivable mistake of serving the wrong brand of mineral water.

“this isn’t evian!” she exclaimed, her voice echoing through the dining hall. she stared at the glass of water as if it were an insult. “who drinks this brand?”

the staff exchanged nervous glances, unsure of how to handle the sudden outburst. within moments, one of the maids, jisoo, hurried to find you.

“y/n-ssi, sana needs you in the dining room,” she said urgently.

“what’s it this time?” you asked, already half-knowing the answer.

“the wrong water brand,” she replied apologetically, bowing her head down.

you sighed but made your way to the dining room, where sana was sitting with her arms crossed, her breakfast untouched.

“what’s the problem?” you asked gently, keeping your tone steady.

“the problem,” she said with exaggerated patience, “is that they gave me the wrong water. how many times do i have to tell them that i only drink evian?”

“i’ll get them to bring the right one,” you said, trying not to smile at the absurdity. “just try to eat something in the meantime.”

she looked at you, her eyes narrowing. “you think this is funny?”

“a little,” you admitted. “but i get it. i wouldn’t want to drink bad water either.”

her lips twitched, as if she wanted to smile but was still too annoyed. “you’re impossible.”

“and you’re thirsty,” you shot back, already signaling for the staff to bring the evian out. “let’s fix that.”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

most of the time, sana ignored you, lost in her world of luxury and fame. sometimes, in the quieter moments, like when she was waiting for a shoot to start, or when her hair was being styled, she would glance at you with a curious expression, as if trying to figure you out — and always, always made sure you were being looked after by the same staff with the same level of care.

“what do you do for fun?” she asked one afternoon, her voice sudden and clear.

“i read,” you answered, not seeing the harm in a little honesty.

she wrinkled her nose. “that’s it? no parties, no dating, nothing?”

“that’s it,” you confirmed. “i like books, sometimes i’ll binge a show or two.”

“how boring,” she said, but there was no malice in her voice this time — only mild amusement. “any girlfriends?”

“nope,” you answered, popping the ‘p’. “if i did, i wouldn’t be working for you 24/7, wouldn’t i?”

“wow, that’s really boring.”

you shrugged. “not everything has to be exciting.”

“but it should be,” she insisted, as if it were a fundamental truth. “life’s too short to be dull.”

you didn’t argue. after all, you knew she was partly right. she’d been raised in a world where everything was larger-than-life; where even the smallest moments were amplified, staged for the cameras and curated for maximum impact.

in contrast, your own life had been marked by quiet corners, long evenings with your friends and the occasional attempt at writing your own poetry, which you never let anyone read.

on the nights you returned home, dahyun and jeongyeon were eager to hear about your day. they had their own security stories to tell, mostly about rowdy bar patrons or obnoxious celebrity guests, but nothing quite as surreal as your new job.

“so, what’s she really like?” dahyun asked one evening, as she stirred a pot of ramen on the stove. “i mean, we know the public persona, but what’s behind all that?”

“more or less the same,” you said, leaning back in your chair. “she’s demanding, spoiled, and out of touch. though there are moments when she’s different.”

“different how?” jeongyeon chimed in, looking curious.

“it’s hard to explain,” you admitted. “it’s like she has these flashes of being real, but they’re gone as soon as they appear.”

jeongyeon grinned. “sounds like you’re getting to know her.”

“not really,” you said quickly. “i’m just observing.”

“sure,” dahyun teased, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “next thing we know, you’ll be taking selfies with her.”

“over my dead body,” you shot back, but you couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at your lips.

meanwhile, sana continued to navigate her world of excess with ease, but there were cracks in the facade. sometimes, late at night, you would catch glimpses of vulnerability — when she thought no one was watching…except that you were.

one night, after a particularly grueling day of photoshoots and meetings, you found her sitting alone on a balcony, nursing a glass of champagne.

“you know, it’s not always fun being me,” she said, her voice unusually soft, her fingers grazing over the bottle of champagne in her hand.

you hesitated, unsure if she wanted a response or was simply venting.

“i may have it all, but what’s the point of it when no one wants to get close? this world is all about money and lasting impressions.

you had no words of comfort. you barely knew her beyond the surface, and yet, in that moment, you felt a pang of empathy. you wondered if she had ever truly been allowed to be herself, or if she had always been the carefully crafted image of minatozaki holdings’ heir apparent.

“i guess that’s why you have bodyguards,” you said eventually with a grin, trying to keep the mood light. “to protect you from all that.”

she turned to look at you, a small, tired smile on her lips. “maybe. or maybe it’s just to make me feel less alone.”

you weren’t sure what to say to that, so you simply stood there, a silent companion in the middle of a life that seemed to belong to someone else.

the next night, there was a high-profile art exhibit and sana was expected to make an appearance alongside other high-society figures. as you both arrived at the gallery, everything seemed to be going well, until sana noticed that her name was misspelled on the VIP list.

“are you kidding me?” she fumed, her voice dangerously low. “they misspelled my name. do they know who i am?”

the event coordinator tried to apologise, but sana was having none of it. “this is unacceptable. i can’t believe they’d be so careless.”

her stylist, jenna, now in full panic mode, hurried to find you standing at the back. “y/n, can you please handle this?”

you approached sana calmly, sensing the anger bubbling beneath her composed exterior. “sana, let’s not let this ruin the night. we can get it fixed quietly.”

“it’s not about fixing it,” she snapped, her frustration clear. “it’s about respect.”

“and you’ll get it,” you promised, your tone firm. “but the best way to show them who you are is to stay calm and let them correct their mistake.”

she glared at you, her anger giving way to something more vulnerable — hurt, perhaps, at being overlooked in a world that was supposed to revolve around her.

“fine,” she muttered, her shoulders relaxing slightly. “but only because you asked.”

later that night, as you escorted her out of the event, she looked up at you with a mix of gratitude and frustration.

“you’re too good at calming me down,” she said begrudgingly.

“someone has to be,” you teased gently, and for once, she laughed; a genuine, light-hearted sound that hinted at the girl underneath it all.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

days turned into two months and your dynamic with sana continued to evolve in unexpected ways. her diva-like antics had become more tolerable, even endearing at times. she still had moments of complete absurdity, like insisting on a private helicopter ride to a nearby island simply because she felt like having lunch there, but there were also nights when you’d find yourself sitting on her penthouse balcony, sharing quiet conversations under the stars.

“sana, here!” a photographer yelled as you opened the car door for her.

tonight’s event was a high-profile film premiere, and sana was one of the celebrity guests on the red carpet. everything had been meticulously planned — her outfit, her makeup, her entrance.

as soon as she stepped out of the car, a sudden gust of wind caught the edge of her dress, sending it fluttering up slightly.

“are you kidding me?” she muttered under her breath, trying to keep her composure as cameras flashed around her.

you were right behind her, keeping a close eye on her mood. you could tell that the minor mishap had thrown her off, and she was struggling to maintain her usual poise.

“it’s fine,” you whispered as you walked beside her. “no one noticed.”

“they definitely noticed,” she hissed back, her smile for the cameras clearly forced. “this is a disaster.”

“it’s just wind,” you reminded her softly. “you look stunning.”

“you’re just saying that,” she muttered, her voice a mix of annoyance and insecurity.

“no, i’m not,” you insisted, giving her a reassuring look. “you’re the most beautiful person here, wind or no wind.”

she glanced at you, and for a moment, the irritation faded. “you’re impossible.”

“you keep saying that,” you replied, your tone teasing.

she shook her head, a small smile tugging at her lips despite her efforts to stay angry. “only because it’s true.”

changes in sana’s behaviour had become noticeable — and everyone knew it was your presence.

“where’s y/n?” sana asked one morning, her voice carrying through the hallways of her childhood residence. it had become a common question, asked whenever you weren’t within her immediate line of sight.

her assistants and staff had grown used to it, merely pointing her in your direction, a small smile tugging at their lips; there was no denying that she was a lot softer, more patient with you around.

“i think she went to grab a coffee with the night shift guys before they leave,” one of her managers responded. “how are you feeling?”

“oh,” she frowned, but quickly replaced it with a smile. “i’m feeling great today, i hope you all are too.”

“thank you, miss minatozaki.”

you had just returned from a quick break, a coffee cup in hand, when she spotted you walking into the kitchen. her face lit up, a small grin breaking through her usual poised expression.

“there you are,” she said, a hint of relief in her voice.

“did you need something?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

“no,” she admitted, her cheeks tinged with a faint blush. “just…wanted to see you.”

you nodded, your heart skipping a beat. the walls between you were slowly crumbling, leaving room for something tender and unexpected.

it was a quiet afternoon at the minatozaki residence. sana had accidentally fallen asleep after a long day of back-to-back meetings, photoshoots, and a few tense exchanges with her father over business decisions. you had stayed by her side the whole time, making sure she was protected and reassured. now that she was resting, you found yourself with a rare moment of downtime.

you wandered into the staff room once again, feeling a bit out of place but also grateful for the sense of normalcy it offered. the room was simple and far removed from the extravagance of the rest of the mansion.

it was filled with a few worn couches, a small coffee table, and a kitchenette. it was also where the house staff gathered for breaks, catching up on each other’s lives away from the opulent chaos of the minatozaki household.

today, the usual group was there: hana and misaki, the long-time japanese housemaids; jisoo, the young korean maid who had joined only recently; and hyunwoo and takashi, two of the security guards who had worked at the estate for years.

they looked up when you entered, surprised but pleased to see you.

“y/n-ssi,” jisoo greeted with a warm smile, her accent familiar in its korean softness. “come, sit with us.”

“thanks,” you said, taking a seat beside hana, who immediately poured you a cup of tea from the thermos on the table.

“tough day?” hana asked, her voice gentle, her eyes full of sympathy.

you nodded, taking a sip of the tea. “you could say that. she’s exhausted.”

“no wonder,” misaki chimed in, shaking her head. “sana works harder than anyone gives her credit for.”

“true,” hyunwoo agreed, his expression serious. “people only see the glamorous side of her life. they don’t realise how demanding it all is.”

“but it’s different now,” takashi added, his tone thoughtful as he eyed you. “since you arrived, y/n-san. she was devastated when taehyuk retired.”

“different how?” you asked, genuinely curious.

“she’s softer,” jisoo said, a knowing smile playing at her lips. “more human, if that makes sense. she still has her tantrums, but it’s clear she’s trying to be…better. specially around you.”

you shifted uncomfortably, unsure how to respond. “i’m just doing my job.”

“it’s more than that,” misaki said with a gentle laugh. “sana isn’t just being professional with you. we’ve seen it. she’s happier when you’re around.”

“happier?” you echoed, feeling your heart skip a beat.

“yes,” hyunwoo confirmed. “it’s obvious to all of us. she looks for you in every room, always wants you nearby and is calmer when you’re there. she even listens to you and asks for your opinions, something she rarely does with anyone else.”

“and the way she watches you,” jisoo added with a teasing grin. “it’s like she’s in a romantic drama. sometimes, i wonder if i’ll walk in on a confession scene.”

the group chuckled at jisoo’s remark, but you felt a wave of emotion you couldn’t quite suppress. you had noticed these things too, the way sana’s eyes softened when she looked at you, the way she seemed to lean into your presence as if it brought her some kind of comfort.

“we’ve known sana since she was a child,” hana said quietly, her tone turning serious. “and i don’t think i’ve ever seen her this vulnerable before. she cares about you deeply, y/n.”

“it’s not just her,” takashi added, his voice low but sincere. “we all like having you here. you’ve brought a different energy to this place. one that’s been missing for a long time.”

“i don’t know if i’m doing the right thing,” you admitted, finally letting your own insecurities slip through. “sometimes, i think i’m just making things harder for her.”

“or maybe you’re the one making things easier,” jisoo said softly. “it’s clear she needs you, even if she doesn’t always say it.”

the room fell into a comfortable silence after that, the weight of unspoken truths hanging in the air. you were grateful for the staff’s warmth and honesty, even if it complicated your feelings further.

as you finished your tea, you felt a strange sense of belonging; a feeling you hadn’t expected to find in the mansion’s staff room. you weren’t just the hired help anymore, you were someone who mattered, not just to sana, but to the people who had cared for her all these years.

however, not all moments were sweet. the intensity of being in the public eye meant that danger often lurked around the corner, specially in the form of aggressive paparazzi. they were relentless, always waiting for an opportunity to capture the heiress in vulnerable moments.

one night, as you and sana were leaving a high-profile fashion event, a group of photographers closed in, their cameras flashing incessantly. the air was thick with shouts, and the energy was hostile; an unwelcome reminder of her reality.

“sana, over here!” one yelled, his voice sharp.

“how about a smile, princess?” another taunted, his tone mocking.

you instinctively positioned yourself between sana and the crowd, your body acting as a barrier. she clutched your arm, her grip tight, her usually confident demeanor wavering.

“back off,” you commanded firmly, trying to maintain a calm but authoritative presence.

“aww, look at this,” one of the paparazzi sneered, his camera focused on you. “the bodyguard’s playing hero now.”

his comment sparked laughter among the other photographers, and you felt a surge of anger rise within you. you had learned to tune out the taunts over the months, but something about the tone, about how he was reducing your efforts to a joke, struck a nerve.

“she doesn’t need you,” he continued, his grin malicious. “you’re just another expendable employee.”

you stepped closer, your voice low but full of controlled fury. “say that again, and we’ll see how expendable i really am.”

the crowd grew tense, sensing a confrontation, but your tone and stance made it clear that you were not to be trifled with. the photographer hesitated, his bravado faltering.

“come on, let’s go,” another paparazzo muttered, nudging him away. “this one’s not worth it.”

they backed off, but the tension lingered in the air, the aftermath of the encounter still palpable.

sana tugged at your sleeve gently, her voice shaky. “are you okay?”

“i’m fine,” you said, still glaring at the retreating photographers. “what about you?”

“i hate them,” she whispered, her face crumpling slightly as she let her guard down. “i hate how they always want a piece of me.”

her vulnerability hit you hard, and without thinking, you reached out to touch her arm gently. “i know. but i won’t let them hurt you. not while i’m here.”

she looked up at you, her eyes saying it all. it was one of the few times you’d seen her without her usual armour and the rawness of her emotion was both heartbreaking and intimate.

“thank you,” she said, her voice barely audible over the din of the still-chattering crowd. “for always being here.”

“always,” you promised, feeling a rush of warmth despite the chaos around you.

that night, back at her residence, sana was unusually quiet. she seemed lost in thought, her mind replaying the day’s events. you were about to head out home for the night shift guards to take over when she called your name softly.

“y/n?” you turned around, the impacts of today etched on your face.

“yeah?”

“you keep me going,” she smiled, voice really sincere this time. “i mean it.”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

the third month with sana marked a distinct shift in the atmosphere between you two. it was a subtle change at first — small glances lingering a bit longer, her voice softening when she spoke to you and an almost childlike curiosity about your life. it was as if she had decided that you were no longer just a bodyguard, but someone she could confide in.

one of those nights, she broke the silence with a surprising question.

“what’s the most romantic thing you’ve ever read?” she asked, her voice a mix of genuine curiosity and something softer.

you thought for a moment, trying to sift through the endless lines of poetry and philosophy you’d absorbed over the years. finally, you recited from memory, “i have waited for you for centuries. my arms were made to cradle only you. my lips were shaped to call only your name.”

sana was silent for a moment, her eyes wide. “that’s…beautiful.”

“it’s from a poem by pablo neruda,” you explained, feeling a bit self-conscious.

“you’re such a hopeless romantic,” she teased, but her tone was warm, almost tender.

“maybe,” you admitted. “but it’s just words, you know?”

“sometimes words are all we have,” she said quietly, her gaze distant.

the conversation lingered in your mind long after that night. there was a depth to sana that she rarely let anyone see, but she was beginning to let you in; piece by piece, word by word.

meanwhile, back at your shared apartment, jeongyeon and dahyun found endless amusement in the stories you brought home about sana’s escapades. they’d often sit around the small kitchen table, laughing over dinner.

“so, she really made you carry fifteen shopping bags all by yourself?” dahyun asked one night, her eyes wide with disbelief.

you nodded, trying to keep a straight face. “yup. and she didn’t even look back to check if i was struggling.”

jeongyeon snorted. “sounds like a real princess.”

“she is,” you admitted, though there was no bite in your words anymore, not after getting to see a soft side of her.

at the end of it all, sana wasn’t the stupid nepo baby you always thought she was. since you met, she has hosted five charity events, donated most of her earnings to at least ten different organisations and it wasn’t easy to outsmart her.

it was during one of these dinners that your other friends jihyo, momo and mina showed up unexpectedly with homemade food and cheap bottles of wine.

“you look…happier,” jihyo observed, a small smile playing on her lips. “is it the job?”

“maybe,” you replied, trying to sound nonchalant. “it’s not as bad as i thought it would be.”

momo, who had a knack for teasing, leaned forward with a grin. “or maybe it’s the client?”

mina, quieter but no less curious, raised an eyebrow. “minatozaki sana, right? she’s pretty famous.”

“and pretty spoiled,” you added, but there was a hint of fondness in your voice that didn’t go unnoticed.

“oh my god, you like her,” jihyo exclaimed, her eyes lighting up with excitement. “you’ve got that look in your eyes!”

“i do not,” you protested weakly, but your friends weren’t convinced.

“yeah, right,” dahyun laughed. “you totally have a crush on her.”

jeongyeon poured a shot of soju into your glass, chuckling. “you should all hear the way she talks about sana — it’s like the heiress is glued to her hip. she does fourteen-hour shifts with her.”

“okay, fine,” you admitted reluctantly. “she’s… interesting. but it’s complicated.”

“of course it is,” mina said, her tone understanding. “complicated can be good.”

the truth was, you were genuinely enjoying the job, or at least, you were enjoying being around sana. the lines between professionalism and personal feelings had blurred, and you found yourself wanting to spend more time with her, not just out of duty but out of genuine interest.

one evening, as you were preparing to leave sana’s penthouse after a long day, she stopped you at the door with an unexpected request.

“i want to meet your friends,” she said, her tone unusually earnest.

you blinked, caught off guard. “why?”

she looked a bit embarrassed, which was rare for her. “i don’t know. i just want to know more about you. the real you.”

it was a surprising moment of vulnerability from someone who usually kept her walls firmly intact.

after a moment of hesitation, you agreed. “okay, but you should know, our house looks completely different to this.”

“even better,” she smiled.

a week later, you invited sana over for dinner at your apartment. your housemates freaked out, with dahyun saying “she can’t believe this shit” and jeongyeon yelling “our house will suffocate her”, she arrived a bit too early, dressed in obvious designer clothes (she tried to make it subtle) that seemed hilariously out of place in your modest home.

the living room fell into a stunned silence as you led sana inside. she handed you flowers and wine, a small, almost shy gesture that seemed completely at odds with her usual confident demeanor.

“hi?” jeongyeon said, her eyes wide. “it’s nice to meet you!”

“i thought it was time to meet y/n’s friends properly,” sana explained, her voice earnest. “i hope i’m not intruding.”

“not at all,” dahyun interrupted quickly, breaking the awkwardness with a smile. “we’re just surprised, that’s all.”

“a pleasant surprise,” jeongyeon added warmly, recovering from the initial shock. “welcome.”

“thank you,” sana said, her smile growing more genuine. “i brought wine, if that helps.”

“it always does,” you quipped, making everyone laugh.

as the evening progressed, sana was unexpectedly charming. she asked questions, listened attentively and made a real effort to get to know each of your friends. it was clear she was trying to fit in, and there was an endearing awkwardness about it — like she was stepping into a world she didn’t quite understand, but was determined to navigate anyway.

“so, y/n never told me you’re such a good cook,” sana said to dahyun as she tasted the jjigae. “this is amazing.”

“thanks,” dahyun replied, clearly pleased. “y/n’s usually in charge of burning the rice, so i have to take over.”

“i don’t burn the rice that often,” you protested, but your grin gave you away.

“oh, really?” sana teased, her eyes twinkling. “i’ll have to try your cooking next time, then.”

the table erupted in laughter, and you felt a warmth in your chest; one that came from seeing sana blend so naturally into your world.

moments later, jeongyeon leaned forward, her expression curious. “so sana, what’s it like being…well, you? all the glamour, the attention, the pressure?”

she thought for a moment, her expression turning serious. “honestly? it’s exhausting sometimes. but being here, with all of you, feels normal. and that’s something i don’t get often.”

the sincerity in her voice struck a chord with everyone, and the atmosphere softened even further.

“well, we’re glad you’re here,” dahyun said warmly. “you’re welcome anytime.”

“thank you,” sana smiled, her gaze drifting toward you. “i really appreciate it.”

as dinner wound down and the plates piled up, everyone started to get up to clear the table. sana, to everyone’s surprise, rolled up her sleeves and headed straight for the sink.

“what are you doing?” you asked, voice filled with genuine disbelief.

“helping with the dishes,” sana replied matter-of-factly. “is that okay?”

dahyun, who had been about to start washing, handed sana a dishcloth. “here, you can dry. but don’t tell anyone, or we’ll lose our reputations as the best dishwashers in seoul.”

she laughed, taking the cloth. “your secret’s safe with me.”

as they stood side by side at the sink, sana and dahyun exchanged stories; simple things about childhood, favourite foods and embarrassing moments. you watched from the living room, feeling a mix of admiration and affection as she genuinely tried to fit into the mundane domesticity of your world.

“she’s really trying, isn’t she?” jeongyeon whispered to you, her tone a mix of surprise and amusement.

“yeah,” you said softly, your eyes never leaving sana’s figure. “she is.”

and as you watched her, sleeves rolled up, drying dishes with a cheerful smile, you felt the hope you’d been suppressing slowly come back to life.

tonight was a quiet evening at her penthouse, the kind that was rare amidst the chaos of her schedule. she was sitting on the balcony, staring out at the city lights, a bottle of wine in hand. she had insisted on drinking straight from the bottle, much to the shock of her staff, but she sent them off, saying it was a “casual night.”

you joined her, taking a seat beside her on the wrought-iron chair. she offered you the bottle, a faint smile on her lips.

“want some?” she asked.

you hesitated, then took a small sip, surprised at how intimate the moment felt.

“i used to come out here a lot not too long ago,” she said suddenly, her voice softer than usual. “it was the only place where i could really think.”

“about what?” you asked, curious.

“everything,” she admitted, her gaze distant. “what it means to be me, about whether i even like who i am.”

“and do you?” you asked quietly, not sure if she’d want to answer.

“sometimes,” she said honestly. “but mostly, it feels like i’m just playing a role. being the perfect daughter, the perfect heiress…it’s exhausting.”

“you don’t have to be perfect,” you said gently. “not with me.”

she turned to look at you, her eyes filled with something you couldn’t quite identify. “you always say things like that,” she whispered. “and it scares me how much i want to believe you.”

the rawness of her confession left you momentarily speechless. you reached out, your hand resting on top of hers.

“i mean it,” you said sincerely. “you’re allowed to be real, sana. even if it’s messy.”

for a moment, she simply stared at you, her eyes shining with unshed tears. then, in a rare display of vulnerability, she squeezed your hand, holding onto it as if it was the only thing keeping her grounded.

it was a good night, one that almost felt normal; like you were two regular people.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

by the start of the fourth month, the line between you and sana had blurred in ways that neither of you acknowledged out loud. it wasn’t just that you had become accustomed to each other’s presence; there was a deeper pull, an unspoken connection that had grown stronger despite your best efforts to maintain a professional distance.

tonight was no exception. it was another high-profile fashion event for prada, filled with celebrities, influencers and models who glided through the room as if they owned the world.

you stood a few paces behind sana, keeping a watchful eye on the crowded room. she was in her element, surrounded by admirers, her confident smile perfectly polished. you tried to focus on your duties but it was hard not to be distracted by how striking she looked tonight — her black dress hugging her figure, her hair swept back elegantly, a diamond necklace catching the light with every turn of her head.

you were pulled from your thoughts when a blonde woman approached you, a mischievous smile playing on her lips. she was dressed in an expensive dress and exuded the kind of effortless confidence that could make anyone feel self-conscious.

“hey,” she said smoothly, her voice low and flirtatious. “you don’t seem like you’re here for the fashion.”

you offered a polite smile, trying to remain professional. “i’m working.”

“i figured,” she replied, stepping closer. “but even bodyguards deserve a little fun, don’t you think?”

you glanced over at sana instinctively, but she was engaged in conversation with a group of designers. for a moment, you hesitated, unsure of how to respond to the model’s advances without drawing unnecessary attention.

“i’m not really here for fun,” you said finally, keeping your tone light but firm.

“that’s a shame,” she teased, her eyes glinting. “because you seem like someone who could use a little distraction.”

before you could respond, you caught sight of sana’s gaze shifting toward you, her smile faltering for a split second as she noticed the exchange.

there was a flicker of something in her eyes.

you quickly excused yourself from the model’s advances and returned to your position behind sana. she didn’t say anything, but you could feel a subtle shift in her demeanour — her posture a bit more rigid, her laughter a bit forced.

“everything okay?” you asked quietly when there was a brief lull in the conversation.

“fine,” she replied shortly, not meeting your gaze.

you couldn’t shake the feeling that something had changed. the rest of the event dragged on, with sana becoming increasingly quiet, her usual spark dimming noticeably.

when the event finally ended and you both stepped into the back of the limousine, the silence was thick and uncomfortable. sana stared out the window, her expression closed off, her fingers fidgeting with the hem of her dress.

you glanced at her, unsure of how to break the tension. “are you sure you’re okay?”

“why wouldn’t i be?” she asked, her voice clipped.

“you seem different,” you said, choosing your words carefully.

“just tired,” she muttered, still avoiding your eyes. “that’s all.”

the drive back to the penthouse was filled with an uneasy quiet, each passing second amplifying the unspoken tension between you. it was clear that something was bothering her, but you didn’t press further, respecting her space.

when you arrived at the penthouse, she stepped out of the car abruptly, her heels clicking sharply against the marble floor as she walked ahead without a word. you followed her inside, unsure of what to expect.

as soon as the door closed behind you, the tension in the room became almost suffocating. sana stopped in the middle of the living room, her back to you, her shoulders tense.

“was she pretty?” she asked suddenly, her voice laced with an unexpected bitterness.

“what?” you asked, confused.

“the model,” she clarified, turning to face you. “did you think she was pretty?”

her words caught you off guard. you weren’t sure how to respond.

“i wasn’t really paying attention,” you said honestly, your voice steady. “i was just doing my job.”

“right,” she said, her tone sarcastic. “because flirting is definitely part of your job description.”

“i wasn’t flirting,” you insisted, trying to keep your voice calm. “she was.”

“and you didn’t stop her,” she shot back, her eyes flashing with frustration.

you took a step closer, trying to bridge the distance between you. “sana, what’s really going on here?”

“what’s going on,” she said, her voice cracking slightly, “is that i hated seeing her talk to you. i hated seeing her try to get your attention.”

the admission hung in the air between you, charged with an intensity that neither of you could ignore.

“why?” you asked softly, taking another step closer.

“because,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “because i don’t want to share you with anyone else.”

her words were filled with a desperation that was impossible to misunderstand. she closed the remaining distance between you in a sudden, impulsive movement, her eyes wide and filled with a mix of fear and longing.

“sana…” you started, but she shook her head.

“no,” she said firmly, her hand reaching up to gently cup your cheek. “i need to know something.”

“what?” you asked, your voice low and filled with uncertainty.

“if you want this too,” she whispered, her thumb brushing against your skin. “because i can’t keep pretending that i don’t.”

her confession was raw, filled with months of suppressed desire and longing. you could feel the warmth of her touch, the intensity in her eyes, and the vulnerability in her voice.

“i do,” you admitted, your own voice thick with emotion. “i want this.”

there was a moment of hesitation, a pause filled with the weight of everything that had brought you to this point. then, in a rush of courage, she closed the gap between you, pressing her lips to yours in a kiss that was both tender and urgent.

what started as a tentative kiss soon turned into something more urgent, fueled by the months of unresolved tension. her lips were demanding, her touch insistent, and you found yourself giving in despite every rational thought screaming at you to stop. this was wrong: unprofessional, dangerous even — but it was also everything you hadn’t realised you’d been missing.

“sana —“

“don’t think,” she murmured against your skin, her fingers tracing the outline of your jaw. “just be here. with me.”

when you finally pulled away, both of you were breathless, your foreheads resting against each other.

“i didn’t plan that,” she admitted, her voice a mix of relief and disbelief.

“i’m glad you did it anyway,” you whispered, your heart pounding.

she let out a shaky laugh, her fingers still tracing the curve of your jaw. “stay tonight,” she said softly, her eyes filled with hope.

“okay,” you agreed, your voice filled with certainty. that was the first of many nights.

little did you know, jeongyeon and dahyun were becoming suspicious. they noticed your late returns, the occasional dazed expression on your face, and the fact that you seemed more distracted than usual.

“you’re definitely hiding something,” jeongyeon said one evening, her tone half-accusing, half-amused.

“what’s going on, y/n?” dahyun pressed. “come on, you can tell us.”

“nothing’s going on,” you lied, a bit too quickly.

jeongyeon narrowed her eyes. “if it’s about sana, we already know she’s a handful. but if she’s causing you real trouble, we need to know.”

“it’s not like that,” you insisted, feeling the weight of your secret grow heavier. “it’s too complicated.”

and it was. the more you tried to keep your relationship with sana under wraps, the more tangled it became. the sneaking around, the hushed conversations, the stolen kisses — they all added up to a mess of feelings you hadn’t anticipated.

it was meant to be a routine public appearance for sana — just another glamorous event on her packed schedule. this time, it was a charity auction at one of seoul’s most upscale hotels, where wealthy socialites and influential business figures gathered to bid on overpriced art and sip vintage champagne.

you stood a few feet behind her, your gaze scanning the room with practiced caution. the past few months had sharpened your instincts; you were constantly on alert, even when sana’s attention was elsewhere.

sana, for her part, was in her element, dressed in a backless red gown that turned heads as she moved through the crowd. she was charming and magnetic, playing her role to perfection. she even shot you a few mischievous glances, as if enjoying the private joke of your secret closeness amidst all the extravagance.

then, out of the corner of your eye, you noticed a man approaching: his movements too quick, too direct. before you could react, he lunged toward sana, his voice an incoherent mix of anger and desperation.

“you think no one can have you?” he yelled, his eyes wild. “if i can’t have you then no one can!”

instinct took over. you stepped forward, positioning yourself between the man and sana, your body acting as a shield. his fist swung wildly, and before you could fully brace for it, his knuckles connected with your face. pain exploded across your nose, and you stumbled back, your vision blurring momentarily.

“y/n!” sana’s scream cut through the chaos, high-pitched and terrified.

you quickly recovered, holding your ground as security personnel rushed in to restrain the man. your nose throbbed, and when you touched it, you felt the warm, sticky wetness of blood.

“are you okay?” her voice was frantic as she reached you, her hands trembling as they hovered near your face.

“i’m fine,” you managed to say, though the pain was sharp and your pride was bruised. “just a scratch.”

“that’s not a scratch,” she snapped, her voice full of uncharacteristic worry. “you’re bleeding. we need to get you checked.”

“it’s nothing serious,” you insisted, trying to play it down, but the look on her face was one of genuine panic.

“i’m not taking no for an answer,” she said firmly, her hand gripping your arm. “you’re taking a week off. and that’s final.”

before you could argue, she was already barking orders to her assistant to arrange for medical help and a car back to your residence. her concern was startling; it wasn’t the spoiled diva you’d grown used to, but someone genuinely rattled by your injury.

after you got the clearance from a site medic, sana immediately jumped into the car with you — face still etched with worry.

“you were bleeding,” she said, her voice breaking slightly. she reached out, her fingers brushing your cheek with a tenderness that caught you off guard. “i was scared.”

“it’s not that bad,” you insisted, smiling at her as you looked down on the blood all over your collar.

“this is all my fault,” she muttered, her voice filled with guilt. “if i hadn’t gone out —”

“no,” you interrupted firmly, grabbing her hand. “this isn’t your fault. it’s just part of the job.”

before she could respond, one of her managers turned to look at you both, looking frazzled and concerned. “sana, we have to leave in a different car now. there’s an urgent board meeting you can’t miss. it’s already started.”

sana’s face shifted from worry to irritation, her eyes blazing with frustration. “i’m not leaving y/n like this.”

“but sana —” junwoo began, his tone urgent.

“i don’t care,” she snapped, her voice carrying an edge you rarely heard. “she’s hurt. i’m not just abandoning her.”

you squeezed her hand, trying to stay calm despite the pain and the intensity of the moment. “sana, you have to go. this meeting is important.”

“you’re more important,” she said firmly, her eyes never leaving yours.

“i’ll be okay,” you reassured her, your voice soft but steady. “i promise. i’ll get patched up and meet you at the residence or the penthouse later.”

she hesitated, clearly torn between her duty and her concern for you. “but what if you need me? what if something happens?”

“nothing’s going to happen,” you said, your grip on her hand tightening. “you have to go. they need you right now.”

her eyes filled with tears, her jaw set in a mixture of stubbornness and helplessness. “i don’t want to leave you.”

“i know,” you whispered. “but i need you to go, please?”

for a long moment, she just stared at you, her face a mask of conflicting emotions. then, with a shaky breath, she nodded. “fine, but promise me you’ll message me later. i want to see for myself that you’re okay.”

“i promise,” you said, trying to inject confidence into your voice despite the pain.

she leaned forward suddenly, pressing a quick, desperate kiss to your forehead as a sleek silver car parked next to the one you were in. “i’ll be back as soon as i can, see you, baby!”

you waved at her, the throbbing pain spread out all over your face being replaced by your skipping heart beat. baby. you could get used to it.

half an hour later, back at your apartment, jeongyeon and dahyun were waiting with ice packs and a bottle of whiskey — ready to commiserate.

dahyun immediately clicked into nurse mode, cleaning your cut while jeongyeon shook her head, half-amused and half-worried.

“you really took one for the team, huh?” jeongyeon teased, though her eyes were soft with concern.

“it was my job,” you said, wincing as dahyun applied pressure to stop the bleeding.

“well, she better appreciate it,” mina muttered. “because that guy landed a pretty solid punch with his rings on too.”

you were trying to downplay the whole incident, but a knock at the door interrupted your attempts at nonchalance. it was unexpected, no one ever dropped by unannounced.

you shared a confused glance with your roommates before jeongyeon went to open the door.

“what the —” jeongyeon’s surprised voice echoed from the entryway.

when you peeked around the corner, you saw sana standing there, holding an enormous gift basket filled with flowers, chocolates, and other expensive-looking items. behind her stood tzuyu, chaeyoung, and nayeon, each carrying bags of what looked like more gifts.

“we’re here to see y/n,” sana announced, her tone a strange mix of confidence and nervousness.

you froze. this was the last thing you’d expected — not just sana’s sudden appearance, but the fact that she’d brought her high-society friends to your modest apartment.

“uh, come in, i guess,” jeongyeon said awkwardly, stepping aside to let them in.

as soon as sana saw you, her expression softened. she rushed over, setting the basket on the table before gently cupping your face, inspecting the damage.

“are you okay?” she asked, her voice low and filled with concern. “i only showed up to the meeting to sign papers and then left.”

“it’s just a bruise,” you reassured her, feeling self-conscious under everyone’s gaze. “you didn’t have to come here straight away.”

“yes, i did,” she insisted. “and i brought reinforcements,” she gestured toward tzuyu, chaeyoung and nayeon, who were now trying to make themselves comfortable amidst the clutter of your shared living space.

“we heard y/n got hurt,” tzuyu said simply, her usually aloof expression softening.

“yeah, and sana was freaking out,” nayeon added with a grin, nudging sana’s shoulder playfully. “she made us come along to make sure she wasn’t exaggerating, and of course, to carry her bags around.”

chaeyoung, meanwhile, looked around with interest. “this place is cozy. it’s a lot more…real than i expected.”

“thanks, i think,” dahyun said, still processing the fact that she was suddenly hosting four of asia’s wealthiest heirs in her living room. “so, uh, anyone want some ramen?”

“we brought food,” sana interjected quickly, motioning to the bags her friends had carried in. “i figured you wouldn’t want to cook after everything.”

before long, the table was filled with takeout boxes, a mix of high-end sushi, tempura and even a few bottles of sake. the atmosphere gradually eased into a strange, unexpected bond.

tzuyu, chaeyoung, and nayeon proved to be surprisingly down-to-earth despite what the tabloids say, laughing at jeongyeon and dahyun’s stories about dealing with unruly celebrities and bar crowd.

“not gonna lie,” tzuyu said, looking around playfully. “i’ve been one of those uncontrollable patrons.”

“oh, you have,” dahyun smirked, crossing her arms. “met gala, last year, vomit.”

“oh my god,” she put a hand over her mouth with careful exaggeration. “no way, it was you?”

“you sure as hell are lucky it wasn’t jeongyeon!”

throughout dinner, sana stayed close to you —closer than she’d ever dared to in public. she held your hand under the table, her thumb absentmindedly tracing circles on your skin. she even pressed a soft kiss to your forehead at one point, eliciting a few curious glances from your friends, who pretended not to notice.

“so, y/n,” nayeon began, a sly smile on her face. “how’s it been, working with sana? she’s not too much of a diva, is she?”

“she’s been fine,” you answered diplomatically, though the warmth in your voice was hard to miss.

“fine?” sana echoed, pouting slightly. “is that all you have to say about me?”

“you’re okay, too,” you teased, a small smile tugging at your lips.

“wow, such high praise,” chaeyoung quipped, making everyone laugh.

beneath the humour, there was an unmistakable shift in the air. it was as if your secret had been revealed; acknowledged but not addressed.

everyone seemed to sense the connection between you and sana, but no one dared to bring it up directly.

after dinner, while everyone was chatting in the living room, jeongyeon pulled you aside into the kitchen. her expression was serious, her voice low.

“are you really okay, y/n?” she asked, searching your face.

“i am,” you said, though you knew she wasn’t just asking about the physical injury.

“you and sana, what’s going on there?” jeongyeon asked bluntly.

you hesitated, unsure how much to reveal. “it’s complicated.”

“no kidding,” she said dryly. “but seriously, y/n. you’re getting in deep with her. are you ready for that?”

you sighed, running a hand through your hair. “i don’t know. it’s not like i planned for any of this to happen.”

“i get that,” jeongyeon said, her voice softening. “but just be careful, okay? she’s got a lot more power in this situation than you do.”

you nodded, appreciating the concern. “i know. but right now, i think she’s worth it.”

jeongyeon didn’t say anything more, but the look in her eyes said enough. she was worried for you, not just because of the obvious risks but because she knew how easy it was for someone like sana to break your heart — intentionally or not.

back in the living room, sana caught your eye and gave you a questioning look. you offered a reassuring smile and she immediately relaxed, resuming her conversation with tzuyu.

it was a small moment, but it meant everything in the context of your complicated relationship.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

by the fifth month of working for sana, your relationship had settled into an unexpected rhythm — one that was equal parts professional obligation and genuine attachment. there were still the usual challenges: sana’s diva moments, sudden mood swings and the pressure of keeping up with her unpredictable schedule. but there were also the quiet moments; late-night conversations on the balcony, her head resting on your shoulder as you both gazed at the city lights below.

meeting sana’s parents, however, was a different kind of challenge altogether. it was a sunny saturday afternoon when you were summoned to the minatozaki family estate, an opulent mansion that dwarfed even the luxury of sana’s usual residence.

the invitation was a surprise, but you had no choice but to accept, sana’s mother was adamant about meeting “the employee who’s lasted the longest.”

“relax,” sana whispered as you both stepped out of the car. she looked stunning in a pastel pink dress, her hair pulled back in an elegant bun. “they’re not as intimidating as they seem.”

you doubted that, but you nodded anyway, keeping your expression neutral. inside, you were a bundle of nerves.

the meeting, to your surprise, went better than expected. mr. and mrs. minatozaki were polite, even warm. they asked you a series of questions — mostly about your background, how you found the job and your experience working with their daughter. you answered truthfully, though you kept your personal feelings well-hidden.

“we appreciate your dedication, y/n,” mrs. minatozaki said with a smile. she was a poised woman, with a sharp gaze that seemed to see through people. “sana has never kept a bodyguard for this long. she must trust you a great deal.”

you felt a strange sense of pride at the comment, even as you maintained your composure. “thank you, ma’am. i’m just doing my job.”

“well, whatever you’re doing, keep it up,” mr. minatozaki added. “we’ve seen a positive change in sana since you started.”

sana blushed slightly at that, her usual confidence replaced with a hint of vulnerability. you couldn’t help but glance at her, and she caught your eye with a soft smile — one that was meant only for you.

later that night, sana gave you the rare gift of a night off. you returned to your apartment, feeling a mix of relief and confusion. the validation from sana’s parents was unexpected, and it lingered in your mind as you walked through the door.

jeongyeon, dahyun, mina, momo, and jihyo were all gathered in the living room, a mix of snacks and drinks spread out on the coffee table. it was meant to be a casual girls’ night, but you knew from their curious expressions that they were eager for more details.

“so, how’d it go?” jihyo asked, as soon as you stepped inside.

“with the parents?” you asked, feigning nonchalance as you kicked off your shoes.

“yeah, obviously,” mina chimed in, her tone light but her eyes sharp. “we want to know everything.”

“it was fine,” you replied, plopping down on the couch beside momo. “they’re nice, surprisingly.”

“and?” momo prodded, grinning. “did they grill you? ask if you’re dating their daughter?”

“no,” you said quickly, though your cheeks felt warm. “it was just formal stuff…but i think they caught on.”

“boring,” mina teased, but her gaze was soft, clearly pleased that you hadn’t had a terrible time.

dahyun leaned forward, an amused glint in her eyes. “speaking of surprise meetings…did we tell you about how the heiresses showed up here last week?”

jihyo blinked, caught off guard. “wait, what? the four heiresses of the apocalypse?”

“oh yeah,” jeongyeon confirmed, laughing. “sana, tzuyu, chaeyoung, and nayeon came by. apparently, sana was worried about y/n’s pretty face.”

“they even brought gifts,” dahyun added, still looking mildly astonished. “for all of us.”

mina’s eyes widened. “wait, sana came here? and brought gifts? the world really is ending.”

“and she was super protective of y/n,” jeongyeon continued, smirking. “held her hand the whole time and even kissed her forehead.”

“whoa,” momo said, her jaw dropping theatrically. “y/n, you’ve got it bad.”

“it’s not like that,” you protested weakly, but the warmth in your chest betrayed you.

jihyo crossed her arms, looking unconvinced. “sounds pretty serious to me.”

“serious or not,” mina interjected gently, “you seem happy, y/n. we’re just worried, you know? she’s…a lot. like, powerful.”

you sighed, grateful for their concern but also conflicted. “i know she is. but it’s complicated, my contract’s about to end.”

“extend it you goof,” dahyun giggled. “you get paid whilst dating your boss? sounds pretty sweet to me.”

“we’re not dating!”

“yet,” mina sighed.

“yeah, yeah,” you groaned, grabbing a handful of skittles and shoving them into your mouth. “whatever you say.”

as the evening went on, the conversation shifted to lighter topics — gossip about work, updates on personal lives and reminiscing about old times.

the final weeks of your contract approached quickly, and the impending end of your time with sana hung over both of you like a dark cloud. there were still stolen moments, secret kisses in the back of cars, whispered confessions late at night yet the tension was growing. you hadn’t told her about your decision yet, but she seemed to sense that something was off.

one afternoon, you found yourself sitting beside sana in the mansion’s garden, the autumn air cool and crisp. she was unusually quiet, a distant look in her eyes as she gazed at the small koi pond.

you often caught yourself watching her, memorising the way she laughed, the way her eyes crinkled when she teased you, or the way she absentmindedly reached for your hand when she thought no one was looking. it was getting harder to keep your feelings hidden, but you knew that admitting your love would make leaving even more painful.

“you know, i used to come here a lot when i was a kid,” she said suddenly, her voice soft and tinged with nostalgia. “back when things were simpler. my mother would bring me here after her meetings. she’d always tell me that the koi fish represented strength and resilience.”

you watched her as she spoke, the sadness in her voice palpable. it was rare for her to share such personal memories and you felt honoured, even as it added to the weight in your chest.

“and sometimes,” she continued, a small, wistful smile tugging at her lips, “hana and misaki would sneak me sweets from the kitchen. they were always so kind to me, treating me like i was just one of their girls instead of…well, me.”

you tried to smile but your thoughts were elsewhere; focused on the fact that you didn’t belong in this world of koi ponds and lavish mansions. you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were simply a temporary fixture in her life.

“y/n?” sana’s voice broke through your thoughts, her tone laced with concern. “are you okay? you seem distant.”

you hesitated, unsure how much to reveal. “i’m fine, just a lot on my mind.”

she tilted her head, studying you with those piercing eyes that always seemed to see right through your defenses. “is it about us?”

“i don’t know where i stand in your life,” you admitted quietly, the words slipping out before you could stop them. “and i’m not sure i belong here.”

“of course you belong here,” she said instantly, her voice filled with an urgency that startled you. “you’re important to me, y/n. more than you think.”

you turned to look at her, searching for any hint of doubt in her eyes, but all you saw was sincerity. “how important?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. “i’m just your bodyguard.”

“you’re not just anything,” she insisted, reaching out to take your hand. “my love, you’ve become…so much more than that. you’re the person i look for in every room.”

her confession hit you hard, but instead of relief, it only deepened your internal conflict. “your life is too different from mine. you have everything — money, status, opportunities. i can’t compete with that, i have nothing to give.”

“i’m not asking you to compete,” she said, squeezing your hand tighter. “i’m asking you to stay.”

the raw vulnerability in her voice nearly broke your resolve. you wanted so desperately to say yes, to promise her a future that felt impossible. but the practical side of you, the side that had always been wary of hope — kept you grounded.

“it’s not that simple,” you said, your voice cracking. “what happens when i’m no longer part of this world? when your life goes on, and i’m just a memory?”

“i don’t want you to be a memory,” she said fiercely, her eyes shining with unshed tears. “i want you here. with me.”

the sincerity in her words shattered something inside you. it was everything you wanted to hear, but also everything that scared you the most.

“sana,” you whispered, your voice thick with emotion. “i never meant to fall in love with you.”

your confession catches her off guard. “then why are you pushing me away?”

“because loving you feels too dangerous,” you admitted, feeling a tear slip down your cheek. “i’m terrified of what will happen if i stay.”

“then let’s be terrified together,” she said, her own tears finally breaking free. “we don’t have to figure everything out right now. please don’t give up on us before we even start. i’m in love with you, i’ve been in love with you from the beginning.”

her plea hung in the air, desperate, as the weight of your decision pressed down on you. staying meant risking everything: your heart, your future, your sense of self.

in that moment, with her hand holding yours and her eyes full of hope, the idea of leaving felt even more unbearable.

you couldn’t bring yourself to respond, not yet. instead, you squeezed her hand back, a silent acknowledgment of the love that had grown between you, even if it felt too fragile to last.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

the decision not to renew your contract weighed on you like an impending storm. and as if to reinforce your decision, the universe seemed intent on reminding you of the vast gap between your reality and sana’s.

sana was used to being around the rich, the famous, and the powerful. her social circles included heirs, models, and celebrities — people who shared her lifestyle and effortlessly fit into her world.

you, on the other hand, often felt like an outsider peering in, a temporary presence among the permanent fixtures of her life.

one evening, at an exclusive charity gala, you found yourself in a large, glittering ballroom, filled with the one percent of the world. sana, dressed in a stunning emerald gown, was the center of attention as always.

standing beside her, you remained alert, your gaze trained on the crowd.

and then, there he was — one of sana’s suitors, a man who seemed perfectly tailored for her life. tall, impeccably dressed and oozing charisma, he approached with a confident smile.

“sana,” he greeted warmly, extending a hand. “it’s good to see you.”

“hello hiroshi,” she replied, her voice pleasant but distant. you noticed a flicker of discomfort in her eyes, but she masked it well.

hiroshi, the heir to a luxury conglomerate, was a familiar face at events like these. you’d heard whispers about him before; he was one of the many eligible bachelors rumoured to be pursuing sana.

“you look beautiful tonight,” hiroshi continued, his voice smooth.

“thank you,” she said politely, her smile not quite reaching her eyes. she glanced at you briefly, a silent reassurance that felt hollow amidst the glamour.

the evening dragged on, with more suitors and admirers approaching sana, each one embodying the wealth and prestige you couldn’t compete with. they all seemed so polished, so effortlessly at ease in her world.

every time she exchanged a polite smile or a charming laugh, you felt yourself pulling further away, retreating into your own insecurities.

then came the moment that felt like the final blow.

at another event a few weeks later, held at one of the city’s most exclusive clubs, you found yourself standing at a distance, watching sana from across the room. she was engaged in conversation with a group of old friends, including one you recognised immediately — her ex-boyfriend, jake.

he was a well-known musician, popular and adored by many. his easy charm and confident presence were evident as he chatted with sana, their laughter echoing above the hum of the party.

he was everything you weren’t — wealthy, famous, and someone who had once been deeply embedded in sana’s life.

the crowd seemed to love the idea of them together. cheers and playful shouts of encouragement rang out as someone raised a glass in their direction.

“come on, get back together!” someone yelled, and the room erupted in lighthearted agreement.

sana’s face flushed slightly, but she maintained her composure, laughing it off. “stop it,” she chided, her tone playful but firm.

you felt a sickening twist in your gut, watching her interact so effortlessly with jake. they looked good together.

you tried to tell yourself that it didn’t matter, that it was just an old relationship, but seeing them together made you painfully aware of how small you felt in her world.

“what a couple, huh?” a staff member mumbled to you.

“yeah, i guess,” you turned away, unable to watch any longer.

it was a reminder of why you’d made your decision: you didn’t belong here. you were just a temporary part of her life, someone who would eventually be replaced by someone like jake or hiroshi — someone who fit in.

later that night, as you both drove back to her residence, sana seemed unusually quiet. you could sense that she had noticed your change in mood, but you weren’t ready to talk about it.

not yet.

“y/n my love,” she finally said as you reached her front door, her voice hesitant. “are you okay? you’ve been distant all night.”

“i’m fine,” you lied, avoiding her gaze. “just tired.”

“is it…about jake?” she asked, her tone soft, as if afraid of your answer.

you hesitated, then shook your head. “it’s not just him. it’s everything, sana. all of this — your world, the people in it. it’s too different from mine.”

“but i don’t care about that,” she insisted, stepping closer. “i care about you.”

“and that’s exactly why i have to leave,” you said, your voice breaking. “i don’t want to be the one who holds you back, the one who can’t match up to the life you deserve.”

“you’re not holding me back,” she protested, tears welling up in her eyes. “you’re the only real thing in my life.”

“but i’ll always be just the bodyguard,” you said, your heart shattering with every word. “and you’ll always be the heiress.”

“you’re more than that,” she pleaded, grabbing your arm. “can’t you see that?”

“i can’t,” you whispered, your voice filled with pain. “because this will never work, not in the way you want it to.”

she stared at you, her expression a mix of desperation and heartbreak. “so, that’s it? you’ve already made up your mind?”

“yes,” you admitted, tears finally spilling down your cheeks. “i have.”

“so, when were you going to tell me?” she asked, voice cracking but her stare was cold.

“i was going to tell you,” you said quietly, your voice barely audible above the hum of the car engine. “i just didn’t know how.”

“didn’t know how?” she repeated, her tone turning sharp. “you were just going to disappear without even talking to me?”

“it’s not like that!”

“then what is it like?” she demanded, her eyes blazing with hurt and betrayal. “are you just like everyone else, y/n? were you using me this whole time?”

“no,” you said, feeling a surge of desperation. “you know that’s not true.”

“then why?” she asked, her voice breaking. “why are you leaving?”

“because i don’t belong in your world,” you said, your own voice cracking under the weight of your emotions. “i’ve told you that over and over again.”

“i never cared about that,” she shouted, her face flushed with anger and tears. “i care about you, y/n. i’ve given you everything i have, and it still isn’t enough?”

“that’s not fair,” you shot back, feeling your own anger rise. “it’s not about what you’ve given me. it’s about what i can’t give you. you’ll always have to explain why you’re with someone like me.”

“i never asked you to be anything else!” she yelled, her voice breaking completely. “i just wanted you to stay.”

“and that’s what makes this so hard,” you said, tears finally spilling down your cheeks. “i love you, sana. but loving you isn’t enough to make this work.”

the car pulled up to the mansion, but neither of you moved to get out. the driver glanced nervously in the rearview mirror, unsure of what to do.

“get out,” sana said suddenly, her voice low but firm.

you hesitated, unsure if she meant it literally or figuratively. “sana —”

“get out,” she repeated, her voice rising. “we’re finishing this conversation inside.”

you both stepped out of the car, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife. she stormed up the steps, her heels clicking loudly against the marble floor and you followed, feeling the impending doom settle in your chest.

as soon as you were inside the mansion, the argument erupted again.

“you’re a coward,” she spat, her voice echoing through the grand hall. “you’re just running away because it’s easier than staying.”

“it’s not about running away,” you said, struggling to keep your voice steady. “it’s about facing reality.”

“reality?” she laughed bitterly, her eyes wild with emotion. “the reality is that you’re too scared to take a chance on us.”

“because i know how this ends,” you said, your own voice rising now. “it ends with me being a burden in your life, a constant reminder of what doesn’t fit.”

“you’re not a burden!” she screamed, her face streaked with tears. “you’re the only one who’s ever made me feel like me, not just the heiress, not just the brand.”

the sound of footsteps approaching caught both of your attention, and you turned to see mr. and mrs. minatozaki standing at the top of the grand staircase, looking shocked and concerned.

“what’s going on here?” mrs. minatozaki asked, her voice filled with alarm.

“stay out of this, mother,” sana said, her voice raw. “this is between me and y/n.”

“sana,” her father tried to interject, his voice gentle. “we can talk about this calmly —”

“there’s nothing to talk about,” she cut him off, her eyes fixed on you. “y/n wants to leave. she doesn’t think she belongs here.”

“because i don’t,” you said quietly, your voice filled with an agonising finality. “i’ll never be able to give you the life you deserve.”

“what i deserve?” she repeated, her tone incredulous. “what i deserve is to be with someone who loves me enough to stay.”

“and what if that love isn’t enough?” you asked, your heart breaking as the words left your lips. “what if it only causes more pain?”

“then we face it together,” she said, her voice softening for the first time. “but you’ve already given up, you decided for us without even talking to me.”

the truth in her words was undeniable and it left you feeling exposed and helpless. you had given up; not because you didn’t love her, but because you were terrified of what loving her meant.

“i’m sorry,” you whispered, tears streaming down your face.

her expression hardened again, a mix of anger, heartbreak and resignation. “sorry isn’t enough.”

“i know,” you said, your voice barely audible.

she stared at you for a long moment, her chest heaving with suppressed sobs. then, with a coldness that felt like a final blow, she uttered the word that shattered everything between you.

“leave.”

“sana, please —”

“i said, leave,” she repeated, her voice empty now. “before i regret you.”

you didn’t move for a moment, unable to believe it was really ending like this but her eyes were dead serious and you knew there was no room for negotiation.

with a final look, you turned and walked toward the door, each step feeling like a nail in your heart. you could hear her sobs behind you, raw and uncontrollable, but you didn’t turn back.

it was for the better.

as the mansion doors closed behind you, the enormity of what you’d lost crashed over you like a wave. you had thought leaving would hurt less than staying, but now, as you stood on the steps of the life you could have had, you realised you had never been more wrong.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

it had been nearly two months since you left the minatozaki mansion, but the wounds felt as fresh as ever. you were still trying to move forward, but most days felt like you were just treading water, struggling to keep from sinking beneath the weight of your own heartbreak.

you had saved up enough money to pay for the next six months of rent and food, but there was no joy in the security it offered. it just felt like a countdown to more loneliness.

despite your efforts to stay away from news about sana, you couldn’t avoid the headlines completely.

she had been partying non-stop, her face appearing on every tabloid cover — smiling but empty-eyed, reckless but lost. there were photos of her stumbling out of clubs, surrounded by people who seemed more like shadows than friends. one image stood out in particular: sana, arm-in-arm with jake, her ex, looking disheveled and drained.

the caption suggested they were rekindling their romance, but you couldn’t bring yourself to believe it — or perhaps, you didn’t want to.

you tried to drown your sorrows in alcohol, spending most nights at a small bar nearby. it was dark and dingy, a stark contrast to the places you’d been with sana, but it felt fitting. the drinks were cheap, and the bartender never asked questions.

“are you okay?” jihyo asked one night when she found you slumped over your kitchen table, a half-empty bottle of whiskey beside you. her voice was full of worry, but you couldn’t bring yourself to lie.

“no,” you admitted, your voice hollow. “i’m not.”

“this isn’t like you, y/n,” she said, her eyes filled with concern. “you’re not the type to just give up.”

“maybe i am now,” you replied, taking another swig from the bottle. “maybe i never should’ve tried in the first place.”

jihyo reached out, her hand squeezing yours. “we’re here for you, okay? no matter what.”

their support felt distant, muted by the constant ache of missing sana. you knew your friends were worried; how you barely ate, how you showed up to gatherings disheveled and silent, a shadow of who you used to be.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

a few days later, when you were nursing a hangover from another lonely night at the bar, your phone rang. it was an unknown number, and you hesitated before answering.

“hello?”

“y/n?” a familiar voice asked, tentative but warm. it was mrs. minatozaki.

“yes, this is y/n,” you confirmed, surprised. “mrs. minatozaki?”

“i’m sorry to call you like this,” she began gently. “but my husband and i were hoping you could come to the mansion. there’s something we need to discuss with you.”

you felt a wave of apprehension, unsure of what to expect. but something in her tone; soft, almost pleading — made it impossible for you to say no.

“i’ll be there,” you agreed quietly.

the mansion felt as imposing as ever when you arrived, its grandeur a stark reminder of the world you had tried to leave behind. you were greeted by the familiar staff, who offered polite smiles before leading you to a cozy sitting room. mrs. minatozaki was already seated on a velvet armchair, her husband standing beside her with a solemn expression.

“thank you for coming, y/n,” mrs. minatozaki said warmly, gesturing for you to sit. “we know this isn’t easy for you.”

“what’s going on?” you asked, trying to keep your voice steady. “is it about sana?”

“yes,” mr. minatozaki replied, his tone serious but gentle. “she’s…not doing well. we’re very worried about her.”

“we thought she would eventually find a way to cope,” mrs. minatozaki added, her voice breaking slightly. “but it’s clear now that she’s just trying to numb the pain.”

you felt a stab of guilt, even though you knew it wasn’t entirely your fault. “i’m sorry,” you said, your voice thick with emotion. “i didn’t mean to hurt her like this.”

“we know,” mr. minatozaki said softly. “and that’s why we wanted to talk to you.”

“sana has always been a passionate person,” mrs. minatozaki continued. “but she’s never loved anyone the way she loves you. we’ve seen her with past lovers — there was never this depth of feeling, never this kind of vulnerability.”

her words hit you hard, and you struggled to process them. “but i don’t fit into this world,” you said, your voice filled with insecurity. “i’m just —“

“and that’s exactly why we accept you,” mr. minatozaki said firmly. “you love our daughter for who she is, not for what she represents. we don’t care about the gossip or the opinions of others. we care about her happiness.”

“it’s true,” mrs. minatozaki added, her eyes filled with a quiet intensity. “we want you to know that you have our support completely.”

tears welled up in your eyes at their words, the acceptance and understanding you’d never thought you’d receive.

“thank you,” you whispered, overwhelmed. “i just…i don’t know if she’ll want me back.”

before they could respond, the sound of commotion erupted from the foyer. voices, urgent and alarmed, echoed through the mansion’s grand halls.

“what’s happening?” mrs. minatozaki asked, standing up abruptly.

a moment later, two security guards entered the room, struggling to support a barely-conscious sana. her makeup was smudged, her hair disheveled, and her eyes half-closed. she was clearly intoxicated, her legs barely able to hold her weight.

“sana!” mrs. minatozaki exclaimed, rushing over.

“we found her like this outside a club,” one of the guards explained apologetically. “she insisted on coming home.”

your heart broke at the sight of her, the reckless desperation evident in every inch of her being. without a second thought, you stepped forward.

“let me take care of her,” you said softly, moving to her side.

sana’s eyes fluttered open, but they were unfocused, clouded by alcohol and exhaustion. “y/n?” she slurred, her voice thick with confusion.

“it’s me,” you said gently, your hand brushing a strand of hair away from her face. “i’m here.”

“no, you’re not real,” she mumbled, her head lolling against your shoulder. “you’re just… another dream.”

“i’m real,” you insisted. “i promise, i’m real.”

her body went limp against you, and you struggled to support her weight. with help from the guards, you managed to get her upstairs and into her bedroom. she collapsed onto the bed, her breaths shallow and uneven.

you stayed by her side through the night, watching over her as she tossed and turned in her sleep. her face was flushed, her expression troubled even in unconsciousness. you couldn’t help but reach out, your fingers lightly tracing the back of her hand, hoping that somehow, your touch could offer her peace.

the next morning, sana stirred awake, her head pounding and her mouth dry. she squinted against the soft morning light filtering through the curtains, her vision slowly focusing. when she saw you sitting beside the bed, her eyes widened, a mix of shock and disbelief washing over her.

“y/n?” she asked, her voice hoarse and hesitant.

“hey,” you said softly, your heart aching at the vulnerability in her eyes. “how are you feeling?”

“like shit,” she admitted, her voice cracking. “but why…why are you here?”

“your parents called me,” you explained gently. “they were worried about you. i was worried too.”

sana’s eyes filled with tears, her shoulders shaking with the weight of everything she’d been holding back. “i thought i lost you,” she sobbed, burying her face in her hands. “i thought you were really gone.”

“i thought i was gone too,” you admitted, your own tears falling. “but i realised that leaving you hurt more than anything else.”

“you’re not just saying that because my mother asked you to come, are you?” she asked, her vulnerability laid bare.

“no,” you said, reaching out to take her hand. “i’m saying it because i love you. and i want to be with you — no matter what.”

her lips trembled as she tried to hold back more tears. “i want that, too.”

you took a deep breath, feeling the fear and hope collide within you. “if you still want me,” you said, your voice steady despite the tremble in your heart. “i want to try again. for real this time.”

sana’s sobs turned into laughter, a mix of relief and disbelief. “of course i want you,” she said, reaching for your hand. “i’m sorry, i’ve always wanted you.”

you pulled her into a tight embrace, feeling her body relax against yours. she buried her face in your neck, her breath warm against your skin.

“i’m sorry, too,” she murmured, her voice thick with emotion. “for the photos, for being so reckless. none of it was true, i just wanted to forget.”

“i know,” you said, stroking her hair gently. “but we don’t have to forget. we just have to move forward.”

“together?” she asked, looking up at you with a mix of hope and fear.

“together,” you confirmed, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead.

later that evening, as you lay tangled in each other’s arms, sana’s breathing slow and steady against your chest, you felt an overwhelming sense of relief. it wasn’t going to be easy but you were ready to face it.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

the end.

[impala-dreamer]

So, yesterday... I died (almost)

No, seriously.

I've been powerwashing the house... back patio/back deck/sidewalk, etc... yesterday, I wanted to move the machine upstairs to my side deck where the birds hang out. I move the machine to the front of the house, and some of the hose was wrapped around a shrubbery... so I go to untangle it...

And was instantly stung by a bee.

Ok... no biggie.

Then another. Then one on my forehead... then I was swamped by the entire nest. And stung by like 12 bees.

....

I'm not allergic so I'm not worried, just pissed. I run inside, take my shirt off, deal with the bees and take stock. I'm OK, but lemme go take a benadryl anyway. I have one on my nightstand. I go get it and take it to the bathroom bc I'm gonna shower anyway, so I turn on the water and try to open the blister pack of benadryl. My hands start shaking and I can't open it. No way will it open. I start getting dizzy like I'm going to faint (I have a fainting condition so I know the early signs) so I'm like.. ok... if you're gonna have to sit down. And the shower has a seat. So I strip and go into the shower, sit down.

Normally, cold water stops the fainting so I'm like... this is a good idea.

It didn't help. Ok. I'm gonna faint, go lower. So I sat on the shower floor and I'm in the water and

Passed out.

Woke up disoriented, still in the shower. Ok. Get up.

Passed out.

Again. Get up and get out of the shower.

This went on for apparently, 35 mins of me losing consciousness and trying to climb out of the shower to call for help.

Finally, my brain is like.. if you don't get out of the shower you are dying here. So I'm talking outloud to myself as I crawl out of the shower unable to stand or really move my legs. (Btw.. 5 inch shower ledge to crawl over) I somehow get out, slide the phone off the counter, and text my brother 911. (Hubby at work). Then, I lay down kinda twisted on the floor like a chalk outline and keep talking to myself.

Bro comes in... freaks out...

Then the next 40mins are a blurr, but the cops came... 2 shots of epipen, and oxygen before the ambulance got there.

Another shot of epi, a shot of benadryl, another tank of oxygen...

My BP was 57/14.

They couldn't let me sit up even or I'd instantly pass out. Not that I could move.

So they carried me on some sheet thing out of the house, downstairs, into ambulance.

Apparently there were 4 cop cars and 3 ambulances on my lawn...

They got me in and couldn't start driving until they stabilized me..

I started major convulsing bc of all the adrenaline. Like full seizure shaking bad. They couldn't find any veins on me bc small veins and BP deathly low... so we were on my lawn for a while trying to get me ok enough to move.

Finally, I joked "you want me to drive?" Proving that my comedy is pure and part of me, even while on my literal deathbed. ;)

So we got me another shot of benadryl and a shot of steriods...

Drove 20 mins to the closest hospital ... bc I live in the middle of nowhere...

Guy calls in "critical incoming"... which is never great to hear.

We pull in and the hospital guys meeting us looks at me and says "you officially have the lowest blood pressure I have ever heard of on a living person."

Gee thanks! Let's fix this!

So I spent the next 5? Hours in the e.r. critical section hooked up to wires and ivs and ekgs and oxygen.

In the end I had 3 shots of epipen. 3 benadryl shots. Steroids. 2 bags of fluid. 4 panic attacks. 3 tanks of oxygen.

And a hospital turkey sandwich.

So... yeah, if I hadn't talked myself out of the shower with the dregs of my strength and will to not die naked on my shower floor...

I'd be dead.

I'm feeling a ton better today but still not good. I am on the couch and not gonna move.

Also having some theological thoughts about the lack of diving intervention or feeling of godly care.

Basically, my life was saved by myself, my brother, that cop, and Madision and John, my e.m.t.s.

Hope you are all doing better than I am lol

Happy Sunday 💖

[lostandfoundbook]

Chapter 23

Read it on AO3

Read it on Wattpad

The air felt tense as Alex was moved from the hospital back up to her suite in the hotel. Nurses littered her bedside, working to detach her from all the monitors she used to be hooked up to. No more consistent beeping, no more on going readings, just freedom from the room. She pulled her hair into as messy bun, and let certain strands of hair fall down as she did so.

She watched as the hallways of the hospital slowly turned into hallways of the hotel. They pushed her bedframe all the way towards the elevators and left her off with Oliver, Avery, and another nurse to get her hooked back up to the machines she needed in her bedroom. The ride up to the J-suite was silent and palpable. She wondered what everyone was thinking about. 

She was starting to feel a lot better. Her wounds still hurt, of course, but everything else was starting her lessen. The swelling around her face had started to go down massively, and she could see that he nose truly looked fine. There was no question about it. The bruising on her wrists and arms also lessened over the week she had been there, but didn't completely disappear.

New marks had appeared too, ones from the IVs and cuffs she'd had on her the entire time she was there. They left new bruises and imprints on her arms, each one telling a story as to how she got them all. Their words dared to cross her lips as she brushed her arms past them, analyzing them as the elevator began to move.

This elevator had this dark green velvet wallpaper attached to it, and gold metal trims lining each corner. The buttons illuminated as floor 10 was pressed, and they were silver in color. Cold to the touch. She watched as the doors slid open and she was met with a very familiar hallway. She was home. Oliver pushed her bed out of the elevator and into the hall, allowing all the other people to walk out. 

They pushed her bed up the hallway and she stopped to look around. The dark red walls with the black floral wallpaper reminded her of where she was, and what she used to see everyday. She was still in treatment, still needed to rest, and still couldn't do much-- but she was out of the hospital. She could feel a spike of adrenaline hit as they pushed closer and closer towards her room until they were outside the big double doors.

Oliver walked over towards the end of the bed and up to the doors, unlocking both doors and swinging them open widely. They creaked as they moved and Alex noted how she'd never seen the second door open at the same time at the first. She also noticed that her huge bed was gone, an empty place sitting for her hospital bed to slot into.

She'd have to work her way back to that king sized bed. Queen sized? Alex couldn't remember at this point, all she knew was that she already missed it. She found herself thinking about who had to have gone through her room to take it all down, and who will have to come in later to build it back up? Would it be Oliver and Avery? Would they hire somebody to do it? 

What strangers had made their way into Alexandria's bedroom and fiddled around with her things? Did they see her journals? It was such a weird thought. She owned the place, in her own way and form, but she didn't. A majority of the expenses were paid off by Oliver, and she knew this after checking her bills one day. Bills he said she didn't need to worry about.

The room cost $10,000 a month, and that included most amenities she didn't use, and it covered all the electricity, water, and heating. It was an expensive place to live, but if you're already apart of the elites, it's really not. It'd be a reasonable price for someone on a residency visiting from out of town, here as a vacation or on work. 

Alex's bed was slowly carted into its spot next to the end tables, where Oliver reached over and locked the wheels of the bed. Avery did the same for the end of the bed, and Alex let out a sigh. "So. I'm transferred. Now what?" 

Oliver put his hands on his hips and shot a questioning glance over towards Avery. "Well, you can do a majority of the things you were doing before, just limited to a bed as much as you can be. Obviously they still want you doing physical therapy each day and getting your muscles in the shape they need to be, but besides that, there isn't anything major that you can do."

Alex nodded as she listened, and looked around the room. "What are you looking for?" Oliver asked out, beginning to search with her (but not knowing what he was looking for). Alex patted her hand on her side table before frowning. "I can't find my journal. It was on my bed, and obviously I don't know where my bed is. I don't know where my journal is anymore." 

She tossed her head back in the bed. "Don't worry, we'll find it." Oliver responded as she pulled his hands through her side table drawer before moving to the next one. "And you're sure it was on your bed?" He said as he approached the second drawer. "Yes, I'm sure of it. It's gotta be around here somewhere." 

Oliver opened the white wooden drawer and fiddled through it, but in the end he found nothing. He walked over to her dresser-vanity set up and rummaged around on top of it for a minute before pausing. "It's not here."

Alex sighed. "Well no shit. I left it on the bed, not the dresser. Even if they moved it, I doubt they'd move it there. What if someone stole it? That has all my personal details in there as well as my music!?" 

Oliver shot her a glance before shaking his head. "No. They'd get fired so fast. They wouldn't risk it." He crossed the room to begin looking at the desk area. It was also white wood, with a rose-pink chair that curled as it reached the top. He pulled out the chair and fiddled around through the drawers of the desk before sighing. "I'm not finding it, Alex."

She let out a sigh and pulled the covers over her legs. She hadn't been hooked up to any of the equipment yet, so it was easy for her to swing her legs over the edge of the bed and trail her IV bag along with her. Oliver quickly whipped around to stare at her as if she was crazy. "You're gonna pop a stitch" He muttered out before turning back arond.

"No, I'm not. If they expect me to do physical therapy, then I can look for a damn journal. I can't believe I didn't just ask for it sooner. That would've solved this days ago." she sighed as she looked around the room, attempting to pinpoint where her subject could be hiding. "Yeah, but you didn't." Oliver replied as he walked over towards the bathroom. 

"Why would it be in there?" She asked out as she opened the door and peeked his head in. He looked around a little bit before popping back out and shrugging towards Alex. "You never know." This made a small dash of a smile grow onto the girls lips. She let out a sigh and walked over to the couches, flopping onto it as she did so. She grumbles out a small 'Ow' as she sat, and re-adjusted her position. 

Alex sighed a deep heavy sigh before speaking again. "I don't know what I'm gonna do without that book. It has so many personal details, I don't think I could start over from scratch. They were too raw and in the moment, I couldn't redo that if I tried." 

Oliver walked over to the couches where Alex was sitting, and he took a seat across from her. "And how are you feeling now?" She let out a small scoff as she kicked her feet underneath her. "What, are you my therapist, now?" 

It felt.. sort of like a joke. It felt like her entire world was crumbling into pieces, and she was just expected to play along with the games people played with her while she watched everything disintegrate around her. It wasn't fair that she lost her journal, It wasn't fair that she ended up in the hospital.. it wasn't fair that she met Everette. 

She sighed and wiggled her toes a bit. It helped to ground her, and make her feel more present in the moment. "I think I'm gonna take a shower. I feel disgusting. Could you possibly keep looking for me?" 

She eyed him up with her big, green, round eyes, pleading for release. She just wanted a little escape. It might hurt, but she would be clean. Clean from the hospital, clean from Everette's touch, clean from the world. It would be perfect. It was exactly what she needed right now. "Yeah, I can do that for you. Take some Advil before you go in, though, or you'll be in a lot of pain afterwards." 

She nodded towards the man and unhooked her IVs by herself. She watched as Oliver have her an unapproving stare, but she continued anyway. She removed them all and left her IV bag sitting in the middle of the room. She walked over towards her night stand on the right of her hospital bed and pulled the drawer open.

She scanned through it for the bottle of Advil, and she popped the top open and slid four of the greenish-blue liqui-gel tablets into her hand before tossing her hand to her mouth and inserting the pills. She grabbed a water bottle on the side of her table and swallowed them down. She waved towards Oliver and walked into her closet to pick out the pair of clothes she would continue to rot in.

A baggy t-shirt? Maybe. A pair of sweatpants? Probably. Alex just couldn't decide on which one. One was a plain black t-shirt that was very loose and would give access to both her arms and her injury, meanwhile she had a really cute band t-shirt that wasn't an loose, and would give more of a fight. 

She picked out the black one with sweatpants and headed into her bathroom. It was still bigger than ever, and Alex could feel the cool air of the marble floors brush across her ankles as she locked the door behind her. She let a breath escape her lips as she looked into the mirror. She looked thin-- dangerously thin. She knew she hadn't been eating enough, and her stay in the hospital didn't help. They gave out the blandest food possible, it seemed like. 

She ran her hand across her ribs and frowned. She needed to eat more. She could see the bandage taped to her body, sitting across her stab wound. She carefully removed the medical tape and tegaderm materials before she could finally see it. It was swollen and red, but it looked a million times better than day one. It looked irritated and upset, but Alex figured that was just the stitches pulling at her skin. 

She stripped her body of her clothing and walked over to the shower, setting the water to a cooler temperature. She figured the heat would only aggravate the pain. She walked back over towards the sink and pulled a hairbrush through her matted hair. It took her nearly five minutes to get it all situation, and the puffiness and texture of her hair didn't help. She really should've asked for a hair brush or something sooner. 

When she was finally able to run her fingers through her hair, she hopped into the shower. Her wound stung as the water hit it for the first time, bathing it with the cleanliness of the hotel showers. It was cool against her skin, but hot against her stitches. She softly and carefully ran a hand over her body and grabbed the soap.

She made sure to avoid the stitches when she washed. It would be like salt in a wound, literally but not at the same time. It would hurt and she'd wriggle out in pain and she'd rather avoid all of that right about now. She washed the rest of her body and made her way onto her hair, focusing on her roots. 

Her hair was so greasy. She needed the water to wash away whatever filth remained in her life. It wasn't just about getting clean, but about getting rid of him. Alex could still feel his hands on her body whenever she thought about what happened, and she needed to wash away the sins of her past lives. It felt cathartic in a way as she scrubbed the shampoo into her hair and squeezed her eyes tightly. 

* * *

By the time she made it out of the shower, she had practically forgotten about the journal. It was slotted away in the back of her head, but it was no where present. As she sat down on the couch with her hair in a towel-bun, she stretched her arm out of Oliver to take and re-insert the IV. 

"So, was it as bad as you imagined?" he asked out as he took her arm, dressing down on one of her veins to trap it. "No. Obviously I cleaned the wound as much as I could, but I was mainly focused on my hair. It was a rats nest. I needed a shower." 

She cringed with one eye as the needle inserted into her arm and slid into her vein. Oliver reached over to the cart and grabbed another tegaderm to place over the IV. "Let me redress your wound" he eventually called out, leaving Alex's face bright red. "Okay. Let me lie down." she said as she spread her legs across the length of the tan-pink couch in the middle of her room. She rolled up her shirt and stared up at the stars on the sky.

She always forget they were up there until she glanced up and saw all the golden constellations across the white ceiling above her. Oliver grabbed a couple pieces of gauze, more tegaderm, and medical tape as he walked up to the girl. "What made you put the stars up there?" she asked as she stared, avoiding the mans gaze.

He looked up heavanward for a moment before looking back down at her stitches. "I loved stars as a kid. My parents put them all over the ceilings of the hotels for me to find constellations in when I was little. It used to take up a lot of my time when they were busy." He worked as she spoke, and unsheathed the gauze before placing them overtop of her wound. He placed down some medical tape to hold them connected together.

"This room has a couple of them, like Scorpio and Aquilla." Alex responded as she winced at the pressure. He looked up to the ceiling again before going back to work. "Yeah, I think I remember that." He grabbed the tegaderm and ripped the packaging off, and peeled away the non-sticky tab. He placed it over her gauze to hold it all onto her skin.

"I used to just get lost in the stars. I'd stare at them for hours, and my parents would have to pull me away kicking and screaming because i loved them so much." 

Alex paused at the thought of Young Oliver sitting there, upset at the thought of having to leave the hotel. Maybe he always loved it here, or maybe it was something he grew to love over time-- Alex didn't know for certain. What she knew what that, right now, he loved his hotel. It was his own baby, and she could understand that. It was a family project that was crafted and grown as he grew, and it adapted as he adapted.

It meant a lot to him. Alex didn't have anything like that besides her music but she still got it. She could grasp that something can mean so much to you because of how it was passed down. There was this one ring in her family that got passed down to her sister, but Alex used to wear it constantly. She used to fantasize about it being her wedding ring, or something special like that.

It was something her grandmother had given to her mother, and her mother had given to the "better" sister. It ate away at Alex, and she knew that someday, she wanted to get the ring remade. So she could understand how much this meant to Oliver. He too wanted to remake his own pieces of the hotel. 

She watched as he backed away from the girl and smiled. "There. All dressed. How do you feel?" Alex pulled her shirt the rest of the way down and sat up, kicking her feet. "I feel like me, I guess. The shower helped, a lot. I just wish I knew where my..."

Alex paused as she spoke. She felt her feet catch on something as she kicked them, and she pressed down and slid whatever was under the couch out. It was her journal. "Oh my god!" she shouted out. Oliver bent down and picked it up and handed it to her. "Here you go. I found it."

He had a sly smirk across his face. "You're a dick." Alex responded, grabbing the book from his hands. "I wonder how it got under where?" She asked, flipping through the pages. Everything was there, from her venting, to her timeline, to her poetry. Nothing had been touches. "It probably fell off of the bed and slid under when it was getting taken down." Oliver replied.

Alex ran her fingers across the pages before looking around the room. She shut the book and grabbed ahold of her IV cart and walked it (and herself) over to her bed, sitting on the edge of it. She reached into the left side table and grabbed a pencil. 

"Well, I should probably get back to work" Oliver called out, awkwardly shuffling his own feet. "Okay. Thanks for getting me transferred."

Oliver gave her a happy nod before walking across the room and out of the door. She let out one last sigh before opening up her journal. So much had happened. She had SO much to tell her journal. Who needed therapy when you could write it all down like this? It was a perfect little escape for her. 

She feverously wrote in the little black book. She wrote about her time with Everette, and she wrote about Benji visiting her in the hospital. She wrote about being stabbed and she wrote about how she felt. Like an idiot, a fool, like she should've seen it coming and she should've been able to prevent this somehow. She knew she'd have to go to court eventually, and she wrote about that too.

If she was lucky, she could escape it all, and ignore everything that happened. That was a fat chance, though. Alex had to confront her life head on, whether she liked it or not. 

[fightxxmexxshiggy]

HOT DAY AND A TIRED MAN

This fic is dedicated to @lovelyladyraven for being my first ever paid commission.

Shouta Aizawa x fem reader

Tw:dangerous situation, breeding, OVERSTIMULATION

Word count: 3.5k

This was not how you had planned to spend your day. Your boss had decided that the roof needed to be cleaned on the second hottest day this summer! Of course you were the only one who had just finished up their task so he sent you to do it by yourself with a promise of sending the next available person up to switch with you soon. Instead you had spent two hours cleaning up dirt and shining the vents on a roof that no one but maintenance workers ever set foot on! Once you had seen how much time had passed you went to the door with every intention of stomping down the stairs and clocking out, not willing to do overtime just to clean a roof. But the knob wouldn't turn no matter how hard you pulled. You banged on the door a few times only to realize that one of the idiots that you work with had locked the door. Quickly you took out your phone and called the store phone no answer, then your boss's phone no answer, then you called the two other coworkers who had been working with you today. Not a single person answered you! You went over to the side of the building that looked over the parking lot seeing that all their cars were already gone from their usual spots. The bastards had left for the day and left you locked on the roof with no way to go home or even get water. You tried for another 30 minutes to reach your boss and coworkers only for them to start rejecting your calls. They did this on purpose. You went and sat in the shade of the roof door access and took a few calming breaths. You knew that they weren't going to come back until tomorrow and you also knew that they probably expected you to sit up here and cry waiting till morning for them to come and "save" you. So instead you looked up the number for the local fire department. Once someone picked up you heard a deep gravelly voice through the speaker. 

"Fire station 6 what can I help you with?" 

The man seemed tired and kind of put out but instead of apologizing for bothering him like your brain was screaming at you to do, you cleared your throat and spoke. You gave him a detailed rundown of your situation and explained that you would have called the emergency line first except your boss's wife worked the police directory and if he was locking you on the roof like this you were afraid that his wife would just not send anyone to help you. It was a small town and things like that were constantly looked over as long as you knew the right people. He hummed in agreement.

" That's sad but true. I know your boss and his wife well enough that you're probably 100 percent right about what they would do and how they would cover this up. They've done it before. Me and a few guys will be there in about 20 minutes to come get you down. Just keep calm and do your best to stay out of the sun until then we don't need you getting any more dehydrated than you already are."

He gave a quick goodbye and hung up. You breathed a sigh of relief knowing that you had chosen correctly when you called the fire station. You sat in the shade and tried to put a face to the voice of the tired firefighter who would be coming to free you from your rooftop prison. Like a fool you had never asked his name. As you thought about it you started to get a bit lightheaded. It had definitely been too long since you had any water. The heat was starting to get to you now that your adrenaline had stopped pumping so hard. With nothing else to do you layed down as much in the shade as you could and did a breathing exercise. During your exercise you must have blacked out because the next thing you knew you were being carried down the stairs in a set of strong arms. 

The person carrying you was speaking to you but you couldn't make out what they were saying over the fog that was covering your brain. You knew the sound of that voice though. It was the tired firefighter but he sounded a whole lot less tired and a whole lot more angry. You really hoped he wasn't angry at you. Maybe you were too heavy and he was annoyed at having to lug you down the stairs. With a weak hand you reached up maybe to apologize somehow, but ended up cupping his cheek. His stubble felt funny in your already funny feeling hand. He stopped walking at the feeling of your hand on his face. You still couldn't open your eyes so instead you mumbled a garbled sorry and proceeded to pass back out going limp. The last thing you heard was the tired firefighter yelling at someone, maybe you?

You woke up again this time to the feeling of something plastic on your face. Opening your eyes was still a bit too much for you so you listened and tried to figure out what was going on. You vaguely remember the tired voice you had spoken to before you felt light headed and the feeling of being carried. As you listened you could make out the sounds of machines. Slowly you took stock of your body. You were sore and kinda warm but you could move a little bit. You breathed deeply, finally realizing that the plastic was an oxygen tube. You were definitely in the hospital then. After a few more minutes your eyes were in good enough condition that you opened them to look around the room. When you did you saw someone slumped in the chair in the corner. This was incredibly strange since you had no family in this town. Doing your best you cleared your throat preparing to ask who they were. At your sound the person's head shot up, eyes wide. 

It was a man with tired eyes and long black hair that was on the scruffy side; it easily matched the stubble of a beard on his chin and cheeks. He stood up definitely tall enough to tower over you even when you were standing up yourself. The man walked to your bedside and took a deep breath before speaking. 

"It's good to see you awake little one. I was beginning to think you weren't going to wake up. I'm the firefighter you spoke to asking for help when you were on the roof. I have a lot to explain to you but I'm gonna call the doctor in and have them look you over before anything else."

He called out into the hall after that and a doctor and a nurse bustled into the room within minutes. Your throat was too dry to answer their questions so you stuck to little nods and head shakes as they began to check your vitals and adjust your iv drip. Once they were sure you were stable enough you were once again left with your savior and no voice to thank him with. He came closer and pulled the chair along with him to settle in for your conversation. 

"So you've been out of it for about 3 days. You got sunstroke while you were on the roof and your boss had double locked the door to get in and the door to the roof which slowed us down in getting to you. Your boss and his wife and your 2 coworkers have all been arrested. It was your boss's idea though apparently he kept hitting on you but you didn't give him the time of day so he wanted to teach you a lesson. His wife had your name flagged so that if you had called for help it would have given a dispatcher a notification to ignore you as a false reporter. His wife found out about his interest in you and was planning on making sure you were stuck on that roof all night. Your coworkers just went along with it because they didn't want to deal with your boss's anger."

Hearing all this pissed you off beyond belief. They could have killed you all because you would be a man's mistress and the man's wife would rather hurt someone than confront her husband. He looked at your face and patted your knee knowing there was nothing he could say that would make you feel any better about this. You looked up at him and grabbed his hand and brought it to your forehead, touching his knuckles there before placing a kiss on them. You were kind of happy that you couldn't really talk just yet because the blush on this man's cheeks was well worth the dry throat. He poured you a cup of water and handed it to you. You gave him a small smile and drank it gratefully. 

Eventually you could speak some and the two of you formally introduced yourselves. He was Shouta Aizawa, the fire station chief and local fire safety instructor for this area. He hadn't felt right leaving you alone after he had gotten you off the roof and found that you lived alone in this town. He came off very blunt and serious but you could see his deep kindness in his actions. The doctors came back in, cutting your conversation short and making Shouta go back to his spot in the corner. After a few more checks the doctors cleared you to go home the following day as long as you had someone to watch over you for the next three days till your follow up appointment was. You frowned cause you did have any close friends who could do that for you. As you pondered over it you heard Shouta's voice over the doctor's. 

"If you don't have a problem I can have you stay over in the guestroom at my house. I was already on a temp leave due to watching over you here so it wouldn't be much different with you at my house."

This man with a deep whiskey voice truly had a heart of gold. Not one to look a gift horse in the mouth you readily agreed. After you had been up a few more hours and had a little bit to eat, Shouta left with the promise of a freshly cleaned room waiting for you tomorrow. You fell asleep that night feeling more cared for than you ever truly had. You woke up again slightly disoriented and thirsty but in much better condition than you had been the day prior. It was early so you took your time shaking the numbness out of your limbs and getting back your bearings. The nurse came in fussing about you standing with calling anyone to be a catcher for you. She stopped fussing though when she realized that you were indeed stable enough to walk to the bathroom alone. 

Shouta had called the nurses station around 10 to let them know he'd be there by 12. With a few puppy dog looks you had a shower chair and an orderly who helped wash your hair and walk you back to bed. They had given you some hospital pajamas that you happily wore instead of the ugly gowns you had woken up in. You were clean and relaxed by the time Shouta had arrived to sign you out of the hospital. A nurse came around with a wheelchair and wheeled you down to the exit while the car was brought around. Shouta opened the door for the backseat but instead of giving you a hand to climb in he leaned down and scooped you out of the chair. Once you had been sat comfortably on the seat he shut the door leaving you with a moment to appreciate just how strong his arms were.

The drive to Shouta's home was relatively quick as is the way of small towns. His house was nice and seemed to be a cozy ranch style. After pulling into the garage you tried to get out yourself only to be caught up against a hard chest as your legs gave out the moment they were made to take your full weight. You looked up to see an exasperated glare. Part of your brain filled with chastised thoughts as the other filled with dirty thoughts. You really had to be better behaved when It came to your savior and benefactor but with him being so sinfully attractive it was kinda hard to do. Once again you were carried by the tired man this time into his home and deposited on the lone couch in his living room. He sat on his coffee table and faced you with a sigh. 

"You're really gonna have to rely on me for a few days brat. Your body is trying to heal and you pushing it as you just did isn't doing the process any favors."

You sighed and agreed with him. After a short conversation about a few things you might need from the store and checking about any food allergies he got ready and  headed to the store. You sat alone watching tv before clicking into his YouTube app to see what he watched most. A loud laugh burst from your chest as you realized that most of his watch history was full of cat videos and a few interviews with a local late night radio host. You watched the radio hosts videos thoroughly entertained by his boisterous personality. The next thing you knew you were being shaken awake by Shouta having fallen asleep with videos still playing on the tv. He helped you up and walked you to the bathroom and waited outside before scooping you up yet again. He was making it so damn hard not to think dirty thoughts when he kept carrying you around as if you were a small animal or something. Like sir the butterflies are in the stomach now but they will quickly fly south if you keep being so quietly sexy. A few hours later you were lying in bed when your thoughts finally got the best of you and had you touching your pussy as images of Shouta glaring down at you with his arms crossed showed behind your eyelids.

You had no idea how loud you were being as you rubbed your clit harshly, trying to get to the finish line. As you came you choked out his name. While you panted and came down from your high Shouta made his way back to his room quietly. He leaned back against his door and made a call before laying in his bed to jerk his very hard, very neglected cock. His brain kept replaying the sounds you made, the way you choked out his name as you came, how a satisfied little smile curled on your lips after you reached the finish line. He came with a growl, satisfied but not. He was definitely going to end up in trouble by the end of the week and he couldn't find it in himself to care. The following two days followed the same pattern, spending the day together and spending the night getting off to thoughts of the other in separate rooms. Though you were surprised to find that Shouta regularly walked around the house in nothing but sweatpants holding a full mug of coffee. On the fourth day you had become well enough to no longer need to be carried or walked everywhere. You were a little confused by Shouta's attitude as he had been glaring at the space above your head for most of the day. Finally tired of him doing this, you confronted him about it. You were not expecting his answer in the slightest. 

"I've spent the last three nights hearing you play with your pussy while calling my name, I'm hard enough to hammer nails and I can't get out any over this energy cause I'm supposed to be watching out for you. All I wanna do is fuck you till you lose your mind. me glaring above your head has been me doing my best not to seduce you like an asshole."

He said everything in such a deadpan manner that you couldn't help but laugh. Once you caught your breath you grinned at him and pulled your shirt off over your head. Sitting on his couch with your tits hanging free and your nipples hardening in the cool air you proceeded to play with them. You were immediately picked up and taken to his room before being dropped on the bed. Never let it be said that the tired man couldn't move fast as you were stripped of your remaining clothes before he stripped himself bare. He pulled you to the edge of his bed by your ankles and dropped to his knees, a fierce smile on his lips. 

"Been wanting to taste this bratty pussy for days. Bet it's as sweet as it looks."

His first lick was long. From your hole all the way over your clit. The squeak you let out at the feeling only made him more hungry. He spent what felt like an endless amount of time licking and thrusting his tongue as deep into your pussy as he could. By the time he finally gave your clit some much needed attention his chin was covered in pussy juice and your hole was fluttering as if it was seeking to be filled. Shouta teased you with a few small licks over your clit, making you whine and beg him to give you more. His arms wrapped around your thighs as he locked eyes with you and sucked your clit into his mouth. He sucked hard making you scream and thrash wildly. Your hands were buried in his hair as you squirted into his mouth. Your hips only stayed on the bed because of his strong arms keeping you in place. When he finally released your clit pussy juice was steadily leaking from your still twitching hole. 

"Oh did I break you already? You were so bold before and now you're just a mess. Think you can take my cock or do you want me to tuck you in for a nap."

The shit eating grin on his face was enough for you to pull his hair and glare at him. He sat up and shoved your wrists above your head to hold in one of his large hands. Slowly he worked his fat dripping cock into your almost too tight pussy. You whined and moaned his name as he finally bottomed out hitting your back wall. He stretched you more than you ever had been before but it was so damn good. Shouta started slow, one hand gripping your thigh as he ignored your demands for him to speed up.

"You're gonna take what I give you like a good girl or I'll just pull out and cum all over you right now."

That shut you up except for the constant stream of moans that left your throat. Just as you were finally getting used to being split by such a thick cock he changed his rhythm. Fast pounding thrusts that knocked the breath from your lungs were nearly constant. You didn't have enough breath to scream so you sobbed. Your half words were incoherent except for "sho please." Shouta leaned down and whispered in your ear as his thrusts once again spread up. He bit your ear lobe before making you lose your mind. 

"Such a tight little hole. I can't believe I had the strength to ignore it for three days. I could have at least eaten it while you laid back and rested. God I'm gonna have you for breakfast tomorrow." 

The utter heat in his words threw you over the edge making you cum so hard you began to shake. He growled as your pussy clenched down on him. Shouta sunk his teeth into the pillow by your head before shoving his cock against your cervix and shooting his cum against it. As soon as he finished cuming he started to thrust again. No slow start this time, just hard pounding thrusts that made you wail in pleasure. It didn't take long for you to cum again but Shouta lasted longer this time entirely fucking his cum out of you before finally cuming inside again just as deep as the first time. 

He pulled out and laid down next to you before pulling you on to his chest. You both panted trying to breathe like normal human beings again. Right as your breathing evened out you heard a voice from the doorway. And looked up to see the blonde radio host trailing his eyes over the two of you.

"I told you you wouldn't make it till I got home sho."

[dreamwritesimagines]

Twisted 28 - Sunlight [Spencer Reid x Reader]

A.N.: Thank you so much for your wonderful support my loves! Here’s the next chapter, I hope you will like it as well, and please let me know what you think of it! ❤❤ Ily, kisses! ❤❤❤

Series Masterlist

Warnings: Murder, serial killers, violence, manipulation, mentions of sex, drinking, smoking, hospitals, medicine.

Word Count: 4400

Summary: Survival makes people stronger.

Everyone’s voices were so muffled that for a moment it felt as if you were under water. It came and went just like the warmth, just like the comfort—

One moment there, the other moment far away, and anytime you tried to reach through that haze, you were pushed back into the numbness.

You could swear at some point your father was there too. You were still at the cabin, in that dress, sitting across from him by the chessboard, and then back at the weekend house where your sister was chasing you around the piano, your mother calling out for you to stop running, then someone pushing you into the lake by the cabin before it changed again and your father handed you a knife.

If this is hell, I’d like to talk to the manager.

But eventually, it all came back to you. There was this heaviness on your hand, your chest and ribs hurt terribly and your forehead kept stinging as you tried to open your eyes to meet the bright lights of the hospital room.

Ah. You weren’t in the woods anymore.

You had made it after all.

The constant beeping of the machine caught your attention for a moment before you looked down to see Spencer’s head resting on your hand, his fingers entwined with yours. Your mother was by the couch, her eyes fixed on the ceiling with a crumpled tissue in her hand and Mina was resting her head on her shoulder.

“Mom?” you rasped out and your mother’s eyes whipped to yours, Mina sat up and Spencer’s head shot up.

“Oh thank God!” your mother jumped out of her seat to come to your beside and pressed a kiss on top of your head, making you wince. “Oh thank God you’re okay…”

“Hey,” Mina wiped at her eyes and cleared her throat, “Welcome back brat.”

You smiled and turned to Spencer who was still holding your hand tight, watching you with bloodshot eyes.

“I know,” you said, “No eyeliner right?”

A small sob mixed with laughter rose from his throat and he pressed your hand to his lips, swallowing thickly.

“Hi.”

“Hey professor,” you tried to smile but you were in too much pain to do so, “Is there like…a morphine button or-?”

“I’ll go get the doctor,” Mina rushed out of the room and closed the door behind her, and your mother pulled back.

“How do you feel honey?”

“Like I crawled out of hell,” you said, “Is- is everyone okay?”

“Everyone is fine.”

“Where’s Lily?”

“With Kenzie and Nolan, outside.”

You let out a breath and turned to Spencer.

“You figured it out?” you asked, “The note?”

“Ophelia, yeah,” he sniffled and nodded fervently, “Cabin by the lake, we were on our way there when—” he stopped talking as if remembering it was way too heavy on him and you squeezed his hand.

“How did I….” you looked between them, “Survive? Erica shot me.”

“The helicopter,” your mother said, “We sent it with a medic and a sniper just in case.”

“You sent a helicopter with a medic and a sniper?” you repeated, “Mom, that sounds like a joke.”

“Well I’m glad you find it funny,” your mother wiped at her eyes again, “Because you’re grounded for the rest of your life.”

“Okay,” you shot a look at Spencer, “Ignore this.”

“No, not even your boyfriend can help you right now.”

“They still like you, no worries,” you explained and he shook his head slightly, reaching out to touch your cheek as if trying to prove to himself that you were real.

“I thought—“ he started and blinked back the tears, gritting his teeth and you rubbed your thumb over his hand.

“I’m fine,” you said and lifted your head when the thought hit you, “Wait what happened to Lincoln?”

A shadow crossed Spencer’s eyes and your mother flexed her fingers as if she wanted to throttle someone upon hearing his name.

“That monster is currently handcuffed to a hospital bed,” she said, “But not to worry, we put ten guards in front of his door, and I will make sure to ruin his life myself.”

“He survived?”

“Barely,” Spencer said through his teeth but before he could say anything else, the door opened and a doctor stepped in. Even you could hear Lily’s very loud protests, Kenzie trying to shush her and you smiled slightly before turning to the doctor who was checking the file in her hand.

“Hello Y/N,” she said cheerfully “Nice to see you awake, for a moment you had me worried we wouldn’t get to meet. So, we have head trauma, a bullet wound, broken ribs and blood loss. Were you trying to fill out a bingo of dangerous injuries or…?”

“Go big or go home doc,” you nodded and she raised her brows.

“Should I put in a psychiatric evaluation in here as well then?”

“Yes please,” your mother pinched the bridge of her nose and you heaved a sigh, making a face.

“Pain?”

“A lot.”

“Let’s see what we can do about that,” she said and Spencer stood up.

“Can I see her chart please?” he asked and she took almost taken aback before showing him the chart.

“I’d like to change these two meds,” Spencer said and started listing off his suggestions while you watched him with a smile on your face.

“Spencer,” you said, “Please let the nice and smart lady do her job.”

The doctor grinned at you, “That’s alright. Is there anything you would like to ask me?”

“Two questions. One, when can I go home?”

“We’d like to keep you under observation for a couple of days, depending on how fast your body shows progress to heal.”

“Okay. Can I smoke here?”

“Oh Jesus Christ,” your mother threw her head back, Spencer just stared at you and the doctor blinked a couple of times.

“Since this job taught me never to take any question as hypothetical,” she said, “I’m just going to answer it. No, under absolutely no circumstances are you allowed to smoke here.”

You curled your lips, “It was worth a try.”

“We’ll give you some really good painkillers, don’t worry,” she winked, “I’ll let the rest of your family in and see you later.”  

She walked to the door and opened it, and soon enough Lily rushed inside but as soon as she leaped at you, Kenzie caught her mid-air like a troublesome cat.

“No, what did I say outside?”

“But mama—“

“It’s okay Kenz. Hi bug.”

Kenzie gave you a teary eyed smile and slowly set Lily down, and she hugged her teddy bear before taking a step towards you, nibbling on her lip.

“Does it hurt?” she pointed at the stitches on your forehead and you tilted your head.

“Just a little, sweetie.”

She carefully put the teddy bear beside your bed and grinned at you.

“Mr. Chocolate Chip Cookie will be your friend here,” she patted the teddy bear’s head and you let out a small laugh.

“I really appreciate it bug, thank you,” you said and held the teddy bear in your lap before you turned to Nolan. “Hey man, thanks for the helicopter.”

“Thanks for the almost heart attack,” he replied and fixed his bowtie, “You keep me young with all this panic and adrenaline. Honestly Y/N, never do that to us again, please.”

“I’ll try my best not to get kidnapped by a maniac again,” you stated, “Besides, mom already grounded me so…”

“Good! No jet for you for a while young lady.”

A nurse came in to inject the painkiller into your IV, and you smiled at the sight of your family fondly, then cleared your throat.

“Hey, not that I didn’t miss you guys,” you said, “But um…can I talk to Spencer for a moment?”

Kenzie and Mina exchanged looks and Kenzie lifted Lily up.

“We’ll be right outside,” she said and walked to the door. One by one they left the room and your jaw dropped when you saw Mina squeezing Spencer’s shoulder before she left as well.

“Well, something changed,” you commented and Spencer came to pull a chair next to the bed before he reached out to hold your hand.

“She was the first one to talk to me when we landed,” his voice still didn’t sound so strong and you frowned.

“What did she say?”

“Go there and bring my sister back.” Spencer said and ran a hand over his eyes, “Based on the profile, I thought he’d already—“ he couldn’t even finish that sentence before he kissed the back of your hand, “I thought I lost you.”

“Nah, cigarettes will kill me, not serial killers,” you reached out to push a curl out of his eyes, “I thought you knew that. All looks and no smarts, aren’t you?”

He scoffed a shaky laugh and you licked your lips.

“What happened there?” you asked, “I heard gunshots after Erica shot me, is she—“

“Dead,” Spencer nodded, “She was shot right there.”

You could feel the goosebumps on your skin, “And Lincoln?”

“I was going to kill him,” Spencer said, “If I got there first, I would’ve.”

“Spencer you don’t mean that.”

“I do,” he told you, a dangerous light gleaming in his eyes, “I do mean that.”

You heaved a sigh, now easier thanks to the painkillers, “Yeah well, I guess I know the feeling.”

“Um- the team is outside as well by the way,” he said, “Luke and Garcia has been here the whole night, and I’ve been instructed to tell you, word by word, no amount of pastries will excuse the worry you put them through.”

You grinned, the tired haze of sleep crashing on you, “Ouch, I’ll have to try harder I guess,” you said and yawned, making Spencer smile.

“Rest a little,” he said, “I’ll stay right here, okay?”

You nodded and leaned your head back to the pillows, then closed your eyes.

                                                 ***

You were given the permission to go home after a week because your mother insisted on keeping you there until she was convinced you wouldn’t drop dead all of a sudden. Surprisingly enough, she didn’t raise hell when you told her you would be staying at Spencer’s place for a while, and for once, Mina agreed with you.

You really needed to ask Spencer what had happened while you were gone, in detail.

It was strange, but your sleep was much less disturbed after you had returned from the hospital. When you were in hospital you had just assumed it was because of the meds they had given you, but now, sleeping with Spencer in his bed, there was still no sign of any nightmares.

With you, that was. Spencer was a completely different story.

You still had to be careful because of your ribs and the doctor had told you to be careful with how you slept, so the moment you moved a little in your sleep and felt the pain shooting through you, you made a face and reached for Spencer’s side of the bed only to meet an empty spot. You opened your eyes, and carefully sat up in bed, trying to hear whether there was any noise to signal he was coming back to bed but there was none, so you slipped out of the bed and walked to the living room.

Of course he was there. Cradling a cup with steam coming out of it in his hands, staring into the darkness as if he was lost in his own mind.

“Spencer?” you said softly and he turned his head, snapping out of his thoughts.

“Hey,” he said, trying to smile, “Why are you up?”

“I could ask you the same question,” you tilted your head before you went to sit beside him and he ran a hand through his curls.

“It’s not important.”

“Nightmares?” you asked and he nodded silently.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Maybe later,” he murmured, “How about you? Any pain? Do you need an ice bag?”

You shook your head, “Nah it’s fine,” you said, “It doesn’t hurt that terribly.”

“And your nightmares?”

You shrugged, “No nightmares. I mean—at least not like the earlier ones. Not where I’m turning into him.”

“Trauma works differently in everyone.”

“I don’t think it’s the trauma though,” you said, “I think it’s because…because I know now.”

He raised his brows, his whole attention on you, “What do you mean?”

“It’s not in me,” you said, “It’s just—it’s just not. I don’t think it ever was. My father killed people because it made him feel powerful. It wasn’t like that with me, back at the cabin. It was survival. For me and people I care about, that’s all. It doesn’t make me evil.”

That seemed to pull him out of his thoughts and he smiled.

“No it doesn’t,” he said, “You’ve never been evil. Even when he tried to turn you into that.”

Even your heart felt light, despite the pain in your ribs and your smile widened.

“I know he’s not dead but…”

“He’s locked away. Same difference from now on.”

You paused for a moment, “Speaking of,” you said, “I was thinking I could go and see him for the last time.”

He frowned, “Why?”

“I don’t know. I think it’ll help me put this whole thing behind me.”

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

“I want to see the look on his face when he realizes his small project failed,” you said, “Trust me. There’s no way he can get to me, not anymore.”

He rubbed his thumb over your hand and you leaned back to the back of the couch, still keeping your gaze on his handsome face.

“You don’t have to come with me,” you said, “If it’s too much.”

“It’s not that,” he rasped out, “Officially, I might not be allowed in.”

“Why not?”

“I’m leaving the BAU.”

You blinked a couple of times, gawking at him, then sat up straighter.

“What?”

“I can’t anymore,” he averted his glances from you to look into space, nibbling on his lip, “Y/N, I was out of the city when they called me to tell me you were missing, that you were most probably taken by the copycat. And for the whole time until I found you…” his voice cracked, “Lincoln’s profile, before we even knew that he was Lincoln, it all suggested that he…killed his victims without spending any time with them. I thought—“ he sniffled and cleared his throat, “I can’t do that anymore. Imagining you like all those victims…”

“Spencer, I’m fine.”

“But you weren’t,” he said, barely moving his lips, “Back there.”

Ah. The woods.

“That’s what your nightmare was about?” you asked and he heaved a shaky sigh.

“I couldn’t save you,” he said, “You died there, and I couldn’t do anything, I was too late—“

“Spencer,” you reached out to touch his cheek, “Hey, look at me.”

He turned his head so that his eyes would meet yours and you dragged your fingertips over the slight stubble on his cheek.

“You weren’t too late,” you told him, “And I didn’t die. Okay? I’m right here. Don’t leave the BAU because of me, do it only if you want to. I’ll be with you either way.”

He blinked back the tears and nodded. “I want to,” he whispered, “I can’t anymore, and I want- I want to be here. I’ll just…I’ll focus on teaching, and the team can consult me whenever they need to, but I need to be here.”

“And you’re sure about that? It’s not some…heat of the moment decision?”

“It’s not,” he said, “I’m positive.”

“Alright,” you smiled at him softly, “Okay then. I guess instead of talking about gruesome murders and copycats who were after me, we can be one of those boring, cliché couples who bicker about…I don’t know, dirty dishes in the sink, or how you forgot to put down the toilet seat or-“

“Your hair in the drain.”

“I’m going to pretend like you weren’t waiting for the opportunity to bring that up.”

He let out a teary laugh and wiped at his eyes before he pulled you closer and carefully wrapped his arms around you so as not to hurt your ribs, burying his face into the crook of your neck. You brushed your fingers through his curls, as if trying to prove to him that you were there, that you were alright.

“I love you so much,” the confession left his lips in a whisper and you could feel the burning behind your eyes as you raked your nails over the nape of his neck gently.

“I love you too,” you murmured, “God, you have no idea how much.”

                                                      ***

The BAU, upon your request, fixed a meeting with your father for the next week.

And throughout that week, everyone tried to convince you to change your mind. Your mother had made a whole scene during brunch, telling you that it was as if you liked torturing yourself, but you knew deep down that you had to talk to him for the last time.

Seeing your father after what felt like a life time, especially after everything that you had been through was strange at the very least. You didn’t have any goosebumps, you didn’t have that nervousness messing with your head, you didn’t feel like you were under the threat of being attacked any time, and most of all—

You didn’t feel like he was stronger than you. At all.

You lit a cigarette in the interrogation room, then flipped the cap of the lighter and turned your head when the door opened and your father walked in, chains dangling from his handcuffs wrapped around his ankles. He stared at you for a couple of seconds as if he didn’t expect to see you there and let out a breath.

“Petal…”

“You should sit down,” you said, exhaling the smoke and a guard helped him sit down across from you.

“We’re right outside, miss.”

“Thank you,” you said and watched as he straightened his back, his gaze focused on you.

“You look…” he trailed off and you raised your brows,

“Hm?”

“What did they do to you?”

“Ah I guess your outside source ending up dead gets you a bit behind on the news,” you said, “Erica is dead, Lincoln is never gonna see the sunlight again, and your whole project to turn me into your legacy with the help of them failed terribly.”

“I’d never allow them to harm you like this.”

You rolled your eyes, exhaling the smoke.

“But you fought your way out, didn’t you?” he asked you, “Looks like my training helped you after all. Even if you refuse to see that.”

“Did you seriously think I’d become like you?” you asked back, “Did you think Lincoln would manage to turn me into you?”

“Honey, Lincoln was going to be your companion at best, your first kill at worst.” he said and you clicked your tongue.

“Oh, that was your plan all along?”

“Some part of it, at least. I knew they wouldn’t be able to handle you, but I thought you could decide what to do with them. Could you kill Erica at least?”

“Didn’t get the chance.”

“You should have,” he said, “You would see, Petal.”

You twirled the cigarette between your fingers, staring at him for a couple of seconds.

“I keep thinking,” you mused, “You know what I said to Mina and Kenzie when they first told me they wanted to have a baby?”

He tilted his head, “Hm? What?”

“I asked them if they lost their minds.”

Your father pulled back slightly and you shrugged your shoulders.

“Because I mean… Kenzie’s parents are assholes, and there’s you,” you motioned at him, “Not that anyone else could take the cake on being a messed up parent when you’re in the picture.”

“I take offense to that.”

“I don’t care,” you said, “But then it hit me, back at the hospital. I was looking at this whole mess from the wrong perspective.”

“Which is?”

“They had a point,” you said, “Back then- before all this I mean, I thought when someone decided to have kids, their first priority was to be the perfect parent. That’s stupid, it’s impossible to be the perfect parent, our own parents mess us up in one way or another. But I get it now.”

“You get what?”

“The first step is being better than your own parents, not starting out perfect,” you said, “That’s why every generation is different, we’re all trying to be better than our parents, and some of us actually succeed.”

“And you think you’d be a better parent than me, is that it?”

“Shouldn’t take that much of an effort to be honest.”

“Are you…?” he motioned at you and you scoffed.

“No,” you said, “No, but what happened back there made me think. I’ve been living my whole life so convinced that you messed me up beyond my own control, beyond saving, but that’s not completely true, is it? I mean, just because you’re in my past, doesn’t mean I’ll have to include you in my present.”

“But I am in your present Petal.”

You pursed your lips together, then gestured around you. “Debatable. Nolan is buying this whole place, did you know that?” you asked, “All your guards are on our paychecks, so it should be harder to…use them to contact outside. We control everything that’s happening here, and there’s nothing you can do about that.”

He blinked a couple of times, trying to catch up with your train of thought.

“And you think that will be enough to put me behind you?”

You shook your head, “No, I don’t think it’s that easy,” you confessed, “But it’s a start.”

He moved his hands on the table, the chain rattling.

“I raised you.” he said, “I’m inside your head, whether you like it or not. You’re my legacy—“

“I’m my own legacy, you fucking idiot,” you said with a small chuckle, “That’s who I am. Just because your expectations of me will not leave me, doesn’t mean I’ll let them haunt me.”

“And you think that will be enough.”

“I will never see you again,” you tilted your head, “Should make things easier, to be honest.”

He smiled, “But you already hurt people,” he said “You know how it feels now, don’t you? That fire? Now you know what you’re capable of.”

You thought for a moment.

“Yeah,” you said, “Yeah I do. Now I know that if it ever comes to that point, I’m capable of protecting myself and my family. It doesn’t make me a monster, it makes me a survivor. Me and mom have that in common, after the shit you’ve pulled.”

He stared at you and you took a last drag of your cigarette, then checked your wristwatch.

“Well I should go. You may have all the time in the world, but I actually have a life, so…”

You stubbed your cigarette and walked to the door but as soon as you opened it, he said your name, making you stop.

“You can’t escape from this,” he said, “Even if you never see me again, you still won’t escape, you know that, right? Why do you think I chose you and not your sister? Even when you were a child, you had…something in you. Something dark, something dangerous.”

The idea was very familiar to you. You had been saying the same thing to yourself for many years and hearing it from him for what felt like a hundredth time was supposed to make you feel bad, you knew that. If it were any other time before your kidnapping, before saving yourself in that cabin, before surviving everything your father and his followers had put you through, it would probably have more effect on you.

The last time he had done that, you had ended up in the stairs, shaking until Spencer had found you.

But it wasn’t that time.

It was as if something had clicked inside your head after everything, and your father’s words held no strength in them.

“Come on honey,” he told you, “Some people are just born twisted.”

A small smile pulled at your lips and you raised your brows, looking at him for a couple of seconds, etching the sight of him in chains into your memory.

“Maybe,” you said and took a step towards him, opening your cigarette case to pull out the small jasmine flower out of it, then put it on the table, eyes locked to his before you leaned in slightly.

“But I wasn’t.”

With that, you turned around and walked out of the interrogation room for the last time, ignoring the way he was yelling your name. Your smile widened as you made your way out of the building, your heels echoing in the halls before you stepped out, the fresh air filling your lungs.

“Hey,” Spencer greeted you, leaning back to your car and reached out so that you could step into his embrace as he pushed your hair out of your face, “How did it go?”

“As expected,” you stood on your tiptoes to press a kiss on his lips and he heaved a sigh.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” you said “Yeah I feel like…he’s gone. He’s gone, I’m here and I’m free and I know myself now. I finally woke up from that nightmare, for good.”

He smiled and brushed his lips against yours, “That’s a good start,” he commented, “What do you want to do now?”

“I’m open to suggestions,” you said and he tilted his head before he held up your keys.

“What do you say we drive away and never return here?”

You let out a small giggle and wrapped your arms around his neck.

“I like that idea,” you said, “Let’s drive away and never return.”

Chapter 29 

[peakyblindersxx]

whiskey business - john shelby x reader (part 6 of ?)

gif by my queen @michaelgreys, i'm basically her fanblog now but im not mad about it :) i mean just look at him!!1! i almost fainted

a/n: first of all, if you stuck around to this point, tysm for reading!!! this has been one of the most amazing fics ive ever been a part of and it's all thanks to the gorgeous @stxdyblr-2k, who generously took control of the next few parts. her brain is beautiful and we all owe her flowers or something. when i read what she sent me i couldn't bring myself to change much except for some small edits, so pls give her lots of love if you like it!!!! i'm still working on requests as well :)

love, abi xxx

read part one two three four five | my masterlist

tagging: @datewithgianni, @mayaslifeinabox, @deepdonutkid, @springsoulofengland, @lilymurphy03

prompt: nothing this good can last forever. john doesn't know how to feel, and neither do you.

warnings: nsfw! a teensy bit of smut, angsty as fuck prepare yourselves accordingly, a lil fluff if u squint, yeah this fucked me up

Obviously, it wasn't the last time.

Over the coming months you had many last times; his mouth pressed against your neck said as much. As his responsibility at work increased, you'd find yourself heading to his office after your lectures and night classes more often, perched on his lap, smoking, while he finished up his numbers under your critical gaze.

Thomas was more than aware; his snarky comments made it obvious he had his ways of monitoring your actions. You'd seen the dark car lurking outside your rallies and lectures, and no matter how you'd try to throw him off, not even telling Ada where you were going and even, in a moment of desperation, through your neighbours back window, somehow, his silent shadow was still looming. He was practically begging you to make a mistake, to give everyone an easy out. You just couldn't give him the satisfaction. You knew Tommy saw the world as a chess board, always several moves ahead of his opponent. Even when you played him in chess club all those years ago, you could outflank him if you thought on your feet and kept him thinking he was winning until you obliterated him in the end game. It was brutal, sure. But as he told you, there were bigger games at play. You had your own. Thomas could read your mail, intercept your phone calls and have you followed, but he couldn't hear what you said out of earshot. Your lot could smell an interceptor in your ranks, so spying at that close of a proximity was out of the question.

That's why he'd decided to let you have John. You knew his silent approval and his constant management of the narrative meant he saw a tactical gain. There was only so much information he could get from Ada, but John? He just had to agitate him in the right way and all your secrets would come tumbling out. It was difficult hiding your world from John; of what he knew of, he was supportive, quizzing you over current affairs and political discourse, listening intently. Yet, you had to watch your mouth. You had to keep a barrier up and you knew John sensed the distance. Fundamentally, there was nothing either of you could do.

So here you were, in a comfortable limbo. Your days were filled with work, evenings were for lectures and reading groups at the city's university, Ada and you often stopped for a drink or three; you'd go by your flat to freshen up, and then to John's office. Sometimes, you wouldn't visit for a week or so when the guilt sent you over the edge, it was draining to be living so many lives and knowing you were betraying the person you loved most on earth. Ada was oblivious, taking you on her nightly adventures filled with men, dancing and waiting while she was busy kissing in dark corners. Sometimes a young blinder would ask if you wanted to be walked home. The first occurrence you thought was sweet, but as the nights it occurred coincided with nights John seemed extra pent up, you'd decided to ask. The boy, who couldn't be older than twelve but who you knew was trained in using firearms and had a revolver pinned to his hip and a razor in his cap, looked confused.

"Mate, it's not a tough question. Why do you come and ask?"

"There's a phone call." He shrugs, "Isaiah or Michael tells us to go and get you."

Isaiah and Michael were somewhat aware? Fucking hell. Your fling was basically a military campaign at this point, so many of your friends were complicit. The little lads who ran as messengers around Birmingham were complicit. You had to just end it.

But when you sat on his thigh, his chin hooked over your shoulder, it felt so worth it. He never turned you away when you came crawling back. He never mentioned it until after you were finished, hooked under his arm.

"Fucking missed you, gorgeous."

Sometimes he'd remind you not to be a stranger with a wink, but you could tell it was tearing him apart too. He never once came to you. That's how he could justify it in his mind; obviously, the bare minimum was not having sex with his sister's best friend, but in failing that, waiting for you to initiate it was somewhat better. He barely talked to Ada now, citing work as an excuse, but truly the guilt sickened him. He couldn't believe he was prepared to continuously hurt his little sister and betray her. But every time you turned up at his door, he couldn't find it in himself to turn you away. In his mind, every single time you came to visit him was the last time he'd let it happen, yet he was always waiting for you to come back, his blind closed to signal he was prepared. He never would call, it had to be your choice.

You'd been off and on for over five months now. It was so difficult to hide in plain sight, but you just couldn't stop yourself. Neither of you purposefully meant for this to be happen but fuck, was it fun.

For your birthday he'd gifted you a fur coat from the same shop his sister, aunt and the fashionable crowd of Birmingham had purchased theirs. He joked that you looked like a "proper razor chaser", kissing you when you pouted at his teasing, begging you to wear only the coat when you fucked him next. It was a practice for blinders to buy a coat for their wives and girlfriends as a status symbol. You were neither, but John claimed that being his "favourite lass" also counted.

John was a laugh, but you knew at any time he could close his door to you. Until he decided he couldn't be bothered with you, you weren't going to get caught. You just had to be careful until he got bored.

***

You did end up putting a foot wrong. It was a Thursday night; you were sitting on the edge of John's desk while he was ridding you of your blouse. It was past midnight, Birmingham was asleep. You almost didn't bother coming out tonight, but you knew John had lost a deal and you wanted to be there for him. Your skirt and stockings were strewn across the desk with his shirt, vest and waistcoat, muddled into the files and papers which were once neatly stacked.

His fingers were pumping in and out of you, his mouth lapping at your breast, your head tipped back in euphoria, groaning. The stress made him more affectionate and tender with you, and it was nights like these that made you wonder. Wonder if this could ever be something more, something real.

John's body suddenly pulled away from yours, quickly turning the light off.

"John, what-" You were cut off by John’s hand over your mouth, muffling your words.

"Shut up and get behind the desk." He hissed. "Someone's coming upstairs."

You quickly grabbed your clothes from the shiny oak surface and crouched, hiding yourself from view, quickly making yourself decent. You weren't going to get shot through the head with your tits out. You listened to the stairs creek, and it sounded like a group. You two were easily outnumbered. They were talking, but the thick panels of wood muffled their voices.

As your eyes adjusted to the darkness, the cracks in the door giving the room a dulled glow, you could make out the figure of John. He was free of his shirt, toned body on display, standing with his back flat to the wall, revolver produced from a discreet notch in the door frame, gaze fixed on where they'd enter. He was tense, ready. The door was unlocked from the outside, the door handle twisting.

John's lip shifted in confusion yet still he kept his trigger finger ready, not a single shake from your general.

The light flicked on and a shriek rang out. It was blinding, and you stood up slightly dazed. Finn was in the doorway, John next to him clutching his chest, panting and lowering the gun.

"Jesus Christ, Finn, can't you knock like a normal person? Scared the shit out of us." John bellowed, shaking as the adrenaline coursed through his body, resting his hands on the edge of the desk as he regained his breath.

"You're the one who pointed a gun at me! I didn't even know you were in 'ere!" Finn yelped.

The commotion had attracted the attention of Ada and Isaiah, who had come running and stopped in their tracks upon seeing you standing behind John's desk in the middle of the night. They weren't stupid. John was topless, your clothes obviously rumpled, both with matching tousled hair and practically stinking of guilt. You'd been caught red handed. Ada's eyes flicked between both you and John, and you could practically see the pieces of the puzzle clicking together in her mind, all the moments she found questionable since you'd returned suddenly making sense, realising she had been deceived by the two people who she was meant to trust most in life. Finn looked absolutely crushed, he'd never been able to conceal his emotions as well as his older brothers and sister, linking his fingers through Ada's, squeezing her hand.

"I forgot to drop this off earlier." Finn stated, holding up a money box, "Ada had keys so we thought we'd sneak in so I wouldn't get done by Tommy. We did call round yours, Y/N. We thought you were in bed."

"I'm sorry." You said. It was not enough but you just didn't know what else to say. You couldn't make it right, you'd really fucked up this time. Tears pricked at your eyes, as Ada examined you in silence.

John stepped in front of you defensively. "Look, Ada-"

"How long has this been going on?" She asked, her voice shaking with rage. You and John exchanged a glance. "I said, how fucking long?"

"Five months, six in a fortnight." He answered.

Isaiah whistled lowly. "That's fucked. I thought it was only a few times, that it'd finished."

"Never really over when it's John is it." Finn interjects, you glance to him, were you just one in a long string? You shouldn't be surprised but it was easy to pretend he may actually care about you.

"You've been fucking around for six months behind my back?" Ada yelped, Finn trying to comfort her but she pulled away from him. "And you fucking knew Iz."

"I'd expect this from you, yeah? Wouldn't put anything past you these days.." she sneered at John, "But you? You?! You're meant to be my best mate, but here you are sneaking about fucking my brother?"

"Ada-" you began, eyes welling with tears.

"I thought I could trust you. You're just another fucking razor chaser, aren't you?" She spits. "That's why you came back."

"No it wasn't, Ada-"

Her eyes flashed with anger, but this time John was on the receiving end. "You bought her that fucking coat ,didn't you? The fur one. You did! Fuck's sake!" Her fists were clenched, shoulders squared. For the first time in your life, you understood why crowds parted for Ada Shelby. Understood all the free drinks and cab rides, the nervous serving staff declaring your meal on the house (always acknowledged by Ada with a hefty tip), understood why the men of Birmingham didn't last long with her.

"Did it feel good to swan about town in that fucking coat, while acting as though you cared about me? It's so fucking embarrassing. All trussed up because my knobhead big brother makes you feel special? Thanks for rubbing it in my face."

"Ada, I love you. I never meant to hurt you, I got caught up and that's on me. It's my fault."

"You're not acting like you love me. This isn’t what love is, Y/N." She retorted.

You couldn’t do anything but nod. She was right.

John opened his mouth to speak, Ada silencing him, a scowl darkening her features.

"I don't care what you have to say. Any of you. Who else knows?"

"Thomas, Michael, Arthur-" John listed off slowly, each name prompting Ada to break down a little bit more in front of you.

"I didn't know Arthur knew." You said pointedly, John sending you an exasperated glance. He was planning on dealing with that later, but right now was about his sister. Fuck him if he thought you were going to stick around much longer. You didn't want to hear him justify everyone else knowing about your fling with your best friend being left completely in the dark.

"That all you have to say for yourself?" Ada snaps at you.

"I have fucking no defense, do I Ada? I should've walked away." You pushed your hair back, frustrated at yourself, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. You begged yourself not to cry. Tears wouldn't help anything.

"Why didn't you?"

You didn't know. Your silence only riled her up.

"Why didn't you fucking walk away?" Ada yelled, slamming her hands on the desk.

You felt hot tears run down your face, quickly moving your hands to dab at your tears.

"Don't you dare fucking cry. After all you've done, you don't get to cry in front of me." Ada growled at you, John going to shush her, obviously wanting to comfort you. "You can all fuck off. You've all lied to me and gone behind my back. Fuck’s sake, you could've just told me. You could've just told me."

"We didn't want to hurt you." John said, reaching out to squeeze her shoulder but she flinches away.

"This hurts so much more. You get that you all lying to me is so much worse, don't you?"

"We weren't thinking."

"You really fucking weren't." Ada laughs bitterly, shaking her head, blinking away tears. "Fuck you lot."

She stormed out, tailed by Finn, begging her to slow down and talk to him, protesting his innocence in the situation. Isaiah hesitated in the doorway, his eyes flickering between you and John.

"I had no idea you two've been at it for so long."

"Iz, fuck off yeah? I've had enough today." John shot back, sliding across the desk towards you. "You alright, lass?"

"We're done here, John."

He slid off the table, his hand cupping your face, "Hey, gorgeous, I get it but don't go breaking my heart tonight. Can we just leave this for tomorrow? Sleep on it."

The idea of getting any sleep at all tonight was laughable, you'd be up all night replaying these moments and torturing yourself. Tonight couldn't get any worse so you had to finally end it. Now was the right time.

"John, it should've never happened."

"But it did."

"I don't want to talk about this anymore. It's over."

"Y/N. You know for me it was never just about-"

"You're making it difficult. Stop making it difficult. Whatever you say isn't going to change that right now we have to do the right thing."

"I know you're right, but I don't want to let go. Is it so wrong to want you? I adore you, you know that."

You wouldn't meet his eyes. Sighing, John pressed his forehead to the side of your head, chin brushing your shoulder, eyes closing. He was begging you to stay with him. There had to be a solution, you'd figure it out together. His voice was cracking, eyes glassy. He looked so much younger when he was pleading. The tall bloke who terrorised the Midlands with his razor rimmed cap, a revolver in his hand, and a ruthless trigger finger had vanished. You wanted to stay, burning to curl up with him and for him to kiss it better.

"I should go." You told him. He rested his forehead on your shoulder, letting out a shaky sigh before pulling away, nodding.

"I'd drive you home but obviously-"

"Obviously."

John suddenly turned from you, eyes narrowing at Isaiah who was still hovering at the door. "Thought I told you to fuck off. Make yourself useful and get Y/N home safely." His tone was ice cold once again.

Isaiah nodded, offering his arm to you. You reached the door and instinctively looked back at John. His eyes met yours, staring at you from his desk, just as you knew he would. He prepared himself to watch you leave every night, but this time was different. That was it with you two.

Isaiah strode down the street with you in silence. You were tucked into his side as was customary with the upcoming blinders who were particularly ambitious, but there was no relaxed chat.

"Isaiah. What’re you thinking?" You asked, voice tinged with nervousness.

He sighed, running his free hand across his jaw, "That was intense in there."

"Just how he is." You shrugged.

"Does he love you or sommet?"

"Fuck knows… does it matter?"

"Of course it does. Do you love him?"

"Drop it. None of that matters, it shouldn't have happened in the first place so it can’t," You snapped, the anger at the situation you'd created suddenly overwhelming.

Isaiah whistled, raising his brow at your obvious turmoil. "You're in fucking deeper than you want to admit."

He walked you up your path, watching you turn the key to the side door leading to your bedsit. You paused, turning to him.

"Iz… I don't know what to do next."

It was so dark, you could see his face only by the lit cigarette burning to embers between his fingers. He inhaled deeply, pausing before delivering his carefully laid out plan of avoidance. Obviously the event of him crossing the Shelbys and losing their good graces weighed heavily on his mind. You nodded, listening intently, noting his ideas of relocation but he explained they were a final resort. The best thing to do was try to regain their trust; in the long run, he had calculated, it was the only option that didn't result in your life being haunted by the Shelbys. Even if they left you alone, their enemies would make a point to go after you, seeing you as an easy target. The other option was to leave the country.

"Good luck, Y/N. I mean it." He muttered as you turned the handle to the temporary safety of your home. You nodded, offering you cheek for the polite good night kiss you'd become accustomed to. He rolled his eyes and obliged, pressing an affectionate kiss to your cheek and ruffling your hair. "I'm serious. Watch your back."

***

John broke down when he finally heard the lock click shut. His eyes had been prickling with boiling tears, his jaw tensed to hold them back. He yelled out in anger, flipping his desk with force, a loud crash as the wood splintered against the stone flooring, glass shattering from the photo frames. His hands went to his head, unable to stop the gasping breaths escaping from his trembling lips, his face reddening.

"Fuck’s sake." He growled. He'd fucked everything up. He had nothing, just as he'd told you the first night you returned. The consequence was no surprise, he'd anticipated the fall out for a while, but he couldn't resist you. He was completely guilty and had no defense; his only justification being that you made him think with his cock, not his brain.

Fuck’s sake. Polly was going to murder him. She'd always had a soft spot for Ada, as the only girl in the family, and was no stranger to lecturing him over his flirtatious behaviour around Ada's friends. She'd murder him. He had a half mind to never go home. He rubbed at his eyes with his knuckles. Polly had no use for tears. That's what she'd tell him when he was a boy coming home with a skinned knee. This was far worse.

He was also sure that he was a worse brother than Tommy, perhaps the worst in the world. His baby sister, who he'd helped to toddle, carry proudly on his shoulders after school and race with her on his back through the fields on the outskirts of Small Heath, had walked in on him obviously in the midst of fucking her best mate. If he had swallowed his pride and actually talked to her, he wouldn't be in this mess. He could've told her that things changed, that for the same reasons Ada loved Y/N he had fallen for her, that he was truly sorry but she had to know before it got too far and someone got hurt. He couldn't go back.

He should've never approached you that night.

He should never approach you again.

He looked over the mess of his office, the splintered wood and shards of glass, a confetti of paperwork. Now nothing mattered. None of this mattered. He'd lost everything and he had only himself to blame.

[sorryimanon]

Pairings: Bakugou x fem!Reader

Tags: 18+, dirty talk, explicit scenes, mutual masturbation, penetration, bakugou being a switch, reader is a dom, lots of back and forth between characters, slow burn

A/N: this was supposed to be divided into two parts but surprise, surprise! i got lazy :) i had so much writing this. this might be my favorite fic ive written so far! this is a loooong one. enjoy! 

P.S this is the unedited ver. I will posting the final on my AO3 account (sorryimanon)

-

Katsuki disliked her. No, he absolutely loathed her. Ever since she stepped foot into the classroom, it was destined for there to be a hostile barrier between the two of them. Granted, all she did was sweetly greet him like the rest of her fellow classmates, but Katsuki completely saw through her fading facade and ignored the kind gesture with a threatening showcase of his quirk.

"Being nice won't get you anywhere, baka," he snarled, glaring intensely at her all the while everyone watched the whole scene unfold.

He treated her like a foolish peasant after that initial encounter, disregarding her in any way shape or form as disgust shone through his eyes.

Y/N persevered the oncoming school years despite the blonde breathing down her neck consistently everyday. Katsuki's aggressive nature towards her subsided once graduation commenced, alluding to the blossoming maturity each student should have endured before branching off into hero work.

Not long after the celebratory succession, y/n bounced to several agencies that offered the same beneficial agreements for her. None caught her attention. Until one day she received a recommendation from Endeavor himself to work full time at his agency. Of course she accepted it and immediately wrote her sloppy signature down on the contract. Unbeknownst to her excitement, a separate copy of the contract was sent to another uprising hero around her age group.

So when she strutted in that morning of orientation, she never expected to see the very infamous Katsuki Bakugou slouched on one of the many chairs in the meeting room. Her throat tightened as she took a seat next to him, his height still freakishly tall even when they were just sitting. Staring straight forward to prevent from any means of eye contact with him, he lowered his head at her eye level and crooked a half smile.

"I'm gonna make you regret for even considering joining here, extra." A fleck of his spit hit the side of her face. Learning from her past encounters with Katsuki, y/n held her tongue in hopes for him to feel satisfied enough to leave her alone.

Thankfully their office hours were inconsistent to where they didn't intervene with each other, neither of them awkwardly meeting in the lobby or an elevator. However, sometimes y/n and Bakugou would desire the same craving for a caffeinated beverage and find themselves standing shoulder to shoulder by the coffee machine.

Bakugou likes his coffee black, she mentally jotted down as she intently watched his usual routine of preparing the beverage.

Like the asshole he is, Bakugou would purposely tip the mug and let a few trickles of the hot liquid burn her hand. He's done this every single time before he leaves y/n alone in the break room. Deep down, he relishes in the strained expression on her face when he inflicts the pain upon her. Thoughts danced across his head. Some involving him blasting y/n into the stratosphere to her kissing the tips of his boots for mercy. Either way, her being so submissive and, dare he say, a pussy to stand her ground sufficed him enough for the time being. But sometimes it pissed him off.

The constant harassment by the angry blonde went unnoticed by their other colleagues, including Endeavor, leaving y/n to prepare every morning to face the wrath of Katsuki Bakugou. His verbal abuse never wavered, occasionally whispering under his breath "weakling" or "stupid girl" whenever the pair were in the same room together. One time he sent her on a wild goose chase to find a missing case file that miraculously disappeared from her desk while she was copying something in the other room. Hours later, she soon discovers the said file tucked behind Katsuki's arm, snatching it from his grip and not once reprimanding him for wasting her time. Y/N eventually got used to it. Adapting to the annual insults of her work ethics and anything he could muster up from his sleeve. Both finally accepted their twisted dynamic, and became accustomed to the work lifestyle.

Months later, the dynamic soon changed when Endeavor announced an emergency meeting with everyone in the building. Apparently a new wave of villains have been reigning terror over the city, causing major damages and fatalities in a matter of weeks. Rumors started to circulate that the new generation of heroes don't have the capabilities to apprehend this group of evil doers. In the meeting, Endeavor made it clear for everyone to be partnered up before he dismisses them to patrol for the night, suggesting that pairing up with someone who is complimentary to your quirk is efficient for when dealing with these kinds of villains.

That's why y/n didn't voice her complaint when she inevitably got matched with Bakugou. His quirk alone was powerful already. With both of their quirks combined, there's no telling how the mission will go, but she surprisingly feels safe knowing he'll be sticking by her side throughout the rest of the night. It'll be a quick mission, then they'll return back to their previous mundane duties in the office. Back to Katsuki's mental and verbal torment.

"Could you move any slower?" Katsuki barked as both he and y/n were taking a quick stroll through the public park, scoping out for any signs of danger.

She was a step behind him, careful not to bump his shoulder or invade his space. She mumbled out a quick apology and fastened her pace, catching up to the man in gear. Tonight he wore his alternative hero costume, the design made specifically for when the temperature reaches an undesirable degree. The collar touched below the tip of his chin, his chiseled chest covered with the thick black material, and his arms protected from the cold with the addition of sleeves.  

"Fucking weakling..." she heard him mumble once they circled the perimeter again.

Bakugou insisted for them to scout out as many places as possible in hopes for an encounter. He desperately needs any excuse for some action, to use his quirk out of anger. Previously, they patrolled the empty plaza of Tatoone shopping center. Other heroes were there as well, but still no signs of any villains lurking in the dark. For the third time, they met up at the center of the park after making another round, both already tired of the tedious task.

"Just our fucking luck. Still no signs of those stupid villains. I guess we should patrol the outskirts of-."

A bright luminescent beam struck the middle of Bakugou's chest cavity, ricocheting him backwards to slam against the trunk of a large tree, knocking him unconscious instantly. Startled, y/n's eyes frantically searched for the perpetrator, only to meet a pair of glowing green orbs staring right back. She shifted her stance in preparation for their next attack, blocking Bakugou's lifeless body from the villains view. Another beam shot from the darkness, only this time y/n counter balanced the blow by rolling to side, the blast missing her by a couple of feet. Y/N quickly raised to her feet and ran head first towards the dark figure. Without preamble, the figure shot multiple beams at the hero, each one emitting from the void of their chest.

Y/N dodged the bright suffocating strips of light, her feet shuffling and heart racing due to the adrenaline rush. However, she miscalculated her next move which allowed the figure to strike her left shoulder when she was distracted for a split second. Pain shot throughout her shoulder blade. Eyes drawn to a close, her hand shot up to cradle the injury. The intense sensation started to spread from the upper half of her body to below. Everything suddenly became numb, including her sensors. She couldn't feel the tips of her digits nor move any part of her face. The muscles in her legs soon stopped contracting, resulting in her knees giving out. She felt the hard, coarse ground beneath her as the darkness began to swallow up her line of vision. The last thing she saw was a scuffed up Bakugou laying face flat on the drenched grass.

- Y/N stirred awake, lifting one of her half lidded eyes expecting to see the villain looming over her tired body. But all she saw was the popcorn ceiling sheltering her, an overhead fan turned on and the curtains tightly shut. She slowly inclined her body upright and peeled the covers from her clammy figure. Still in the process of waking up, she made her way to the attached bathroom by the bed and located the sink. She splashed the cold water on her face, letting the droplets drench the clothes she was currently wearing. Turning off the facet, she craned her head to view the damage on her shoulder in the mirror. But how come she couldn't recognize herself?

Tuffs of blonde spiked out from her head. Her eyes weren't the same color either. Red crimson irises replaced the ones she had before. The injury from last night on her shoulder wasn't there no more, but she took sight at how broad they became. And she wasn't wearing her typical pajama top and bottoms. This morning she was clad in a black tank top and a pair of soft sweat pants.

No, this can't be true. This has to be some sick nightmare. Jolting backwards on her heel, she let out a terrible shriek. After screaming for a good minute, she calmed down and rested her hands on the bathroom counter, transfixed on the reflection in front of her.

"I-I somehow transformed into Bakugou!" The deep timbre voice of bakugou replaced her own. She tugged on the unkept hair and knitted her eyes shut. "This is only a dream. I'm dreaming right? I can't possibly be in Bakugou's body."

A loud ringing noise alerted y/n to open her eyes again. It was coming from her bedroom. Correction, his bedroom. She glanced at herself in the mirror one more time before retrieving the phone that was stuffed in a green duffel bag. Her eyes widened. She recognized her phone number on the screen. Knowing the circumstances, she pressed answered and awaited for the receiver on the other end to speak.

"WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON?!"

-

"So, we somehow switched bodies because of being struck by that villains quirk the other night. How long did they say this will last then?" Y/N questioned Bakugou the following morning once they agreed to meet up somewhere in private. Right now they were sitting across from each other on a stone bench by the lake, the morning sun peaking through the tall skyscrapers behind them.

Bakugou shrugged his shoulders, technically hers, and said, "Endeavor informed me it'll probably linger for a good week. He also wanted us to not be on duty till we recuperate from this, saying that the side effects will drain our bodies." He couldn't muster up the courage to stare at her, because all he would see is the reflection of himself. "Unfortunately the villain fled the scene before the others arrived to retrieve us. They're still out there causing havoc."

"This is freaking weird."

"Fucking."

Y/N tilted her head in confusion. Across from her, Bakugou pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed in frustration.

"If you're gonna be me for a whole week then you might as well not sugar coat my vocabulary-dumbass."

Right, she now has to devote her time and effort into mirroring Bakugou's explosive personality. But that also means he too has to put on a show in order to persuade everyone he was her.

"Oh, okay..." she started but tensed up when realizing Bakugou was gazing expectantly at her. "D-Dumbass?"

Katsuki groaned as he rolled his eyes at her failed attempt of portraying him.

"This is going to be a long ass week."

- Bakugou grunted in disgust as he scavenged through y/n's closet for something to wear. Every piece of clothing so far hasn't met his criteria of approval to put on his body. There was an unnecessary amount of yoga pants and the most ugliest oversized graphic tees he's ever laid his eyes upon stored in her drawer. Growing up in a household of highly praised designers, the influence shifted his taste in fashion over the years. So, he made the rational decision to make a quick trip to the mall and purchase a few outfits for himself. Considering he's going to be in this body for a whole week, maybe even more, he might as well present himself looking ten times better than she ever has.

He tittered around the mall window shopping, entering store after store leaving with a handful of clothes in plastic and paper bags. So far he bought some outfits that edged a little on the fancy side, but paid no mind to his bank account. Bakugou guesstimated y/n's size during the venture, not wanting to pry or see what's underneath these restricting fabrics. He was about to leave when a frilly-pink themed store caught his attention.

It's a lingerie store, Bakugou thought as he neared closer to the entrance.

Posters inside the displays showcased attractive half naked women clad in nothing but the delicate material. Not to mention they were all posing seductively. An involuntary image of y/n flashed across his eyes, her imitating the same lustrous pose as well as wearing the sheer lingerie like the women behind the glass. Steams of heat practically blowed out from his ears, along with the embarrassing shade of pink panting his cheeks. He clamped a hand on his mouth, eyes widen in disbelief.

The fuck did I just imagine? There's no way in hell that just happened!

He must've been loitering there for awhile because a young girl, possibly his age, was standing in the threshold of the store wearing a pastel pink apron, giving him a welcoming smile.

She spoke, "Looking to shop for something, ma'am?"

Remembering back to y/n's distasteful clothing, he noted that she also lacked having any 'pretty' undergarments. It wasn't that he intentionally raided through her underwear, he just so happen to have stumbled upon the almost empty drawer by accident. In retrospect, he's doing her a favor. He cleared his throat before speaking.

"Yes actually. Can you show me your most expensive set?" - "To your left! That dudes been camping by that spot since the match. He'll snipe you in the open!" Kirishima informed y/n as they both sat criss cross on the cushioned couch.

They've been playing the same game for hours. Y/N prayed for at least one water break or grab something quick to eat since they haven't moved an inch from their spots. Kirishima promised after this match he'll order some takeout for the both of them, but he said the same thing 8 matches ago. All she could do for now was pretend to be immersed in the game, getting a couple of impressive kills here and there, subsequently ranking her to a bronze level. Her digits were beginning to cramp up due to the repetitive moments of smashing down on the labeled buttons on the wireless controller. The screen across from them suddenly went dark and flashed the scoreboard from the recent match. Another successful victory.

"BOOYAAA!!!!" Kirishima clapped his hands and did a celebratory dance. "Ah, good game Bakugou."

Y/N flinched from hearing the blondes name.

"Kirishima, it's Y/N," she reluctantly reminded him.

Kirishima's whole demeanor went south. He chucked out a dry laugh and nervously started rubbing the back of his neck.

"R-Right sorry. Couldn't help myself. I mean, I am looking at Bakugou. Same face, voice, hair, and scary eyes."

After being battered by the villains quirk, Kirishima and Sun Eater were the ones to retrieve them before law enforcement shortly arrived once the perpetrator fled the scene. They were all under one strict oath to not mention this to the public, or else everyone’s image will tarnished and skew the potential of our future rankings.

"I know. I'm still trying to process this whole thing. I've been avoiding all the mirrors in the apartment since I came back." Y/N stood up from the couch and sauntered over to her designated bedroom for the week. She reached for the door handle but stiffened when a pair of hardened hands rested on her broad shoulders.

"Aye, don't worry so much. I bet you Bakugou is thinking the same thing. This week will be over before you know it," he absentmindedly began massaging the area between your shoulder blades and neck.

Does he always treat Bakugou like this despite that nasty little Pomeranian being a complete asshole to everyone?

"Kirishima?"

"Yeah?"

"What is Bakugou like around you?"

The red head hummed to himself at the random question, thinking of a perfect answer to her curiosity.

"The same how he was in high school except more tamer I guess. But I enjoy his presence none the less."

Then why does he seem to unleash his untamed feelings towards me specifically?

Y/N sighed, obviously not satisfied with that answer.

"Out of everybody, he seems to despise me more and more like it's a game," she said without realizing.

"You know how he is Y/N. He's very abrasive and blunt when it comes to other people's emotions, but deep down I know he only acts like that because he wants to present a strong image in front of everyone," he started. "He's scared of others looking down on him, I know that for sure. But I always looked up to Bakugou from the day I personally got to know him. So, I guess he just stayed by my side because of my admiration for him."

Bakugou is always putting up a front then.

"Interesting...well I'm gonna go to bed now. Thanks for keeping me company," y/n said once again reaching for the knob and opening the door, ignoring the red heads pleas for her not go to sleep on an empty stomach. -

The next day Bakugou found himself inside y/n's bathroom, feet firmly planted on the tiled floor not daring to move an inch. Even though he wasn't in his own body that didn't stop him from paying a visit to the gym this morning. He went extra hard on every machine, not caring about the wandering eyes men gave him while he dead lifted weights. Drenched in nothing but his own glistening sweat, Bakugou entered y/n's small apartment as he dragged his tired feet to the bedroom he was now familiarized with.

Something foul wafted into his nostrils, almost making him teary eyed to the stench. He tried to recall the last time he took a shower. Vaguely he remembers washing his body the morning before he got attack by the powerful quirk. It's been several days since then. This was one thing he didn't want to endure during his experience of switching bodies. He's been neglecting his own hygiene to avoid seeing y/n's exposed body parts. Changing out from her clothes with closed eyes was difficult enough, but taking a fucking shower?! Such a shitty predicament. But he can't smell like this for the remainder of being stuck in this body. He'll die of suffocation.

Ah fuck, that must mean she has to take a shower as well. Or worse, she already has and saw everything.

His eye twitched, lips trembling in fear at what he's about to witness.

Fuck it, I can't go out smelling like shit!

With shaky fingers he began stripping, eyes trained on anything but y/n's figure, the faint sound of the water streaming white noise to him. Her gym clothes piled on the floor, Katsuki slipped into the shower, head titled slightly to view only the shower head. He messed around with the chrome handle, indecisive on what temperature he wanted. Settled onto cold to awaken his sluggish state, he positioned himself under the shower head, goosebumps prickling his skin due to the sudden drop of temperature. Water droplets streamed down and canaled to his lower regions, the sensation relaxing his anxiousness just a smidge. He surveyed the options y/n had laid out for hair care products and grabbed the nearest one. Rubbing the body wash into the palms of his hands, he caught himself, arm mid raised getting ready to wash each crevice of his body.

Shit shit shit shit

The hand in front of him began shaking.

She won't know. It's not like I'm touching her sexually, I'm just keeping her clean for fucks sake!

As gentle as he could, Bakugou washed away the soapy residue, fingers cautiously ghosting over anything perking out. A moment too soon, he accidentally skimmed over her chest a little too fast, the tips of his fingers touching something that was hard and protruding. His breathing hitched.

I just felt her fucking nipple!

But fuck, it strangely felt quite pleasant. Pleasurable even if he had to admit.

He continued on with his previous ministrations, cupping her boobs like a madman and swiping one thumb over the taunt surface to test the waters. A fierce, tingling sensation surged shivers down his spine. An unsolicited low moan spurred out from the blonde.

"Hah!"

What the hell?! Why am I still touching her tits? And why am I enjoying it?

Finishing up his routine quickly, Bakugou snatched a towel from the cabinet and rubbed away all the sinful thoughts desperately from his head, a constant fight between his morals and neediness. Nobody will never know what he committed in the confines of her own apartment. And it'll fucking stay like that till on his death bed.

I practically assaulted her. I'm so fucking disgusting

For the rest of the remaining day, Bakugou planned on meeting up with Kirishima to hangout. He wanted to coerce the red head into talking about anything other than y/n. His mind needs the relief. He needs this spell to be over with.

He can't stand trying to fit into women's jeans any longer - Kirishima woke up that morning to a chorus of shrieks. Girlish shrieks, might he add. He thought maybe the neighbors were selfishly doing not-so-holy-things at the peak of dawn. But him and Katsuki were resided on the highest level of the penthouse, them being the only residents on the empty floor. It clicked once he heard his name through the thin walls.

"Ah! Y/N I'm coming!" He leaped from his bed and reached y/n's, technically Bakugou's, room in a matter of seconds.

Y/N's body twitched to the sound of the door being slammed open, the impact rattling the very few wall decorations in the blondes space. Standing in the threshold was the friendly red head, huffing and puffing air out of his chest like he just got done running a marathon.

"K-Kiri! I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to wake you up!" Her words afterwards became a jumbled mess, realizing the predicament she pushed herself into.

"Hey, hey, calm down! Tell me what's wrong. It sounded like you were in pain. Did you hurt yourself anywhere?" The red had to remind himself this was indeed another person inside Bakugou's body, because Bakugou would never apologize repeatedly for the sake of apologizing in his entire life.

Y/N was looking quite pallid now, sheepishly tugging on the black covers of the bed, trying to find the easiest way on how to lay this out to her new roommate.

"Well...I just...I woke up to - ah crap."

Instead of explaining her situation, she pulled back the blanket to show kiri the thing protruding between her uncommonly, muscular legs. Kirishima's eyes widen instantaneously, eating up the pitched tent inside her basketball shorts. Oddly enough, this wasn't his first rodeo upon seeing the blonde with a boner. They were dudes. And dudes living together were bound to witness each other's 'flesh swords', he'd like to put it.

"Oh, morning wood? That's pretty normal. Nothing to fret y/n!" He dismissed her with the wave of his hand. "Bakugou gets them all the time! In fact, I remember he'd get them after sparring sessions back in our U.A days-."

"Okayyyyy, Never mind that! I know I have a boner. Just exactly how do I get rid of it?!"

"You mean, you don't know? Haven't you been taught this in Sex Ed class?" Kiri was actually curious as to why she doesn't know nor remember. He surly does. Learning about the human body by the infamous sultry teacher, Midnight, engraved so much information into his tiny-teenage brain.

"That was considered an extra curricular class. I took a CPR class instead."

"Right well, from what she taught us and from my own personal experience, you gotta rub one out."

Y/N's whole face contorted into a confused mess of disgust.

"Rub a what now?" She asked, although she had a feeling what the euphemism meant.

Kiri's face blotched red, the tint flushing to his chest as well. The man was evidently embarrassed about having this conversation with someone who wasn't Bakugou.

"I essentially mean you gotta masturbate. Ya know, in order to calm down your boner," he paused seeing how distraught y/n became. "It won't hurt I promise you! Don't worry, it feels really good! Like, eating ice cream good! Ah no that's not a good analogy!"

"This is so fucking horrifying..." Y/N poked at the thing, rightfully known as his dick, and kept starring as if it might miraculously subside to its original size.

Kiri coughed, grabbing her attention away from Bakugou's dick.

"He has lotion stashed in his drawer," he started, but malfunctioned seconds later. He revealed something private to someone that bakugou condemned as a 'weakling'. "That is if you need it for lubricant. It's kind of tough to jerk off dry..." his sentence fell off midway.

Y/N mumbled out an "Ok", and retrieved said lotion from the lower bunk of his drawers. She felt a pair of eyes on her. Kiri was still standing awkwardly by the doorway, unsure wether or not if that's his cue to leave.

"Um, thanks Kiri. You can leave now," she plopped back onto Bakugou's king sized bed.

This man sleeps alone. He doesn't need a ginormous bed all to himself.

"R-Right! Well, enjoy jerking off- ah no I meant - I didn't word that correctly! Ah geez, see ya later!" He sprinted out the door like his life depended on it.

Locking the door behind her, y/n forced herself into the attached bathroom, the lotion burning the palms of her hand each second. Once she settled down on the lid of the toilet, she shimmied out from his loose basketball shorts, letting them pool at her ankles.

If there's one thing she learned that morning, it was that being a man had its weird benefits. - "Slow down Bakugou! Let me at least catch up before you black out!" Kirishima was on his third shot while Bakugou just downed his sixth one for the night.

The blonde growled under his breath and tugged the red head by his collar to his mouth.

"Fucking idiot, don't call me that. It's y/n when we're out in public," he loosens his grip and snatches kiri's shot and tips his head back to drain it all down his throat, the burning sensation long gone.

"Ugh, my brain can't keep up with this whole switching body shit. It's been so hard back at the apartment." He internally cringes from the recollection of y/n popping her first boner this morning.

"What do you mean? Has that dumbass been giving you a hard time? If she has, I'll give her a piece of my mind."

"Not at all! She's been a saint while living with me. Which by the way, how come you can't just live at the penthouse while y/n stays at her place?

While Kirishima was talking, Bakugou ordered another round of shots. The bartender shoved a whole bottle of Fireball towards the man, saving him in the future to not ask anymore. The young server gave Bakugou a sly wink and returned back to serving other customers down the line. Cheeks flushed red, Bakugou thinks the man behind the bar was being too nice for his liking. He poured two more shots while keeping an eye on the average looking employee. If kirishima kept babbling, he might as well funnel the entire bottle in one sitting.

"I'm just following endeavors orders. We're not supposed to gain attention from those stupid reporters that camp outside our penthouse," he takes another swing of the warm liquid. "I'd rather fucking be quirkless than mistaken for having any rumored relations with her."

"Can I ask a genuine question? How come you hate y/n so much?"

"I don't hate her, I dislike her. There's a difference."

"I don't know man. Sometimes I mistaken your dislike with love."

"EXCUSE ME? IM NOT IN LOVE OF THAT BITCH?!"

"C'mon dude, I'm sensing a lot of denial from you. Also, shouldn't you be acting like her right now? She's very soft spoken if I'm not mistaken,"

"I'm not in denial idiot. I hate how soft she speaks. I hate how sickeningly kind she is even though nobody deserves it. I hate how she wastes her talented quirk and doesn't see the potential. She's a lost cause Kiri. She won't last for much longer in this field if she keeps this up."

"Wow, for someone who dislikes her as such, you surly sound like you care about heeeerrrrrr," kirshima drawled out in a sing-song voice.

"Shut up and finish your shot, shitty hair."

When the blonde was driving back to her apartment later that night, he slammed his fists against the steering wheel when an afterthought came to him.

His whole reasoning as to why he went out in the first place, and he can't seem to restrict himself from talking about the girl he's trapped in.

Even in this goddamn body I can't seem to steer clear from y/n talk! - Izuku had to do a double take when he entered the small coffee shop. Something about seeing the pensive blonde sitting patiently in a booth by the corner really made him feel like he was sucked into another dimension. Today y/n was wearing a white v-neck with a wool green cardigan and tight black jeans.

Kacchan owns cardigans? He thought, clearly amused.

Upon hearing the ding coming from the door, Y/N raised her head from her phone and waved Izuku over to her table. The poor man seemed like he was going combust right there. It's been awhile since he's spoken to his old classmate.

The green haired hero slid into the booth across from her and immediately started speaking Deku language.

"H-Hey Kacchan! Boy it's been awhile hasn't it? I was a little stunned seeing your message this morning asking to hangout. I'm sorry that I couldn't meet up sooner. I had an early patrol shift from 9 to 5. You might know how that feels, right?! Oh gosh I'm sounding like an adult. Can you believe we're adults-."

"Midor- I mean Deku, I called you up to ask about if you have any leads on the villain with the body switching quirk?" She cut him off.

"Oh yeah, that villain has been spotted a few times since the last attack. Of course most of my team hasn't been able to reprimand them. A few close calls though. But I heard two people from your sector got hit by the quirk! Are they doing okay?"

I hate lying to those big freaking green eyes.

"That's not true. They got hurt, but no one was attacked by their quirk. I just need to know if you have any information on the quirk in particular and what to do in order to reverse it."

Underneath the table, Izuku fumbled inside his pockets in search for his mini notebook. He still obtained the habit of jotting down everything, literally everything, in hopes the information will provide any source of aide. Izuku became all jittery and excited at the thought of sharing anything with Kacchan!

The small, crinkled notebook was slid across the table, hitting the tips of y/n's knuckles.

"Page 124, the first indent I wrote. It's mainly about my own conspiracy on what the villains quirk is. That was before their first debut of course. But now since we know it's a type of body switching quirk, I tried to pin point on what exactly lifts the quirks effect on the victim," Izuku explained casually while y/n skimmed through the notes and passages. "I did a little detective work on my own and contacted the people who were attacked by the villain. From what I gathered, let's just say- it's a bit taboo ."

This piqued her interest.

"What do you mean by, taboo?"

The man began to wave his hands around fervently in attempt to steer the blonde away from prying more. But y/n swatted Izuku's hand and continued reading the sloppy inscriptions.

Her eyes popped out from her sockets.

"I have to what?!" A few civilians stared in their direction, obviously gravitated to the familiar gruff voice.

"Calm down Kacchan! Why are you so angry for?"

Y/N rubbed her temple all the while wanting to slowly die than endure anymore of this.

"Nothing. Just- Ugh...Is it alright if I borrow this?"

"Y-Yeah! Kacchan can borrow anything from me as long as he returns it!" There was that gleam again in his eyes.

"Thanks Izuku, I owe you one!" She squeezed the greenettes freckled hand before leaving the booth and the shop all together.

Still in the cafe, Izuku sat frozen as if someone walked in with gun. Internally though, he was screaming. -

Y/N: Please call me. It's urgent

It was a Friday night when Bakugou received the cryptic message from her. He was in the middle of  watching his true crime show when the annoying ding from his phone went off. For once, he just wanted to relax his mind and go on auto pilot without stressing his already strained body. It's the whole principle of Friday's. To fuck off and ignore everyone. What's so fucking important for her to text him out of the blue then?

Another acute ding.

Bakugou peeked over his shoulder to see who disrupted him this time.

Y/N: Bakugou, we need to talk. This isn't something to ignore.

He rolled his eyes and retrained his focus on the tv screen.

Ding Ding Ding

"FOR FUCK SAKE!" He released an animalistic growl from the depths of his throat, scratching his voice box even more. His fingers typed away aggressively, not bothering to read her previous messages.

BK: Leave me the fuck alone. You're to only text me if it involves with the reverse of this stupid quirk 🖕🏼

Three dots appeared immediately after he sent that. Bakugou started losing his patience while waiting for her response. He hated wasting precious time, especially if there was a second party involved. Her message finally delivered. Bakugou's eyes grew larger in size as he read the text.

Y/N: that's why I'm texting you idiot 🙄 I met up with Midoriya today and he may have given me the solution to our problem.

He bit down hard on his bottom lip as he typed out his last text message to her.

BK: fine. come over then. we can talk about it when you get here.

This time he didn't wait for her to respond back and began cleaning her apartment. - Feeling nervous was an understatement. Y/N felt like she was driving herself to her own execution. Bakugou being the one to carry out the death sentence. She didn't doubt the blonde would be elated at the idea of her being put under a torture device.

Okay, maybe he wasn't too malice to actually do it, but he probably entertained the thought.

Thankfully Bakugou's penthouse wasn't far from her own apartment, saving her much needed gas in case he goes ballistic on her.

The door flew open when she arrived shortly after one knock, revealing a very sluggish looking Y/N shooting daggers at her. Well, at least her body wasn't dressed in bruises or burn marks. That's a win. Bakugou paired herself with a cute crop top and silky pajama shorts. He's got taste she'll give him that.

Her apartment remained exactly the same as she left it when they both were ordered to switch residency's.  Only a few traces of Bakugou were found. Mainly in the kitchen, where all his fancy cooking equipment and utensils were laid out. Unlike him, she ate out almost every night due to the red head being incompetent in the kitchen. He almost burnt down the complex last night. He relied upon his friend to do most of the cooking in their household.

The blonde briskly brushed passed her to sit on the couch, slinging his feet on the coffee table to make himself comfortable. Too comfortable, she noted.

"Well, spill it. What did the damn nerd tell you that could help us with this shit?" He inquired without preamble.

Like a hero, she was here on a mission. A mission that needs to be completed as soon as possible, even if the mission itself was ludicrous. She reached into her jacket pocket to retrieve the mini book, and flipped soundlessly to the page Izuku marked for her.

"On here it says that the quirk can last up to a week, maybe even more, depending on the victim(s). The effected will experience dry eyes, nausea, insomnia, painful migraines, and uncontrollable shaking due to being inside another persons body. They must let the quirk take its course then," she read out loud, ignoring Bakugou's groans of annoyance. "But, for rare cases, there have been reports of one's libido being greatly impacted. The victim will be in constant, insurmountable pain unless they relief themselves, then the two bodies will return back to normal."

To her surprise, Bakugou didn't show an ounce of indignation after hearing this piece of information. He seemed almost indifferent.

And there's no denying the truth. Both of their hormones have been off the rails. Ever since the incident in the shower, Bakugou has caught himself numerous times touching Y/N's boobs. Coping a sly feel as he cooked, cleaned, and even while he scrolled through his social media.  Sometimes her ass as well to see if it felt good in his hands. Y/N was no saint either. Sporting boners every hour for no particular reason. All the blood rushing to her lower region became unbearable when she didn't take care of it. Kirishima kept reassuring her that it's natural for a man to get them a lot. But how much was too much?

He threw his hands up in the air and scoffs. "That's it? I just gotta jack off and then we're free from this curse?"

This is the part she dreaded the most. An uncomfortable heat flash roused up her face, a deep shade of red inching across her cheeks and nose.

"No. That's not what it means. We basically have to...ya know...," she paused mid sentence, too bashful to finish, desperately wanting Bakugou to put two and two together.

She shrunk in her position as the blonde narrowed his eyes at her.

"We have to fuck each other?" He profoundly acclaimed.

"Don't put it like that! But yeah, technically, we have to...help relief each other in order to switch back."

"If you wanted to jump my bones so bad you could've just asked." He leans back against the couch, arm draped lazily over the shoulder of the furniture, along with a playful smirk tugging up on the corners of his mouth. Y/N's blood ran cold when she felt the tiniest twitch down below. Her borrowed reproductive organ is betraying her!

"Do you want to be in constant pain till this all wears off? Or do you want to get this over with and never talk to each other again?" Y/N shuffled more towards the abrasive man, a strong tidal wave of anger rising within her.

"It won't matter because you always wound up in my presence anyway. Like a fucking pest that won't leave me alone." Without realizing it, Bakugou got up from his spot on the couch and marched over to Y/N, who at the moment looked like she was about to pop a blood vessel.

Another thing he hated about switching bodies was the fact that everyone towered over him, despite him being on his tippy toes. The woman in front of him acclimated his height, giving her the upperhand if they were to battle it out right now. If anything he could kick her shins at best.

"Whatever...I'm leaving," was all she said before storming off to the front door, grabbing her things along with her as she grew farther from him.

Katsuki's legs were moving on their own. His hand reached out and grabbed Y/N's forearm, halting her movements altogether. She's clearly enraged, thrashing her body back and forth to loosen his grip on her. He eventually grew tired of her stubborness and secured his grip on both of her arms, trapping her between the door and his body, producing a loud 'thump!'. Although he was in her body, he still carried his strength. In a matter of seconds, both Y/N and Bakugou were chest to chest now, their centers tapping aganist each other.  She averted her gaze to the floor, as if their shoes were more interesting than this whole shitshow of a dilema. Bakugou squeezed her shoudlers, a little too much for her liking, to gain her attention again.

"I didn't say no, did I?" he asked hotly, his warm breath hitting her collarbones. An ice cold shiver ran down her spine, causing her breathing to hitch. Bakugou noticed her sudden stiffness and began rubbing gentle circles into the tender flesh of her skin. "Hoho, someone's excited aren't they?"

Confused, Y/N furrowed her brows and backed up further into the wooden door. But her question was soon to be answered as she followed Bakugou's hungry gaze to the prominent bludge taunting from her pants. Betrayed once again by her unstable horniness!

"Guess I'm not the only one," she accuses once spotting the definite wet stain around Bakugou's crotch. He smirked at that.

"Take care of it then," his voice oozed of seduction and want, rewarding him another twitch in your tight pants. The libido was taking full effect now, any animosity they had before was thrown out the window. Past arguments also long forgotten. Their main priority at the moment was to experience the sweet relief of coming undone.

Y/N darted her hand down to the spot Bakugou needed attention from, and cupped his crotch with her abnormally large hand. Bakugou lets out a shaky exhale as her fingers danced around the sensitive area. One of her fingers moved instinctively, feeling how drenched he was in his panties, and rubbed the underside to get a better feel of the sex.

"You're so wet Bakugou," Y/N mused softly. She leaned forward, searching into Bakugou's eyes for any signs of him wanting this to end. But the pool of his irises were blown out, no tint of your original color in them anymore. "Do you want more?"

He nodded quickly, his hair bobbing up and down. Y/N chuckled and removed her hand from its previous position to the hem of Bakugou's shorts, teasingly toying the waistband. She slipped smoothly into his shorts, tickling him in the process, and toyed with the corners of his panties before moving them aside so she could have access to the thing she's been craving to touch. Wetness lathered up her fingers with just one swipe, causing Bakugou to purse his lips and shut his eyes tightly.

"Is Bakugou embarrassed? Are you mad that I have the upper hand now? After all those years of verbally tormenting me, you can't handle my simple touch?" She whispered dangerously close into his ear. During this, she couldn't tell if he was pissed or turned on. Maybe a mixture of both, but she took pride in his strained expression.

"W-Watch your goddamn mouth. Or do I need to shut you up myself, eh?" By shutting her up, he meant mirroring her exact ministrations. The petite hand of Bakugou's latched onto the zipper of her jeans, and impressively dragged it down in one swipe without getting anything caught. He reached into the tight restraints of her boxer briefs and pulled out the hardened dick. He clicked his tongue. "Not to sound like a narcissist, but you gotta admit, my dick looks pretty."

"Just shut up and jerk me off you asshole. I'm starting to see stars," She wasn't lying to speed up the process. Her body felt like it was on fire, including her dick. If Bakugou keeps stalling for the sake of punishing her, then he's going to be seeing white for days on end.

Bakugou tentatively began pumping her, his grip not too tight nor loose on the flesh. Y/N sighed in relief as he swiped his thumb over the slit, covering his fingers in her precum. Seeing that he's giving into her needs, she returned the favor by inserting her index finger inside, not allowing him to adjust once she massaged the velvety walls.

Bakugou arched into Y/N's body, panting harshly against her chest. "H-Hah fuck, slow down. Shit!"

"Take it like a champ, Mr.Dynamight."

"F-Fuck you."

Oh no. Probably shouldn't have patronized him, because Bakugou sped up his languid motions to pure vigorous jerking of the hand. A wave of pleasure shot up through her body, jolting backwards due to the intense sensation. Of course he's a pro at this. What isn't he good at?

Bakugou rested his head onto the crevice of your shoulder since he could only reach so far, and ghosted his lips on the skin, carefully restricting himself to not engage in kissing the area. While doing so, he cupped the underside of your balls, rolling them around in his small hands. They looked so big when being manhandled in her grasp. Y/N stifled her moans as he kept messing with them, all the while stroking her simultaneously. She felt him smile. The cheeky fucker! Two could play it at this game.

Y/N used one of her thumbs that weren't preoccupied inside Bakugou to massage the only place she knew that could make him cum in seconds.  Two fingers inside, one thumb attentively on the clitorous. It was enough to make Bakugou bite down on her shoulder, trying to prevent any moans from escaping his mouth.

"Moan for me Bakugou. I know you want to," she tried to persuade him with more strokes to the clit, occasionally pinching it with her unoccupied fingers. She can feel he was close. So was she. But she needed to coerce him into helping her to finish too. They need to be a team. "Say something Bakugou. Don't you want to cum? If you don't speak your mind I'm going to stop." She couldn't believe the words that were spewing from her mouth. Y/N has never dirty talked before. Nor has she gotten this far with anyone without freezing up. Definitely the libido effect.

Bakugou detached his teeth from her shoulder and stared deeply into her eyes. Pleading.

"Go faster. Please." The want and neediness in his voice said it all.

He indeed felt vulnerable and exposed right then and there when confessing his desire, but he couldn't care less. Her fingers inside him were heavenly. A mantra of ,"yesyesyesyesyesyes", left his throat as her ministrations didn't falter.

"Fuck! Keep going. Just like that- shit - just like that... yesssss." His moans were beautiful. Not because they sounded like hers, but the way how he vocalizes his pleasure made sense in the world. Every whimper or moan puts her closer to the edge.

"Are you- are you about to?" He asked quietly, as though he was afraid you might stop at any rate.

"Yes! So close, just keep stroking," it was difficult to form sentences after that, the build up tension in your stomach tightening like a ticking time bomb, making your pleads indecipherable.

But Bakugou didn't want to hear that. He wanted to her to say those three words of encouragement.

Make. Me. Cum

And then, as if his thoughts were broadcasted live, she snaked her hands into the locks of his hair and pulled him close to where the tips of their noses touched briskly.

In a small voice she whimpers out, "Make me cum, Katsuki."

Listening to her instructions, his grip tightened around the base of her shaft and began teasing the slit, never once averting his glare from her own. Y/N's legs turned into jello. It became harder and harder to stand any longer. She needed to release. She quickened her pace and brutally scissored his pussy, the erotic sounds of their wetness reverberating in the tiny apartment.

"Cum then baby. Cum for me only."

Baby

Next thing she knew a strip of white shot out from below, dirtying the hands of Bakugou's. Her body began to spasm. Katsuki didn't loosen his grip, the stimulation becoming unbearable at this point.

The coil within him loosened, the evidence of his climax coating her fingers, allowing his orgasum to reach its full potential.

The pair blacked out for a split second, but recuperated once the light hit their corneas again.

"Shit." "Fuck." "..." "..."

Silence. Then the realization hit.

"I'm staring at you and not me! It worked! Hallelujah!" Y/N exclaimed, feeling herself to make sure it wasn't a hallucination.

"Gross. You got cum all over my expensive shirt," he said, wiping away the white substance with his sleeve.

Both of them went into the kitchen to clean the after math. Bakugou would grunt occasionally in disgust, sponging away the grime. Y/N throughly washed her hands and towel dried them, thoughts stiffly empty and vexed. She broke the awkward tension.

"Well, I guess we should call Endeavor and inform him that we switched back."

He hummed in agreement.

"And we should probably exchange our things tomorrow or tonight, but preferably soon since we're going to be on duty again."

Another grunt.

"Don't worry about me mentioning this to anyone. We can just keep whatever happened minutes ago between us-

Bakugou cut her off entirely by smashing his lips against hers. Shell shocked by his action, Y/N kept her eyes wide open whilst Bakugou's were knitted shut. She laid her hands on his chest and shoved him away harshly, putting their distance at arms reach.

"Bakugou, what the hell? All of sudden you want to kiss me?" Y/N's face fell, contorting into a mixture of sadness and confusion. "You only kiss people you like. Not hate."

Bakugou moved towards Y/N slowly, a hint of a smile forming as he neared closer.

"And that's exactly why I did it, idiot," he proclaimed confidently, cupping the side of her face. The touch was so tender and gentle she forgot that it was Bakugou at first.

"You're toying with me, aren't you? The libido is probably still lingering. If you really liked me, then tell me the exact moment you did."

Without hesitation he said, "The first day of school. When you walked in."

Y/N slapped the hand from her face, her skin flushing red by his blunt confession.

"Stop lying. You were mean to me the first day of school. And every day after that. I don't think calling people a "weakling" or "stupid" constitutes as liking someone."

All he did was chuckle and continued scooting closer, eventually towering above her. She squirmed underneath him. She secretly missed having his height.

"You're absolutely stupid if you think I really meant any of that crap. I may have gone overboard on the whole berating thing, but that was just my way of pushing my feelings away, in hopes you'd improve better and not take shit from people like me."  

"Ya know, it's kind of hard to detect that when you were practically spitting on my face."

He leaned down and pecked a chaste kiss on the crown of her forehead.

"You can call me all the names you want later. Kick my ass if ya want, but for now let me make it up to you," he whispers before planting his mouth to hers again, only this time she didn't protest.

Heat swirled within her as she watched Katsuki's eyes flutter close, enriched in the moment to open them, and gripped the base of her neck to apply more pressure into the kiss. The man guided her as he moved his plushed lips ontop of hers, consuming the pretty noises she made. And my, were they absoultey rich coming from her.

I want to hear more, the selfish thought banged repeatedly inside his lust filled mind.

Y/N nervosuly closed her eyes shut when Katsuki's wet tongue prodded the entrance of her tight, lipped mouth. Letting him take full control, Katsuki managed to enter the strong muscle into her wet mouth and explored the canvernous place with such eagerness, such tenacity. Like he's been dying to do this for as long as his skillful mind can remember. Y/N found herself moaning as Katsuki grabbed her waist and forcefully collieded their bodies together, her soft breasts pressed up against his hard chest. Her perky tits put him in a trance, remincseing back to the day when first touched them, the guiltiness eating him up from the inside-out. Katsuki slithered one of his hands to the taunt boob and gave it a firm squeeze, causing Y/N to squeak out in embarrasement. They still feel fucking amazing in his hands.

"You're so fucking cute," he drew back from her, already out of breath. Everything was hitting him like a tsunami. He can finally admit to himself that he's been wanting this since they became co-workers. Hell, since the fucking beginning. Younger Katsuki would deem him as a horny loser who lost at his own game, but he wasn't a damn kid anymore.

"K-Katsuki...bedroom?" her hands found their way back into his crisp locks, futher egging him to comply. The small action made him moan.

"Fuck yes," Katsuki growled out and in a haste hooked his arms underneath the back of Y/N's thighs, hoisting her in the air to lead them into the bedroom they're both familair with.

Journeying to her bedroom became a difficult task. If only she'd stop giving his neck, the most sensitve spot out of his entire body, kitten kisses then he'd be plowing her back by now. He grew weaker by the second as the shy, acute kisses trandsitioned into full on sucking and biting. Not that he was complaining.

Katsuki threw her down onto the bed, unable to contain his smile when she hiccuped a chorus of giggles. God, even her giggles are fucking contagious. Strong arms scooped her up momentarily, bringing her to the center of the bed. Grazing her aching spot was Katsuki's growing buldge. Y/N circled her arms around his tiny waist squeezing him closely as Katsuki rolled his hips downwards to meet hers. She seized Katsuki's bicep, whimpering, and rythmically pushed her groin towards his, the tin material of her shorts scraping the surface of his jeans deliciously. His head dragged down to her collarbones, panting softly, wetting the skin from the condesation of his breath.

"I want you so fucking bad, please," he managed to choke out in between the continous grinding.

Gaining a newfound confidence, Y/N mimiced the way how Bakugou unzipped her when they were still in opposite bodies and peeled back his briefs till his inflamed member popped out, smacking his lower belly. He cursed under his breath noticing the immense amount of pre-cum leaking from the head. As much as she wanted to lick it all up, there were other things to tend to. She shimmied out from her skimpy shorts and crop top, not wasting any time for lingering touches. But Y/N caught a menacing glare in his eyes. His attention was focused on something else. Looking down, she saw that she was sporting a sheer laced bra with matching panties. She definitely doesn't remember having these in her personal closet.

"You bought me lingerie?" Y/N tried to sound unfazed at the thought of Katsuki willingly purchasing these pretty undergarments for her. That must mean he's seen her boobs!

"Yeah? So what if I did. Your sense of fashion is nonexistent. I pitied you that much to where I bought you shit with my own money."

His face was stern, scarily resembling the times he'd be bashing someone's head on the concrete during a bloody battle. But his eyes told a different story. She couldn't quite pin point the time or place when she witnessed the same gleaming spark in those vermilion orbs, but she felt safe and wanted all in one.

So she began teasing the straps of her bra, head still in disbelief that the blonde underneath her bought it, and let the material slip off her shoulder seductively. Bakugou's breathing quickened as he watched y/n toy with the next strap. He stopped her midway.

"No," his fingers were ironically cold.

"No?" She questioned him, awkwardly frozen still on his lap. His evident boner pushing up against her sex, making her wet even more.

Numbly, Bakugou pulled up both of the straps to her bra and chuckled lightly to himself.

"I wanna fuck you with this on. It's been on my mind since I bought it," he admitted out loud.

Y/N held back a moan, his words carrying so much weight to them all the while directing it straight to her drenched pussy.

Without saying a word, y/n left acute kisses on Bakugou's neck, trailing it down further and further till she reached the leaking head of his member. He became antsy as she wrapped her petite hand around the base, fingers tracing the topography of his veins. Y/N saw the desperate look on his face and took all of him in her mouth, holding in the breath of oxygen she took before doing so. Bakugou hissed, teeth clamping down on his bottom lip nearly ripping the skin apart. This feels way better and more appropriate. He prefers her wet mouth over her fingers any day of the week.

Y/N sucked in her cheeks, allowing herself to take more of his member. The tip of his head eventually hit the back of her throat, causing her to gag and choke due to the sudden pressure.

"F-Fuck. Holy shit, keep going," Katsuki begged, tears swelling in his ducts already.

The saliva from her open mouth created a natural lubricant, making it easy for her to bob her head up and down. Bakugou's ears picked up the erotic wet squelching sounds coming from her as she kept up the brutal pace, the noise alone making him want to come undone. The sight of y/n slobbering on his dick is now engraved in his head. He let out a wanton moan when she played with his balls, recalling the memory of him performing the same ministration on himself with her beautiful hands.

He can feel the familiar sensation spreading down below, his throat constricting as the stimulation of her sucking and licking becoming too much. Before she could continue, Bakugou reached over and lifted her head by her hair.

"I can't hold it in any longer. I need to be inside you now," his voice was strained to point where it came out as a whisper.

Pushing her back gently, Bakugou latched his mouth onto hers as he spread her legs wide apart. Revealing a canal of her wetness dripping from her panties to the inner thighs. Bakugou licked his lips hungrily. Mentally slapping himself for not tasting her before she gave him head. He'll make sure to explore that endeavor later.

Lips still locked, Bakugou tugged the bottom half of her laced panties aside, strings of her glistening wetness shimmering, and positioned himself at her aching entrance. The tip of his cock teased her folds, coating it even more. He agonizingly went in slow circles, occasionally slapping her clit with it. Y/N's arms were above her head, clutching the linen sheets in anticipation. Katsuki smirked against her lips at her wrecked expression.

"Bakugou please...," y/n pleaded with her full chest. She wants to know how it feels to be wrapped around him. To be one with him. "Don't hold back. Just fuck me."

Bakugou's eyes grew darker after the demand, pure lust taking control over his body now. He sheathed into her quickly without taking his eyes off of her face. A quiet whimper left her throat when he fully bottomed out. He checked for any signs of y/n looking displeased or uncomfortable, but he got his answer when he felt her legs wrap around his torso, pulling him in as close as possible. Bakugou basks in at the sight of y/n sucking him completely, her legs fully bent back in an awkward position. He decides to pull his cock halfway out. y/n whimpers due to loss of friction but gets rewarded seconds later when Katsuki rams his cock inside again, pushing all his weight onto her.

"Oh, fuck, Katsuki!," she whines, instinctively clutching her walls around him.

"You're so tight for me huh baby? Can't help but to clamp around this dick," Katsuki sneered while pumping tentative thrusts into her.

His hands clasped both of her thighs now, pulling her towards him, urging her to move in a harmonious dance with him. Finding somewhat of a rhythm, y/n fucked Katsuki back by rolling her hips, a synapse of heat exchanging between them. Sweat starts dripping down from the crown of his forehead onto the peaks of her breasts. Lost in thought, he tipped his head forward and lapped up the remains of his salty musk, tongue expertly twirling around the taunt nipple. Y/N mewled, hands searching - reaching - for anything to ground herself, settling on interlocking her fingers with Katsuki's nitroglycerin drenched hands. She titled her head and took a whiff.

Caramel and soap

A popping sound went off in her ears. Katsuki released her swollen tit only to look up with hooded eyes, his infamous smirk on full display.

"Open your mouth," was all he said before raising one of his fingers that she was so embarrassingly fixated on moments ago. When she didn't obey Katsuki grabbed her by the jaw and shoved not one, not two, but three fingers in her mouth. Like with his cock, she couldn't handle the intensified pressure in the back of her throat, gagging instantaneously.

"Atta girl. Just take my fingers like a good bitch. Oh? You like it when I degrade you huh? Don't lie, you tightened instantly when I said that." Katsukis pace sped up rapidly, pumping into her cunt like a madman, fingers still lodge down her throat. Each thrust left her shuddering for more, his hips meeting hers to create a loud song, the noise drowning out her muffled screams.

It became hard to see now, a tunnel vision of just a crimson glow. Soon she feels herself becoming light. Katsuki grew impatient and flipped y/n on her stomach, a tiny oof rocked out from her, and inserted his member back into her stretched out cunt.

Y/N yelps as Katsuki's cock hits the sweet spot - fresh tears flooding down her flushed face, babbling nonsense into her pillow.

She caves, sobbing, "yes, yes, ohgod. you feel so good. you're so fucking good -ah katsuki!"

Looming over her trembling body, the blonde slows his harsh thrusts to a savagely slow grind. He lowly chuckles watching her writhe and wiggle her body in desperation.

"You think you can just come that easy? Beg for me to let you come!"

Smack!

A harsh sting rattled her lower back, causing her to bite down harshly on her lip to avoid showing any pain.

"Such an asshole..." y/n huffed out, oblivious to the way how Katsuki was preparing for her next punishment.

Smack! Smack!

"Not good. Ask nicely for me to fuck this pretty pussy into the mattress."

More whimpers into the tear stained pillow.

"P-Please Katsuki..." she begins, frustration growing exponentially with every word. "Fuck me. I need your cock. I always needed your cock Katsuki. Make me scream out your name when I come!"

She didn't even have time to process what she said before Katsuki enclosed his hand around her throat, forcefully dragging her writhing body to his chest, cranking her head in a 90 degree angle. Cock still warming up her insides.

"That's my girl," he said before kissing her lips again, devouring the sweet noises she made.

Her neighbors were in for a long night. - Both of their bodies the next morning faced more damage than any crusade of a patrol. Bruises painted the outskirts of y/n's body, trailing from her thighs to the divots of her breasts. Katsuki paid no mind to it, seeing how he can make a bloody lip a trailblazer look.

Even though no one wanted speak much about the issue at hand - last night was a pivotal moment for their relationship.

Because y/n wouldn't be making a fresh batch of coffee for the Katsuki Bakugou in her kitchen right now.

Because Bakugou wouldn't be lounging by her washing machine, waiting for the timer to go off so he can put her bed sheets in the dryer.

They found themselves sitting comfortably in silence - the soft whipping of car horns outside her cracked window - Katsuki blowing on his coffee before taking a sip. It all seemed unreal to her. In any other circumstance they'd be at each other's necks by now, screaming nuisances in the air. She considers this whole ordeal a ruse. But it isn't. Thank god it isn't. Because Katsuki never looked calmer or relaxed in his entire life till now. And she wasn't going to bat an eye away from this ground breaking phenomenon.

Intently watching him drink from across the table, she ponders if Katsuki liked her from the get go, and maybe just disguised his feelings with disgust towards her later on. The question will go unanswered, possibly until he confides and tells the story himself, but for now she was content not knowing the what if.

"How did you know I like black coffee?" Katsuki asks, quirking up an eyebrow at her.

Y/N takes a long drag from her mug, indulging in the sweet taste of the caramel creamer.

She smiles and says, "I don't know. Just took a wild guess."

-

[rattyoakenbitch]

❝𝐢𝐟 𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐝❞ ─ 𝐥𝐞𝐯𝐢 𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐧

i don't want your sympathy, i guess ive had it rough but you don't really care

❥ content ; gn reader, eventual fluff, angst, pining, happy ending

❥ warnings ; injury, swearing, mentions of death

❥ synopsis ; when you get badly injured during a mission, only then does levi realize the depths of his feelings for you. now the question is, is it too late?

❥ a/n ; i don't have a taglist yet so feel free to ask to get added!

You glided through the trees alongside your team, adrenaline running through your veins.

Kicking yourself off a tree, you landed your body with ease onto a lone Titan spotted in the forest below you. With a swift swing of the blade, the Titan was on the ground.

Finished, you zipped yourself back into the air, joining your team member's formation as you all flew together.

"Y/N!" Captain Levi shouted, resent dripping off of his words. Here we go again. "Do not deviate from original course! We are here to scout, not to thrill seek."

The team came to a slow. They stood on the branches, overlooking the land beneath them.

"I was not thrill seeking, sir, I was doing my job," you defended, turning to Captain Levi. Though he was shorter than you were, his cold stare and unwavering demeanor intimidated you.

"Your job is to follow my orders, brat, not go off wandering like an idiot!"

"I didn't wander, I was quick to regroup! You're just finding a reason to take your anger out on me," you retorted. "Then again, I wouldn't be surprised. Considering your height, it's no wonder you can barely contain your anger in such a small body."

As much as he wanted to push you off the tree, Levi kept his poise.

By now the team could hear you and Levi's bickering, but considering they were used to it, they decided to butt out and focus on planning the route.

"Stable duty when we get back."

And then he walked away, leaving you fuming.

As you continued with the scouting mission, you encountered too many Titans that you couldn't just brush them off. Angry and left with no choice, Levi shouted orders to forget the original plan and fight back.

Out of the corner of your eye, you spotted two Titans approaching Jean and Armin with intent. You narrowed your eyes. This was your chance. You bolted off the tree, flying fast towards the two Titans. You got your gear out, ready to slice their napes, when one of the Titans looked your way, a sick smile on its face.

"Y/N!" Armin called out in a panic as the Titan extended its arm, swiping at you like a fly. Before its hand could collide with you, you were pushed out of the way by none other than Levi.

He wrapped his arms around you securely, one underneath your bottom and his other around your back. You heard him whisper a profanity, his hot breath fanning your neck as he spoke. Though it wasn't the time or the place, you couldn't help but let your mind wander.

You were brought back to reality when Levi glided deeper into the forest, setting you down onto the ground harsher than necessary.

Totally caught off guard, your back was shoved against a tree. Levi was quick to block your exits, predicting you would try to resist.

His arms caged you between him and the tree, leaving little to no distance between your bodies. You could feel your face get hot, either out of embarrassment or his body heat mixing with yours.

"What the hell is wrong with you, brat?!" Yelled Levi, eyes wild with rage. However, something felt different about this compared to when he scolded you for separating from the group. But you couldn't quite put your finger on it.

"Me?" You scoffed. "You're the crazy psycho who stole me away and cornered me in this forest!" You pushed at his chest, successfully shoving him off of you. "I had everything under control."

"You were almost killed! I can't have reckless people on my team. I'm a captain, not a babysitter, so get your shit together or get the hell off my team."

You stood against the tree quietly, Levi's venomous words stunning you into silence. Levi continued to stare deep into your eyes, his expression never changing. However, as the seconds passed, you saw a sliver of regret in his eyes, lasting only for a mere second.

You took a deep breath, trying to choose your words carefully. "I- Just.. Why do you hate me so much?"

Levi raised a brow while you continued to speak.

"I know I'm not the best fighter. Not compared to Misaka or Eren. But what did I do to deserve so much hatred from you? Even when I'm not doing anything wrong, you look at me like I'm the most disgusting person you've seen."

Despite feeling a sting of guilt at your words, Levi put on a dismissive act. "Tch, you're being dramatic. I'm not about to discuss this with you."

Why the fuck did he say that?

"Maybe if you listened to me for two damn seconds you wouldn't get such an earful."

Why is he being such an asshole? Gods, just tell them already. Stop this bullshit.

No longer finding it in you to care, you began to raise your voice, angry tears spilling down your face. "I try my best to make you like me. I try to show you that I'm capable and strong, but you still treat me as if I'm inferior. Like my skills are nothing. Like I'm nothing."

Emotionless, Levi replied, "Because you are. Look at you. You're a crybaby. You should've stayed back." Lies. All lies.

"Ugh- well maybe you should've just let me get killed since you despise me so much!"

With that, you grab your gear and zip away as far from Levi as possible, tears blowing out of your face and into the wind.

"Hey, where are you going?!"

You ignored him as you continued to speed through the trees, searching for your team. Your friends. Anybody.

"Y/N! Look out!"

You heard Eren shout, making you spin around frantically to search for the danger.

There it was.

An Abnormal ran your way, crawling like a dog on its hands and feet.

It had been chasing the team for a while now, evident in its animalistic, hungry look.

Steadily hanging off a branch, you watch the Titan from afar, then look back at the team.

"I'll distract it! You guys go!"

They looked at you as if you had grown two extra heads.

"You'll die!" Mikasa argued. "We can take it!"

"Just go!"

The Titan started to get closer. The team looked behind you, then back at you. Though they looked ready and determined to take it down, you knew they felt as terrified as you were. Fighting Titans was just something you don't think you'll ever get used to.

"Please be careful. We're gonna find Captain Levi!"

You nodded, then turned around, watching as the Titan ran towards you, totally disregarding the rest of the team.

"You want me? Come get me."

When you decided it was close enough, you darted into the forest and soared through the trees, only narrowly missing them. The Abnormal followed you, but hit itself on the trees and destroyed many in the process.

While the Abnormal continued to run through the forest, leaves and trees blocking its direct vision of you, you took a chance and turned back, flying past the Abnormal.

You did a quick u-turn and hopped onto its back.

You got it now.

As it chased after nothing, completely unaware, you slashed the nape of its neck.

With you still on its back, the Titan went limp mid-jump, falling onto the ground hard enough to create an earthquake. Unprepared for the collision, you went flying off its body.

Instead of bracing yourself for the fall, you frantically reached for your gear in an attempt to glide back up to the trees.

Before you got the chance, your body met with the ground, a loud thud echoing from the impact.

In the distance, the rest of the team continued to fight until they got to the very last Titan. Levi, though he was the last to regroup, helped effectively take down the Titans.

It wasn't evident in his stoic expression, but he searched among his surroundings and the faces of his team for you, afraid the worst had happened. Dammit, why did he have to be such an asshole? What Levi said to you, he meant none of it. But he feared he wouldn't get the chance to tell you that. Idiot.

"Is everybody here?!" Levi shouted as his team gathered around him.

"Yeah, we're alive-"

"Wait, where's Y/N?"

The team began to search among themselves, now becoming anxious as well.

"Well, where are they? Did you not see them at all?" Levi asked in a calm tone, despite his heart beat pounding in his ears. No. He wasn't going to slip up. Not here, not now. He needed to remain strong.

Mikasa spoke up. "We last saw them when we were being chased by an Abnormal! They offered to distract it and take care of it themselves."

Levi shouted, a crack in his voice, "And you let them?!"

"Y/N is strong! One of the best fighters we have here," Eld said. "They've probably already taken it down by now."

"Then where are they?!" Levi growled, becoming more frustrated by the second.

"Hey, look!" Armin yelled, shaking his finger towards the steam in the distance. "Eld was right! Y/N did kill it after all!"

Wasting no more time, Levi commanded the team to follow him. Soon again, they were up in the trees, running your direction. They stopped as soon as they came across a clearing in the forest where the Abnormal laid lifelessly.

"Everyone! Find Y/N!"

The team split, searching the area for any sign of you.

Levi dreaded the thought of finding you like they found the Titan. No. You killed it. You had to be alive.

Levi repeated that in his head. You had to be alive.

Because if you weren't, he wouldn't know what he would do.

Your eyes shot open at the sound of panicked screams echoing around you. You pushed yourself off of the ground in a rush, only to stumble back with an agonizing scream, pain shooting up the lower half of your body.

"Fucking hell! Oh shit," you fell back on the grass defeatedly, hot tears welling in your eyes at the intense pain and aches across your whole body. "Dammit!"

You didn't know which bones were broken, where you were, if you were bleeding out. So you just laid there alone, helpless and numb. Waiting.

Just when the team was beginning to lose hope, a blood curdling scream echoed throughout the forest, easily catching the team's attention. They headed towards the source of the sound, but Levi was the first on it, already sprinting through the forest to find you.

When he did, he felt his heart drop down to his stomach. You laid in a small clearing behind some old trees and bushes, a puddle of blood beneath your body. Your uniform was torn and your 3DMG was rendered useless at this point. If not for the scream, or the fast rise and fall of your chest, he would've mistaken you for being dead.

Levi rushed to your side and got onto his knees, lifting up your body into his arms.

"Y/N? Can you hear me? Y/N?"

You coughed, wheezing and struggling to make a coherent sound. Blood dripped down the corner of your mouth as you spoke, "You were right, Captain. I never stood a chance, did I?Shoulda just stayed." You laughed pitifully.

Now Levi was angry, but not at you. "Shut up! Don't say stupid shit like that! You're going to be okay."

The team found you, stopping short at the sight of Levi holding you carefully, like a porcelain doll, ready to break.

He didn't care anymore. He didn't bother to put up a front. Not when you were like this, half dead in his arms. He pressed his forehead to yours, whispering in your ear so only you could hear.

"I can't lose you too.."

Everyone else only continued to watch the intimate scene unfold before them.

When you fell unconcious, Levi squeezed his eyes shut, trying his best to keep his composure. Why was he acting like this? Usually he would be quick to solve problems without letting his feelings get in the way. Why was he so helpless now?

He turned around, scowling at the group who just stood by idly.

"Get over here and help them, you fools!"

You hated it. You hated having to be looked after or saved like a princess in a children's storybook. You didn't want to run away anymore, or simply stand in waiting, hoping for someone to rescue you. You were done being hunted. So you joined the Scouts after years of hard work and training. If you had only thought more carefully or put your parent's advice in consideration, you wouldn't be in your current situation, regretting ever joining Levi's team. You wouldn't have ended up in the infirmary.

You passed out in Levi's arms after suffering from injuries during your fight with the Abnormal Titan, according to your friends. They came by to visit you when the medic alerted them that you had woken up from your coma.

"How long was I out for?" You winced as you massaged your still pounding head. "When did I even get here?"

"You've been unconcious for two days. We retreated to the city as Captain Levi instructed and you've been under their care since," Eren answered. He noticed your demeanor as you looked around the room and picked at your skin, a nervous habit you recently formed. "Everybody's alive, so don't you worry."

"Where are they?"

"Well, they did have to receive medical attention since they got hurt, but they're okay! They miss you, ya know?" Armin said excitedly. "We'll make sure to fill you in on everything when you're out of here."

You pursed your lips. "Speaking of which, when will I be discharged?"

"You can't exactly walk right now, but.. you should be up and ready to go within a week! Then we can go on another mission and-"

"Eren. Armin. Mikasa." Your attention was torn away from Eren, your eyes darting towards the source of the voice.

"Captain Levi!" They all exclaimed in unison.

"I would like to speak with Y/N in private." He glanced at trio, his eyes narrowing. "Out."

The three walked out, heads bowed like sad little puppies. You waved at them as they went before turning to Levi who now stood by your bed.

"What do you want?" You asked bitterly, nose scrunching up in a sneer.

"Commander Erwin informed me of your decision," he spoke softly, differing from his usual cold tone.

You huffed. "Yeah, took your advice and resigned. You won't have to worry about babysitting me anymore."

A pang of guilt shot through Levi's heart, causing him to flinch. He hoped you didn't catch that.

He remembered his own regretful words as it replayed in his head. Just like your cries and pained expression, which he was unable to simply brush off, he couldn't forget how he mistreated you. And he would never forgive himself, either. The sight of your injured body laying there, all alone. He couldn't shake the scene off his mind, no matter how hard he tried. Even in his dreams.

Evident in his eyebags that seemed to have darkened in shade, he wasn't able to get much sleep the past couple days because of it.

"I take it you hate me, then," Levi suggested, prompting you to laugh mockingly.

"Oh, no, I could never," you said, sarcasm dripping off your voice as you fake fawned over Levi. "Levi Ackerman, Humanity's Strongest.. I just adore you."

Levi hid his offended expression and ignored your antics as he continued. "I was afraid I couldn't get the chance to apologize to you. When I found you there, I.." He squeezed his eyes shut and furrowed his brows together, forcing his tears not to fall. Why now?

"Yeah, well, you fucked up. About time you feel a little heartache," you mumbled, looking around the room, anywhere but Levi.

"A little?! Look, I'm trying to apologize here!" He shouted. "Do you have no idea how fucking terrified I've been for you, you brat?!"

"No, Captain Levi, so why don't you enlighten me on how much you care?!" You huffed, crossing your arms. "Because if you did, then maybe I wouldn't be bed ridden!"

Levi's face softened at the sight of a single tear escaping your eye. He took a seat on the bed beside you and reached out to brush away your tear.

With your quick reflexes, you caught his hand and pushed it back towards him.

"Don't you dare touch me. You've done enough damage, Levi. Just go and stop wasting my time."

Just like you, he was stubborn. He stood his ground.

"I-I'm sorry."

You let out an exasperated sigh. "You must think I'm stupid. No way I'm buying that bullshit."

"You need to stop pushing me away, Y/N!"

"What is that, an order?" You taunted. "You don't get to be sorry, Levi. It's too late for that. You waited for me to almost die just to tell me that? Is that what it takes? What if I hadn't survived? What then?"

"You don't think I haven't thought about that?! That's why I'm here!"

"Yeah, and who's fault is that?"

"You should've listened to me! I was trying to protect you!"

"Well thanks a lot. Now both my kneecaps are broken and I won't be able to walk for weeks!" You shake your head. "You think just because we shared a moment while I was dying that I'm okay now? Trust me, if I had the strength, I would have slapped you then and there."

"Then why don't you now?"

"At this point, you're not even worth getting angry over. So stop giving me that pitiful look. I really prefer you shouting at me instead. At least I'm used to it." You mumble the last part, but Levi catches it easily.

"That's it then, you leave me no choice." You look at Levi curiously. "You infuriate me, brat, you really do. You're so careless and oblivious all the time, you forget to look after yourself. And I'm not ready to watch you throw away your life so irrationally from the sidelines."

"So what are you trying to tell me, Levi?"

"Tch, you're just gonna make me say it, aren't you?" He takes a deep breath. "I'm not good at this, and I hate to admit it, to you of all people. It makes me mad to see you risk your life because I care about you.. and I can't lose you. I've dealt with too much death. I'll do whatever it takes to keep you alive, even if it means dying.." Levi trails off, then scoffs and crosses his arms like a petty little child. "I said it, all right? I like you-- A lot, you stupid brat!"

You searched Levi's eyes for any trace of dishonesty. You hoped he was lying, like he had some sort of script prepared before he came to see you. But you found no lies in his eyes.

You felt your heart break. All this time when you thought Levi just really hated you, he was looking out for you.

"I.. Why didn't you just tell me?" Your voice fell apart as you spoke. "I tried so hard to make you like me back.. And it hurt because I thought you just hated my guts. I had no idea."

"I know, I was being stupid too- It shouldn't have come to this," Levi admitted. "I.. I'll let you rest now."

Levi stood up to leave, but you were quick to pull him back onto the bed with you. Without letting him react, you grabbed his face and interlocked your lips with his. All the tension in his body disappeared and he melted into the kiss, throwing his arms around you tightly like he'd lose you if he ever let go. It wasn't a soft, romantic, movie perfect kiss. It was desperate, tongue and teeth, hands wandering, disheveling the other's hair. You released all of your built up anger and resent, letting it fuel you while you aggresively fought your tongue with his, a faint taste a hint of alcohol now on your own mouth. Occasionally you'd both break the kiss for short intakes of breath and small whispers like 'don't scare me like that again' and 'I've needed this for a while now'. You couldn't help but moan, earning a grin from Levi as he continued to hungrily devour your lips. Just as things escalated, you remembered you were still in the infirmary, and anyone could walk in any minute now. You slowly pulled away, your chest heaving as you panted for breath.

Levi couldn't help but twist his lips up into a little smirk. That was new.

"Well at least you're not a bad first kisser," he spoke nonchalantly, still gasping for air. You playfully punched him in the chest.

"Quite the romantic, aren't you?" You rolled your eyes but couldn't stop yourself from smiling like an idiot. "You're not bad either, old man."

Blush spread across his cheeks.

He took your hand in his, bringing it to his swollen and raw lips and placed a small kiss on your knuckles.

"Promise me you won't leave me again?"

"Promise," you sighed blissfully. "And I guess I'll have to tell Commander Erwin about my change of plans."

"Actually," a deep voice spoke. At the door, there stood none other than Commander Erwin. "I think I already know."

[thunderon]

{{ You said you have road trip stories? I live for road trip stories! What's your favorite one? Or which one are you least ashamed to share, if you don't have a favorite?

i could write a novel about my multiple horrible no good very bad roadtrips (that i remember fondly) but i think i got a story from my most recent roadtrip this summer. a lot of people think im kidding when i tell this story but it’s unfortunately 100% true

i actually think i mentioned it on this blog before, but i’ll set the scene: me and two others are driving through the mountains late on day 2 of our No Preparation Spontaneous Roadtrip and we take the “scenic route” (and by that i mean we get totally lost).

we’re about an hour up the mountainside and none of us have phone service and have no way to find our way back down so we’re just speeding along the roads trying to find our way out. our driver (who, let the record show, is not a good driver) is getting very stressed out. i mean she’s got a white knuckled grip on the steering wheel and is jerking us back and forth along the mountain roads. im riding shotgun, feeling vaguely nauseous, and we got someone else in the backseat lying down because our driver’s erratic driving is making her so carsick. things could be going better. the situation is already less than ideal, but things went from bad to worse when a 300 lb bear sprints onto the road.

now let me share something with you: you think you know fear when you see a 300 lb bear charging at your car. you know you know fear when the driver hits the gas instead of the brakes and suddenly you’re riding shotgun in a car hurtling 60+ mph at a charging bear.

it was such a scene: the driver is screaming and grabbing me like ive somehow suddenly developed the ability to magically stop us from hitting this fucking bear and so she’s half hanging on my arm, foot still on the gas, and i swear i set the world record for The Most “Oh Fuck”s Said in Three Seconds right then, and meanwhile our third person lying down in the backseat doesn’t know what’s going on but she shoots up when she hears the commotion and BANG we hit that wholeass bear with the full force of a mid-sized sedan driven by a woman with an apparent deathwish.

well we had so much momentum from our driver’s questionable choice to accelerate rather than brake, we manage to run OVER the bigass bear. which honestly i would have thought would be physically impossible to do if i hadn’t been there. i mean our car literally goes up over the bear (who gets bounced around under our car) and we slam down on the other side and run halfway off this narrow mountain road and the driver swerves onto the side and we’re all sitting there for a second just trying to process what in the fuck just happened and the driver is has this exact expression:

… and then we hear a blood curdling scream from our passenger (who had no idea what was going on) and me and the driver of course whip our heads around to see what the fuss was about. now let me share something else: you experience an emotion beyond fear when you run over a bear with a car…. and then the bear gets up.

the driver (making her first good decision of the day) decides not to stick around for bear vs car: round 2, thank you very much, and guns it. we shot back onto the road and put some much needed distance between us and the very angry bear we just hit.

about a few minutes after hurtling down the road nearly twice the speed limit the adrenaline wears off and we stumble upon a wide enough place to kinda pull off to the side. the driver is fully having a nervous breakdown and so i hop out to assess the damages. the bumper is cracked and out of place, the license plate is totally bent back etc. but luckily it’s not too bad (all things considered) and my extensive history of owning shitty cars finally paid off and i was able to fix the bumper up enough to prevent it from scraping the ground.

eventually some kind folks gave us directions down the mountain and we got into the nearest town after dark and of course no mechanics shops were open at that time so we had to quickly find ourselves a place to crash (we ended up staying in the third worst motel ive ever been to in my life, but that’s a separate trauma for another time). our roadtrip ended shortly thereafter but hey. we got a good story outta it.

tl;dr we picked a fight with a bear and i think everyone lost really. the car, the bear, and especially us.

[details-later]

Racer! Bo Sinclair x Reader

Hey y’all so while having a small conversation through asks about Bo and the playlist i made about him this idea came to mind sooo HERE YOU GO!!!

A/N: I keep forgetting how AWFUL i am at writing endings so yeah,,,,,, ALSO IGNORE THAT THIS IS LIKE MONTHS LATE AT THIS POINT IVE BEEN V BUSY <also please send in more requests if you want i need that ✨inspiration✨ but ofc its up to yall if you do it>

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Bright lights shined down at the race track. The thick smell of Gasoline and Cigarettes floated around. The speakers boomed with music to keep people entertained before the race. The ground almost vibrating to the beat of Thunderstruck by AC/DC. Bustling groups of mechanics for each racer rushing around to quickly patch up anything that may have happened in the time between last race and now.

Laying on the hood of his car a cigarette lazily hanging out his mouth. Bo Sinclair stood his presence instilling a tense layer across all the other Racers. Only recently having recovered from a pretty bad case of whiplash from a crash a couple races back, he stood tall commanding respect from everyone around him. When he got hurt most people in the community thought he would leave for good, yet here he was.

Bo stared off into the distance, a determined look stayed plastered to his face. Not noticing the person walking up towards him, Bo slightly flinched when a hand fell on his upper arm. The thick muscle only twitched to show it registered in his head someone touched him. Turning his head towards the offending hand thinking it was just some mechanic needing him to move.

Locking eyes with you he visibly released the tension in his shoulders. “Hey Baby what do you need?” He questioned, obviously too focused on wanting to win this race and to show hes still top dog. “I ‘on’t need anything just wanted to make sure you’re ok.” You said softly, trying to show that you are just concerned.

“Yeah ‘m fine just focused on the race.” Bo spoke while turning towards you. The look in his eyes lit a fire in yours. You knew how Bo felt when he lost. He could burn down a city with one look just by the fire in his eyes. In that moment the announcer rang through the speakers.

“Racers head to the track!” the booming voice signaled it was time to get ready. The race should be simple only 90 laps with a break after 20 and 40 laps. Bo stood up from his leaning position and leaned down to kiss you. “Love ya’ baby. I’ll see you after I win this.” His face contorted into a smirk and he winked at you. “Love you too! Good Luck!” You said with a happiness filling your heart.

Moving towards the sidelines you waited for the race to start. Anxiety and Nerves rose in your chest, fear that maybe just maybe Bo gets in another wreck. The possibility of him getting hurt again scared you, but you knew that him getting hurt was the least of your worries. The biggest concern is Bo winning this race, god knows what he would do if he lost.

The sound of a gun being shot snapped you out of your thoughts. Sounds of cars zipping past you and the smell of burnt rubber brought your gaze to Bo’s car, a slick black car with grey detailing. The sounds of the fans drowned out the loud music playing, the hype of Bo leading the pack of cars excited everyone.

In Bo’s car he just focuses on going as fast as he can. Not trying to think about anything else but the sweet taste of victory. The high that he feels when we wins will be unimaginable compared to previous wins. Just wining was amazing, but wining after everyone thought you would retire after one injury? That will be indescribable.

He just let himself slip into being one with the car. He didn’t pay attention to the others that he had already left in the dust, Instead choosing to lock his brain to the feeling of the car purr with the power it held. He had passed by you many times. Every time it blew your hair all over to the point you just put on Bo’s cap to keep everything as in place as possible.

After the first 20 laps he finally paused. Greedily taking in air the adrenaline pulsed in his veins. His cheeks flushed as blood rushed around in his ears. He looked over and made eye-contact with you. That Cocky smile of his blooming across his lips yet again.

Your heart pounded with the flustered feeing you felt. Even though you’ve been together for awhile his smiles still made you weak in the knees. He got out of the car for his first break, the maintenance crew rushing over the double check the car and to change out anything that needed to get switched. Walking over to you Bo leaned down a kissed your cheek. He closed his eyes for a moment and basked in the sunlight waiting for the small break to be over.

“Lookin’ pretty good out there hon.” You said with a smile plastered on your face. “You’re smoking the others, they can barely keep up.” Continuing with a small chuckle. “Yeah, Sweetheart? Well lets hope it stays that way.” Bo said, his smirk fading to a sincere small grin. At that moment of just staring at each other in complete love and adoration the Speakers crackled.

“Racers please start heading back into your cars.” The speakers boomed with the sound of the announcers energetic voice. Bo looked back over at you and leaned in again smearing a kiss across your forehead. Soon he was back in his car his mindset swiftly shifting from relaxed to focus again.

Soon enough the rest of the race zipped by. Bo continued his demolition of the other racers. His focused and determined mindset pushing him passed the finish line and get the first place he deserved. When he was announced as the winner he quickly turned and dipped you into a harsh yet loving kiss.

Pulling you back up, you smiled at him. “I knew you’d win baby. Ain’t none of them other racers as good as you.”

[winterscaptain]

fear itself.

Aaron Hotchner x Gender Neutral Reader

a/n: part two of the 100 arc! this installment covers the events of faceless, nameless. i am living for the feedback! please keep it coming. i can’t wait to hear what you think as we go through this (very emotionally wrought) section.

an ajf fic arc that happily stands on its own! one | two | three | four | five | six | seven | eight | nine | ten | eleven

words: 4.5k warnings: canon-typical violence, language, hospital setting

summary: four hours of sleep and aaron’s missing. what else could go wrong?

masterlist | a joyful future masterlist | requests closed!

4:02am “Just got home, so I’m calling like you asked. Shoot me a text when you get back to the apartment, if you aren’t already asleep. Call me when you’re up and we can work on that Nebraska consult, maybe in the early afternoon? Goodnight. Sleep well.”

8:13am “Hey, it’s me. I know I’m not supposed to be worried about you, but we were called in a half hour ago and you’re still not here...so...give me a call when you get this. Bye.”

8:48am “Hey, it’s me, checking in again. You’re probably still asleep, but I’ve never known you to sleep more than seven hours...so if I don’t hear from you by eleven I’ll drag you out of bed myself.”

9:51am “We’re headed to the crime scene. Garcia’s sent you the address. I know JJ’s been calling you too, so just...I dunno? Call us back? Bye.”

10:20am “If you’re getting these and ignoring me, I hope you know you’re taking years off my life right now.”

11:08am “Um...Call me back. I’m starting to worry. Well...not starting. I’ve been worried. But I’m getting...really worried.” 

11:37am “Aaron please call me and let me know you’re alright. You’re scaring me.”

+++

Needless to say, it’s been a weird day. Why you expected anything else after that wretched Canada case and four hours of sleep, you have no idea. 

You had a horrible dream last night, on top of everything else. The image of Aaron broken and bleeding beside you hadn’t left your mind since it first appeared in Foyet’s kitchen. You tried to shake it off every time, but it was persistent. 

We’ll worry about that later. 

You check the time again, trying to ignore the weird feeling in your gut. 

Where is he? 

Your phone rings and your heart leaps. Guilt (and a little bit of embarrassment) pricks at you when you’re disappointed to see Emily’s name on your phone. You answer. 

“You have to get down here.” Her voice isn’t frantic, per se, but the urgency is undeniable. 

“What’s going on?” 

She takes a breath. “I just got off the phone with Garcia - I have crime scene techs and SWAT on the way to Hotch’s apartment, and I need you here.” 

All the blood in your body seems to rush into your head, and you lean heavily on the nearest object - the dining room table. “What?”

“I - I don’t know. All his stuff is here and there's -” She stutters for a second. “There’s blood on the carpet, broken glass, and a bullet hole in the wall by the kitchen. No Hotch.” 

An eerie kind of calm washes over you, and you straighten, making eye contact with Derek. “Okay. Let me just -”

Derek gets a call, but keeps his eyes on you. “What’s goin’ on, Baby Girl?...What do you mean ‘Emily just called SWAT to Hotch’s apartment’ what -“

You break his gaze as he nods at you and turns to the rest of the team. “Emily, I’ll be right there. Don’t go anywhere.” 

+++

You make it to the hospital with Emily. You flash your credentials and it gets you exactly where you want to go. 

When you see him, your breath catches. He looks awful - drawn and small and wrapped in what seems like miles of gauze. Emily grabs your arm, but you’re not sure if it's for her benefit or yours. 

This is, after all, your worst nightmare come to life. A little chill crawls up your spine. This whole thing has you feeling six different kinds of scared. 

The nurse lets you into his room, telling you he’ll be out for another hour, at least. “He needs the rest.”

Emily leaves you to retrieve coffee. You take the opportunity to sit beside him and slide your hand under his, careful not to disturb the IV. Your hand shakes - whether from anxiety, fear, fury, or all of the above, you’re not sure. 

“If you die, Aaron Hotchner, I’ll kill you.”

You hear a little laugh from the doorway and you pull your hand from him. Emily shakes her head, two cups of coffee in her hands. “You’re fine. I'm not going to tattle.”

You squint. “Tattle?”

She rolls her eyes. “You’re so clueless it’s almost cute, but he’s worse.” She throws her head toward Hotch with a fond smile, handing you your cup of coffee.

+++

The rest of the team arrives in a flurry a little while later, and the nurse has to warn them off as Aaron starts to wake. 

They quiet down, surrounding his bedside. You haven’t moved, making it your mission to keep your eyes on him at all times. 

His eyes flutter before closing again. “Where am I?”

“You’re in the hospital,” you say, keeping your voice quiet and steady despite the tightness in your chest. 

“How did I get here?”

Derek gets that one. “Foyet drove you.” 

Aaron takes a breath. It’s shaky, and you imagine he’s in a lot of pain. Emily leans forward, looking for his eyes. “Can you remember what happened?”

He tells you, slowly, about how Foyet broke into the apartment, waited until he was home with his guard down, fired a shot, and then...He trails off. A heavy breath leaves him. “What did he take?”

You have an answer. “There was a page missing from your day planner, the Bs from the address section.” 

He closes his eyes and his breath grows faster, his heart rate increasing. After a moment, he collects himself and asks Emily, “What did he leave?”

“I don’t know.” 

“He also leaves something with his victims.”

Emily shakes her head. “I looked through your entire apartment. Nothing felt out of place.”

“Where are my clothes?”

“Right here.” You reach over, grabbing the bag and removing his bloody shirt with only the barest moment of hesitation. He reaches for the envelope of his personal effects and you press it into his hand, saving him the effort. 

Tears prick at your eyes as you watch his hands shake, opening his wallet. He’s eerily quiet, and you catch a glimpse of a photo, tucked into the fold. 

Haley and Jack. There’s blood on it. You recognize it from the desk in his home office space. 

No. 

Aaron’s come to the same conclusion, falling back on the pillows with a look you can only describe as defeated. It scares you. You swallow, pushing your tears back. 

That’s the last thing he needs right now. 

“Haley’s maiden name is Brooks. I always listed her in the Bs in my personal information in case it fell into the wrong hands.” Your hand, like JJ’s, has fallen over your mouth. 

Oh. 

Of course. 

Of course, he keeps her under Brooks. All he wants to do is keep her safe. 

You hope, one day, that someone will love you that much, will want to protect you with the same ferocity, will think of you before anything else. 

You could only be so lucky. 

He swallows and continues. “He knows where they live.”

Derek makes assignments. You’re to stay right where you are, while the rest focus on locating Haley and Jack. 

When it’s just the two of you, he closes his eyes again. “I don’t know what I’m going to do if -”

“They’ll find her. They’ll find Jack. They’ll be safe.”

You have to believe it, too. They’re too important to you, to central to your life, now 

He shakes his head, his eyes cracking open. “Why didn’t I just take the deal?” Clearing his throat, he continues, his voice a little stronger, but still rough. “He told me I should have. I never thought -” He cuts himself off.

You hand him a cup of water, and he takes it gratefully. Idly, you note he hasn’t looked you in the eye yet. 

“Do you want an answer to your question?”

He doesn’t answer you, looking across the room. 

You lean into his eye line. “You didn’t take the deal because you have the most integrity of anyone I’ve ever known. Anything he does is on him. It’s not on you.” 

“But,” his voice breaks and the smallest of tears falls out of his eye. It tracks down his temple until you gently wipe it away with your thumb. “But I could have stopped all of this.” 

“No,” you whisper. Your hand lingers on the side of his face. “No. He’ll be this way wherever he goes. The only way you change that is by catching him, Hotch.” 

He finally looks at you, his brown eyes exhausted, hurting, and bloodshot. You card your fingers through the hair at his temple, putting the oxygen cannula back over his ear. Soon, he closes his eyes again, his vitals evening out as he falls asleep. 

“We’ll get him, Aaron.”

A few tense minutes later, your phone buzzes in your pocket. When you see the caller ID, a shot of adrenaline zings around your body. “Haley?”

Your name is a sigh of relief in her mouth. “SWAT scared the hell out of me and I just - I don’t know.”

“Oh, Haley I’m so sorry. I should have gone over there with the team but -“ Derek knew my stress wouldn’t be useful. 

“No, no. It’s fine. They’re getting Jack from a friend’s house, but they told me what’s going on. I’ll see you when I get to the hospital. I just -“ She laughs, but there’s no humor in it. “I just freaked out.”

“I know. I’m sorry. I’ll see you soon.”

“I’ll see you soon. I love you.”

Your heart pulls. “I love you, too.” 

She hangs up, and you stuff your phone back in your pocket. 

Aaron wakes again when you pull a case file from your bag, but you’re not sure it’s your doing.

Shit. 

He looks around a little frantically for a moment, still disoriented. You rise and cross the room, finding one of his hands. 

“Hotch, it’s okay. You’re still in the hospital.” 

“Haley?”

You nod. “They got her. She’s safe and she’s on her way with Jack.” 

He finally relaxes, sinking back down into the pillows. “Thank you.”

You nod and resume your place on the other side of the room, patting the back of his hand as you let him go. He’s quiet, if not a little fidgety. You look at him for a minute. He takes a talking breath. 

“After the first one, it kind of goes blank.” His breath is still a little unsteady, and you take your chair next to his bed again. “There were nine, apparently.” 

Your breath catches. It’s not new information, but it’s still raw, sharp-edged. 

Awful.

He swallows. “He taunted me.” His eyes beg you to understand, to keep him from flying off the rails. 

“He’s a bastard, Aaron.”

He levels you with a withering stare. No shit. 

“I know you know that, but it’s worth repeating.”

“I don’t want -“

You interrupt him, knowing exactly where he’s going. “You’re not going to become a victim. You aren’t a victim.”

“I don’t want Haley to -“ 

You press a hand to his arm, mindful of his bandages. “One day at a time. They’re safe today.”

His lip quivers and his voice leaves him in a whisper. “That’s not good enough.”

+++

Eventually, Haley arrives looking a little worse for wear. 

Her haircut’s really cute. 

The thought almost makes you laugh. 

Of all the things to notice...

You startle a little as you remember where you are and rise, ready to give them space. She waves you off, giving you permission to stay. 

“How do you feel?” She asks. 

Aaron sits up a little more, not without effort, and says, “I’m gonna be okay.” 

That’s not what she asked, stupid. 

He continues. “Did they explain to you what’s happening?”

She nods. “They said the marshal's service is taking us straight from here and putting us into protective custody.” Her eyes meet yours, and you dip your chin. She’s right. 

Aaron apologizes to Haley for the first of what you imagine will be many times. 

Her lower lip disappears between her teeth. “Do you know where they’re gonna take us?”

“No,” you answer. “We don’t. And that’s the point.” 

“I can’t know where you’re going,” Aaron adds. “If you have any contact with anyone, he can track you.”

That shocks her a little, and you can see she’s getting upset. “Jack has school. He has friends. I have a job now. I have -” She cuts herself off. 

“I know.” He levels a steady, solemn gaze upon her. “And I’m sorry. We will catch him and you’ll come back.”

She looks at you again. “Are you sure we’re in danger?” 

You nod, almost imperceptibly, and Hotch answers. “Yes.” 

“And what about you? Are you gonna be safe?”

There it is. 

She does love him. 

You knew that, of course. Seeing them together during visits at home or out to dinner or otherwise in the presence of that other, that was never in question.

Your heart tugs. 

Twenty-five years... 

“He wants to see me suffer. Knowing that my son is out there and that I can’t see him is better than killing me.”

Haley wets her lips and swallows. 

That’s her tell. 

You figure she’ll burst into tears pretty soon. It was only a matter of time, and you don’t blame her in the least. You’ve had tears threatening you all afternoon, and this wasn’t even happening to you. 

“Jack wants to see you.”

Aaron’s jaw gets a little tight. “I want to see him, too. I just don’t think it’s a good idea.” 

You hear what he can’t say, too. I don’t want to scare him. I don’t want him to see me like this. 

“Look,” she says, exasperated. “I know you’re trying to protect him, but you both need this. Please.”

He nods, resigned. “Okay.”

Haley looks over and offers you a shaky smile, trying to break the tension. “He also asked me if you’d be here. He’ll be thrilled.” 

That almost does you in. “So will I,” you tell her, meaning every syllable. 

With another brisk nod and wipe of her face, she leaves the room to retrieve Jack. Aaron sits up a little straighter and you help him. He tries to suppress his wince, but fails. 

“Do you need another round?” 

He shakes his head. “I’ll be fine.”

“Just let me know.” You settle back into the corner, the case file in your lap. 

Haley and Jack return, and she brings him to Aaron’s side, lifting him up onto the bed. 

Aaron meets his eyes and tells him that he’s okay, giving him a little preparing for what’s about to happen. “But, what do I tell you whenever I go away?”

“That you love me.” 

You hide your face, looking out the window as tears finally fall from your eyes. Haley’s eyes are on you and you know it. You wipe at your face and take a quiet breath before turning back, pretending to pay attention to the case in your lap. 

In your periphery, you can see Aaron looking over Jack’s face as if to memorize it, as if he doesn’t already know every plane, every curve, every angle of his son’s face. “More than anything in the world.” 

They exchange a few more words before he brings him close and kisses his forehead. You glance up, and they look so alike in their profiles it almost makes you smile. Haley’s crying, too, and she meets your eyes. 

Something passes between you, but you don’t have a name for it. 

You don’t need one. 

Haley takes a breath and tucks her hair behind her ears. She redirects Jack’s attention to you, and his eyes light up. She helps him scramble off the bed and he books it around the bed to you. 

You close the case file and open your arms to him. “Hi, bud.” It’s hard not to scare him with the feverish way you hold him close, your fingers wound in his hair. 

There’s a failed attempt to avoid thinking about the uncertainty of the future, when you’ll see him again. 

If ever.

Stop. 

The pair of you lean back for a minute, and you brush his hair away from his forehead. 

“Are you going away, too?” He asks. 

You shake your head. “I’m gonna stay here with your dad.” 

“Are you going to keep my dad safe? I’m going to keep Mom safe.”

It’s Aaron who looks away this time. 

“Of course, my love.” You offer him something you hope looks like a smile. “We always keep each other safe. We’re a team, like you and your momma. I’m so proud of you.” You check in with Haley, who’s looking away, the back of her hand swiping at her cheek. When she turns back to you, you tilt your head a little. 

Want a minute? 

She nods. 

You stand, Jack still tucked against your chest. “I think,” you say, as he sits back in your arms, “Miss Emily and Miss JJ are back and might have something fun for you over there.” You tip your head toward the waiting room. “Wanna go see?”

He nods, leaning back into you and playing with your collar. You pat Aaron’s knee and squeeze Haley’s shoulder with your free hand as you pass. 

Aaron watches you go, your low murmuring comforts to Jack lost in the ambient hospital noise. When you find JJ and look back, giving him a small (if not a little watery) smile, he looks over at Haley, guilt closing up his throat. 

“I’m so sorry, Haley. I promise, when this is all over, I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you.” 

She gives him a half-smile and sits on the edge of his bed. She reaches for him, and he takes both of her hands in his. There’s silence for a moment as they sit together. She studies him. 

While it doesn’t bother him (she has been looking at him for nearly twenty-five years, after all), he does feel more exposed under her gaze than he’s used to. 

“You should do something about that, one of these days,” she says, looking over her shoulder. You’re still visible in the window, talking to JJ while Jack is still glued to you. His little arms are tight around your neck, his head tucked under your chin.

Aaron’s brow furrows, but the EKG picks up the increase in his heart rate, much to his embarrassment. “What are you talking about?”

Haley laughs, a light, watery, delicate thing, and turns back to him. It almost brings a smile to his face. “Do you think I don’t know what you look like when you’re head over heels, Aaron Hotchner? After eighteen years of marriage and twenty-five years knowing you? Give me a break.”

His jaw grows tight, but he holds her gaze. 

“You used to look at me like that, you know.” A little smile plays at her lips and she looks down, almost shy. “Still do, sometimes.” 

“I love you, Haley.” 

She squeezes his hand. “I know you do.” A sigh leaves her and she looks over her shoulder again, just catching a glimpse of you and JJ out in the hall with Jack as you go scavenging for something sweet. There’s a little smile at the corner of her mouth when she turns back to him. “You are so loved, Aaron.” 

“I don't…” He huffs, frustrated. “I don’t feel -”

“I’m not saying you have to do anything, but it might do you some good to just…” She sighs, throwing a hand up in a kind of searching gesture. “I don’t know, be honest with yourself. Think for a minute.” 

His teeth worry the inside of his lower lip as he thinks about it. He does care about you. But love? 

He thinks of the way his chest feels too small whenever you laugh, the way he always goes above and beyond to make sure you’re safe in the field, how he looks for you when you’re out of the room, how he looks for you when you’re in the room. 

The way you are with Jack brings him to his knees every time. The sound of his son’s laughter under your tickling fingers never fails to bring a smile to his face. 

You’ve helped him heal what seemed like an insurmountable chasm between him and Haley, and though it’s not perfect, it’s better than it would ever be without you. 

You always take a second to straighten his tie and ensure his suit jacket lays flat across his shoulders before leaving the plane, just like he always takes time to count the rounds in your magazines or tuck your tag back into your shirt collar. 

He always feels so warm under your fond and attentive touch. With a little bit of alarm, he hopes you feel the same under his. Safe. Cared-for. 

Loved. 

Oh. 

Oh no.

He knows the realization is clear on his face when Haley laughs again, surprising them both. She swipes at her eyes again, clearing any remaining tears. “You know, I can’t say I’m surprised you didn’t know, but it’s still funny, even with all this.” She shakes her head. “You haven’t changed much, have you?”

His face breaks out into a little smile as he looks back at her. “Oh, quit.” 

“I’ll never quit giving you hell, as long as we live.” Haley reaches out, pushing gently against his shoulder. He takes the shove like a champ, even through the ache in his chest and abdomen, thankful she’s not treating him like he’s made of glass. 

“Don’t I know it.” 

They look at each other for a minute before Aaron sobers, the mirth evaporating between them. He already misses her. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry for all of this. I’m hoping it’ll be...temporary.” 

“I do have a life, Aaron. And Jack…” She sighs and her eyes fill with tears again. 

“I know. I’m sorry. I wish there was another way to keep you safe, but -” He cuts himself off, knowing there’s nothing he can say. 

She swallows again. She already misses him. “How am I supposed to keep him safe when there’s nobody I know to help me?”

He sighs, but speaks with conviction. “Haley, you’re strong. You lived with me in this job and you’ve practically raised Jack all by yourself. You’re a great mother.” 

Haley’s actively crying now, trying to stem the tears with her fingers. It’s not working. After a moment, she collects herself. “Can you catch this man?”

“I will catch this man.”

+++

When she leaves Aaron’s room, you bring Jack to her. You take a moment to lightly fuss over them both. 

Her blue eyes find yours. “Take care of him, please?”

You nod. “I will.” 

“He needs you.” 

She says it with a simple kind of conviction that makes your chest pull. You put a hand on her shoulder, trying to communicate everything you can’t say into your touch. “He needs you more.” 

“No, he doesn’t.” Her lips twist in an odd sort of smile and she wraps you in a hug and kisses your cheek. “I’ll see you soon.” 

You hold her tight, Jack trapped (and whining a little) between you. “See you soon, Hales.” You pull back, looking deeply into her eyes. “We’ll get him.” 

The U.S. Marshals arrive, and you have to let go of each other. You press a kiss to Jack’s forehead and tell him you love him one more time, and wait until they’re in the car and out of sight before you break down. 

You don’t know where he came from, but Derek wraps around you, catching you before your knees hit the ground. You don't know what you’re crying about, really. 

It could be the overwhelming task of catching Foyet.

It could be Hotch in the room down the hall with nine stab wounds to his chest and abdomen. 

It could be the indefinite absence of your dear friend and her son - a boy you love more than anyone except maybe -

Nope. Don’t go there. Not now. 

Sobs wrack your chest, and your head hurts and your throat is sore by the time your body lets you breathe. 

Derek’s there the whole time, rubbing your back and keeping your face hidden in the crook of his neck and shoulder. “It’s gonna be okay, kiddo. It’ll be okay. He’s okay. We’re gonna catch this son of a bitch.” 

“It’s just so much, Derek.” 

He sighs. “I know. I know.”

+++

“Did you hear what happened this morning?”

You’re woken by Dave’s voice, coming from the doorway. Cramped and crunched into the corner of an uncomfortable chair, you stretch and what feels like every joint in your body cracks. 

“No.”

When did Aaron wake up? 

You look over at him and he glances at you before returning to Dave, who’s leaning on the door frame. 

“We had a situation. Unsub had already killed two people. Said he was gonna keep killing unless a man used his son as bait.”

“What happened?”

Good question. 

Belatedly, you realize you’ve neglected your case duties all day in favor of holding vigil over Aaron’s bedside. The weirdest part about it? The rest of the team let you. 

Why? 

“We kept the boy safe. Worked the profile. It was a happy ending.” 

That’s good, at least. One fucking happy ending today. 

It’s like Dave’s reading your mind as he asks Aaron, “Do you know why I’m telling you this?”

“Yes.” Aaron’s gaze is impassive, but there are universes behind his eyes. 

“No other group in the world could have pulled off what yours did in a matter of hours.” Dave checks in with you, and the corner of your mouth lifts. 

Sorry. 

He shakes his head just a little. No sweat, kid. You did your job.

“I appreciate what you’re trying to do, Dave, but -”

Dave cuts him off. “We’ll get Foyet.”

“I promised Haley I would get him. But the truth is, if he stops killing we have no way of tracking him. He stopped killing for ten years just for the pleasure of watching Shaunessy’s life fall apart.” 

He’s crying again, and your heart breaks. You’re surprised Dave can’t hear it crack all the way across the room. 

“What’s Jack going to remember about me in ten years?”

No. 

“Hotch, look at me.” You rise from your chair and sit on the edge of the bed, careful not to disturb his position. He turns his head just so, his brown eyes locking onto yours. “We’ll get him. We will get him.”

We have to. 

+++

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[whump-a-la-mode]

Villian-Sicle | Part 4

This ones a little short, as well as being a very good example as to why I don’t write much action. I hope you guys like! (I think I might need to change this story’s title soon, I still have a ton of ideas to write about.)

CW//Superhero whump, villain whumpee, hypothermia, hospital setting, explosions, pulling an IV, blood (a lot of it), restraints, broken glass

Taglist:

@whatwhumpcomments

@sola-whumping

@professional-idiocy

It was hard to tell which came first-- the horrid screech from the heart monitor, or the snap.

Though, Leader was quite certain that, before both of those events, had come a few, blissful seconds of silence. Tense silence, certainly, but silence. A period of silence in which their eyes were locked on those of Villain, and those of Villain on them. The two had had quite the dumbfounded look about them-- two deer mutually looking into the headlights.

Villain was the first to snap out of it. That was when everything else had come.

The sound from the heart monitor hadn’t been loud, in an objective sense, but to the silent room. It had sounded like a gong. The steady, shallow peaks on the screen turned rapidly to jagged spikes, so much so that Leader felt that they could practically hear Villain’s heartbeat from their chest.

The snap had come a moment later.

As soon as Villain had been transferred to the hospital room, Leader had insisted, with all the foot stamping and sternness they could muster, that they be restrained. The doctors had finally relented, securing Villain’s limbs to the bed with fabric restraints, and using a sort of seatbelt-like webbing to secure their head.

The snap had come from the latter of the two restraint methods. With a sharp jerk upwards, Villain raised their head, breaking the strap in what must of been a panicked effort, fueled by adrenaline.

In an instant, their dumbfounded expression was replaced with one of utter, primordial terror. The look of a deer that had convinced itself to fight back against the car speeding towards it.

“Wh- What the hell did you do to me?!”

The words came from a broken voice, as if it was trying to scream, but couldn’t muster the volume.

Leader looked to Medic. Medic looked to Leader. Head Doctor looked terrified.

“You need to calm down.” Leader spoke, keeping their voice as level as they were able. The words came out almost as a growl.

Villain shook. Their trembling gaze moved down to their chest, to the flowing tubes of scarlet.

“Blood...” That came out more as a whisper, like they were talking to themself.

“We’re trying to help your sorry ass. Lay back down!”

Villain’s eyes narrowed, their fear filtering through a sieve, only allowing their fury to pass through its grate.

They didn’t say anything. They didn’t have to.

The screen of the heart monitor exploded outwards, sparks and wires bleeding from its body. A rain of glass shards sprayed outwards-- a rain which Head Doctor only narrowly avoided by diving to the floor.

Leader gulped. Dammit, dammit. Technology powers, right.

Around their head, Villain’s matted hair flowed like an inferno. With thin, pale wrists, they yanked at the fabric restraints holding their limbs down. Rug burn marks scraped themselves into Villain’s skin, but to no avail as of yet.

“Go!” Leader turned, glare momentarily turning from Villain to focus on head Doctor. “Get out of here!”

“Y-”

“Who here has superpowers? We’ll handle it. And lock the door behind you!”

They nodded and, still trembling nearly as much as Villain, the doctor was off like a shot.

Leader turned back to Villain.

“You’re just hurting yourself.” Their tone was level, but their volume was ear-piercing. “Stand the fuck down!”

Leader stood near the door, maybe two paces from it, with Medic on the other side of the room, nearest to the now-destroyed heart monitor. With Villain’s attention so surely fixed on Leader, Medic took their chance.

Fists pounded on the door from the outside.

Medic dove to the bedside, forcing down Villain’s shoulders with their hands. Leader could only watch as Villain’s maw snapped down around their assailant’s neck.

The wound wasn’t very deep-- Villain had barely even found purchase-- but the sight of liquid scarlet trickling down their cheek was enough to make Leader feel sick.

Medic fell back with a scream, narrowly avoiding hitting their head on the tiles. For a few breathless moments, all three combatants gasped for air, exhaustion already taking over.

Voices screamed from outside. Leader tuned them out.

“You are never going to do that again. Got it?” Medic growled, struggling to their feet. Their wound had already stopped bleeding, but it was clearly visibly-- a messy gash in flesh.

“How about you suck my ass instead?” Villain snapped back. With one last, determined yank, the restraint around one of their wrists came loose-- not breaking, but somehow having come undone from the bed frame itself.

Leader knew what was going to happen next-- they just weren’t sure if they wanted to watch or not. In the end, they had been unable to look away in time.

With their now-free hand, Villain grasped the catheter in their chest, pulling it from their flesh in a grotesque flash of flying scarlet. The clear tube in their hand dribbled its contents onto their hospital gown. With a look of disgust, they threw it to the side, leaving the blood to puddle on the floor.

Leader gritted their teeth. Villain grinned.

The hemodialysis machine was the next thing to go-- exploding in a practical fireball of wires, sparks, metal, and gore. A piece of machine sailed past Leader’s face, narrowly missing. Another monitor exploded after that one, then the intercom system, until the hospital room was under assault by wild sparks and metal.

Medic dropped to the floor, covering their head with their hands. That proved to be a mistake a moment later, when they were forced to roll out of the way of a flying metal shard.

“Medic!” Leader shouted, though they were somewhat preoccupied by dodging a piece of what had used to be the room’s AC.

“Fuck!” Medic’s voice came. “We need to sede-”

The last crash was the loudest, somehow, as the sterile lights overhead were turned into a hail of projectile glass. Leader swore as a piece broke itself on the back of their head.

They thought to have fallen unconscious, for a moment, when the onslaught halted. Sparks flew from the remnants of the overhead lights, wires hanging almost too calmly. Medic took the opportunity to scramble back to their feet.

“Leader?” Their voice came from the noir.

“I’m here.” They replied, breathlessly. They expected a petty quip of some nature from Villain, but none was received.

The two of them stood, catching their breath, waiting. Waiting for the next explosion, the next chaotic outburst, but-

But it didn’t come.

It must’ve taken at least a minute for Leader to think to take out their phone, turning on the flashlight. They shone it on Villain, nervous, unsure of what they may find, but not optimistic.

Villain lay on the bed, flat. Unnaturally so. A feeble trail of blood stemmed from their chest, but they did not fight it. Their hair hung limply, though the rest of their body was horribly stiff.

Their eyes were wide open. That was the worst part. Their eyes. Fear wasn’t quite the right word, neither was terror. Resignation, perhaps? But even that was not quite right.

On cautious feet, Leader crept to the stiff Villain’s side. Their chest rose and fell. They blinked, but didn’t seem to register that which their gaze encapsulated.

“What the fuck?” Medic whispered. 

Again, fists slammed on the outside of the door.

“What the hell is going on in there?” One shouted-- Hero. It was muffled, but their tone couldn’t possibly be missed. The door handle shook.

“I guess we should...” Medic started.

“Yeah.” Leader nodded. “Yeah. Let’s... let’s go get them.”

Why couldn’t they stop looking at their eyes?

[rachaelswrites]

Injuries

Bucky Barnes x daughter!reader

While out on a mission with Sam, you get injured and it from your dad. Several days later, you get re-injured

Word Count: 1,976

A/N: Thank you for 80 followers! I decided to celebrate by posing one of my favorite things I’ve written so far. Please keep sending in requests and my taglist is open

Warnings: mentions of blood/injury. Nothing super graphic

You begged Bucky not to take you to his meeting. You did a whole PowerPoint as to why you shouldn’t be forced to go. Bucky insisted that it wouldn’t be the end of the world and now here you are; Sitting in the corner of a conference room spinning in an office chair, listening to Nick Fury give your dad and Sam a new mission. You never really went on missions anymore. Your area of expertise was more to gather Intel. Not fighting. Of course, you had some training. Hydra trained all their weapons with at least the basics. You didn’t want to be here. You had better things to do. You recently became friends with Peter and his friends during school since Fury “gently” requested that you attend because the last time you were there was back in the 40’s. 

“Since this mission is recon only, Barnes you can stay behind. We’ll only need Wilson.” 

You stopped your chair with a loud thud. Fury glanced at you and back to the two men at the table. He looked back at you and then whispered something to your dad. Bucky looked at you and then nodded. Fury stood up and walked towards you. You followed him with your eyes not getting up from your seat. 

“Little Barnes. Would you care to join Wilson on this mission?” 

You shot up and looked from Sam to your dad; both men smiling.

“Yes absolutely!” you squealed. 

It had been too long. Recently you have been itching to get out and do something. You almost ran to give Fury a hug but quickly diverted your path towards Bucky.

You and Sam were in the weapons room checking off your list. 

“Suits?” you ask. 

“Check. Knives and guns?”

“Check. Grenades?”

“Really Y/n?”

“What? You’ll never know. You might have blow some people up!” 

Sam rolled his eyes at you. He tossed you your bag and you shoved some of your belongings into it. You weren’t too sure how long you would be gone. You and Sam headed to the jet that would be taking you to your destination. Bucky met you and Sam on the ramp leading into the jet. You went to him and hugged him. He hugged you back even tighter. You pulled away and he put his hand on the back of your head. 

“Stay safe out there okay? I don’t need you getting hurt on me,” you smiled and hugged him again, “Wilson! Keep an eye on her.”

“Don’t worry I will.” Sam said. Already seated in the pilot’s seat. You waved goodbye to your dad and you and Sam took off. 

Your mission almost went perfectly. You got all the Intel needed and got within feet of your exit point. Neither you or Sam were sure what happened but all of a sudden you got ambushed by guards. Both of you tried to get out as quickly as you could. You hadn’t really prepared for a full fight today. Sam managed to fight off his guys without a scratch. You? Not so lucky. Once you two ran out of the building and got far away from it, you stopped to catch your breath. You put your hand on your side and noticed something warm and sticky. You looked down at your side and saw blood seeping through your shirt and on your hand. Sam started walking towards the jet but you stopped him. 

“Umm. Sam,” 

He turned around to face you and you held up the hand covered in blood.

 “I think I need a doctor.” 

Sam rushed over to your side and lifted up your shirt to expose the wound. You had a deep gash on the left side of your stomach. You looked up at Sam waiting for his response.

“Y/n you have to go get that stitched up. Bruce could probably do it at the compound.”

You widen your eyes in alarm.

 “No! I can’t go to Bruce because he’ll tell my dad and then he won’t let me do missions anymore,” you paused for a moment to think, “Take me to an E.R. They can do it there.”

“That’s not a good idea. If Bucky finds out he’ll-”

“He won’t find out because it’ll be our little secret,” you looked at him with the puppy dog eyes that always worked with Bucky.

“Fine,” Sam sighed, “but you get to do the post-mission paperwork for me.”

 You gave him a thumbs up and walked quickly back to the jet. Sam had to find the nearest unoccupied field to land the jet. You quickly made your way to civilization and took a cab to the hospital. Once you got there the doctors quickly got you in a bed and stitched you up. You were glad they didn’t question why a teenage girl and grown man were at the E.R for a knife wound. You hadn’t come up with a story yet. 

Sam wasn’t happy with the decision to not tell Bucky, but he knew you had encountered worse in your time with Hydra and could handle yourself.

Once you returned to the compound you bounded off the jet to go and find your dad. You found him eating some food in one of the lounge areas. 

“Hey dad! I’m back,” you said. 

Bucky turned in his seat and walked over to you. He wrapped his arm around your shoulder and pulled you into a side hug. You winced quietly because of the fresh stitches in your side, but hoped your dad didn’t notice.

 “I’m really tired. I think I’m going to go to bed for a bit. is that okay?” you asked your dad. 

He nodded and let you go back to the apartment. 

Three days later, Fury called another meeting. This time you, your dad , and Sam were needed to interfere on an arms deal. Fury was impressed with your performance on the mission with Sam so he invited you back. You wanted to decline but the hospital said you needed to rest for two weeks. But if you declined, you’d have to tell your dad what happened and that wasn’t an option. So you packed for another mission and left.

The mission was taking place in an empty warehouse. Sam was perched in the rafters, while you and your dad were in different corners on the ground. The goal was to have Sam and Redwing take out the dealers. You and Bucky were only going to engage if things got bad. 

You were crouched behind a stack of pallets. You could only see through the slits in the wood, but you saw the large doors start to open. You moved slowly over near an opening in the stacks. Just in case you needed to get out of the corner. You looked up to Sam and saw him getting Redwing ready to fly. Before Sam could get himself ready to shoot, a gunshot rang through the building; followed by grunts and shouts. You saw your dad with his gun out and fighting. You popped from your hiding spot and started to help your dad. Sam flew down from his spot and joined you. At some point, the dealers tried to escape the building by using the wooden crates to try and block you guys in. you had to dive and roll to avoid it. In that process you felt popping. You just assumed it was your joints or something, the adrenaline in your body masking the pain. Bucky grabbed you by the back of your suit and dragged you over to him. 

“Y/n, are you ok?” he whispered to you. 

You nodded and he grabbed your hand and you made your way out of the building and met Sam at the jet. You sat down on one of the seats and took off your suit top, leaving you in a black t-shirt. You sprawled out on the row of seats and tried to relax. Your dad was talking to Sam when he glanced over at you. He smiled because to him, you looked peaceful. He walked over and sat down by your feet. You sat up and stretched your arms. 

“How you feelin doll?” he asked.

“I’m good. Just tired. That fight took a lot out of me,” you said. 

You readjusted yourself so your head was resting on your dad’s shoulder. Bucky looked down at you and scanned your body; checking you for any injuries. His eyes stopped when he saw a crimson red stain on your black shirt. You followed his eyes and gasped. Bucky lifted your shirt and exposed the bandage covering the injury. When you put it on this morning it was clean and white. Now it was a dark red. 

“Y/n. What the hell is that!” your dad exclaimed.

 Sam walked over to you two and saw what was going on. Bucky looked from you to Sam, Back and forth. Sam sighed and started looking for something to stop the bleeding.

 “What aren’t you two telling me?” 

Sam gave you a few pieces of gauze to hold on your wound,“I told you y/n. We should’ve told him.” 

Bucky snapped his head at you and glared, "I will talk to you about this later,” he said pointing at you, “and you,” now looking at Sam, “I need to talk to now.” 

Bucky dragged Sam angrily to the other side of the jet. All you heard was angry whispering. 

You held the gauze to your stomach and laid back down. You knew your dad was pissed. You pushed those thoughts out of your head and focused on the pain that was now shooting through your body. The adrenaline had worn off now. You closed your eyes to try and fight the pain and thank god you were tired because you immediately fell asleep.

You woke up a few hours later in the med bay at the compound. You sat up and pulled the device off your finger and pulled out your IV. An alarm beeped and Bruce rushed into the room. He looked relieved when he saw you were awake. He walked over to the bed and grabbed the IV and put it back in your arm. 

“You have to keep this in. You’re really dehydrated,” he said, “I thought I talked to you about your water intake.”

 You rolled your eyes.

 “I’m keeping you here overnight. Just to make sure you start healing properly.” 

You nodded your head and fell back into the pillows. 

Bruce went to leave but then turned back to face you, “Also you need to rest for two weeks and then ease back into your training for two more.” 

You groaned.

“But that’s just my orders. You might want to talk to your dad.”

“Can you get him for me then?” 

Bruce nodded and left. At this point you were mentally face palming yourself. You were stupid and now your small problem became a much bigger one. Bucky knocked on the door frame, letting you know he was there. You moved over on the bed so he could sit next to you. He took your hands in his and looked at you. 

“I’m sorry,” you started, “I didn’t want to tell you because I really enjoyed being in the field. I kinda missed it and didn’t want it taken from me again.” 

Bucky chuckled at your rambling. He wasn’t mad or disappointed. He moved a piece of hair behind your ear.

“I’m not mad at you. I just wanted to let you know that if you had told me, I wouldn’t have overreacted. I just want to make sure you’re safe okay?” 

you nodded and he pulled you into a hug. He left to let you rest more and you never hid another injury from him again. 

Taglist

@ssebstann @peachyprincessss @emmy-writes-sometimes @teenage-incompetence

[sgtbradfords]

Chenford prompt

"Why now?"

Thank you so much for the prompt! I hope you’re ready from some angst with a side of feels. :) Enjoy!

Lucy Chen sat on the bench seat of the speeding vehicle, barely passing a glance at the paramedic that occupied the captain’s chair, relaying important vitals to Shaw Memorial. She could feel her body shaking with the adrenaline and fear coursing through her veins. The shaky voice of the man that was currently laying on the gurney beside her, was still echoing through her skull as his voice came over the radio, speaking the words that no officer ever wanted to hear.

The large hand she held with her smaller one gripping just a little tighter, ‘damn him.’ She thought, glancing once again at the injury to his abdomen before landing on his face. His eyes were closed, flinching in pain when the stretcher he was laying on was jostled, a nasal cannula in his nose provided extra oxygen as the paramedic checked the flow of the IV bag hanging from the roof of the moving vehicle.

Lucy closed her eyes, taking a deep breath.

“I’m going to be fine boot.”

Lucy opened her eyes, snorting. “That’s what you said last time Tim.”

“And I was,” He grimaced, taking as deep breath of air as he could. “fine.”

Lucy looked on worriedly, before glancing up at the paramedic. “How far out are we?”

“Should be there in less than five.”

“How bad is it?” she asked for confirmation.

“Lucy-“ Tim began protesting.

“No Bradford. How bad?” she asked again more forcefully.

“A few broken ribs from the hit his vest took, another bullet is lodged in his abdomen but until they get him stable and can take a look inside, we won’t know.”

“I feel like my innards have been to a barn dance.” Tim mumbled, closing his eyes.

Lucy looked at him in shock. “Did you just quote Star Trek? Nerd.”

Tim opened his mouth to deny the claim as the vehicle hit a bump in the road. “Holy shit.” He cursed opening his eyes, gritting his teeth. “I’m not a nerd.”

Lucy rolled her eyes, mumbling the word under her breath as Tim glared at her. And in that moment, the worst possible moment, Tim knew. The lights of the cab shining down, her hair falling out of its immaculate bun, blood on her hand and her uniform disheveled, he knew. And this newfound knowledge was something he knew he should keep to himself, at least for a while longer, but maybe it was the pain meds finally coursing through his system that gave him the idea of there is no time like now or it could have been the thought of better late than never.

“I know this isn’t the best timing but,” Tim turned his head, licking his lips as he looked up at the woman clutching his hand. “I love you.”

Lucy sucked in a breath, her eyes growing wide at his words. “What?”

“I’m in love with you.” He declared once again, gasping in pain. ‘Ok, not the pain meds.’

“You ass.” She seethed.

“What?” He asked, giving her a look of surprise.

“You’re an asshole Tim Bradford.”

“Why? Because I’m telling you that I lo-“

“Why now?” she interrupted.

“What?”

“Why are you telling me this now?” She asked, letting go of his hand. “We’re in the back of a fucking speeding ambulance Tim.”

“Yeah well,” he grunted as the speeding vehicle hit a large pothole in the pavement. “I’ve never had the greatest of timing.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Lucy told him, her voice angry “You’ve been shot, yet again and you think that now is the best time to tell- to tell me you-.”

“We’re here.” The paramedic told them awkwardly, moving the hanging IV’s down to the stretcher as the ambulance backed into the bay.

“You’re a jackass Tim.” She told him as the back doors opened, stepping out.

“Lucy wait.” He said attempting to sit up, his right hand reaching out for her as he grimaced once again in pain.

“Fuck off Bradford.” Lucy said to him before turning and walking away.

“You really mess up man.” The paramedic told him as they unloaded him.

Tim ran a head over his face, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Shut up.”

Five hours later, Lucy was standing in front of a closed wooden door in the recovery wing. She stood there, wanting to go in, but was struggling with the internal battle to put her hand on the knob to turn the handle or get the hell out of there and never look back. She found herself to be a mess, her own stomach in knots at his declaration, her mind played on repeat as she analyzed every word and every detail.

Suddenly, the door opened, jolting Lucy out of her thoughts.

“Are you going to stand there all night or are you going to come in?”

“I-“ she stuttered. “Should you even be out of bed?” she asked worriedly as she quickly followed him into the room.

“Relax boot, I’m fine.” He told her placing his IV pole back at his bedside as he sat down onto the bed.

“So you keep telling me, but you being in a hospital says otherwise.”

Tim rolled his eyes, covering his body back up with the thin hospital blanket. “They’re releasing me tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow? You were shot!”

“I wish they would release me today.” He grumbled.

“You’re not signing a AMA Bradford.”

“I know this Chen.” He glared. “They removed the bullet inside me, said it didn’t hit anything vital and sewed me up.”

“Didn’t hit anything vital?”

Tim shrugged. “Scar tissue. It wasn’t that deep.”

Lucy fell back into the vinyl chair next to the bed as she held Tim’s stare.

“Why did you- what the fuck Tim?” she asked him, looking away. Lucy had spent the past few hours back on the job, needing to stay busy so she didn’t think about that. It didn’t work. On the drive to the hospital, (she was able to hitch a ride back to the precinct earlier with Jackson who followed them in) she worked on planning her speech out, knowing exactly what she wanted to say but as she now stared at him, all her previous planned thoughts flew out the window.

“In hindsight I know that wasn’t the best way to tell you, but seeing you sitting there, you just looked so…” he told her, his words trailing off. “beautiful.”

Lucy raised an eyebrow. “Are they sure you didn’t hit the ground with that thick head of yours?”

“No Chen, I do not have a concussion.” He said exasperatedly.

“Just checking.” She raised her hands in defense. “I’m sorry for leaving like that, but that was a bombshell you just dropped and I-“ she stopped, taking a deep breath. “Did Angela come by? They caught the girl that shot you.”

“She told me when she dropped by earlier.”

“Good. Good.” Lucy told him as she nervously twiddled her thumbs. “Tim I- I’m not sure what to say, I have feelings for you, strong feelings. Is it something more? I honestly can’t tell you. But maybe…” she sighed. “we could see where it- this, goes.”

Tim gave her the softest of smiles. “I would like that.”

Lucy returned a soft smile of her own, “So, what was it like to be shot for the sixth time? Do you get some kind of trophy now?”

Tim shook his head as he gingerly rolled over onto his side towards her, extending his right hand for her to take, her small hand wrapped in his. “I hope you never have to join this club boot.”

“I think I’ll leave that to you but Tim? Let’s not go for seven, ok?”

Tim smiled as he whispered. “Deal.”