#and i Don’t want to ask anyone else in case I get confirmation that I’m wrong

[princesscharlesofmonaco]

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[uncuredturkeybacon]

𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚞𝚜 || 𝚙𝚊𝚒𝚐𝚎 𝚋𝚞𝚎𝚌𝚔𝚎𝚛𝚜 𝚡 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

in which this is the before of how the rest of our lives came to be

The job offer came in the middle of a thunderstorm.

You were sitting cross-legged on your apartment floor, your camera bag half-zipped and a box of leftover takeout balanced on your lap. The email lit up your phone like a beacon:

“Official Photographer – UConn Women’s Basketball”

You stared at it, reread it three times, then blinked slowly as realization hit. It was a season-long contract. Full-time. Steady.

And a complete godsend.

By the end of the week, you were on campus, badge clipped to your jacket, nervous and clutching your DSLR like a lifeline.

You weren’t a stranger to sports photography, but UConn was different. Bigger. Brighter. More intense. More… watched.

Especially with a superstar like Paige Bueckers on the team.

You’d seen her in highlight reels, on magazine covers. She had a presence, even from a distance. But meeting her in person?

That was something else.

The gym buzzed with activity as the team stretched across the hardwood, sneakers squeaking and basketballs thudding against polished floors. You weaved between benches and chairs, raising your camera, finding angles.

And then she ran through your frame — tall, blonde, a wide grin on her face as she crashed into a layup line and completely ruined your perfect shot.

“Seriously?” you muttered, dropping your camera with an exasperated huff.

The blonde jogged over with a sheepish smile. “My bad! Totally didn’t see you there.”

You raised an eyebrow. “I’m wearing a neon orange vest.”

“Yeah,” she nodded, not even pretending to be innocent. “Definitely saw you and still ran through anyway.”

You laughed, despite yourself. “So you’re just causing chaos on purpose?”

“Wouldn’t be me if I didn’t.” She extended her hand. “Paige.”

You shook it. “I know.”

Something passed between you — something warm, unspoken.

“I’m Y/N,” you added.

She grinned. “Welcome to the team.”

You decided to go out with your friends one night to celebrate your new job and one thing led to another, you wake up in a random dorm, naked under the sheets.

The nausea started subtly. A twist in your gut here, a weird aversion to coffee there. You thought it was stress. Or nerves. Maybe both.

Until one night, after a long day of shooting edits, you came home, sat down on your couch… and couldn’t stop crying.

No reason. Just waves of emotion crashing over you like a flood.

You chalked it up to burnout.

Until you missed your period.

Twice.

Panic settled into your bones like a chill. A drugstore pregnancy test confirmed what you already feared — two pink lines, bright and clear.

You were pregnant.

And completely, utterly alone.

You didn’t tell anyone. Not yet.

You threw yourself into work instead. Shooting every practice, every media day. Keeping your head down. Ignoring the fatigue, the nausea, the way your jeans started fitting just a little tighter.

But it caught up to you.

It was during a particularly brutal practice. You crouched near the sideline, camera in hand, already feeling queasy. The sound of sneakers and whistles surrounded you in a haze.

Then everything tilted. Your stomach churned.

You barely made it to a trash can before vomiting.

Everything stopped. Voices faded. And then a gentle hand settled on your back.

“Hey. Hey, you okay?”

You looked up, flushed and humiliated, only to see Paige crouched beside you, concern etched into every line of her face.

“I—yeah. I’m fine. Probably just something I ate.”

She didn’t move. “You look like you’re about to pass out.”

You were. You hated that she could see that.

“Come on,” she murmured, slipping an arm under yours. “Let’s get you to the bench.”

You let her help you sit, and she knelt in front of you, bottle of water in hand.

“Want me to call someone?” she asked.

You shook your head quickly. “No. Please, don’t. I’m okay.”

She watched you for a long moment before sighing. “Alright. But I’m staying here. Just in case.”

She sat beside you for the rest of practice. Quiet. Steady. A warm presence.

You didn’t realize how much you needed that.

A few weeks later, you’re sitting on your bed, unable to fall asleep. You called the hospital two days ago to schedule an ultrasound and now you’re nervous, scared and alone.

Well… not really alone. Paige has somewhat been a constant in your life since you got sick that one time during practice.

So, you called her in the middle of the night, knowing she was most likely asleep, but two rings later, the phone picks up.

“Hello?” A sleepy voice answers.

You hesitate. “Hey, Paige.”

“Y/N?” Paige its up from her bed, a bit more awake now. “Hey, what’s up?”

“Uh, well, remember when you told me that I could call you up for anything?”

“Yeah, of course. You good ma?”

“Can you come over?”

“Already on my way.”

Ten minutes later, you hear a knock on your door. Opening it to reveal a tired looking Paige in pajama pants, hoodie, and glasses.

“You doing okay?” she asks, stepping into your apartment and settling herself on your couch.

“Not really.” 

She could tell you were nervous so she gestures for you to sit next to her.

“What’s wrong?”

You can’t bring yourself to say it, so you take the stick out of your jacket pocket and silently hand it to her. 

“Is this…” you mindlessly nod, tears forming in your eyes.

“I didn’t know who else to call.”

She instantly brings you into her arms, making your break down.

“It’s alright mama. I got you. I always got you.”

The day of your appointment, Paige picked you up bright and early. The car was filled with comfortable silence from the two of you, music playing low in the background.

“You nervous?” she asked as you sat in the waiting room.

“Terrified,” you admitted.

She didn’t say anything. Just reached over and took your hand.

When the screen lit up in the dark exam room, and the faint flicker of a heartbeat appeared, something inside you cracked wide open.

You looked over to find Paige staring at the monitor with wide eyes, her lips parted, something reverent on her face.

“You’re not alone in this,” she whispered.

You didn’t let go of her hand the rest of the day.

After that, she barely left your side.

Weeks turned into months.

Paige started walking you home when you were too tired to drive. She kept saltines in her bag just in case. If you were working late in the photo lab, she’d show up with food..

Pregnancy cravings were no joke.

One night at 11:46 PM, you texted her. You: “I NEED pickles and a Frosty. If I don’t have them, I might cry.”

Fourteen minutes later, your door buzzed.

She stood there in pajama pants and a hoodie, holding a Wendy’s bag in one hand and a jar of pickles in the other.

“You’re insane,” you told her, laughing through your tears.

She winked. “No, I’m just really invested in this whole co-pilot role.”

You ate together on the couch, TV playing some old rom-com neither of you paid attention to.

As you entered your second trimester, your body grew heavier, slower. Everything ached.

Paige never complained.

She adjusted her class schedule to walk you home. Slept over more often. Always on the couch, though… until the night you fell asleep with your head on her shoulder, and neither of you moved.

That was the night it shifted.

It wasn’t said. Just… understood.

The space between you? It was gone.

She became your person — quietly, without fanfare.

One evening, you found her sitting in the nursery, folding onesies and humming.

She looked up. “You’re not scared, are you?”

You sat beside her. “Terrified.”

She reached for your hand. “Me too. But we’re doing this together.”

The UConn team threw you the most wonderfully chaotic baby shower imaginable.

There were balloons in every corner, streamers tangled in door frames, and a massive cake that read “Welcome, Mini Huskie!” Nika brought five tubs of different ice creams like it was a taste-test competition. Azzi cried during her speech, her voice cracking halfway through as she tried to talk about how loved this baby already was.

But the biggest moment of the day was still to come.

A week earlier, after the ultrasound appointment, you and Paige had been handed an envelope with the gender inside. Instead of opening it yourselves, Paige had smiled at you, then turned to Azzi and handed it over.

“Don’t open it yet,” Paige warned with a playful but serious look. “You get to plan something. Just make it special.”

Azzi grinned like she’d just been handed the keys to a kingdom.

And now, at the shower—turned gender reveal—everyone gathered around in the backyard as Azzi stood next to a giant balloon, a pin in her hand and a knowing glint in her eyes.

“You ready?” she asked, looking at both you and Paige.

You clutched Paige’s hand tighter, your heart racing. She gave your hand a squeeze back, her thumb gently stroking over your knuckles.

“Go for it,” you breathed.

Azzi popped the balloon—and a shower of pink confetti exploded into the air.

You froze. So did Paige.

Then you both looked at each other at the same time.

“A girl,” you whispered, your voice cracking.

Paige blinked rapidly, as if trying to hold it together, but her smile was wide and trembling. She reached out and wrapped both arms around you, burying her face into the side of your neck.

“A daughter,” she whispered. “We’re having a daughter.”

Your eyes welled up, and you couldn’t even pretend to hold back the tears. Around you, the team was cheering, confetti still drifting down, but it all faded into the background. All you could feel was Paige’s arms, her breath against your skin, the quiet way she held you like everything in her world had just found its place.

And later, when the chaos had mellowed and it was time for toasts, Paige stood up and the room quieted immediately.

“I know she isn’t biologically mine,” she said gently. “And I wasn’t there at the very beginning. But I’ve been here—and I’m not going anywhere.”

Your heart clenched.

“She’s ours,” Paige continued, eyes finding yours. “She belongs to Y/N, but she’s mine too. I’ll be there for every sleepless night, every first step, every scraped knee and birthday candle.”

You cried.

And when Paige leaned in and kissed your cheek, you held onto her like letting go might somehow break the spell.

The next weekend, your living room was a maze of cardboard boxes, rogue screws, and one very determined Paige Bueckers sitting cross-legged on the floor, holding a tiny Allen wrench like it was a weapon of war.

“This can’t be legal,” she muttered, eyeing the thick instruction manual like it had personally offended her. “There’s... forty-seven steps. Who designs a crib with forty-seven steps?”

You watched from the couch, hand resting over your bump, trying not to laugh too hard because it made your back hurt. Paige had her hair tied back in a little bun and was wearing an old UConn hoodie already stained with sweat and smudged wood glue. One of the side panels was leaning awkwardly against the wall, while the rest of the crib parts looked like they’d been laid out by someone with no grasp of logic or gravity.

“Need help?”

“I’m fine,” she said quickly, lifting a board and promptly dropping one of the screws under the couch. “I’ve got this. I’m not just a basketball player. I am a builder of dreams.”

You snorted. “You’re not even a builder of IKEA furniture.”

“That’s rude,” she muttered. “And also fair.”

You smiled as you watched her work. It was clumsy, awkward, and completely endearing. She squinted at the pieces, sometimes holding two up together and whispering, “Are you guys soulmates or just coworkers?” At one point she called Nika for backup, but hung up after two minutes when Nika started laughing too hard to give any actual advice.

Eventually, Paige managed to attach three pieces together in what might have been the base of the crib. She sat back with a proud little grin, wiping sweat from her forehead and breathing like she’d just played four quarters and an overtime.

“Look at that,” she said. “Our baby’s gonna sleep right here.”

She leaned forward then, pressing her palm against the growing curve of your belly. Her voice dropped to a quiet murmur.

“You hear that, little one? I’m building this with my own two hands. Well... mostly. Your mom’s laughing at me, but she knows I’m trying.”

You felt it immediately—how soft her voice had gotten, how her eyes never left your belly as she spoke again.

“I can’t wait to meet you,” Paige whispered. “You’re not even here yet, and I already love you so much. I hope you like basketball. But if not, that’s cool too. We’ll figure it out together.”

She smiled, then leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to your belly.

Your throat tightened. Completely out of nowhere, the emotion hit you like a wave. Tears welled up as you stared at her—this girl who had stumbled her way into your life and your heart, and now, somehow, was falling just as in love with your daughter as you were.

“You okay?” she asked, noticing your face.

You nodded, barely able to speak. “Yeah. Just... you’re gonna be such a good mom.”

Paige blinked, like she was trying not to cry now. She crawled over to you, cradling your face in both hands before pressing a soft kiss to your lips.

“We’re gonna be good moms,” she said. “All three of us—we’re already a team.”

It was late. The moon hung low outside your apartment window. Your swollen ankles were propped on a pillow. Paige was sitting on the floor, organizing diapers by size.

She looked up suddenly.

“I think I’m in love with you.”

You blinked.

“Wait—no. I know I’m in love with you. I don’t know when it happened,” she continued. “Somewhere between the first ultrasound and the Frosty at midnight. But I am. And I don’t want to pretend I’m not.”

Your breath caught.

You moved to sit up, heart racing.

“And I know it’s messy,” she added. “That this isn’t the way people usually fall in love. But I’m not people. I’m me. And you’re you. And I love you.”

You smiled softly, eyes welling.

“I love you too, Paige.”

She blinked. “Yeah?”

You nodded.

She stood, crossed to the couch, and cupped your face gently.

And when she kissed you, everything fell into place.

You didn’t think labor would start while watching The Princess Diaries.

But, as Julie Andrews was mid-speech about Genovia, a sharp pain gripped your abdomen, and your half-eaten bowl of popcorn slipped from your lap to the floor.

“Paige…” you whispered.

She was already up from the couch, rushing to your side, eyes wide. “What? What’s wrong?”

You grabbed her hand. “I think… I think it’s time.”

The calm, collected version of Paige you’d grown to love completely dissolved into a whirlwind of nervous scrambling — tripping over her own shoes, grabbing the hospital bag and phone, calling the Uber and trying to put your slippers on at the same time.

But the entire ride, she held your hand. Her thumb ran over your knuckles in a rhythm as steady as her breathing — not for herself, but for you.

And even through the pain, even through the panic, you felt safe.

It had been nearly fourteen hours of labor. Pain, sweat, tears, and a depth of exhaustion you didn’t know a body could feel. But when the final push came and you heard that first cry — that sweet, powerful cry — everything else faded to silence.

Your chest heaved. Your hands shook. Your heart was somewhere between your ribs and the ceiling.

Then they laid her on your chest.

Small. Warm. Red-cheeked and crying.

You stared at her, stunned by how something so little could take up every corner of your soul at once.

And beside you, Paige was crying just as hard — her hand clutching yours, her forehead pressed to your temple as she whispered, “You did it. You did so good, baby. She’s here. She’s really here.”

You looked down at the perfect little face pressed against your skin. The tiny lashes. The way her mouth curled like she was trying to figure the world out already.

“She’s… she’s everything,” you breathed.

“She’s ours,” Paige whispered, brushing a kiss across your temple.

The nurse came by to clean and weigh her, and even for the minute she was gone from your arms, it felt like a piece of your chest went with her. Paige didn’t take her eyes off the bassinet, standing at your side, hand still wrapped around yours.

When she was swaddled and returned to you, Paige sat down on the edge of the bed and reached out with the gentlest touch.

Her finger brushed your daughter's cheek.

“I still can’t believe she’s real.”

“She feels like a dream,” you whispered.

There was a long pause, the kind that settled deep into the air around you. Paige’s eyes didn’t move from your daughter.

“So, I’ve been thinking… Emma.”

You turned your head to her.

“Emma?” you repeated.

She smiled, slow and sure. “Yeah. Emma Bueckers.”

Your heart caught in your throat.

Your gaze dropped to the baby again. Emma. It fit her. Strong, soft, quietly powerful.

“She looks like an Emma,” you murmured, then smiled. “Emma Bueckers. Yeah… I like that.”

Paige reached up to push your hair from your face, thumb gently brushing along your cheekbone. 

Her voice came even softer this time, “Hopefully… that could be your name too. One day?”

You blinked, heart skipping as you looked up at her.

She was serious.

The warmth in her eyes, the soft curve of her mouth, the way her fingers lingered just below your jaw — it was all there, raw and open.

“What are you saying, Paige?”

She exhaled, then let out the smallest laugh — nervous, but full of love. “I’m saying… I want this forever. You. Her. All of it. I want to be the one who holds you at the end of every day. The one who changes diapers with you, and buys too many matching baby socks, and brings you snacks during every late-night feeding.”

You let out a breathy laugh, heart thudding.

“I know we didn’t plan this,” she continued, eyes shining. “But this feels like the best thing that’s ever happened to me. And I’ve known since that night I built the crib — when you were sitting on the floor with one hand on your belly and a screwdriver in the other, trying to take over building for me — that I was already yours.”

You stared at her for a long moment. This woman who had gone from your friend to your safe place. The one who carried you through every bout of morning sickness, who whispered to your belly every night, who held you like you were something precious.

Now she was holding your baby, and asking to hold your heart, too.

Tears welled in your eyes. “I want that too. I want all of it. You, me, Emma… forever.”

Paige leaned in and kissed you, soft and slow and full of everything that words couldn’t say.

“I don’t have a ring yet,” she whispered against your lips. “I want to do it right. But I couldn’t leave that room without telling you. Without… hoping.”

“You didn’t need a ring,” you whispered. “You already gave me everything.”

Emma stirred in your arms, letting out the tiniest sigh — like she could sense the weight of the moment.

You both looked down at her, your foreheads touching.

“So… Emma Bueckers,” you said softly. “And maybe soon… we’ll all have the same name.”

Paige’s smile broke open with emotion, tears falling freely now. “God, I love you.”

You kissed her again, arms curled around your daughter, and for a moment the entire world fit into one small hospital room.

Azzi was the first to show up.

She brought a huge pink balloon bouquet and teared up the second she saw the baby in your arms.

“Okay, I didn’t think I’d cry this fast,” she sniffled, laughing through the tears. “She’s… she’s beautiful.”

“She’s perfect,” Paige whispered proudly, standing behind you with her hands on your shoulders.

Nika barged in ten minutes later with a camera and matching mother-daughter socks. “This baby’s gonna be dripped out before she even walks!”

Aubrey came with homemade muffins. Geno brought a stuffed Husky and gave you both a rare but heartfelt hug.

And in the quiet lull between visitors, Paige reached into the bassinet and gently scooped Emma into her arms. You watched her cradle her like she’d done it for years, her voice soft.

“You’ve got so many people who love you, little one,” she whispered. “But I’m your number one. Always.”

You smiled through the haze of sleep deprivation and aching muscles.

“You mean we’re her number ones.”

Paige grinned. “Right. Sorry. She’s got two MVPs.”

Then she kissed Emma’s tiny forehead, and softly murmured, “Can’t wait to marry your mom someday.”

“You’ve got a good team here,” Geno said softly, patting Paige on the back and giving your shoulder a squeeze. “And now you’ve got one more.”

But it was Azzi who lingered after the others had left. She rocked Emma slowly, humming to her in the late afternoon light filtering through the window.

You exchanged a glance with Paige, and without speaking, you both knew it was the right moment.

“Azzi,” you said gently.

She looked up.

“We want you to be her godmother,” Paige said, voice a little thick.

Azzi blinked, visibly stunned. “Wait—me?”

“Of course,” you nodded. “You’ve always been family.”

Azzi’s eyes welled up again. “I’d be honored.”

Emma cooed softly in her arms.

“Guess that’s a yes from her too,” Paige smiled.

It was a strange thing — leaving the hospital.

You expected a bigger moment, maybe. Something cinematic. But in reality, it was a flurry of paperwork, soft murmurs from nurses, and Paige fumbling with the car seat like it was made of quantum physics. She finally got Emma clicked in, though not without wiping her eyes first.

“I just… can’t believe they’re letting us take her home,” she whispered as she looked at your daughter. “Like… we’re trusted with this tiny person?”

You laughed softly from the passenger seat. “Paige, you built an entire crib from scratch and kept me upright through eight months of pregnancy. I think we’re good.”

She reached over to squeeze your hand, eyes warm. “I still don’t believe this is real.”

The apartment looked the same. It smelled faintly of the lavender candle Paige had insisted on lighting before heading to the hospital. But something had shifted. Everything felt quieter. More fragile. More sacred.

Emma’s first night home was soft and slow.

You held her against your chest as Paige fussed with the temperature of the room, checking the baby monitor for the fifth time.

“She’s not even in the crib yet,” you teased, watching her.

“Doesn’t matter,” Paige muttered. “I just want everything perfect.”

“You already are.”

She turned and gave you the softest look. “You’re tired. You sleep. I’ll stay up with her.”

And she did.

You woke up hours later and found Paige asleep in the rocking chair, Emma on her chest, both of them out cold. The moonlight spilling through the window made the whole scene glow.

You didn’t say anything. Just leaned against the doorframe and let the image burn into your memory.

The first bath happened days later, and it was… chaotic.

Paige read the instructions on the baby bath three times. You were in charge of the temperature, towel, and Emma’s post-bath outfit, which Paige insisted be the “bunny one with the ears.”

Emma screamed the whole time.

“She hates this,” Paige said in a mild panic, cradling your slippery, red-faced daughter like she was made of glass.

“She doesn’t hate it,” you laughed. “She just doesn’t know what’s happening.”

“But her face—!”

“She’s fine. You’re doing great.”

Paige looked up at you, wet curls falling into her eyes. “I’ve played in front of thousands of people. Won important games. But nothing has ever been this stressful.”

“Welcome to parenthood,” you said, grinning.

Later, Emma finally calmed down in Paige’s arms, wrapped in her bunny towel, little fists curled against her chest. You both sat on the couch in silence, breathing her in.

“I never thought this would be my life,” Paige whispered, brushing her thumb along Emma’s cheek. “And I’ve never wanted anything more.”

Nights became a rhythm.

2 a.m. was Emma’s favorite time to wake.

You’d hear the soft cries before your eyes were even open, and somehow Paige was always up before you, already halfway to the bassinet.

She’d come back with the baby cradled against her chest, humming under her breath. Sometimes she’d hand her to you, sometimes she’d just sit on the bed, legs crossed, whispering sweet nothings to Emma’s tiny face.

“You don’t even flinch anymore,” you said one night as she handed Emma over for her feeding.

“I think I just listen for her even in my dreams,” Paige replied, settling beside you. “She’s in my bones now.”

You looked at her over your daughter’s head, completely and utterly in awe.

“God, I love you,” you whispered.

She smiled, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. “I’m gonna marry you, you know.”

“You already said that.”

“I meant it.”

Two weeks in, Paige started making notes.

They were small things — scribbled phrases in a notebook she kept beside the couch. You caught glimpses sometimes when you walked by: ring ideas, favorite moments, speech draft?

You never asked. She never said. But you knew.

She was planning.

One afternoon, as Emma napped in the bassinet and sunlight pooled across the living room rug, Paige curled up beside you on the couch. You had your head on her shoulder, her arm around your waist, her other hand resting lightly on your thigh.

“I think she’s going to have your smile,” you whispered.

Paige hummed. “I think she already has your attitude.”

You chuckled softly. “We’re doomed.”

“She’s perfect.”

A pause.

“You both are.”

You turned your head, brushing your nose against her jaw.

“You okay?”

She nodded, eyes glassy. “Yeah. I just… I’ve never had something so good before. So real. It’s terrifying.”

You reached for her hand. “It’s not going anywhere.”

“I know.” She paused, then leaned in and pressed her lips to your temple. “And I’m not wasting any time pretending I don’t want to spend the rest of my life proving that to you.”

The day that everything was going to change for the better started with a video call.

Paige was bouncing Emma in one arm, pacing the living room in worn sweats and a messy bun, while your soft humming filtered in from the kitchen. She had that look in her eyes — distant, thoughtful — like her brain was running miles faster than her feet.

She’d been thinking about it for days.

Then she opened her contacts and hit Azzi’s name.

It rang once. Twice.

“Yo,” Azzi’s voice came through, grinning immediately when she saw Emma. “There’s my goddaughter! Look at her chubby cheeks — hey, mama!”

Emma blinked sleepily at the screen, half-interested, half-dozing.

Paige smiled, kissed the top of her head, and shifted to cradle her against her chest. “She just ate. She’s in a milk coma.”

Azzi laughed. “What’s up? You look like you haven’t slept in weeks.”

“I haven’t,” Paige admitted. “But that’s not why I called.”

Azzi tilted her head. “Everything okay?”

Paige hesitated. Then exhaled and moved to sit on the edge of the couch. Emma stayed snuggled to her chest, her tiny hand gripping Paige’s shirt.

“I need your help with something.”

Azzi raised a brow. “Basketball-related?”

“No. Bigger.”

Azzi sat up straighter. “You’re scaring me.”

“I’m gonna propose.”

Azzi blinked. “To—wait, to—to her?”

Paige just smiled.

A slow, soft grin spread across Azzi’s face, full of warmth and surprise. “You’re serious.”

“Dead serious,” Paige whispered. “I’m in love with her. I’ve been in love with her. She gave me this family. I’ve never felt more like myself than I do when I’m with her. When I’m with them.”

Azzi let out a breath, visibly moved. “Paige, that’s… God. That’s everything.”

“I want it to be perfect,” Paige said, her voice quiet. “I want her to know — without a doubt — that this isn’t just something I fell into. That I chose her. I chose Emma. And I’ll choose them both for the rest of my life.”

Azzi was quiet for a beat.

“Okay, well now I’m crying at eight a.m., thanks.”

Paige laughed. “Sorry.”

“No, it’s beautiful,” Azzi said, swiping under her eyes. “She’s gonna say yes. You know that, right?”

“I think so.”

Azzi gave her a look. “Paige.”

“I hope so.”

“She looks at you like you hung the moon.”

Paige smiled down at Emma. “I think Emma’s got her wrapped around her finger more than I do.”

“Both of you do.”

There was a long pause. Azzi leaned forward on her screen.

“Alright. So what’s the vibe? Big romantic gesture? Quiet and intimate? Flash mob with the team dressed as roses?”

Paige snorted. “Absolutely not that last one.”

“Fine, party pooper.”

“I want something that feels like us.” Paige looked up again. “You’ve known me longer than anyone. Help me think.”

Azzi grinned. “Okay. What’s your shortlist?”

“I’ve got… a few ideas.”

She pulled out her phone and opened a note she’d been working on secretly. Azzi watched as Paige scrolled.

Recreate the night we built the crib — but actually finish it this time, then propose in the nursery.

Take her back to UConn, rent the gym, propose where we first met.

Picnic at the lake by our place. Emma in a little onesie. Paige gives her the ring to hand over.

Quiet night at home. Candlelight. Just us. Nothing else needed.

Azzi read the list quietly.

“They’re all good,” she said. “But number three? That one’s got me.”

Paige looked up. “You think so?”

“You’ve always been your softest when you’re with her and Emma outside. When it’s just you two in your bubble. I’ve seen it.” Azzi smiled. “And can you imagine the look on her face when Emma toddles over with the ring box? She’ll melt.”

Paige sighed, smiling like she could already see it.

“She’s gonna lose it.”

“She’s gonna sob, and then say yes, and then probably tackle you,” Azzi said. “And I’m gonna cry again, even if it’s on FaceTime.”

“You'll be the first to know,” Paige promised.

Azzi laughed. “Damn right I will.”

Later that night, Paige lay beside you in bed, watching as you fed Emma under the soft glow of the nightlight. Your robe was slipping off one shoulder, your hair a little messy, and your smile was so full of love it made her heart ache.

“You okay?” you asked gently.

Paige reached over, brushing a thumb against your wrist.

“Yeah,” she murmured. “Just thinking about how lucky I am.”

You tilted your head. “What brought that on?”

She leaned in, kissed your shoulder, and whispered, “You’ll see.”

It took Paige weeks to find the right ring.

Azzi had come through with the jeweler recommendation — a Black-owned custom shop in Dallas that specialized in timeless, understated pieces. Paige didn’t want flash. She didn’t want anything over-the-top. She wanted you.

Simple. Elegant. Something that would glint under sunlight when you held Emma. Something that would feel like her heart had been shaped into metal and slipped onto your finger.

It was a gold band, warm and soft, with a single diamond in the center and two tiny emeralds on either side — one for you, one for Emma.

When she picked it up, she couldn’t stop staring at it. The box sat in her hoodie pocket every day after that. Just… waiting.

At the time of the big day, Paige woke up early.

The light in the bedroom was pale, barely brushing the sheets. You were still asleep, hair fanned across the pillow, lips parted softly. Emma was in the bassinet nearby, snuggled up with her favorite plush bunny.

Paige slipped out of bed like it was a sacred act, careful not to wake either of you. She kissed both foreheads on her way out of the room and tiptoed to the nursery.

That’s where the onesie was hidden.

It was custom, of course. She’d had it made after talking to Azzi. Cream-colored cotton, soft as clouds, with little gold script across the front.

Paige changed Emma into it slowly, whispering to her the whole time. “You ready to help me do something big, baby girl? You’re gonna be part of something so special today.”

Emma giggled, like she understood. Paige pressed her forehead to her daughter’s and exhaled.

“I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.”

It was the same lake you’d picnicked at when Emma was just a few weeks old — the one where you’d laid in Paige’s lap, watching the ripples move across the water while she fed you strawberries and rubbed your back.

This time, Paige set up early.

A soft checkered blanket. A woven basket full of your favorites — pastries from your favorite coffee spot, the baby’s bottles, little pink tulips tucked into a mason jar. A speaker sat tucked into the grass, set to a playlist Paige had made for this exact moment.

It was perfect.

Then Paige sent you a text.

hey baby. bring emma and come meet me by the lake? we’re having breakfast together. dress comfy <3

You read it in the kitchen, sipping your tea, and smiled. “She’s up to something,” you mumbled.

Emma blinked up at you from her stroller.

You didn’t realize until you pushed her toward the lake, walking down the grassy hill and saw Paige standing near the edge of the blanket, heart in her throat — that something was different.

Paige took Emma from the stroller, holding her in a way so she’s facing you. That’s when you saw the onesie.

“Marry Mama?”

You stopped mid-step.

And then your eyes lifted to Paige.

She was smiling, but her lips were trembling. Her hands were already reaching for the small velvet box in her pocket. “Surprise,” she said softly.

You stared at Emma. Then back at Paige. “Oh my God.”

Paige stepped forward slowly. “I wanted to do this right. I wanted you to remember this moment for the rest of your life. Because I will.”

You blinked fast, tears rushing up before you could stop them.

“I know this hasn’t been a typical love story. I know we weren’t expecting any of this — but you,” she said, voice catching, “you gave me everything I never knew I needed.”

You covered your mouth, breath shaky.

“You let me love you through all of it — through the fear and the unknown, through swollen feet and late-night cravings and sleep-deprived chaos — and every single day I’ve spent with you, I’ve only wanted one thing... more.”

She dropped to one knee, Em laying against her chest, holding the ring box open in her shaking hands.

“I want to be your wife. I want to be Emma’s mom forever. I want to spend every boring Tuesday and messy Sunday morning beside you. I want all of it. You. Her. Us.”

You sobbed, stepping forward, completely overwhelmed.

“Will you marry me?”

You nodded before you could even speak.

Then you dropped to your knees in front of her and cupped her face between your hands, laughing through the tears.

“Yes,” you whispered. “Yes, yes, yes. God, Paige, of course I’ll marry you.”

She kissed you before she even got the ring on.

It was messy and salty and perfect. Emma babbled at you both, kicking her feet in her little onesie like she’d planned it herself.

When Paige finally slipped the ring onto your finger, your hands were still trembling. “It’s so beautiful,” you whispered, staring at it.

“So are you,” she said, voice full of awe.

That night, back home, you lay on the couch with your head in Paige’s lap, Emma asleep on your chest, and the ring glinting in the soft golden light of the TV.

“You know,” you whispered, “I think Emma might be magic.”

Paige smiled. “She made a lot of things possible.”

You turned your hand, admiring the ring again. “Did Azzi help you plan this?”

“She’s the one who made me realize how sure I was.”

“I’m glad she did.”

Paige leaned down and kissed your temple.

“I can’t wait to marry you.”

“You already feel like home.”

[ddarker-dreams]

Lock I need you to share something about Gojo. Jjk is getting worse with no hope in the future. Plis just a tiny part is god. 🙏🙏🙏🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺

Detour.

Gojo Satoru x F Reader x Geto Suguru.

Warnings: Mild not SFW implications, Gojo and Geto are Not normal about you, exhibiting possessive behavior. Word count: 1.2k.

-Index-

"—Excuse me, miss!" 

The exclamation barely registers amidst the crowded street's ambiance. Everyone has a destination they're eager to reach, and you're no different. Unlike those native to the area, however, you're more likely to get lost; hence your current conundrum. 

You examine the mess of squiggly lines, blocks, and patterns intended to function as a map. 

Kagurazaka, Kagurazaka... c'mon, I know this one... it starts with the kanji for god or something, right? 

While you scrutinize the map, the same voice from earlier calls out again, this time beside you. You glance around, not wanting to respond if he’s trying to flag down someone else. In doing so, it becomes increasingly obvious that you’re who he’s been trying to grab the attention of. 

From the looks of it, he’s a man in his late thirties, wearing a suit that could use a good ironing. You can’t recall meeting him before. Then again, you’re not privy to everything that happens back on campus. Meetings with influential figures frequently occur without your knowledge. You only ever find out about them later when Satoru loudly voices his critical view on everyone who attended. You are wearing your uniform, it’s recognizable to those in Jujutsu circles. 

You’d rather not stir up a scandal by unintentionally snubbing a Zenin or someone equally important. With this in mind, you politely inquire, “Can I help you?” 

“That uniform… you’re a high schooler, right?” 

You nod, figuring that this confirms your hypothesis. 

“What year?” 

This question makes less sense. Maybe he wants to know your proximity to Suguru, or, far likelier, Satoru. These types always have their own designs for the pride of the Gojo clan. 

“I’m a second-year.” 

“I see, I see,” he begins rummaging through his blazer’s inner pocket. He procures a business card and holds it out. “How about a job? From the looks of it, you’d make a good fit.” 

You blink. 

Are you… allowed to do freelance work? You’ve heard of specific sorcerers being requested for jobs, but that’s always been through the school. Besides, as a Grade Three, you don’t think you can go on unsupervised jobs. Not wanting to seem rude, you reach out to accept the card— 

—Only for it to be intercepted. 

“Sorry, she’s completely booked,” a voice that sounds the furthest thing from apologetic chimes in. 

Gojo Satoru stands to your right, adorned with his circular sunglasses and trademark grin. He rips the card in half without so much as a second thought. You stare at him, incredulous. Questions swarm around your head. When did he get here? How didn’t you notice him until now? Why does his cursed energy have such an unnerving quality to it? 

He bends down and hangs his arm around your shoulder. “You’re somethin’ else. Ignoring Suguru and I’s calls, chatting up strange men in Kabukichō… I swear, we can’t take our eyes off you for a second.” 

“Wh— I’m not chatting anyone up!” You whisper yell. His infinity nullifies enough for you to jab a finger at his chest. “Why can’t you give better directions?! ‘West of the Edo Castle’ doesn’t tell me anything, it just sounds like a TV drama!”

Satoru shrugs. “Should’ve just asked an auxiliary manager to drop you off.” 

“You might treat them like a personal taxi service, but I’d rather not. Taking the train’s fine.” 

The man finally overcomes the shock inflicted by Satoru’s audacity, taking a step forward. “What are you, her boyfriend or something?” 

“Bleh, no!” 

“Future husband.” 

Yours and Satoru’s responses come out simultaneously. 

“In that case—” 

“Excuse me,” A new presence interrupts the increasingly irritated man. Suguru wears a friendly smile which somehow comes across as more menacing than Satoru’s wolfish grin. He places a hand on the man’s shoulder. “You are aware that it’s a minor you’re trying to recruit, correct?” 

The man flushes at the accusation. “Listen, I dunno what you’re trying to accuse me of—” 

“I’d hate to see you get in trouble for a mistake like that,” Suguru cuts him off again, raising his voice ever so slightly. This attracts the attention of some bystanders. “Who knows what consequences that’d result in, especially for a married man like yourself…” 

Huh. You hadn’t even noticed the gold band on his ring finger. Suguru’s nothing if not perceptive. 

Nearby commuters whisper amongst themselves while eyeing the scene. The man’s gaze flits between a self-satisfied Satoru and an overly polite Suguru, eventually settling on an escape route. Wordlessly, he departs, although you swear you overhear him muttering ‘crazy kids’ and ‘doomed girl,’ along the way. 

“Yo, Suguru. Took you long enough.” 

“Unfortunately, not all of us can teleport.” 

“Your curse did a better job at tailin’ me than you.” 

Ignoring the jab, Suguru dusts his hands off while honing in on you. “You alright? You weren’t answering our calls.” 

“And you’re late,” Satoru whines. He helps himself to searching through your purse, taking your pink Razr hostage. “Huh. Battery’s dead.” 

Suguru appears content. “What’d I tell you?” 

“If she’s blocked me before, the same could happen to you.” 

“I wouldn’t block Suguru.” 

“She wouldn't block me.” 

This time, it’s you and Suguru who speak concurrently. Satoru pouts, putting his hands up like he’s under attack (which he probably believes himself to be). You snatch your phone back without issue, unlike when he last stole it. He unblocked himself and dangled it above your head until you promised you wouldn’t do that again.

“And here I was, about to treat you both to pastries,” Satoru sighs, melodramatic as ever. 

“While we were waiting for you, I noticed creampuffs and macaroons on the menu; which would you recommend?” Suguru inquires, not bothering to acknowledge Satoru’s complaints. 

“That depends on what you want from the experience,” you mimic his decision. “Creampuffs tend to be one flavor, whereas macaroons come in multiple, so the variety’s nice. When I get a variety pack, I always end up disliking one of the flavors and wishing I’d just gotten my favorites instead.” 

Satoru sighs as loud as he can. “Right, right, I’m just a walking wallet. Let’s get going before someone else solicits [First].” 

“Eh?” You turn your head to face Satoru. “‘Solicits?’ As in…?” 

“Se—” 

Suguru slaps a hand over Satoru’s mouth. “What he means to say is that this isn’t the best area for a high school girl to linger.”

“W-Wait, hold on! I thought he was like a… er, how would you say that… sorcerer employer?” 

They both stare at you. 

“You do know what Kabukichō’s famous for, right?” Suguru tentatively asks. 

“Hm? ‘Kabuki’ is a type of traditional theater, isn’t it?” 

“...” 

“...” 

“Let’s just show her what we mean,” Satoru bends down, picking up two halves of the business card he split in half earlier. “It’ll be a good lesson. I’d rather not have to come fetch her in this place again— oh.” 

Suguru inspects what has the power to shut Gojo Satoru up. You watch as his eyes move back and forth, his face shifting while he does so. His lips narrow into a thin line when he pulls back. Curious, you stand on your tiptoes, hoping to catch a glimpse yourself. Thankfully, there’s yomigana above some of the kanji you don’t recognize. This eliminates any possibility of you misreading the card’s contents. 

‘Oh’ indeed, you think. That poor guy…

It’s a business card for the company that oversees AKB48. 

[bcacstuff]

Hey BC,

Thanks for sharing your thoughts! Here are a few things I’ve been thinking about after reading your post.

First, regarding Sam’s location—he’s usually private about where he is, especially when he wants to keep things low-key. But if that’s the case, why would he follow that account and give a hint? What makes you think he’s still in Sayulita? He might have already left and gone somewhere else… you know where I mean.

Also, the fan who posted the picture is very careful when it comes to Sam. She would never post his location if he were still there. So while he might still be in Mexico, I highly doubt he’s in the exact place that was tagged.

Now, about the video with the voice—it’s not easy to confirm or deny if it’s Sam’s, especially with all the noise from the waterfall. But when Sam posted that video with Jush, the way he said “Yay” sounded really similar to the voice in the waterfall video. Just my take, though!

As for VF, I don’t think she’s there alone. I don’t follow her, so I’m not sure if she’s posted anything about who she’s with, but maybe those who can see her stories have more insight. It’s possible she and Sam were both in Sayulita and then moved to the spot she tagged.

On Sam’s appearance—he’s already worked long hours with her, so I don’t think he needs to make any extra effort to impress her. They’ve probably already seen each other at their best and worst by now!

About tracking Sam’s online activity—out of 24 hours, he could check his phone at any random time, even if just for a few minutes. Since there’s not much to catch up on about him right now, he could be online at any point—before bed, or just whenever. Do you remember when he took Alice to that tennis match? He was on his phone immediately when she wasn’t there even if for a few minutes.

Don’t take me wrong—I’m not saying for sure that he’s with her. But these are also possibilities.

Thanks!

Thanks for your thoughtful message!

Regarding the location: I don't really think he seriously cares that much about (mainly) us here looking at his following, which led to the location. The average fan wont care about it at all. I also think the fan that posted the pic is just the average fan who isn't really aware about the, dare I say somewhat idiocy of this fandom and how she was gonna be bothered by fans asking her questions. She just posted a, what to me looks like a dump of her days at the location, tagging the location. I really don't think she thought for a minute about how this would show where he is or that people care about that. Did you see how she removed the tag of him on the pic? She had him tagged first when I saw it, but later on removed it.

I don't know if he's still there, or left or is doing a roadtrip or whatever. Anything is possible. All I did was looking at the location, where surprisingly later on a fan pic appeared.

About the male voice on the video, well you see, like I said, could be or could be not. It's never 100% for anyone here. I'm not saying it's not him, I'm also not saying it is him. I accept that it could be or could be not and don't see it as factual evidence, if you get what I mean. I received more messages about this, where one is convinced it is him, the next one isn't 🤷‍♀️. So it doesn't bring us anywhere... that's all!

I think VF is perfectly able to travel alone, I had a few Anons going on about that. She's an adult and she traveled alone before to places. IIRC she was in Morocco when Sam was enjoying his Everest adventure. She only posted this one story (so far).

His appearance doesn't give me the vibe that he's on some sort of romantic getaway. I don't know about those 'long hours' Anon, they often have several crews working on several locations simultaneously. Last season she was on the AD team.

I just notice his activity times on IG as indication, it's not solid proof and I do not promote it like that. Hence my reservations in what I say or write in here. Most of the time I discuss with some about options, or when we have this suspicion it could be this or that.... but I rarely post that upfront as I do not want to jump to conclusions. It's only when there is confirmation, like the fanpic in Mexico, when I post and can say, ah my interpretation of things was correct. I rather want to give the correct (or as correct as possible) information, than to post juicy speculations.

And when there is additional information, then I post it. Just like now, or actually I know this since last night (but didn't feel like posting it right away). Being that we saw VF followed Pedro, the guy Sam started following in Sayulita as well. So to me that sort of confirms she was there as well and doesn't seem a coincidence anymore. Which adds more credibility that it was his voice, but still not 100% confirmation 🤷‍♀️

[currentlyfckingurmom]

Undercover

Angela Lopez x female reader (The Rookie)

“Officer Y/L/N,” Sergeant Grey calls, “Detectives Lopez and Harper want to see you.”

Your eyebrows rise in surprise. “Yes, sir.”

You make your way to the detectives’ desks, swallowing your nerves at the sight of Lopez before standing at attention. “Morning, detectives. Sergeant Grey said you wanted to see me?”

“Morning,  Y/L/N,” Harper greets. “We’ve got a case. We could use your skill set.”

“My skill set? What exactly do I have to offer that you don’t, ma’am? Hard to believe you need a patrol officer’s help. Big case?”

“Don’t undermine yourself,  Y/L/N. You’re smart. You’ve got good instincts. And you know this case inside and out,” Lopez cuts in. You swallow thickly at her praise, forcing the blush off of your face.

“The Tijuana Cartel?” You guess.

Lopez confirms it. “We’ve got an in. You and I are going undercover,” she smirks.

You nod, forcing yourself into business mode. “When are we doing this?”

“Tomorrow night. Which means we have today to prepare you.”

“This isn’t my first undercover op, Detective Lopez.”

“I know. We wouldn’t risk the case if we didn’t have faith in your abilities.”

You nod firmly. “I appreciate the vote of confidence.”

“You’ve earned it,” Harper assures. There’s a glint in her eyes that rouses a curiosity in you. She knows something.

You pull a chair up to their desks and review the case with the detectives. Several hours are spent delving into cover stories and planning before it’s time for a break. As Lopez and Harper bicker over what to get for lunch, you let your eyes trail over to Detective Lopez. Her eyes shine as she smiles at Harper, arguing that they get burritos way too often. Dark hair frames her face as she arches a brow at Harper’s claim that they hadn’t gotten burritos all week. 

“What do you think, Y/L/N?” Harper asks.

“Huh? Oh, uh—I, yeah, I’m fine with whatever.”

“That’s what I thought,” Harper says with a vaguely accusatory look as Lopez shoots you a lopsided smirk. 

“Y/L/N and I will go pick up the tacos,” Lopez says, motioning for you to follow her. You scramble out of your seat after staring for a moment too long, ignoring Harper’s laughter behind you.

“You ready?”

“As I’ll ever be. After last time…I can’t mess this up. Diaz needs to go away,” you mumble, remembering the barrel of his gun against your temple the last time you saw him.

“He won’t be there. Don’t worry. We’ll get him. If this op goes as planned, we’ll have enough to issue a warrant for his arrest.”

“Thank you, Detective Lopez.”

“You can call me Angela. We’ll be working together pretty closely the next couple of days.”

“Right, of course. In that case, call me Y/N.” Your eyes meet hers across the center console and your stomach flutters. You do your best to ignore it.

You nervously adjust the black blazer that rests over a lace corset top and black pants. As silly as it is, you’re almost nervous for Lopez to see you in something other than your uniform.

A knock on the door jars you from your thoughts. You open the door and smile in greeting before the grin drops entirely off your face.

Angela stands there in a long sparkly black dress. A deep V-neck and long leg slit leaves little to the imagination. Your eyes get stuck at the top of the slit where the beginnings of her hip are exposed.

She clears her throat and your eyes dart up to hers, finding an amused smirk on her face.

“You clean up alright, Y/L/N. Ready to go?” 

“Uh, yeah. Yeah, I’m ready. You ready?”

“Always. Come on. We’ve got a party to attend.”

The two of you were undercover as girlfriends—not that anyone would even notice you at this huge party. Lights flashed and music pounded. A couple was having sex in one corner and a group of guys were playing poker in another.

You kept your arm wrapped securely around Angela’s waist—for the sake of your cover, of course. Her hand came to rest on an exposed sliver of skin on your stomach as the two of you stood near the bar. To anyone else, you looked like a drunken couple lost in their own world. But in reality, it was the perfect vantage point to keep an eye out.

Angela’s fingers pressed firmly into your stomach to get your attention. “There. Carlos. Diaz’s right hand man. Let’s go.”

Quietly, the two of you make your way across the dance floor—getting shoved against each other several times—and make your way down the hallway that Carlos disappeared into. The two of you stop outside the door he went into, leaning against the wood to hear what he was saying.

“Next week’s meeting is crucial. We can’t fuck this up. Anyone strays from the plan and Diaz will gut you like a pig, got it?”

You meet Angela’s eyes as another voice speaks too quietly to make out his words.

“Now if you’ll excuse me, I was in the middle of something before you interrupted me. And she was hot.”

Your eyes widen as Carlos’ footsteps approach the door, and you grab Angela’s hand and drag her quickly down the hall. You slow to a semi-casual stroll.

Footsteps coming from the other direction pull a cuss from your lips as you realize that you’re being boxed in.

“Shit, we should call for backup,” Angela mumbles, her eyes darting around in search of an escape. The footsteps are growing close enough to have your heart thrumming.

“Do you trust me?”

“What? Of course I do,” she answers with confusion. Swallowing your nerves, you duck your head down and bring your lips to hers, pushing her back into the wall. She doesn’t kiss back at first, but then she understands your intentions and reciprocates. 

Her hands run down your sides, pulling you closer into her body. The footsteps fade to the back of your mind as you run your tongue over her bottom lip, moaning lowly when she grants access. With one hand against the wall next to her head, the other hand grabs her hip and brings it into your own. Her hand tangles in your hair as she tilts her head, finding a new angle that has the both of you moaning and pushing desperately for more.

“Who are you? You can’t be back here,” a deep, grainy voice cuts in. The two of you break the kiss but your hands remain on each other and your bodies against the wall.

“Uh, sorry, just got distracted,” you tell him with a laugh. “This dress should be illegal,” you add as your eyes rake over it.

“We just wanted some privacy. Only so much you can do before people begin to notice your hands under the table,” Angela says with a smirk. Holy fuck, I’m gonna die right here, right now, you think.

“Well you can’t be here. Get out. Now,” he grumbles.

“Of course. So sorry,” she giggles before pushing off the wall and dragging you down the hallway. You turn around and give the burly man a half-sorry shrug.

The two of you make it back to the car in silence. Adrenaline lights your bodies aflame and arousal has your hearts beating rapidly. Once seated in the car, the air turns thick and awkward.

“Um, I’m sorry if I crossed a line back there. I understand if you need to write me up, or–”

“Stop right there. It was good thinking. If we had been made, we might not be alive right now. Nobody’s being written up,” she promises. “Plus, it was a pretty good kiss,” she adds with a smirk.

“Just pretty good?” You laugh.

“Yeah, not half bad.” Her eyes dart down to your lips and your stomach tightens.

“Is it bad that I want to kiss you again?” You whisper.

“Yes. Definitely. But I think you should do it anyway,” she urges you.

Without hesitation, you lean in and meet her lips once more, sucking her plump bottom lip between yours and drawing a moan from her throat. Her tongue slips into her mouth as your hands roam desperately over her body that's separated from yours by the center console. Her hand dips beneath your blazer, toying with your waistband as her thumb slips beneath it. Her hand moves to the button of your slacks.

“Can I?” she breathes.

You nod, whispering “please” before a knock on the window interrupts your actions. Your bodies jolt apart at a speed that you briefly think might be inhuman. When you see the face that’s smirking outside the car window, your body fills with fear. “Oh no.”

Angela opens the window and Harper leans down, smiling evilly at the two of you. “So. You two have fun? What am I saying? Of course you are. Enough fun to forget that I could hear everything over comms.”

“Nyla–” Angela starts.

“Don’t. Your little secret is safe with me. It’s about time you two stopped making heart eyes at each other and actually did something about it,” she smirks.

[jamie-leah]

Lifeline

Bucky x Reader Fic

Oneshot? Series? You tell me...

Summary: You have a past that you're running from and maybe Bucky can be the lifeline you had no idea you were searching for.

Word Count: 1,809

Warnings: Mentions of physical abusive, Abusive relationship, descriptions of panic attack, rusty writing, fluff

A/N: Thought I would dip my toe back in the water, see how you're all doing? Feel free to tell me if you want more and feel free to make requests. I need to get back into the swing of things!

Next Part--->

Masterlist of Masterlists

It’s been two months, and he still hasn’t found you yet. Despite the nightmares and the hypervigilance, you would call that a win. It’s the longest he’s gone without finding you. Maybe he’s given up? But deep down you know that isn’t the case. You humiliated him when you ran, left in the middle of the night without a word to anyone. There would be questions from the neighbours, friends and family. He would never let a slight like that go, and you know it.  

The bell dings above the door in the diner you’ve been working at since you arrived in New York. It brings you out of your head and into the present, to see Bucky walk through the door. You hadn’t realised that it was that time in your shift, looking over to the clock to confirm that it was in fact nine at night.  

You give him a smile. A small one, but the most genuine you’ve been able to manage since running from your ex almost a year ago now. He returns a full watt smile of his own. A smile you never see him give to anyone else, but you don’t look too deeply into that considering you’ve never seen him outside of this diner.  

He sits at the bar upfront to the counter where you already have his black coffee waiting, “you fancy any food? Kitchen is closing soon”, you ask.  

“I’ll take a plate of fries if there’s any going?”, his voice sending a tiny shiver down your spine that makes your toes curl ever so slightly. You are aware of this growing attraction you have to him since he started to come in here regularly a week after you started. And you hadn’t thought about anyone like that since...well since you started your relationship with Andrew around seven years ago.  

Bucky never said much the first few times he came in. He would just nurse a few cups of coffee at night and then leave but after two weeks like that he caught you on a particularly rough day. You were in the middle of a panic attack when he jumped into action and calmed you down and stared anyone down who might have looked or said anything.  

Since then, the damn broke and while you may have not told him about your ex, you both shared some personal titbits that would probably qualify you as friends rather than acquaintances. And ever since that time you told him you hadn’t had time for a break or a bite to eat, he orders fries and makes you share with him. He feigns that the portions are too big, and he needs your help to finish them off, but you know better. You don’t say otherwise, you’re grateful either way.  

When you place the fries in front of him, he asks, “busy tonight?”  

You shake your head as you pop a fry into your mouth, “not really. It’s always quiet on a Tuesday. How was your day? Save anyone today?”  

Bucky rolls his eyes at you. You had no idea who he was when he first came in. And Bucky still had to spell out who he was and why people stared at him in the diner. You were vaguely aware of superheroes, but Andrew kept you rather sheltered so you never knew who they were or the politics of them all.  

Bucky grabs the ketchup and squirts some on your side of the plate and some on his, “no missions today. You know I’m gone for a while when I am.”  

You sigh, because yes you do know he’s gone for a while when he has missions and its usually the longest days or sometimes weeks without him coming in every day.  

You shrug, “I don’t know, there was that time you saved someone from a car explosion on your way here.”  

You smirk as he groans at the mention of his heroics, “that was one time! I can’t believe that even showed on the news.”  

You throw a fry at his face, “I can’t believe I had to find out from the news! You didn’t say a word the entire time you sat here.”  

You laugh as you see a familiar blush creep up from his neck and blooms on his sharp cheeks, “I didn’t think it was a big deal”, he mumbles out.  

Someone walks in through the door, the familiar bell ringing. You walk from behind the counter as they take a seat at a booth. You squeeze Bucky’s shoulder as you pass by and murmur, “everything you do is a big deal to me.”  

You don’t wait for his reply or even a reaction as you head over to the couple talking quietly. You take their order and head over to the back and shout through to Kevin, “hey Kev, you got time for one more food order?”  

He pokes his head from the back, “sure thing”  

You pass him the slip and turn back to Bucky about to say something when a smash comes from the kitchen. You duck. No time to think, your body reacts on instinct, preparing for the worst while try to dodge the inevitable violence that is always directed at you.  

You stay crouched on the floor frozen in place, trapped in your mind at a time when you burned dinner for Andrew, and he threw places and cups all around the kitchen. Curled up on the floor, arms over your head trying to stop any shards from catching your face. You had to pick a few from your arms when he finally calmed down and left to go to the bar.  

Warm hands reach out to hold your face steady. You didn’t know your body was shaking until those hands held your face. So gentle in their touch you know they can’t be Andrew’s. You peek your eyes open and see beautiful, plump lips moving, forming shapes that should come out as words, but you don’t hear anything. Just rushing in your ears.  

It isn’t until your eyes glide up to the steel blue of Bucky’s that you let the air back into your lungs, the roaring subsiding until you hear his quiet murmurs, “you’re here, you’re safe with me. Come back to me.”  

Bucky feels you return to yourself more as your eyes dart around and your hands come to grip his tightly which are still holding your face. You manage a strangled, “I’m sorry” before your throat closes again.  

Bucky shakes his head, “nothing to apologise for.” 

When your whole body stops shaking, Bucky guides you back to a standing position. You glance over the counter, and no one is looking. They had no idea that your whole world suddenly came to a stop. No idea that you practically broke down over a broken plate in the kitchen.  

Bucky pulls your gaze back to his, “you with me?”  

You nod slowly, still not trusting your voice.  

Kevin puts the plates of food down on in the window without even looking before heading back to the kitchen. You reach out, your hands still shaking to take the plates but Bucky captures your hands with his. He links them for a few moments before placing them back at your sides. He takes the plates and heads over to the table you took the order from and delivers them with the fakest smile you’ve ever seen on his face.  

His false cheeriness is what starts to bring you back to yourself as you raise your eyebrows at his return, “why don’t you ever greet me like that?”  

He laughs, his head tipping back as he takes his seat again, “because you’re special.”  

“That’s what you say to all the girls”, you reply.  

And just like that the incident is gone. Not forgotten though, you don’t miss the way Bucky watches you more closely, the corners of his mouth set slightly lower now that he’s reminded of how broken you really are. He doesn’t ask, and you’re grateful for that. You’re not ready to talk about the monster that you try pretending doesn’t exist. But you never forget either.  

Bucky stays with you for the rest of your shift. He stands behind you like a bodyguard as you lock up the diner at one in the morning, just when the clubs really start getting busy. He makes a point to walk you all the way back to your apartment building and you don’t miss the frown he always gives it.  

You bump his arm with your shoulder, “it's not as bad as it looks, you know.” 

His face scrunches up, “if you say so. Still don’t like the thought of leaving you here though.”  

You bump into him again with a small smile, “careful Buck, some people might think you’ve gone soft.” 

You see his mouth twitch upwards as he replies, “only for some people.” 

You stare into the eyes that are staring back at you. You can feel them trying to tell you something, but you can’t quite understand. Or maybe you don’t want to because it doesn’t make sense. Someone like you doesn’t get to be happy, someone like you doesn’t get someone like him. You’ve never been that lucky.  

A horn blare down the street, as people whoop from the windows. It breaks the spell as you both turn to look with a small chuckle.  

“I better get inside, I’m beat.” You tell him as you point to your building.  

Bucky clears his throat, “Uh, yeah, definitely. I might be gone for a couple of days. A few things I need to take care of but I’m back on your day off...fancy hanging out?” 

The question almost trails off, but his stare remains intense. It dries up your throat as you open it and close it like a fish for a few moments.  

“It’s okay if you had plans, I just thought it might be nice to do something outside the diner and-”  

“I’d love to.”  

“And I was thinking we could- wait, really?” He looks to you as if he’s waiting for the punchline and it makes your heart ache.  

You give him a warm smile, “I’d love to do something. Despite being here for a few months, I haven’t seen much of New York so will be nice to get out with someone that knows it well.”  

His face splits in two to let out a huge smile, “Okay...okay, I’ll text you when I’m back?” 

You give him a nod and a shy smile, “yeah, sounds good. Goodnight Bucky.”  

His smile is so wide you don’t think he’ll be able to get any words out, so you turn and walk into your building, only glancing back once the elevator doors open to see him still stood there, smiling.  

[hoemainexpansion]

Chapter Three: Falling Away From Me

⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺

The car ride back home was eerily quiet. You wouldn’t know what to say even if you wanted to. It feels like you’ve gone through the seven stages of grief every single day trying to find a way to cope and now you don’t know what to feel. 

You learned a few things by meeting with Detective Usami today:

Your husband is alive.

He’s at least a couple hundred miles away.

They’re not going to close his case until they meet him in person.

The last one surprised you. You know that legally, he is allowed to leave of his own free will, he’s not tethered to his own life to the point that he’s not allowed to start a new one. You were concerned that they’d take the video as confirmation and just move on. But considering the assault, the phone, and the car, they want to at least speak with him and make sure that he’s safe and not on the run for his safety or maybe involved in something criminal himself that led to all of this. 

You thought getting confirmation of him being alive would have you jumping for joy and removing all this stress, and to a small extent, it has helped, a little. But now an entirely new wave of confusion has washed against the shore that is your fragile psyche. 

Why is he just out wandering around? Why isn’t he coming home? Does he even realize what everyone’s going through? Did he find someone new? This baby wasn’t an accident, the two of you were trying to get pregnant. So if you find out that he was starting a life with someone on the side while intentionally trying to get you pregnant, you’re definitely going to have more than a few words for him when you finally speak to him. 

You arrived at the parking garage of your building a few minutes ago, but neither you nor Kento have made any effort to get out and go upstairs yet. In fact, he’s still gripping the steering wheel with so much force that his knuckles are completely white. 

He must have noticed you staring because it’s only then that he finally speaks up, “are you okay?”

He’s not a cashier at a convenience store asking to be nice so you can’t lie, “I don’t know. What about you?” “I’m fucking pissed.” Damn. You don’t know what you were expecting, but it wasn’t that. You know he was always joking when he made the ‘you can do better jokes,’ but you’re sure he’s gonna mean them now. “What the hell is he doing? He has a pregnant wife at home.”

“Ehh, who knows for how much longer,” you chuckle and do a dramatic shrug. It’s a bad joke but you don’t know how else to lighten the mood. 

“Maybe he’s been holding the Suguru grudge for the past seven years.” Dammit. He one upped your bad joke with a worse one. 

“All jokes aside, remember when he actually did?” If there’s one thing you’re glad your husband grew out of, it’s his jealousy, and a fuck ton of it used to be aimed at Suguru. 

Before you started dating Satoru, you went out on two dates with Suguru. He was sweet and you’d be lying if you said you saw no chance of it going anywhere. But after the second date, Satoru begged him for days to take a step back. He said Suguru should have known how much he liked you because of how nervous he got around you, but nobody is a mind reader. Suguru had a few girlfriends before you, but Satoru never dated anyone. He spent so much time perfecting his grades to get into a good university that his younger years lacked some of the social milestones that other people had. When Suguru realized that and how smitten he was with you, he stepped back and allowed you two to have a chance together. 

When Satoru first asked you out, you were completely against it. You didn’t like the idea of dating two friends. You never had a boyfriend before and didn’t want to start your romantic life off as hurting friends and dealing with the slut shaming you were going to get from people who knew. But, nothing physical ever happened between you and Suguru, not even kissing, so you decided to give Satoru a chance. He was also incredibly persistent which had you wanting to give in just to shut him up. It’s actually how funny how dedicated he was to getting a date with you for someone who was so nervous that he spilt something on you at least once on all three of your first dates. 

Kento’s voice is what rips you out of thoughts, “you know I was just kidding right?” “Huh?” 

“When I said he was holding a Suguru grudge, I was just kidding. You got pretty quiet there and I just wanted you to know that I didn’t mean to upset you.” Sweetheart.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I’m not upset. I’m just thinking about how Satoru begged me for a date and then took me on a picnic where he accidentally kicked a plate and deconstructed sandwiches landed on my dress, getting condiments on the lace Ugh, the list goes on.” You can’t help but laugh at memories like that, they’re just so absurd. When you told Utahime and Kento what happened on these dates he worked so hard for, they were genuinely perplexed that you kept going out with him.

“No offense, but sometimes I still can’t believe that you married that guy. He was literally so nervous when he dropped you off at your family's home one day that he hit the garage door with his car and put a dent in it.” 

Aaaand you’re cackling. “That’s what made him so cute. He was so nervous that he just couldn’t get his shit together. He got better the more time we spent together, but it was absolutely adorable to me.”

“Adorable? Before or after he lost his balance while trying to kiss you and resulted in head butting you like he’s Tanjiro Kamado and you falling into his car?” 

Now you’re laughing so hard that tears are streaming down your face. You really wish you had these moments on camera because they’re so crazy. 

“By the way, I texted Choso and told him that we got some big news at the station today. So, he and Suguru are closing up early and they’re on the way.”

Fuck. 

Here comes the speculations. 

⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺

“He’s fucking what?!” Suguru says as he slams his drink down on the kitchen counter. “He’s fucking alive? Where is he? Why isn’t he here?”

You and Kento are completely silent because honestly, you don’t know what to say. Those are the same questions that you have and there are no answers as of now. 

“Do we know for sure that he’s alive?” Choso asks, and it’s a fair question.

“The detective showed us CCTV footage with a man that looked exactly like him on it. I mean, white hair, blue eyes, taller than everyone else. He looks exactly like my husband. We couldn’t make out the exact details of what he was wearing other than a red shirt, black jeans, and dark or black shoes.” 

Suguru looks a little taken aback at the mention of what he was wearing. “A red shirt? What, did he hit his head or something?” “Well, he was hit in the head with a blunt object, so, yeah.” You don’t mean to, but you laugh after saying that. You know people use that as a rhetorical question when someone does something silly, but in this case, it’s actually true. Since you know he’s alive, maybe it’s not as bad to infuse a little laughter into an otherwise stressful situation. 

“Is the red shirt that big of a deal?” Kento asks. 

This time, Suguru speaks up to answer his question, “I’ve known Satoru since we were children. He’s never worn a piece of red anything. He said it clashes with his eyes instead of bringing them out. He’s not strict about what he wears except for that.”

“He said the same thing to me early in our relationship,” you say, agreeing with Suguru. “But he also banned brown clothing from his side of the closet because he said it reminds him of our uniforms. I asked him one time if he’d wear a g-string and he said he would as long as it wasn’t in those colors.” 

“Ugh, didn’t need to picture that,” poor Kento, he’s having one hell of a day. “I never noticed those things, but I do try to avoid him as much as I can. But maybe that means that he’s not just avoiding coming home.” Thanks for being vague. 

“What do you mean?” You and Suguru ask at the same time. 

“We watched the footage and I’m fairly certain it was him. But he wasn’t behaving like the Satoru we know. We got to see him on cameras from a few different businesses as he walked down the street. One thing with Satoru, he always walks like he’s in a good mood.” You know what he means, but all of you laugh when he first says that.

“I’m not trying to make fun of him. But Satoru doesn’t just take up a lot of space because he’s tall, it’s also his personality. He doesn’t have a resting bitch face or whatever the hell the kids are calling it these days. He always looks happy, and it’s usually paired with him singing something while walking down the street or having some extra pep in his step. But there was none of that when we watched those videos. If I was walking down the street, I don’t think he would have stood out to me at all. He just looked like… a guy. If he’s not acting like himself, maybe it’s because he can’t. Just because we didn’t see anyone with him doesn’t mean that there isn’t anything more nefarious going on. Maybe someone or something is preventing him from going home and right now he’s just going through the motions. Maybe he’s doing things out of character to keep a low profile.”

“He should let his natural hair grow out then,” Choso says before downing the rest of his drink and Suguru laughs with you, he must have heard this complaint before. 

If you’re being honest with yourself, you didn’t even think of it like that. You assumed that he just moved on at the drop of a hat. But him not being able to come home for one reason or another does make sense. 

“Hmmm.”

“Where do we go from here?” Suguru looks more upset now than when he came in as he asked.

“Detective Usami has contacted the businesses that sent the CCTV footage to the tip line and collected all of their information. He and his partner are going to drive down there and stake the place out to see if they can catch him again. Unfortunately, that’s the only time that the owners of these places remember catching him on camera so there’s no guarantee that he’ll still be in the area by the time that they get there. But they’re going to go try and then keep us updated on the progress.” Thank goodness for having Kento in your life because after you saw your husband on camera, your brain shut down and you wouldn’t have been able to relay all this information.

“So, we wait,” Suguru says.

“We wait.”

Choso grabs your hand and places a light kiss on the back of it. That’s something that he used to do all the times when you were kids anytime you were upset and it always made you feel better. He pulled back from it a bit when you started dating Satoru to not add to his jealousy, but you really need the support today. 

Suguru smirks and you know nothing good is going to come from that. “So Nanami, why aren’t you accompanying your brother on this important mission?” You were wrong, something good did come from it. 

“You’re insane, he doesn’t even look like me,” Kento refutes his claim. 

“Your mother would be devastated hearing you renounce your twin brother like that.”

Choso lets out a soft ‘huh’ at the table and Kento tries to take the opportunity to change the subject but Suguru beat him to the punch, “one of the detectives on the case looks exactly like Nanami, except he has black hair.”

“No he does not.” Poor Kento, he looks so tired.

“He even has that ‘I’ve been working for forty years I can’t wait to retire even though I’m only thirty” look in his eyes.” Suguru looks so proud.

You have to hold your hand to your mouth to hold back the laughs because you completely agree. You just know that Detective Kusakabe is probably making fun of his partner because you know that you would. Hell, all of you kinda are right now. 

“Whatever, help me cook dinner so we can remove some of the stress from her, please.”

Suguru eyes soften, but that doesn’t stop him. “Sure, what did you guys used to make for your mom on mother’s day?” 

After they walk away, Choso whispers in your ear, “next time you go to the station, I wanna go with you.” 

You’re laughing even harder at how this is going to probably be a recurring joke for years. If Kento is tired now, he must be exhausted thinking of the jokes Satoru is going to make if he ever sees the two in the same room together. 

⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺

It’s been about a week since you got confirmation, well, as much confirmation as you can without seeing him in person, that your husband is alive. The detectives called you the night they started making the drive to the town he was spotted but you haven’t heard from them since. As much as you’d like some answers, you’re not living in as much fear as you were before. 

In fact, your mood has improved drastically. You still have your moments when you get incredibly down and don’t want to do anything except lay in bed, but you do see the light at the end of the tunnel. One night Choso and Suguru closed the shop early and you even went out with them and the other artists in the shop. It wasn’t anything too crazy, just some drinks at the bar with the guys, and then Yuji, the other artist working there, and the twin girls Nanako and Mimiko who apprentice under Suguru. You don’t drink yourself, and you can’t right now even if you wanted to, but the social part of it was nice. 

But while some things are looking up, you are absolutely still being babysat. Suguru is with you most times during the day, he coordinated his schedule with Choso so someone can always be there. On days where he can’t come over, Kento usually spends that time with you. He’s been canceling a lot of his out of the country shoots to ensure that he can be with you in case you need him. You beg him not to because you don’t want to hurt his career, but you’d be lying if you said him being there didn’t make this all semi tolerable. He’s also the one who frequently calls the station to see if there’s updates because it’s been too hard for you and he doesn’t want to add on to it with the pregnancy stress. And then Choso has been with you at night, every night. Movies weren’t lying when they said that the nights are the hardest so it’s amazing to have him there. 

However, you can’t help but let the bad thoughts pop in sometimes. Even though you’re feeling like things are getting better, you have to be honest with yourself. What if this isn’t a mistake? What if Satoru isn’t being watched and trapped in a bad situation? What if he just decided that he doesn’t want to come home? Could he be blaming you for his attack? Is he thinking that if you were a better wife who kept food in the house, he wouldn’t have gone through that and he’s harboring a grudge? Is he upset that it took you both too long to start a family and he was creating one with someone else and all this crazy stuff just timed it perfectly? 

Everyime you start to voice these thoughts, someone shuts them down. Nobody believes that he would willingly leave you, but you have to be realistic. Just because it may not be likely, or it may not be nice, doesn’t make it impossible. People do crazy shit like that all the time. 

Ugh, this is so fucking stressful.

You have been trying to keep up with a routine to keep your mind occupied and that has definitely helped. You’ve been slowly integrating yourself back into work over the past few weeks, but just what you can do from home to not overwhelm yourself. Besides that, you’re forcing yourself to cook more, keep your playlists organized, write a letter to Satoru everyday, and catch up with all the variations of 90-Day Fiance. As much as you like your horror movies and documentaries, you don’t need to be watching them as you’re already living one. 

You miss him. You miss him so much that it hurts. 

You could be in a lively mood and then bam, tears. You can’t wait until this is over and you can all return to normal life. You really want your friends to be able to do what they want instead of them feeling obligated to always be here. You love them here, but it does make you feel guilty sometimes. You feel like you cycle through these thoughts at least once a day and it’s honestly so exhausting. 

You really feel bad because you keep thinking, what if that wasn’t Satoru on camera and he’s ‘not around’ anymore? You can’t even think the word. But what if he can’t come home? Or, what if he just doesn’t want to? Your friends can’t revolve their entire lives around you. The only reason your family hasn’t come out to watch you is because they were talked out of it by the people who are doing it. But regardless of what does happen, it can’t be permanent and you know that. 

As you’re about to press play on another episode of 90-Day Fiance: Before the 90 days, you hear your phone ring. 

That surprised you seeing as Suguru is in your office working and you don’t expect anyone until later. You also have set ringtones for everyone and this is not one of those. At first you want to ignore it in case it’s a scam, but realizing that it could be important you rush to answer it. 

“Hello.?”

“Did you see the video?!” Damn Utahime, she knows the phone is right against your ear as she yells, right?

“What video?”

“The video of Satoru.” You could have sworn you already told her that.

“Yes. Remember, Kento and I went to the police station and they showed us that cctv footage of him a week ago.” With everything else going on, maybe you forgot to tell her.

“No!” Shit. Now you feel bad.

“I’m sorry, I could have sworn I told you.”

“You did!” What?

“Utahime, what the hell is going on?”

“I’m asking you if you saw the new video.” The what?! 

“New video? What new video?”

“Hold on, I’m sending it to you now.”

You wait a few moments until your phone alerts you that you have a new message from your loud girlfriend. You open it and the thumbnail just looks like a regular checkout at a store. You see a couple shelves with items on it, and the cashier set up on the left side of the screen.

You hit play and as soon as you do, you start to panic. Isn’t that weird how that works? Nothing has even happened yet. 

Luckily the anticipation doesn’t have much time to kill you because you see your husband appear on frame pretty quickly. Utahime was right, there is another video.

“When was this recorded? Who-who had it? How’d they get it? I haven’t heard from the detectives in days. What is thi–?” “Woah woah woah, calm down. I’ll answer what I can.”

“I’m sorry. I just don’t understand where this came from, nobody has told me anything.” Surely someone should have called you about this. 

“Yu found it. Actually, his friend did.” This just keeps getting more confusing. “He and one of his friends have been checking for updates multiple times throughout the day and saw that some obscure news website posted it not even an hour ago. Apparently they recognized him as the missing man and instead of calling it in, they sold the footage to get some more promotion for their store.”

Why. Do. People. Suck.

But that answers basically all of your questions. Well, almost all of them.

“Do you know when this was recorded?” It may be a stupid question to ask her but you have to try.

“Yu and his friend checked the metadata and it was recorded in the middle of the night, last night, sometime around two a.m.” That also explains why you didn’t get a phone call from anyone on the case yet. “On the bright side, that means he’s alive.”

You sigh because you know it’s true, but it doesn’t remove the stress because one thing continues to loop in your head, “but that also means that he’s not coming home.” 

She’s quiet after you say that. Everyone has been trying to convince you that he didn’t leave of his own volition, but each day, it gets a little harder to believe that. You’re starting to think that you’re going to have to adjust to life as a single mom before the baby comes because once they do, it’ll be a harder transition. 

You’ve been taking photos for Satoru everyday and that’s how you realized that you’re starting to show, it’s minimal, but it’s there. You thought he’d be so excited and now you’re not so sure. 

“Hey, just because he’s not here doesn’t mean he doesn’t want to still be with you. He could still want you and still lack the ability to come home. Two things can be true at the same time. Stop thinking like that, we’re going to figure it out.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

“Of course I am! I’ll come over tonight and we can have a girl’s night in. I’ll even bring Shoko so she can bring the drinks!” She sounds so excited and it’s starting to have the same effect on you.

“You know I can’t drink, right?”

“Aren’t pregnant women allowed to have one glass of wine a day?” Is that a real thing?

“Isn’t that an old wive’s tale?”

“We’ll ask Shoko, she is the doctor.” Hmm.

You and Utahime plan a time for her to stop by and then bid your farewells. You forgot to mention that Choso is also going to be here so it won’t be a true girl’s night. But in your head she has a thing for him so she probably won’t mind. Or maybe she hates so many of your male friends that he’s one of the few she finds tolerable. But you prefer the former. 

You decide to straighten up a little bit to kill some time before the girls get here. Since you’re home so much, it’s not like anything is really messy, but you’re also just fucking bored. You need to do something, anything, to get this new video out of your mind. How the hell do people keep coming across him but he can’t be tracked down? This is like a reverse Michael Myers chase and it’s annoying.

Just as you’re about to get up and do laundry for apparently, the fun of it, your phone rings. You check who’s calling and notice that it’s one of the detectives on your case, Evil Twin Usami in fact. 

Please let him know something new. Please let him know something new.

“Hello?”

“Mrs. Gojo?”

“Yes, this is she.”

“This is Detective Usami, I’m calling regarding your husband’s case.” So formal. You’ve literally spoken to him like six times. 

“Oh, hello. Is this about that new video?”

“You’ve seen it already? The devil works fast but I guess social media works faster” he says with a chuckle.

He even has the same sense of humor as Kento and he still wants to deny the resemblance.

“A friend just told me that some random news site posted it. I don’t know anything else about it though, there wasn’t even any sound.”

“Hmm. Well, we’ve learned a little something new.” You’re literally holding your breath as he says that. Please let it be something good. “Once that footage was posted online, we went to that location. It was actually a small family owned pharmacy that also sells a few odds and ends. Apparently that was the third time anyone working there could recall seeing your husband.”

“The third time?!” You accidentally yell into the phone.

“That’s correct.” He doesn’t sound fazed though so maybe he’s used to it.

“How the hell is this just coming up now?”

“The couple who owns the business is a little on the younger side and isn’t a fan of watching the news. It wasn’t until a customer pointed out that he looked like the ‘missing man’ to the couple that they looked up the case and reviewed their security footage.”

It’s not the craziest thing you’ve ever heard. You’ve known a lot of people yourself who don’t watch the news because they find it too depressing. But to then have information on a missing person and you sell it instead of reporting it? Come on. 

“Mrs. Gojo?” Shit, you zoned out.

“Sorry, I was lost in thought. Could you repeat the last thing you said?”

“The owners cross referenced receipts with their cctv footage to get an estimate of when he was there and what he bought. Apparently over the past few weeks, he’s been there three times and everytime he goes, he buys a bottle of over the counter pain reliever. That part stood out to them because he did have a gash on his head on his first visit, which isn’t surprising given what we know. But the bottles he purchased also contain 100 pills. That indicates some high level of pain. My partner is going to check out the hospitals in the area to see if he’s been checked in for any ailments as I continue to watch the stores in the area.”

That makes sense, but you still have one question, “where is he getting the money?”

“That’s a good question. When I interviewed the couple, they said that he looked like a clean cut guy who was well taken care of and that nothing stood out to them. Therefore, that eliminates him hiding out on the streets somewhere. He’s probably staying with someone, but nobody recalls seeing him with anyone. I’m also going to canvas the rest of this area to see if we can track his movements but so far, we haven’t found anything. The surrounding businesses are either still collecting all their footage or it has already been written over. I’ll let you know if we find anything else, but there’s a chance that it could still take a few days before we have any more answers.”

Why does it seem like everytime you get more answers, you still end up with more questions? This is literally the dumbest fucking thing.

“Thank you for the update, I understand that this isn’t something that can be solved in a day.”

“I appreciate your patience. I’ll be in touch,” that’s the last thing he says before he hangs up. 

You put your phone back down on the coffee table and then just sink into the couch. Before you were super concerned about something bad happening to him, but now you kind of wonder if he left because he did something bad to you. 

Before you even realized what you did, you screamed Suguru’s name at the top of your lungs. 

You hear the door to your office swing open and the doorknob bangs into the wall. And by the sound, you can already tell it left a dent. You hear him running down the hallway yelling your name and when he sees you, he has a look of pure horror on his face. You feel kind of shit for how you called him, but you feel so completely off right now.

“Are you okay???” He sounds terrified, whoops. 

“I just got off the phone with Detective Usami.” 

“Shit. Is everything alright? Did something happen? Did they find him? Is he gone? Is he–?” He’s freaking out and this is all your fault, you are absolutely making a mental note to make it up to him.

“I’m sorry for how I called you in here, I just felt too drained to get up.” That seems to relax him a bit, but you’re still going to buy the most expensive bottle of whatever liquor he likes cause damn. “He had some information on Satoru, well, kind of.”

“Kind of? What does that mean?” He asks as he sits down on the couch next to you.

“Did you see the video?” He looks completely confused and it makes sense, it was just posted and he has been sketching.

“What video? Of Satoru?”

“Yeah. Apparently Yu and his friend discovered it on some news site.” You pull out your phone and play it for him. His eyes widen but you can’t read the look on his face. You think your friends maybe doubted you and Kento a little when you said you saw surveillance of him, you have no proof of that, it’s just a feeling. But now that he can see it, it’s like the confusion of this case is getting worse. 

“Wow, that’s really him. It’s not that I doubted you before or anything. It’s just, it’s not wishful thinking anymore, that’s him. And it’s him with a really shitty haircut.” 

You laugh right along with him when he says that because honestly, you felt the same. It’s so short and Satoru always has shaggy hair, it’s really weird. Something is clearly off. He’s just not… himself. 

“Anyway, Usami tracked down the location of the video and found it’s a pharmacy where Satoru has been at least three times.” You look over to Suguru and see that his jaw has completely dropped open. Wait until he hears the rest.” Over the past few weeks, he’s been there those few times buying a bottle of painkillers on each visit. Kusakabe is going to check out hospitals in the area to see if he checked in at any time for severe pain since it seems like he’s going through these pills really fast.”

You pause to give him a moment to take in everything that you said. Just as you’re about to continue, Suguru speaks up first, “where is he getting the money? Wasn’t his car set on fire? I doubt someone would rob him but leave him with cash.” Bingo.

“That’s what I asked Usami. Even if those were the nicest attackers in the world, Satoru doesn’t usually carry cash. He also said that the couple complimented Satoru’s appearance as looking ‘well taken care of.’” This time it’s Suguru’s reaction that stops you.

“So, that means he’s not on the streets?”

“Also, he still had his longer hair when Kento and I viewed the first video. That means in the past month or however long it’s been at this time, all the days run together, he’s remained well dressed, has money, and has gotten at least one haircut.” You get even more confused as you relay this to him.

When you look at your friend this time, he looks for lack of a better term or phrase, fucking pissed. “What the fuck is he doing then? He has a pregnant wife at home and he’s just gallivanting around some random town getting haircuts and living his life like we’re not all at home freaking out over him.”

“Usami said he’s been trying to collect CCTV footage from surrounding businesses but due to the time it took to pin him down, some cameras have already been written over. But he said there are still a few things to collect for him and he’ll call when he has an update. Now it’s just waiting on that and the hospital.”

Suguru opens his mouth to speak but then closes it and sits back into the couch. Neither of you say anything for what feels like a long period of time but it’s probably just a couple minutes. 

After a bout of silence, he takes a deep breath and then grabs your hand before saying, “I’m so fucking sorry for everything that’s going on. But I swear, on my life, if what he is doing is intentional and was planned, I’ll fucking kick his ass for you.” 

You know he’s completely serious but you can’t help but laugh when he says that. You had no idea what was going to happen when all this crazy shit started up, but you’re glad you have such supportive people in your life. 

These highs and lows are really sucking the life out of you. First he’s gone, but then he’s seen on camera. They pin down an area, but then he can’t be found again. And now with the more you learn, the more personal this all feels and you have to accept that.

“Suguru, would you do me a favor and call Kento to update him on what’s going on? I’m too tired to go over it all again.” You hate passing off basic tasks to other people but you already have to update Utahime and Shoko when they get here and you just need a break. 

⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺

It was supposed to just be a girl’s night with you, Utahime, and Shoko. But now it’s the three of you plus Suguru who decided to stay, Choso who’s with you every night, Yu who helped discover this big lead, and Kento who rushed over as soon as Suguru called him.

Your life has literally turned into a game of Clue with everyone discussing their theories and what could be going on. This would be fun if you didn’t feel like kicking your husband in the balls the more you think about it. 

Kento spent like twenty minutes analyzing the video that Yu found trying to see if anything stood out. Yu even suggested going down to the area that Satoru was seen to see if you can get any more information but was talked out of it when reminded that people are already looking for him there. 

“Something about this just feels off,” and that’s the first thing Kento says after having this video on repeat. 

“Well, duh!” Utahime exclaims. “That’s what’s making all of this so confusing.”

“That’s not what I mean,” Kento refutes. “Everything about it doesn’t make any sense. What’s up with that shitty haircut he has?” 

The entire group bursts out laughing after he says that. Of all the things he could have said, that was it. 

Even tipsy, Shoko can’t help but say,”could you imagine standing up in court and saying something like ‘with all due respect your honor, his style is trash so this makes no fucking sense.’”

Everyone is laughing hysterically except for Kento and that gives you pause, he wasn’t joking. “What do you mean?”

“Well, first, he’s found in another town. Second he’s on video wearing that red shirt that you guys thought was so bizarre.”

“He hates wearing red,” Shoko says without missing a beat.

“I never noticed but apparently all of you think that’s weird,” Kento takes a breath before continuing, “he’s not acting like ‘himself’ in the few videos I’ve seen and now he has this shitty haircut.” 

That ‘shitty haircut’ comment is going to get you everytime you just know it is. It’s getting you right now but you’re trying not to laugh because Detective Good Twin is so serious. 

Suguru interjects before anyone else has a chance to, “he’s been my best friend since we were kids so I really hate to say this. But, how do we know he doesn’t have another family somewhere? How do we know he didn’t freak out and just leave his life?”

Fuck. You’ve been thinking it yourself but hearing it out loud from someone else hurts.

“Him being attacked doesn’t support that. Besides, he and his wife have been glued at the hip for years. It’s not like he had a lot of out of town business trips to do that, and when he did leave, she went with him. Why would he just decide to leave after being attacked and basically abducted?” Kento pauses to let the group take that in.

“How do we know that wasn’t all planned?” Suguru asks.

“You really think he would do that?” 

“Nothing would surprise me at this point.”

Kento and Suguru are just staring each other down as if either theory is completely crazy. 

Shoko puts her drink down and asks, “do you honestly believe, in your heart, that he’d do that to us?”

Suguru sighs before responding, “why isn’t he here? His wife is almost four months pregnant. He should be here.”

“Maybe he can’t be here,” Choso says this time, voice barely above a whisper.

“Well why not?! If he can just walk down the street, he’s not being held captive. So what’s going on? Is my theory really that far-fetched?”

“No Suguru, it’s not,” all heads turn to you as those words leave your mouth.

“You really think he’d do that to you?” Utahime asks as she looks like she’s going to cry. 

“I don’t know, but I have to be realistic. Nobody who had something bad happen to them predicted it or else we’d try to change the outcome. It sucks, but I’d hardly be the first wife who was left in some wild manner such as this.” 

Kento reaches over and grabs your hand before saying, “if it’s any consolation, I truly don’t believe that’s what happened. I think he’s fucking annoying, but not completely devious.”

After spending some more time speculating about the possibilities, everyone slowly starts to return home, except for Shoko who you forced to stay in your guest room and sleep the liquor off. Suguru also decided to stay and help her out if she gets sick in the middle of the night so that you don’t have to. 

It’s not like it would matter, you weren’t sleeping anyway. You spent so much time refreshing search results hoping for something new that Choso had to force you to put your phone away. You thought he was asleep the whole time so when his raspy voice told you to chill out, it caught you off guard. 

“I’m sorry, I couldn’t help myself. Was the light bothering you?” You really hope you weren’t the reason he was still awake.

“More than the actual box of light you need on to be able to sleep, no. Neither the phone nor the tv prevent me from sleeping. I just can’t stop thinking about everything.”

You turn over on your side so that you can face him. “So, what do you think now?”

“I don’t think it’s what Suguru thinks, but I have no other ideas if I’m being honest.”

You had so much hope that you didn’t cry for a while, but now it feels like those stupid tears are returning. “How do you continue to have so much hope? I feel like I’m falling here.”

“I feel like if his goal was to get away from you, he could do a better job than leaving with no resources to do it and then be seen in a shopping area on camera multiple times. Your husband is silly, but he’s not a moron,” he says without missing a beat. 

“Hmm. Thank you.” 

He scrunches his eyebrows at you like you just said the silliest thing, “I didn’t do anything.” 

“Yeah, you did. I’d be in pieces if you weren’t all holding me together. So, thank you.”

“You’re welcome. And hey, if it does turn out that it’s what Suguru thinks, I’ll give you a really good discount on covering those tattoos. I’m pretty good. I might even be able to manipulate those letters to change it from ‘Satoru’ to “Suguru.’” He said that. He said it with a straight face. If there’s one thing you love about your friend group, it’s that nobody is overly sensitive and you can make jokes out of your tragedies. “Anyway, go to sleep. You need to get out of this house so you’re coming to work with me tomorrow.”

You really hope someone comes in with at least one funny tattoo idea. 

⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺

Kusakabe’s POV

After showering, putting on his suit, and making his coffee, Atsuya Kusakabe is now in his car on the way to the hospital closest to the pharmacy that the missing man Satoru Gojo was spotted at. If he’s being honest, when he first started this case, he thought it was just a cheating husband who left his wife. But now? It definitely feels like it’s more than that.

He’s praying that someone at the hospital has some answers because over the past few days, this case has become incredibly high profile. Satoru Gojo is a known prosecutor, and he’s damn good at his job. So good in fact, that he never loses. That’s what led to the detectives first theory, that it was a bitter defendant from a previous case. 

However, he scoured the footage and cross referenced it with mugshots of the criminals Gojo prosecuted and nobody stood out. He had to accept that it could have just been a coincidence and that they may have no connection at all. 

That’s the worst thing for law enforcement in a case because it opens up the suspect pool to a ridiculous degree. It could literally be anyone. Once you realize that it could be an unrelated stranger, it makes it that much harder to solve. 

As he drives down the road and sips his coffee, he can’t stop wondering what the hell is going on. Obviously the public is demanding answers, it’s never good to leave a case unsolved, especially when someone like him is the victim. But now that it appears he’s alive but can’t be tracked? Something doesn’t feel right. If he’s being honest, he wants answers for himself more than anything at this point. 

And he’s hoping the hospital will have those answers. He’s not particularly a fan of them, but he likes them more than sitting in his car all night around potential criminals waiting to catch him off guard. He wouldn’t say he’s scared, out loud. Just cautious. 

As he sees the building come into view, he downs the rest of his coffee and starts mentally rehearsing the questions that he has to ask the staff. Hospitals aren’t the easiest to get leads out of due to privacy laws, but hopefully the workers there will understand the severity of this case.

As soon as he approaches the parking lot, he’s already annoyed. This is one of those places where you have to get your parking validated or they’re going to charge you damn near your rent money. 

Now his plans have changed, first task, get parking validated, second task, ask about Satoru Gojo. 

After getting the little slip of paper he hates so much, he enters the sliding glass doors of the hospital. It’s huge, clean, and he’s still uncomfortable. 

He approaches the receptionist at the front desk and notices that she’s kinda cute. Short hair, blonde, nice smile, too bad he’s here for work. 

“Can I help you? Are you here to see anyone?” She asks him. 

“Yeah. But can you validate this first?” He pulls the slip of paper out of his pocket and hands it to her. 

She flips it over before saying, “oh sorry. You have to go up to the fourth floor and go to the room at the end of the hallway. They handle all the parking matters.” 

“Please tell me you’re kidding,” he says. 

“I am,” and the serious look falls from her face. 

She’s even cuter now, he thinks to himself. She scans the slip and hands it back to him.

“So, you said you wanted to see someone?”

“Actually, I wanted to see if you saw someone.” She furrows her brows because that’s definitely an interesting way to phrase it. He pulls his wallet out of his pocket and then pulls a photo out. He hands her the photo of Gojo and then asks, “have you seen this man?” 

She takes the photo to examine it, “isn’t this the guy from the news?” 

Good start. 

“Yes. I don’t know for sure if or when he could have been here, but there’s a chance that he could have come in for an injury. Maybe a head injury actually.” 

“I only work the day shift during the week and I don’t recall seeing him. Can I make a copy to ask my co-workers?” 

He nods. “That’s a copy so you can keep that. May I also leave you my card?” 

“Of course. I’ll contact you if anyone knows anything.” She’s sweet. 

Focus on the case he thinks to himself. 

He hands her his business card and bids her good day. 

As he walked out of the doors, he was hit with a wave of disappointment. Not only does he want to know what’s going on, especially because the media is on his ass. But he knows this man has a pregnant wife at home and that part is starting to eat at him. Knowing that he’s probably alive but hasn’t been found makes him feel like he’s failing you, his job, and himself. Sometimes he wonders if this is still the right career for him. 

He really wants to find answers before you show up with his partner's intimidating twin again. If there’s one person in this situation who scares him the most, it’s that blonde guy with that stern look on his face. 

Where the hell did you find that guy? And why hasn’t he seen him at Usami’s family home when he’s invited over for dinner? Yeah, he’s gonna throw more of these jokes at him later. 

He gets into his car and starts to head back to the hotel to tell his partner what happened. 

⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺

It’s around midnight when Kusakabe heard his phone ring. He’s been at the desk in his hotel room for hours pouring over the same surveillance footage and trying to see if there’s anything that he missed. After telling Usami every uneventful thing that happened, he decided to spend the day in and making calls instead of hitting the ground like his partner. 

He grabs his phone and realizes that he doesn’t recognize the number, so he’s hoping that’s a good sign and then it’a a new lead. 

“Detective Kusakabe speaking.” 

“Hi there. My name is Noritoshi Kamo and I’m a doctor at Miracles Hospital. I heard you came by this morning asking about a patient.” 

“Uh, yes I was. He’s a missing person I’ve been trying to locate for some time now. Have you seen him.” He’s already bracing himself for this doctor to tell him that he can’t reveal information like that so he’s really hoping for the best. 

“Yes I have, twice in fact.” Twice??? How the hell does this guy keep slipping under the radar? He literally has white hair, is 6’3, and has the bluest eyes in the fucking world. “Yes. According to my files, he was here a little over a month ago. I wasn’t the attending physician that time though, but my colleague remembers him.” 

“And you’re sure it’s Satoru Gojo?” 

“That I can’t confirm. We only know him as ‘John Doe.’ As I’m looking over the paperwork, it seems he was injured but didn’t want to involve the police. He also chose to keep his personal information private so we respected that.”

That sentence snapped everything into place for the detective. 

“May I ask when you last saw him?” 

“Sometime within the past week. He came in with complaints of a headache. When I spoke with him, he mentioned that he’d been in here before for head pain which is obvious based on the information in his file. But the pain he was experiencing hasn’t dissipated as much as he expected so he came in for another checkup. I referred him to a specialist at another hospital for a once over. You may be able to find him there.”

Damn. This is a lot to take in.

“Can you give me the name of the hospital you sent him to?”

“I’m sending an e-mail to the one listed on your business card, it will have the name and address of where I sent him along with the contact information for my colleague he should be seeing.”

“Thank you! Thank you so much!”

“You’re welcome, have a good night detective.”

Kusakabe hangs up his phone and immediately goes to his e-mail to see where he’s being sent to next. When he opens it, his jaw drops and he rushes out of his hotel room to go bang on his partner’s door.

“Usami! Usami! Open up!”

The door swings open with a very grumpy dark haired man already over his shit standing behind it. “What’s going on? You better have found something.”

“Better. I have the address for where we should be able to find Mr. Gojo.”

Usami’s sleepy eyes widen like he can’t believe what he just heard. “Where?”

Kusakabe gives him his phone so he can see the e-mail for himself. “We’re going home. He was recommended to a neurologist in the same city we just came from.”

“If this is really the address, this is within thirty minutes of his home. It’s probably where his wife plans to give birth.”

“Yep.”

“Start packing.” 

Both detectives return to their rooms to start packing up to head back home. Both want to call and update you on the progress but the last thing they want to do is get a pregnant woman’s hopes up and then dash them within the next few days… again. They’ll wait until they get confirmation with their own eyes. 

⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺

It’s been a long couple of days since the last time you spoke to the detectives on Satoru’s case. It hasn’t been that long if you’re being honest, it’s only been like two days. But you’re exhausted. 

You’ve been through an array of emotions from sadness to grief to anger and then back to sadness and you don’t know how to feel. 

You just want some answers and you’re hoping that you’ll get some soon even if they’re not what you want to hear. 

This purgatory you’ve been living in is draining you. 

Colors don’t seem as vibrant. Movies that you like don’t seem as interesting. Food that you like doesn’t taste as good. Minor inconveniences have now felt like giant obstacles and you’re tired of what this stress is doing to you. 

You’ve always had a policy; “don’t put yourself through emotions for someone that they’re not reciprocating for you.” And you’ve always kept to that. 

If someone did you wrong in the past, you didn’t spend days being upset about it because people with no conscience don’t do that for you. 

But this is different. 

You’ve spent years with this man and now that you have to admit there’s a chance that he voluntarily left you, and it hurts. 

It’s an all consuming pain that keeps gnawing at your fucking soul. 

Not only are you filled with worry about what’s going on, but now that more potential explanations are coming up, it’s bringing you back to a negative place you crawled out of after dealing with your loser ‘ex.’ 

Well, he’s not a true ‘ex’ in the traditional sense. Satoru is the first boyfriend you ever had and to this day is still the only man you’ve ever been with. That was just the nickname Utahime gave that loser because you cringed every time you heard his real name after what he did to you. 

If you think about it, that experience should have been the first sign that Satoru liked you as more than a friend. 

You’d become friends with another male student who you shared two classes with in your third year of high school. He used to make the occasional asshole comment, but you just brushed it off. You assumed he was one of those guys who was charming even though he was kind of a dick. 

But one week, he hung out with you after school everyday working on random assignments which was something he didn’t normally do. 

Being that Satoru and Suguru were both athletes, they spent a lot of time practicing or just running track to keep in shape. Because of that, you used to go sit on the bleachers outside to read before heading home for the day. One day, that loser beat them out there and put on the nice guy facade to get close to you. But then he tried to make a move and get physical feeling as though you owed him something for his wasted time. 

Luckily, before anything happened, Satoru showed up and for lack of a better term or phrase, punched his lights out. You didn’t even realize he was there until the other guy was on the ground. 

But before Asshole of the Century walked away, he made sure to leave you with some parting words, “it all makes sense now. But don’t get too comfortable. It’s only a matter of time before he leaves you for someone better and hotter,” and then he walked away like the douche he was and probably still is. 

Even though the two of you never dated, it was your first experience of being lulled into a false sense of security only for someone to attack your insecurities so brazenly. And since all this has been going on, his words have been living rent free in your head. 

You just know that if he knows what’s going on, he’s laughing his loser ass to sleep about it claiming he was right. You just really hope that he’s wrong. 

Ugh, what the hell did you used to do in your free time? When you were younger, you always loved staying in and avoiding over stimulating places. But now being home with too much time on your hands feels like a punishment. Especially considering the fact that negative events from your life keep playing on repeat for no apparent reason. 

“Nap time it is!” you say to yourself. That’s become your new hobby because every time you feel like you’re getting back to normal, you get a phone call that throws all of that out the window. 

Just as you’re getting comfortable in bed with your avocado squishmallow that you so creatively named Avocado-y, your phone rings. 

“I swear if this is some bullshit, I’m gonna throw this thing at the fucking wall,” you mumble to yourself. 

It’s Utahime, that’s now who you were expecting randomly in the middle of the day. “Hello?”

She yells your name into the phone, again! It’s probably time to start switching ears when he calls to at least make the hearing loss even. “You have to get to the hospital now!”

That freaks you the fuck out. “Is this one of those ‘the call is coming from inside the house things?’”

“No! I just got a text from Shoko that Satoru is at the hospital!”

What. There’s no way.

“Are you sure? Did she see him? How does she know for sure?” You’re trying not to get your hopes up without confirmation first. 

“She couldn’t give too much information. This is what her text said; Satoru’s here. Nurse recognized him when file landed on her desk. Can’t check myself, have to assist another physician. I’ll call when I’m done.’

Have you heard anything from the detectives?”

As a matter of fact, you haven’t. “No, but if he just got there, I probably wouldn’t. They were out of town looking for him. Why would he just randomly show back up here?” You definitely have questions. 

“Who knows? But visiting hours open up in two hours so we should go! I’ll start making calls.” 

“Okay, I’ll start getting ready.” 

With that, you hang up. You’re shaking from the spike in nerves. All you’ve wanted was a call like this for what feels like forever. But the fact that he’s so close to you and isn’t reaching out says a lot.

“Suguru!” 

Fuck, you did it again. You didn’t realize how your tone sounded until the doorknob bashed into your wall, again. Okay, now you owe him two favors or gifts.

He throws your bedroom door open, once again looking terrified that something happened to you. Maybe you should pay for his vacation. He could use one after dealing with your shit.

“Are you okay?” 

“Satoru is at the hospital.”

He’s staring at you like you just said the craziest thing in the world. “The hospital? Which hospital?”

“Shoko’s. Apparently a nurse recognized him. She hasn’t been able to confirm it herself just yet. More of a ‘word of mouth’ situation.”

“Well, let’s go confirm it for ourselves then.”

⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺

An hour and a half goes by of you taking a shower, doing your hair and makeup, getting dressed, and now you’re in Kento’s car with him, Suguru, and Choso. Everyone decided to leave work early today to go find out what’s going on. This is the closest anyone has been to him and even if it’s a mistake, everyone wants to see for themselves. Utahime is arriving separately with Yu and then it’s just a waiting game. 

“You look nice,” Kento says, briefly looking at you. “It’s been a while since I’ve seen you get so dolled up.”

He’s right. You’ve been doing the bare minimum when you need to leave the house. This is the first time you put a little glam into your look in quite some time. 

“Thank you. I know that it may not be him, but in case it is, I wanted to look nice. He got me this entire outfit actually.” 

You’re wearing a powder blue, long sleeve, mock turtleneck, dress that goes to your mid thigh. And you paired with a double breasted trench coat in the same color, ankle boots, and nude tights. You and Satoru have been through quite the fashion evolution and one phase used to be wearing multiple pieces, but all in the same color. You straightened your hair, painted a smokey eye, and used a matte lipstick for a not so over the top look. Especially because you didn’t have that much time to get ready. 

You hate to admit it, but you’re excited. It’s the first time you’ve felt that way since you told Satoru that you were pregnant. 

“Do we have everything?” You asked the group. You’re not sure if it’s really him, but you wanted to bring some things in case it is.

You got him a new phone after his was destroyed and then confiscated by police. You even loaded all his old information on there so he didn’t have to start fresh. You brought one of his robes from home and a couple of sweaters because there’s no telling how long he’ll be in the hospital, if it is him. And then of course, a bag of different kinds of candies. 

You feel Choso’s hand on your shoulder, but it’s Suguru who says, “relax. We have everything. You look great. Everything will be fine. We’re just checking to see if it’s him.” 

He’s right. But you’re that person who when you make a list of things, you check it like thirty nine times. 

Once Kento puts the car into park, that’s when you realize where you are. You don’t know how you zoned out for the rest of the ride but you really hope that becomes a thing of the past. “Everyone ready?” He asks.

All of you nod and start getting out of the car. You lock arms with Kento and the four of you start walking into the hospital in pairs. You notice that Utahime isn’t around so you’ll just have to update her on what’s going on later. 

As you approach the desk, you recognize the receptionist as a young woman that Shoko introduced you to one day. She smiles and greets you as you get closer. 

“Hey Nobara! I know we’re a little early for visiting hours, but I was wondering if there was a way we could see Satoru?” You phrase it as a question to not come off too aggressive. 

But one thing catches your attention, it’s the receptionist behind her who looks at you like… you don’t even know what. It’s almost like she’s surprised to see you. You don’t recognize her, but quite a few people here know you and vice versa due to you bringing Shoko lunch so often. It leaves a bad taste in your mouth, that’s for sure.

“Gojo? He’s here?” She looks perplexed. “I thought he was missing.”

“Still is, technically, I think.” You’re struggling to get this out properly. “But according to Shoko, a few nurses recognized him today.” 

“Oh okay, lemme make a call.” 

You go to sit down in between Choso and Suguru because something is bothering you.

“Did anybody else see that?”

“What? You mean the look of shock on that woman’s face when you asked to see your husband? Yeah, I did, she wouldn’t be good at playing poker,” Suguru responds.

The four of you sit in silence for a couple of minutes waiting for a response from Nobara. But one thing you do notice, is that one nameless receptionist has tried sneaking looks at you at least twice. If you’re being completely honest, it’s starting to piss you off. 

Just as you’re really letting it get on your nerves, Nobara calls you over to the desk.

“Okay, here’s what I got. The attending physician really doesn’t want him having too many guests right now based on the reasons he came in in the first place. But, as the wife, they’ll allow you in because you need to be briefed on his condition.” His. WHAT?

“I’m sorry, what condition would that be?” You hate that you asked her like it was co-worker gossip but you were unprepared for that response.

“I don’t know, you’ll have to ask when you get up there. Here’s a sticker!” She hands you one of those visitor passes that you write your name on and her smile makes you smile. “She’ll walk you to his room.” Then she points at the receptionist who you kinda wanna throw hands with.

Time to put on the fake customer service smile, “oh great, thank you!”

Before you walk away with her, you turn to the rest of your group. To tell them what’s going on. They all look like they’re going to shit themselves, but for different reasons. They wish you luck and then you start the walk up to Satoru’s room. 

Before you got here, you were questioning if it was really him. But now that you’ve asked for him by name and they’re taking you to him, you believe that’s all the confirmation you need. You really wish that you could have brought at least one person with you though.

Satoru is up on the fifth floor which means that you have to take this old ass elevator up there. You’d really think a hospital would have something that looked a bit safer. As the doors close, you see Shoko walking over to the guys but you can’t hear what she’s saying. 

Once the elevator arrives at the fifth floor, the doors open, and you and the receptionist begin walking down the long ass hallway of patients rooms. You really wish you knew the floor was going to be this quiet because your heels are click clacking loud and the sound is bouncing off all the walls. 

You stop at a room with the number twenty four on a placard next to the door. “This is his room.” That’s all she says before she smirks and walks away.

Bitch.

You were really trying not to think that way but what the fuck is her problem? 

You stand outside the door for a moment trying to calm your nerves. You didn’t think you’d feel like this once you faced the possibility of seeing him again but you feel like your whole body is on vibrate. 

You don’t want to be rude so you knock on the door and wait a few seconds for a response. You hear a ‘come in’ from the other side and you recognize that voice. It’s Satoru’s, for sure.

Once you start to slowly open the door you hear voices from inside, but can’t make out the other person. 

You walk inside and at first all you can see is a window, a curtain that’s been pulled back, and the foot of a bed. You decide to focus your eyes there first assuming that that’s where the patient would be. 

Once it comes completely into view, you freeze, and your heart stops.

It’s him.

It’s your husband. 

It’s your husband in a fucking hospital bed. 

He looks up and his bright blue eyes focus on yours. His jaw drops open and only one word leaves his mouth, “wow.” 

It was a good idea to wear this outfit.

“Satoru! Oh my god!” You walk over to him and he’s just smiling at you, just as beautiful as always. You throw your arms around him and feel him start to put his arms around you as well, a little hesitant at first.

“Hi,” that’s all he says. But that’s fine with you because you just spent so much time wondering if he was even alive. But here he is and it’s such a relief.

You pull back a bit to look at him but then lean in to kiss him and that’s when he pulls away and it feels like a dagger in your heart. But, he’s been through a lot and you don’t want to pressure him. Who knows what’s going on inside him right now? 

Right after that happens, you hear it, the bathroom door opens and you hear a voice,  “oooohhhh, pretty girl. Who’s she?” 

You look up and see a woman. A fucking woman. Do you have to fight every woman in this hospital for fuck’s sake? 

She’s tall, beautiful, and looks like she should be on set for a Cosmopolitan photoshoot instead of hanging out in a hospital room. Not only is she statuesque, but she has long icy hair and cat-like eyes. If you looked like that, you would definitely be scamming rich old men out of their money. Just saying. 

But before you can get lost in staring at her for too long, you hear him respond to her question, “I don’t know.” 

He doesn’t know. Doesn’t know you? You’re his fucking wife. 

Before you have a chance to say that, the door to his room opens again, a tanned man with a goatee and wearing a lab coat enters his room. He looks to the three of you and you can see it in his face, it’s like he’d rather be anywhere but here.

He steps over to you and reaches out his hand to shake yours, “Mr.s Gojo, I presume?” 

Ooooohhh the petty princess in you is loving this man right now. 

“Yes, that’s me,” you respond with a bright smile. You don’t want him to sense that you were about to throw some beads on the floor and get yourself banned from Shoko’s place of work. 

He then turns to the other woman with a raised brow, “who are you then?”

She wastes no time in attempting to steal the spotlight, “I’m Mei, I’m his gir–.”

“Friend! She’s my friend,” Satoru interjects before she can finish that sentence.

He may not know who you are but he still feels like he’s in trouble so that’s interesting. 

“Well I’m sorry ma’am, I only want family here for the time being. There’s a lot going on and I’d like to keep the visitors to a minimum,” the doctor says. Thank goodness.

When you look over at her, she looks pissed. Good. 

She slowly stands up, grabs her purse, puts her hand on your husband’s shoulder and says, “just call me when you need me. I’ll be there.” She made sure to emphasize the words ‘need’ and ‘I’ll be there.’ 

You really want to punch her in the face. She slowly walks out of the room like she’s expecting someone to tell her to come back but fuck that.

Once she’s out of the room and the door closes, the doctor starts to speak again, “I’m Dr. Masamichi Yaga and I’m a Neurologist here. Your husband was admitted after being referred by a colleague of mine from another hospital. He’s been voicing some concern about migraines brought on by an injury but worried because they haven’t dissipated even though the injury has healed. We’re going to run some tests to make sure there’s no internal damage that requires surgery to heal. So that’s everything we’re going to do on our end. I’m here to discuss what you need to do on yours.”

“On mine?” That threw you. You weren’t there for the injury and this is the first time you’re seeing him.

“Yes. Your husband is suffering from what I believe is post-traumatic amnesia. It may take some time, but I have some ideas on what you can do to help him recall his memories.”

Shut. The. Fuck. Up.

Amnesia?

 It all makes sense now. 

[stripedstarsblueflags]

Sunshine boy

Word count: 3.5k

Pairing: Landoscar

Rating: T for substance use

caught in the rain

omg did blueflags just write fluff?

“Wait, wait, hold on,” Oscar says. “Remind me how you got this number?”

On the other end of the line, Max Fewtrell is not amused. “Mate, I’ve had it,” he grumbles, huffing into the speaker like he’s struggling with something. Oscar winces at the static and pulls the phone away from his ear. “And, seriously, you’re worried about that now? We’ve got bigger problems.”

From the background, a giggling voice slurs, “Hi Osc!”

Oscar allows himself one second of blushing and butterflies at hearing Lando’s voice; then Max’s concern spreads to him as well. He listens as Max attempts to calm him down from… whatever’s going on. “Hey, Lando, come on, look at me… take some deep breaths– no, no, don’t eat that–”

“What’s going on?” Oscar interjects, standing up and pacing. His anxiety is immediately conjuring up worst-case scenarios, and it’s not helping. He walks to the window and looks out at the night outside; some fresh air would be nice, but it’s been absolutely pouring for the last few hours and shows no signs of abating now. “Is he okay?”

“I’m okay!” Lando sings, so loud into the speaker that Oscar flinches and nearly drops the phone. There’s some more scuffling on their line, presumably as Max swipes his phone back. “He’s not,” Max contradicts firmly as Lando whines petulantly in the background. He has to raise his voice over a white-noise roar in the background, Oscar notes.

“Did he take something?” Oscar asks. He looks to the front door where he’s left his shoes. He thinks about driving fast in this kind of rain– it’s not that he can’t do it, it’s that none of the other drivers on the road can. “And where are you guys?”

“I found him in a park, stoned out of his mind,” Max tells him. The roar in the background gets louder, like a busy street. “I don’t know who he was smoking with, he’s not really giving me complete sentences, but–”

“That’s because you’re not nice,” Lando complains. “See? That’s complete. Tha’s very complete…”

As worried as he is, Oscar can’t help but feel an almost painful sense of endearment. As cute as he is, though, Lando has apparently had some lapses of judgement tonight.

“Are you outside?” Oscar asks, just as a roll of thunder rumbles overhead. “In this?”

“That’s what I’m trying to tell you,” Max says, urgency creeping into his tone. “He’s locked out. No keys, no wallet. He called me on a payphone. I mean, thank god I know his spots…”

Oscar swears under his breath. He can’t take his eyes away from the storm outside, the way the rain slices through the air in cold sheets and spills over rooftops with whitewater force. “Okay, okay,” he says, mostly to himself as he tries to thinks. “You drove there, right? Can you at least–”

“We’re walking to my car right now,” Max confirms. “And normally I’d just let him crash at mine, but I’ve got family visiting this weekend. They can’t see him like this. Fuck, Lando, I told you to keep your arm around my shoulders– sorry,” Max apologizes. “He’s a lot to handle right now. Listen, Oscar, I’ve already called half a dozen people. If there was anyone else, I wouldn’t–”

Oscar puts the pieces together over Max’s fumbling. “You want to drop him off at mine?”

“I’ve got a spare,” Max says quickly, talking in a rush like he’s scared Oscar will hang up. “Somewhere, I mean. I didn’t have time to find it before I went out to get him, I can go back to my place and look for it properly but I don’t know how long that’s gonna take and I don’t want to leave him alone in the car too long and–”

“Max, it’s fine,” Oscar interrupts. It’s only when Max sighs, full of relief, that he starts wrapping his head around what he’s just agreed to.

“Thank you,” Max tells him sincerely. “You’re a good guy, Oscar. Knew I could count on you.”

Oscar bites his lip against the sudden warmth in his face, overwhelmed by the compliment, and tries to push his embarrassment aside. “Right,” he mutters. “Um, don’t mention it. How far away are you?”

“I need your address, first.”

Lando, sounding no less coherent, pipes up: “‘S in my phone already.”

“What?” Oscar and Max say at the same time.

“Lando, you don’t have your phone,” Max reminds him. Then, to Oscar: “Why does he have your address?”

“Um–” Oscar is uncharacteristically flustered at the interrogative tone in Max’s voice, which seems to imply something far beyond the mundane situation. “Uh, he dropped me off from padel, once, we were playing with–”

“Okay, yeah,” Max concedes. Whatever that edge was in his voice (suspiciously like jealousy) is smoothed out before Oscar can make sense of it. “Listen, just text me your address and I’ll tell you when we’re close. Also, uh–” Max clears his throat. “He’s, like, soaking wet, so–”

“I’ll take care of him,” Oscar assures him.

“Oscooooo,” Lando coos happily.

He hears Max open a car door, and the call ends sometimes in the midst of Max trying to manhandle Lando into the passenger seat, which is a relief. Oscar doesn’t think he can say a single word without stammering now.f

If Lando sounded out of it on the phone, Oscar is definitely not prepared for what’s standing on his doorstep.

Both Max and Lando are drenched to the bone, water pooling under their shoes and into the hallway carpet. Max must’ve given one of his layers to Lando because he’s only wearing a t-shirt, which is plastered to his skin and nearly transparent. Despite the extra jumper, Lando’s shaking so badly that Max has to hold him upright.

“Shit,” Oscar say. “You guys look terrible.”

“Nice to see you too, Oscar,” Max grumbles, slinging Lando’s arm over his shoulders right before he starts sliding.

“Nice to see you, Oscar,” Lando mimicks dopily, eyes glazed. His cheeks and the bridge of his nose are a blotchy red like he’s been badly sunburnt, while the rest of his skin is frighteningly pale. His teeth are chattering too hard for him to keep his mouth closed, and there’s a slight glisten of drool on his chin

Oscar quickly opens the door wider and beckons them both inside. Max struggles to get Lando to coordinate his feet enough to walk; Oscar reaches out instinctively, then immediately draws his hands back like he’s been burned. He aches watching the two of them struggle, but it’s one thing to agree to help Lando, and quite another to… what, cradle him? Carry him? Surely if Lando were sober he’d have objections–

“Did, uh,” he starts eloquently. “Did he, like, OD? Is that even a thing with weed?”

Max shakes his head and braces himself against a wall so he can adjust his grip on Lando’s waist. Lando watches the dark handprint spread under his palm and drip rainwater onto the carpet, mesmerized.

“He didn’t, and no,” Max says, in answer to Oscar’s questions. “But his tolerance is practically nonexistent. Worst I’ve ever seen. And knowing him he probably forgot to eat…”

“Sorry,” Lando mumbles, confirming.

Max sighs. “We’re gonna have a talk about this, you and I. Don’t think you get off easy just cause you’re with Oscar.”

Oscar’s taken aback, but before he can begin to wrap his head around what that might mean, Max nods at him. “Thanks again for your help. I’ll be back as soon as I can to take him home, just gotta remember where I left that fucking key.”

“Okay.” Max is clearly exhausted. Oscar finally reaches out without second-guessing himself; Max looks at him gratefully before stepping closer and finally shifting Lando’s dead weight from his own arms to Oscar’s.

Lando stumbles, nearly knocking them both off balance, and then curls into Oscar immediately. Oscar flinches and draws in a sharp breath; it’s like hugging a block of ice. Lando is absolutely freezing, and his rain-drenched clothes are quickly soaking Oscar as well. He shivers so hard Oscar can hear the spasm in his breathing, everything too tense for him to catch his breath. He closes his eyes and makes a sound like a mewling kitten and burrows into Oscar’s chest, tucking his face into his shirt.

”You got him?” Max asks, flicking water out of his eyes.

Oscar’s got him. One arm wraps firmly around Lando’s waist, maintaining their balance despite the actual pain his bare skin experiences from how cold Lando is, and the other cups the back of his head in his hand and draws his face closer to his own body heat. Lando hums against him, and Oscar can feel the vibration at the base of his sternum.

“Yeah,” Oscar answers belatedly. “I can find some clothes for him, something comfy…”

“Good. You do that.” Max gives him one pained smile, failing to suppress his own shudders, and steps back over the threshold. “I owe you one.”

Before Oscar can explain that Max doesn’t owe him anything, that he’s happy to help, that he would’ve offered without being asked if he’d have known, that’s he’s actually rather irritated that he wasn’t higher up on the list of people Max had called, come to think of it–

Max leaves, closing the door behind him.

Oscar is left alone with a very cold, very wet, very stoned Lando Norris.

Lando’s ragged breathing is the loudest noise in the flat. He’s squirming in Oscar’s arms, nuzzling insistently at his chest like he’s trying to climb inside of Oscar. His hands are so cold they leave painful stinging impressions wherever they touch Oscar’s skin.

“God, Lando,” Oscar murmurs. “You’re freezing.”

Stating the obvious. Lando moans miserably in agreement.

“Yep, okay. Follow me. Uh, can you walk?”

Apparently Lando can, as long as he’s allowed to cling to Oscar like a giant half-frozen octopus at the same time. The walk down the hall to the bedroom is agonizingly slow, but every time Oscar tries to detach himself to get them both moving quicker Lando cries out. He’s very much not in his right mind, but he still sounds so pained that Oscar lets himself be nearly frozen along with him in the simple quest to get to the end of the hall.

He has to physically pry Lando’s arms off him in order to sit him on the bed. Lando whines and reaches out into the air, trying to pull him back and missing atrociously. Oscar peers into his eyes; there’s not a spark of recognition or self-awareness. All Lando understands is that he’s cold, and the only bit of warmth is going away.

”Lando, please, just stay here,” Oscar pleads, only belatedly realizing he’s using the same voice he used with their family dog. “I promise I’ll be right back, I just need to get some extra clothes for you, okay? Something warm.”

“Mm’kay,” Lando mumbles, nodding too many times. He wraps his arms around himself, but his strength is visibly fading. His lips have darkened to a bruise-like blue. Not a good sign.

“Stay here.” Oscar moves quickly, digging through his drawers to find the warmest possible outfit. He gathers everything he needs and turns back to Lando, sitting near-catatonic on his bed, and stalls.

“Um,” he says, clearing his throat when Lando shows no response. “Hey. Lando.”

A flicker of awareness. Lando’s eyes focus on him for a split second, then cross.

Oscar approaches him, tentatively holding out the clothes like he’s holding out a treat to a stray dog. “Bathroom’s over there,” he says, gesturing with his chin. When Lando doesn’t react, he adds, “You need to get out of these clothes. You’re soaked, you’re gonna get sick.”

To his relief, Lando finally seems to hear him; unfortunately, some crucial parts of the sentence have evidently been missed as Lando starts trying to wriggle out of his shirts right there.

“Woah, uh, you sure–“ Oscar squeezes his eyes shut, which is stupid since Lando’s got so many layers on that he’s not even a little indecent, but he finds it easier to talk without looking. “You sure you want to do that here? And not in the bathroom? Or I could like, step out and–”

”No-o-o-!” Landos’ voice is so broken by shivers that Oscar’s resolve simply melts. He steps forward to help his friend.

It’s a lot quicker with the two of them working together. When Oscar finally pulls Lando’s last shirt over his head, exposing his bare chest and arms, he makes such a pained yelp that Oscar scrambles to get the dry clothes on him like he’s being timed.

With a lot of fumbling and strategically averted glances, they finally manage to get Lando completely redressed. His hair is still dripping, but he looks much more comfortable in fleece pajama pants and a hoodie so big it goes down to his thighs. His fingers don’t even reach past the sleeves; it looks like he’s got big paws instead, floppy when he reaches for the hood and pulls it up.

Oscar’s teased Lando about their height difference a few times, but right now he looks tiny. Red-rimmed eyes blinking up at him from the shadow of the hood, shoulders all but swallowed up in the fabric, hands tucked primly inside the sleeves as Lando rocks on his heels.

It feels only natural when Oscar opens his arms and welcomes Lando back into his embrace. Lando, to his credit, seems a lot more coordinated now that he’s not wearing half his weight in rainwater. He slides his arms under Oscar’s and holds him around the waist, letting his head rest on Oscar’s chest like it’s his new favorite pillow. “Thanks, Osc,” he sighs contentedly.

The nickname that can seem so mundane in the media activities feels suddenly, vulnerably intimate. Well, Lando’s never said it with his lips pressed right up against him, has he?

To distract himself, he tries to focus on just getting Lando away from the brink of hypothermia. He tightens his grip and rubs up and down his back with open palms. “You’re still so cold,” he frets, just to have something to say.

“Nmshph’ you,” Lando protests.

Oscar places his warm hand over the back of Lando’s neck, still refrigerator-cold. “What was that?” he asks.

Lando mouths at empty air a few times before he speaks, like he’s trying to form the sentence before his mind is ready. “I said ‘Not with you’,” he answers.

Oscar inhales a little too sharply.

This does not mean anything this does not mean anything this does not–

He just needs to keep the tremor out of his voice. He just needs to be normal about this.

He closes his eyes. “Yeah, you’re right. I’ll keep you warm.”

To describe Lando’s response as anything other than a purr would be simply delusional.

Oscar’s hands move without his permission, seeking up to run shaky fingers through Lando’s hair. He’s careful to be gentle around the tangles. It’s still wet, but no longer dripping in small waterfalls into his eyes, so that’s an improvement. Lando sways his head from side to side, like he’s encouraging Oscar to keep going.

So he does. Lando’s breathing evens out, the shivering smoothed over. His eyes flutter shut.

“Do you want to lie down?” Oscar asks.

Lando nods tiredly against his chest, so he carefully walks them both over to the bed. Stripping back the covers proves to be a challenge, because Lando is putting more and more weight on him by the minute. His shoulder is starting to cramp up, an unpleasant stiffness making its way into his neck.

“Lando,” he huffs tiredly. “This would be easier if you could just step ba–”

“So pretty,” Lando murmurs.

Now Oscar might be the one turning to ice, with how quickly his whole body falls into stillness. “Uh,” he begins gracelessly, a pillow slipping out of his hands and back onto the mattress with a thwump that makes Lando giggle. “Erm, what was that?”

He’s asking in the confused, self-denying hope that Lando will either realize he didn’t mean what he just said or will have forgotten the thought entirely. No such luck, though, as Lando finally leans against the bed and allows Oscar’s shoulder a much-needed respite. He turns a bit and tries to arch his back to lean away from Oscar without completely detaching himself, but he doesn’t quite have the coordination. Like it’s the most natural thing in the world, he places his sweater paws on Oscar’s waist.

Looking down at the position, Oscar’s brain short-circuits.

It looks like they’re dancing. Not even in an elegant, romantic way, more like two school kids who are trying not to get caught by the chaperone.

Oscar brings his eyes back to Lando’s upturned face, bedsheets all but forgotten. Lando still looks so small, swimming in Oscar’s clothes, looking up dazedly through his eyelashes. The smile flickering on his lips could light up the whole room. “You’re so pretty,” he hums contentedly. “What are we doing?”

“What?” Oscar snaps himself out of it seconds after the question leaves his mouth; he does not need to give Lando any more prompting. His face is burning. He’s a little out of breath. He needs to find some way to neutralize this situation, to get himself and his own live-wire feelings away from this…. what, danger? temptation?

“We,” he says, answering Lando and talking over his own spiraling stream of consciousness, “are getting you ready for bed. And then Max is going to come back and take you home.”

“Tu tu tu tu…”

“No, not that Max. The other Max.”

Lando nods sleepily and, to Oscar’s immense relief, finally starts climbing into the bed. Oscar puts his hands behind his head so he doesn’t death-drop it into the wall.

Then Lando’s brow furrows. “Why?”

“Wh– because he has a key. To your flat.”

Lando shakes his head. “Why,” he repeats again with a petulant frown. “Got a bed right here.”

Oscar swallows. “Yeah, but that’s my bed.”

Lando shakes his head again and opens his mouth like he wants to argue, but instead settles for reaching into the air and making weak grabby hands for Oscar. “‘s your bed,” he reasons.

Oscar allows himself a split second of imagination: the two of them, curled together under the covers, the whole room blanketed in the shushing sounds of the rain outside. Lando curling into him like he’s finding some sort of sanctuary in Oscar’s arms.

Then he decides his best escape plan is going to be lying through his teeth: “Um, that’s okay, actually, I’m not tired…”

“Yeah, but I am.”

Something about that last sentence sounds scarily sober all of the sudden. Oscar peers into Lando’s eyes, trying to discern the bloodshot threads that mean the drug still has a dominant hold over his mind. In the dim lamplight of his bedroom, it’s hard to tell. Lando seems to like the attention, though, staring back with what can only be described as awe.

“Pretty,” he whispers, his voice barely audible on the edge of a sleepy exhale. His eyelids are starting to slide shut, slow and heavy as syrup. “Come to bed.”

He sounds tired, but he doesn’t sound nearly as out of it as he did even ten minutes ago.

Something between excitement and panic ignites in Oscar’s chest like a gas fire. His mind races two steps ahead of him, providing an onslaught of horrifying what-ifs: what if Lando comes to his senses and pushes him out of the bed, what if he realizes what’s going on and thinks Oscar is trying to insinuate something, what if he changes his mind about what he means when he’s obviously delirious and half-frozen to death, what––

What if he means it?

Whatever the case, the regretful, abrasive Lando in Oscar’s head is nothing compared to what’s curled up in his bed right now. Longing eyes, reaching hands. Rain-matted curls making little loop-shaped impressions on the pillowcase.

Who would he be to say no?

Oscar climbs carefully into the bed.

His initial plans to stay within the narrow strip of space between Lando and the edge of the bed are dashed immediately.

Lando finds him under the blankets and goes full koala. Within seconds of lying down he’s wrapped in so much Lando that the blankets feel like an afterthought. Lando’s practically lying on top of him.

Oscar tries to keep his breathing under control. He can’t remember the last time he was this close to… well, anyone. Their legs are entwined. Lando’s arm is slung across his waist, head back on his chest like he could build a home there.

And the thing is, it doesn’t feel dangerous. It doesn’t feel like temptation.

There’s no fear here, no second-guessing anxiety or hysterical self doubt.

He’s under the covers with Lando, and it feels right.

Lando’s still a little cold. Oscar shifts up just enough to free one of his arms and wrap it around Lando’s shoulders. Lando curls into him, purring again.

It’s nice.

“Thanks, Osc,” Lando sighs, voice muffled by Oscar’s shirt.

Oscar finds his free hand lifting to card through Lando’s hair again. He can’t help it. “Yeah,” he says as Lando nestles in, savoring all the warmth Oscar has to give, “anytime.”

[huskynotwolf]

Convexian Hitman AU

Part 1 I guess

AU by @tibbycaps/ @tibby-art

Written by @thecrazyhusky

(I mixed in dsmp, it’s more fun with those swearing idiots :D )

Mission: Find and destroy target’s weapon supply (target’s name is Tubbo and Jack Manifold)

Cub’s PoV

“I want you to destroy his weapons.” Doc looked at us, dead serious.

We (me and Scar) were in the NHO’s conference room, listening to Bdubs rant about this new case we had to deal with. Scar had already yawned at least two times and I had grabbed every single one of their cans of carbonated drinks or whatever at the table and shook them so hard they looked like ticking bombs. Etho was also eyeing us with much suspicion, and I suspected he was up to something.

“All of them?” I asked.

“All of them.” The goat-creeper confirmed. “He was some sort of former president of a country. He’s got some ass-load of explosives. Specifically, bombs. Lots of those.”

“Ah.” Scar smiled. “Big boom.”

“Really?” I looked at him.

“And here are the conditions, since you three are definitely gonna loophole out of this.” Doc growled.

“You have to get this done by this week, which is three days. No eating anyone, and I mean anyone. You find those explosives, disable them, then leave. Nothing else. I don’t want those Snowchester people come fighting with nukes.”

I raised an eyebrow. “They got nukes?”

Scar sniggered. I kicked him.

Doc glared at my fellow Vex. “And bring Grian. He’ll be of use.”

“Grian? You sure?” I asked.

“Yes.” Doc grunted. “And you better get the job done. Go. Now.” He said.

I nodded, grabbed Scar’s wrist and dragged him out of the conference room, heading down to Grian’s “office”, while hearing Bdubs and Beef screech loudly along to the sounds of soda exploding. I allowed myself a slight smile.

“Dang it. Should’ve rigged ‘em better.” I said.

Scar gave me a look. “Don’t tell me you shook all of them.”

“I did. But I could’ve just fitted them with grenades instead.” I replied, taking a left turn down the hallway.

We found her studying a file about Tubbo.

“Hey.” She greeted us, not looking up.

“Hiya. You ready?” I asked.

Since Grian has her Watcher powers, she could technically see us coming, so I assumed she was already prepared.

“Let’s just go. Tango yelled at me earlier. I want to get out of here as soon as possible.” She stood up, then walked towards us.

“Tango? Why?” Scar asked.

“None of your concern.” She shrugged.

We headed out the door, taking the lift down, then exiting the building. As soon as we stepped out, Grian winced.

“You okay?” I asked her.

“Y-yeah,” she replied. “It’s just…overwhelming.”

“Hmm.” I shot a glance at Scar. “Scar, you got the map? Coords, at least?”

“Ask the all-seeing.” He pointed at Grian. Grian made a low growling sound.

“Wow, I though you prepped.” She muttered under her breath.

“Yes, I have the map. It’s in my head.” She raised her voice.

“Great!” Scar smiled. “Let’s go, then.”

I leaned closer to Grian. “You okay, dude?”

She nodded. “Yeah. I’m fine. It’s fine. Everything’s…” she exhaled. “Alright.”

“Good.” I said, then secretly kicked Scar. The man glared at me but I didn’t reply.

“Let’s go.”

***

“We gonna take a subway. Then a cross-country train. Then another high-speed railroad.” I said, laying down a drawn map.

“Snowchester’s all the way out there, so we probably need to either stop to eat on the way, or we have to bring food.” I rolled up the map and shoved it in my pack.

Scar rolled his eyes. “You’re concerned about eating?”

“Grian needs to eat as well.” I hissed.

I had shoved the three of us into a Seven Eleven’s, where my reason was, “we need substance.”

Grian nudged Scar. “Here’s the thing, bud. We don’t have money. How-“

I waved a five dollar bill I snatched from someone. “Steal.”

“Did you get his whole wallet?” Scar asked, his eyes glinting mischievously.

I gave a low chuckle. “Duh I did.” I held out the stolen wallet. Scar sniggered. “This guy’s got a hundred and fifty.”

Grian gave us a look of annoyance and frustration. “You know it’s illegal to steal, right?”

Scar materialised behind her, making her jump. “Nah. It’s fine.”

Grian narrowed his eyes at him but didn’t snap back a comment.

I handed Scar about thirty dollars worth of bills. “Grian, you can go with Scar to buy food.” She shot me a dirty look, got up and disappeared behind the aisles with the Vex.

I took out twenty and nabbed a sandwich and two bottles of water, in which to avoid getting yelled at by Grian, I payed for it instead of stealing it.

Though I will admit I stole a can of Sprite.

Yeah. Maybe.

Grian bought coffee and milk tea (where did she find that?) and Scar bought a bun and bottled Cola, though I could tell he didn’t intend to drink it, he’s just gonna prank me with it.

As we left that store, I searched for enough money to get us to the subway station. Six dollars to get in, then they needed eighteen. I decided not to give them the coins and bills yet, as Scar had a tendency to lose things.

Very, very often.

We headed to the subway station, while Grian kept cautiously looking around for signs of danger. However, despite this, Scar seemed extremely carefree.

“G, man, there’s nothing to worry ‘bout. It’s not like someone would just suddenly drop down and try and kill us, right?” He said to no one in particular.

“Don’t jinx it.” She huffed. “I see something. Though I can’t pinpoint where it is.”

I approached the subway tunnel, with the two nitwits trailing behind. “Yeah, something’s definitely wrong. I can feel it.”

I stepped down the stair, then halted when something whizzed past me and embedded itself into the wall with a thunk.

“Honestly, Foolish, how bad can your aim be!” I heard a yell. The three of us swivelled our heads towards the noise, and standing on the side of the street, armed with crossbows, were two deranged-looking people. At least that’s what the first word that came to my head when I saw them.

The one who shot the projectile, Foolish, looked suspiciously like a totem of undying, and it made me question whenever he’s an actual totem or not. His friend was a girl who wore dark sunglasses and had long streaks of hair running down both sides of her head. What she wore screamed pirate in every way.

Grian sighed. “Scar, you jinxed it.”

Scar glared at her. “No I didn’t!”

I slapped Scar before he could argue any further and hissed, “don’t make the situation worse, dumbass!” and marched towards the pair with crossbows. Scar gave me an offended look but I knew he was playing around for fun.

“What do you want?” I demanded.

Foolish looked at me. “You don’t have the authority to order me around.” He said.

“You just tried to kill me. Are you hitmen?” I snapped.

His friend glared at me. “You were trying to destroy our military.”

Grian and Scar came up from behind. “What do you know about that?” Grian challenged.

“I know for a fact that you were sent to destroy our nukes. We’re from Snowchester, mind you.” The girl growled.

Grian suddenly looked like he was lost in thought. Scar stared at her, then shook her to try snap her out of her trance, but did nothing except from earning a well-deserved smack in the face by her.

“Well, we don’t really care about who sent you. This is about our country’s safety. You back off, or we’ll make you.” Sunglasses Girl said, raising her crossbow.

I processed her words, then turned to Scar. “Wait, if we die, is our contract technically broken?”

He paused. “Wait…you know what? You’re right! We can just let ‘em kill us!”

“But do we like, reincarnate or something? What do you think we’d be-“

Sunglasses Girl facepalmed. “No-that’s not what I meant! I don’t want anyone dead!”

Foolish nudged her. “Whatever, Puffy. They’re not part of our nation.”

Grian shook her head. “You have your own problems. Deal with whoever the fuck Dream is first, then come back and kill us. Besides, Tubbo is a literal threat to society.” She said. “You shouldn’t be listening to that menace.”

Puffy, aka Sunglasses Girl, looked promptly taken aback by Grian’s comment. “How do you know about Dream?”

“Can we take this conversation somewhere else? We’re attracting quite a lot of unwanted attention.” Grian interrupted. “One dude who passed by thought you were a terrorist.”

Foolish and Puffy took a while to discuss, and as soon as they took their eyes off the us and Grian, I took out the stolen can of Sprite, shook it hard, opened it (but barely) then yeeted it at Foolish. It landed on the ground and the entire can burst like a grenade, spewing soda everywhere.

We bolted for it, making a beeline for the subway station, with Scar mainly being dragged all the way. By the time the pair from Snowchester realised what’s happening, we were already down the subway and had managed to get into the train already.

“Ok, that was…awkward.” Grian panted, slightly out of breath.

I grunted. “Whatever. You shouldn’t have told them about your powers.”

She shook her head. “I…sorry.” She muttered.

“Eh. We could go back and kill them both.” I shrugged.

Scar nodded. “Actually, yeah. I would love to do that.”

Grian paled. “No you don’t!” She cried. “Why must you always kill people left and right?”

Both of us Vexes turned their piercing gaze at her. She immediately shut up and sank into the seat.

“Can I kill Tubbo?” Scar asked.

“No,” Grian and I said almost simultaneously. I gave her a look but she said nothing.

“Aww.” He huffed. “I’m bored.”

“You won’t be when we reach the border.” Grian said.

“What?” I asked. “Are you talking about…the border between the city and Greater Dream SMP or whatever that place is called?”

She nodded. “You know we don’t have our IDs or passports. It’s gonna be a wild chase with the border guards there.”

“Ooo, what do they do?” Scat asked.

Grian groaned. “They would chase you down on horses and they never stop. Literally, they could hunt you continuously for days without stopping.”

“Sounds fun,” Scar said.

Grian bit her lip to prevent herself from snapping back at him.

I looked at her. “Listen, if you know about the border guards, do you think we can get past them?”

She nodded. “You can get past them, but it’s gonna be hard.”

I gave both of them a wide smile. “Alright. We have two hitmen on our trail, we don’t have IDs of any sort and we’re about to be chased down by a few border guards. What’s the worse that could happen?”

To be continued

(I did it on another platform and then tried to paste it on Tumblr but ended up with so much lag I can’t even type properly lol)

[rc-writes]

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐚𝐝𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐝

𝙢𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩𝙨 | 𝙩𝙖𝙜𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩 𝙛𝙤𝙧𝙢

pairings: penelope garcia x platonic/bau!reader

based on: season 6, episode 4

warnings: use of pet names, nothing else that i’m aware of

a/n: guess who's not dead!?!? sorry for saying i might not update for a little while and then disappearing off the face of the planet, i promise i didn't mean too. i got caught up in updating my longer fanfics and then my first year of college so i was a bit too busy to write anything for this blog. but here i am back with a little penelope garcia blurb since i'm on a criminal minds rewatch journey! i can't yet confirm how much i'll be back on this account but i will sure try!

“What can I help you with, pumpkin?” Penelope Garcia’s voice sounded as you entered the small room. She had noticed that you were wearing an orange bracelet earlier on the plane and decided pumpkin was your designated nickname for as long as you wore it.

You didn’t respond back to Garcia’s question for a long moment. You seemed to be lost in a thought the second your eyes met her face when you entered. 

“Hey are you alright?” Garcia asked when she noticed your faraway, oddly soberly look.

Snapping out of your thoughts, shaking your head to come back to reality you finally spoke. “Sorry, sorry. I had a question related to something you said one of the family members had said to you. I wanted to hear exactly what they said about this specific thing. And I know JJ usually is the one who speaks to the families, but I know you’re now handling that. And so, I knew to come here to you for that information, but I think the information wires in my brain seem to have gotten mixed up and so I was expecting to see JJ's face when I entered the room.” Your eyes widen at the sudden thought that what you said might be misinterpreted. “Not that I’m not happy to see you. I promise that’s not the case, I love seeing you. I do, I do. It’s just-"

“Hey, hey. I understand you completely. You don’t have to worry about it.” Penelope stopped you’re rambling, reaching out for your hand, smiling. “Now I’m no Jennifer Jareau but I can do my best to help you with whatever you need.”

You grasped for her hand back, beginning to sniffle a little. You cursed yourself in your head for beginning to get all teary eyed and sniffling. You had been so good at trying not to all day so far.

Penelope immediately caught on to this and plucked a tissue from the box next to her computer and handed it to you.

You smiled softly, taking the tissue and using it to lightly dab around your eyes. “I know it’s silly to be upset with change considering this job is all about change.” You tried to add a laugh, but it sounded more like a muffled cry.

Garcia held onto your hand a little tighter, her own eyes beginning to get glossy. “Pumpkin don’t worry, it’s not silly. It’s completely normal to be upset about JJ suddenly not being here. We all miss her like crazy.”

“I know, I know." You shook her hand a little. "I know we all miss her and don’t know how to act without everyone on the team being here. It’s just that I seem to be the only one who can’t seem to hide it.” You shrug.

“Oh, you’re definitely not honey. Trust me. I’m not going to name names but you’re not the first to come searching for JJ and found me instead. I’d imagine if I was still blonde it would be all the more confusing.” Garcia joked, causing you both to laugh a little. “Now I won’t say who that was, but I can say I myself was just getting a bit weepy at our phenomenal liaison not being here just before you came in here. Trust me when I say JJ so totally downplayed how much work she put into this job.”

Penelope said this with a lighthearted tone, but you understand the implications of it. It really was a lot of work for one person to do. You now kind of felt bad about interrupting her with a question you could have asked anyone else she had told what the family had said.

“Garcia, if you need any help no one here is going to be upset. You’re doing more than you’re getting paid for and more than anyone should be required to do. I’m more than happy to take on some things from you or find someone who can if I can’t help.” You offered.

“No, no I’m alright. A little overwhelmed truth be told, but I’m handling it. And I’ve already gotten Kevin to help out when needed.” She smiled up at you.

You didn’t entirely believe the tech but decided to not push any further. “Alright but promise me you’ll ask for help if you need it.” 

“I pinky promise.” Garcia smiled, holding her pinky out. You happily reached out to seal the promise, laughing. The day the higher ups ever decided to transfer Miss Penelope "Tech Genius" Garcia from the BAU would be the day you were going to become an unsub someone would have to track down.

“Now what was the information that you needed, honey?”

[jekinabox]

some rambles on my takes on Curly from Mouthwashing

I understand that a lot of people see Curly’s reaction to Anya telling him about her SA and what he did after as him ignoring it for Jimmy’s sake- and maybe that’s true, the point could very well be that people (especially those close to the abuser, especially men) will just set that kind of thing aside because the abuser “wouldn’t do that” or “will be better” or whatever, especially because Swansea ends up doing the same thing when Anya tells him, as well as the consistent theming of responsibility and trying to fix things.

But I think that maybe there’s more to it? If you don’t, feel free to look away, this is just my thoughts and take. But I think If the story is about SA and the consequences of not rooting the people out, I don’t understand what Diasuke’s role in it could be, so that just isn’t the moral of the story that I see. Of course, if this is how you see the story, that’s ok! People can have different views on media, and art is as much about people’s different responses to it as it is about what the creators meant.

Onto my little ramblings about the guy!

1- I think it’s very probable that Curly’s been manipulated by Jimmy, and for a long time. They’re “best friends,” and Curly believes Jimmy “won’t try that bullshit with me” even though he clearly does. Even at the birthday party, Jimmy is uncaring to his “best friend,” and during the confrontation near the cockpit, Jimmy outright twists what Curly’s said in the past. (Not to mention what he does to Curly afterward, but that doesn’t exactly count since it’s afterward.) I also wouldn’t be surprised if Jimmy helped Curly out of some situation in the past due to his savior complex and Curly now feels like he owes Jimmy something. It’d be easy for him to overlook Jimmy’s smaller problems if he feels he owes Jimmy something, especially if it’s something bigger, and he seems more of the “deal with it” kind of person anyways, so he’d obviously toss any grievances aside since he thinks everyone needs multiple chances. At first, Jimmy probably unsettled him. But he got used to it, just like his job. He deals with it for the last day, then another, then another.

2- Curly seems legitimately concerned when Anya tells him about everything, at least when he gets confirmation. We don’t see much after the she asks him about the locks on the doors, and we don’t see how much he actually learns, and thus no clue as to how bad he believes the situation may be (Harassment is nothing to scoff at, but if he just believes someone’s being a creep or annoying her, he’s obviously going to try to learn more and deescalate before anything else.) We also never see how much or what they say when she asks for the gun, but what we know is that Curly is freaking out when he thinks she has it, and actually believes it at first to be that she wants to kill herself due to the recent termination of their jobs. He’s first confused, then after her few words of explanation says he’ll talk to Jimmy. We never see an actual talk, but he learns definitively of what happened only “1 day before the crash,” and it takes time to sort through emotions, plans, and decisions, let alone when someone you thought was good did something like that and if you realize that they were a shitty person all along. Curly also then needs to decide what they’re going to do with Jimmy (they can’t lock him in the cockpit or medical because they need those, nor the hold because he would obviously mess up whatever they’re shipping as a hissy fit against them, and considering you get pay docked for complaining, using the cryopod or the gun would probably make this whole deal worthless for practically everyone.) Even if he did decide to just get rid of Jimmy, he’s not going to tell anyone that in case Jimmy finds out, and especially not Anya, since she seems forgiving enough and in a bad enough spot he has no clue what she may try to do if he tells her “I’m going to go kill Jimmy.”

3- Inaction and not taking responsibility doesn’t feel like Curly’s issue. Curly has the responsibility of everything on the ship, even baking a cake, and even when told not to tell his crew about the loss of their jobs, he still does. He even takes roles that aren’t his, like doing Jimmy’s psych evaluation when he sees Anya’s uncomfortable. This is why he and Jimmy are the two characters we play as, and are seen as opposites and each other’s foils. Jimmy’s whole thing is unreliable narration. By the end of the game, he’s convinced himself Curly crashed the ship and he’s the better man for leaving Curly alive after what he “did.” Jimmy’s an aggressive man who uses people for just what they can give him, and he causes problems for the express purpose of trying to fix him so people worship him, but messes up even with all the time in the world to “fix” things. Curly’s the one blamed, but he’s a genuine guy who tried his best and gave people the benefit of the doubt until he couldn’t anymore, but didn’t have the time to fix anything because Jimmy broke that chance.

4- My main bit is over, but another piece of his psychology- Curly probably hates himself, considering how Jimmy talks about him seeming like he’s at the edge of a bridge with cinderblocks on his feet, and if he hates himself, a way he may try to cope is by insisting everyone isn’t tied to their worst moments! Just like how he talks about how pain is a symbol one’s alive, which sounds like another coping mechanism. Jimmy isn’t the only one who hopes it hurts.

5- And Curly was right, most of the time, about how bad things don’t define people. Swansea’s rude and abrasive at times, but a pretty good man in a bad life. Diasuke was unplanned for the journey, but he’s a good intern who’s trying his best. Anya may have only completed the Pony Express medical course, but she keeps Curly alive for four months, even despite his quadruple amputations and missing skin and the complete lack of a lot of medical equipment that she could’ve used. The unfortunate thing is- his kind nature let bad things in, and it was so slow and manipulative he didn’t even necessarily know, consciously, how bad it was, until Jimmy crashed the ship, got everyone killed, and fed him his own leg. 99.9% indeed.

[kittyscupcakeandbunny]

SET ME FREE X MIN YOONGI

[Mafia AU]

PART THREE

A deal with the devil

Side Characters: K. Namjoon, J. Jungkook, J. Hoseok and P. Jimin.

Warnings: mentions of violence, blood, death, gunshot, sharp objects, smut, guns.

Song: Gangster - Kehlani and Desperado - Rihanna

<<Previously Next >>

……………………………..……………………………..……………………

Leaving Paradise was much easier then going inside, obviously. I still wasn’t over the fact that I was even there to begin with, but the mark on my neck was a clear reminder of last night. It was real, all of it. Yoongi was there.

It didn’t took me too long to find out Yoongi wasn’t like any ordinary man, but now that i was sure he was involved with the Min mafia every detail about his character from the way he moves, talks and presents himself wherever he goes where only the small indicators although appearances could only say much he was also at the crime scene Agust d mafia was involved and not long after he got into Paradise without any trouble were the signs I needed to confirm my suspicions, he didn’t gave me a clear answer but, he avoided doing it so at every chance.

The whole talk about “don’t ask questions that could get you killed” was my confirmation.

Everything was slowly falling into its right place, the more i looked into it the more sense it made to me. The reality wants as sweet as I thought it would be after all of that, the mark on my neck now covered by a badge was a burning reminder of my weakness. So much was going through my mind now, I couldn’t think about what to do, I had the knife in my hand but was I going to use it in my favor?

My suspicions about our chief working with the enemy were still not confirmed and if it really turns out to be true, things will surely get uglier. I knew it had something to do with the late case about the director house being invaded and him beaten up, could it be they were making a deal? Maybe something to do with Namjoons investigation? I couldn’t find anything on the documents in the system, not a single lead about them or anything suspicious involving the chief, i had been looking everywhere for documents that could have any info on the Min mafia case even stealing some from Namjoons office I was going to give it back before he comes back but, for now I can’t let my guard down.

I had been flipping through pages of one i just took form his office, a sight of disappointment leaving my lips. It was just a report on the last investigation nothing new, they didn’t have anything.

Sound of footsteps coming towards my direction as I walked down the corridor files my ears but I ignored, slowly turning the pages of the document in my hands trying to focus on the info in it. Footsteps getting louder as they get closer and a familiar scent made me instantly stop in my tracks to look up at the person walking towards me.

My breath got stuck in my chest as my eyes fall into his, I loook side to side in the corridor to see if anyone else was there only to find out I was alone with him.

He stopped in front of me grabbing me by the wrist as he closed the distance between us taking the papers of my hand, he looked at it and then scoffed eyes looking back at mine.

- didn’t I told you to stop looking for something that could get you killed? - he said, lifting the papers up to my eye sight.

- you did? If I’m not mistaken you didn’t tell me shit? - i said, purposely cussing seeing his expression switch to an angry one - Now you’re here again, why?! To finish the job?!

He looked at me his eyes burning into mine then smirked.

- oh, right how could I even think for a second you were in the mafia - i spat - you’re jus an arrogant-

Before I could even finish he pushed me against the wall of the long corridor, hand in my neck as his eyes burned over mine.

- didn’t I told you I would put that mouth of yours to good use if you disrespected me again? - he held my neck tighter - you wanna play with fire? - he pushed me against the wall with his body - I’ll bring you to hell.

He cornerd me against the wall hands now beside my head on the wall, footsteps where heard from the corridor, he brought his finger up my lips in a silence sign.

- what’s this? - it was Namjoon, a questioned look on his face.

They both looked at each other. An awkward tension between them as they just stared at each other for a moment.

Yoongi looked back at me, a smirk still on his lips as he turned to Namjoon again liking at him up and down.

- see you cop - Yoongi said to me.

With that he left pissed. His footsteps where loud and clear, never once looking back.

- I thought you didn’t knew him? - Namjoon said suddenly, staring beside me.

- I don’t… I… - my brain was still foggy as I was still not over Yoongis words, eyes still looking where he left.

- is everything okay? - Namjoon held my hand turning me to look at him.

- yes why wouldn’t i be okay? - i tried to give him a small smile as I took my hand out of his - he just… wanted some information.

Thinking about the word information i realized he took the papers with him, Namjoons documents that I stole from his office. Yoongi took with him information on the Min mafia case, he was in the mafia Min.

I was in trouble.

I quickly left. Namjoon fallowing me, I ignored his calls for me as I kept walking fast I couldn’t face him right now. I just let information about his investigation slip into the hands of the mafia.

…

I didn’t know what to think.

I’ve been in autopilot mode ever since i left that corridor with a confused Namjoon, my mind was running laps around his words. He wasn’t warning anyrmore, Yoongi was threatening me to leave the Agust d investigation that he somehow knew i was doing.

Was that what he was doing at the chief office that day?

They warned the chief before almost killing the director? Did they have some info about their mafia that could finally take them down somehow?

To say i was afraid now was an understatement, i couldn’t let anything happen. I couldn’t leave my brother alone too. But at the same time, I couldn’t take him out of my mind.

I avoided Namjoon the whole morning, poor him was so lost and confused about my sudden behavior. But I couldn’t face him, at this point I knew he had already connected the dots and found out i had something going on with Yoongi.

Even now that I know for a fact that Yoongi is part of the Min Mafia I couldn’t tell Namjoon about it, he would ignore everything and just tell me how stupid I was at going to downtown again and trying to get inside Paradise. To investigate a case that was bigger then me. To investigate a case he’s been working for a year already.

The more i thought about it the more it came to me just how silly he thinks of me, like a little girl who can take care of herself.

Yoongis words hitting me just as hard. Everyone thought of me as a weak girl. I was so tired of it.

At lunch break I went out alone to eat, document files of the Min mafia in my hand as i continued to investigate the case. I’ll get that Agust D myself if i have to. I was so done at everyone’s idea of who I was.

Same thoughts in my mind as i came back to the station, I wasn’t going to ignore Namjoon anymore. Determination on my mind as i was crossing the street to get inside the station. A black Porsche stoping right in front of me, almost running me over.

I was ready to cuss the owner of the expensive car when the passenger door suddenly opened and i was pushed inside the car. The door was closed before almost hitting my nose, i looked around only to find the driver a man I’ve never seen beside me.

He had a sharp serious look on his face as he looked ahead, never once he looked at my direction. The car began to move and I quickly turned to look at the window, we were going further away from the station.

- who even are you? - i asked him, turning to look at him, anger filling me up.

- I’m the consigliere… but you can call me Jack - he said, not looking at me as he drives the car one hand on the wheel the other resting on the window - I’ll be short and clear with you.

He turned to look at me, eyes burning into mine. As he slowed down the car, looked me up and down, indifference in his eyes.

- I’m the consigliere of the Min mafia… - he stated.

- What? Yeah right…- i stared at the roads ahead. He couldn’t be. Out of nowhere, and with me?

The car suddenly stoped harshly making me almost hit my head in the front of the car, i looked at him in disbelief.

- I’ll put it this way… - this time he turned to me, eyes burning into mine. - Agust D doesn’t like when woman or children are hurt… here’s the thing, I’m not him.

I gulped down. His words sended a chilling feeling down my spine, he came closer to whisper the next threat.

- if you don’t do what I said I’ll kill your brother in the most horrible way possible.

I didn’t know what to say. Wha to do. My mind wasn’t working at that point, I could only stare into his cold gaze. Heart racing with fear.

Was this what Yoongi meant? All those warnings and I ignored him all along, and for what? Obsession?

My own mistakes have put my brother in danger and now i have to pay the price. I should’ve know better. I betrayed everyone. My family. My job. Namjoon. Now I’ll have to do even worst things.

To protect my brother.

- Our mole in your station desapear… - he said eyes looking back at the road - we need you to do the job now but, it seems you’re already pretty good at getting info about us.

I just stared at him, his words sinking into me as he chuckled at his last words.

He knew I’ve been looking for information about them. They knew. But more then anything, they had a mole in our station this whole time. That’s how they knew I was investigating them and that’s how they knew every move the police had on them.

- what happened to your last mole? Why does it have to be me? - I found the courage to ask.

- We don’t know, that’s why your taking his place - he said, a smirk on his heart shaped lips. - your job is to give us all the information about the current investigation going on, that Namjoon guy have something under his sleeve, we want that.

He gave me a smirk turning back to look ahead of him, putting his hand on his jacket taking a black phone he than handed it to me.

- I’ll give you the instructions through this phone - he said - if anything happens you must destroy this phone, don’t ever call or text me with your own phone only this.

I took the phone from his hand, nodding. A heavy heart on my chest. All this time I questioned Yoongi about working with the mafia now here I am.

Having no choice but to do this.

- How long will I have to do this? - i asked him.

- Not too long if you do a good job - he said, a serious look back to his features.

- My brother…? - before I could em my sentence he interrupted me.

- Will be fine, as long as you do your job.

The car began to ride back to the station, there was a silence between us till I saw the station from afar, i looked at him taking in his features. He was warring a jacket and jeans, brown hair styled and smelled like Chanel.

A focused and serious expression on his face, he held himself very confidently but something abou ruim seemed odd.

I didn’t have time to think much of it as the car was stopping right in front of the station, where we left.

My mind kept racing with thoughts as I came back to my reality.

Could i even do this, why did it have to be me? Of everyone else.

As the car stopped I looked at Jack beside me.

- why me? - i asked him.the question he didn’t answer.

He smiled sickly coming closer to my face, once bearly centimeters away to me he turned to whisper in my ear.

- you’ll find out soon.

With that he went back to his seat, I gulped down. Looking at the station through the window, my heart was sinking down. I’ll have to lied to Namjoon again.

Jack gave me one last look.

- if you tell anyone… - he began.

- I know. Don’t worry about that. - I tell him. Already accepted my fate.

- Good now leave, I’ll contact you later.

With that I left the car.

Frozen in front of the station, i felt colder the more I looked at it. Could i really do it? My whole life i dreamed to help others, to be just like my father and bring justice to those who deserved. Now I’ll have to turn my back to all of them, I’ll have to betray everything my father once believed in and all he taught me.

Maybe they were right about me, maybe I’m weak.

But I don’t have a choice now, do i?

I have to be strong. For my brother.

…

The rest of the day went so fast, the only reminder of time was the phone in my pocket. The weight it had on me was almost making me go insane, at any moment Jack could contact me.

And I couldn’t think of anything else but that.

But he didn’t.

It was almost night when I finally forgot about the whole deal i made with that devil, I decided to stop looking through the Min mafia cases and focus only on my work at the station.

So much happened lately, I couldn’t find where it all began and turned into this mess.

Maybe when brother got caught up in with those tugs, when Yoongi helped us and then i was completely obsessed with him and his mysterious aura.

To seeing him at the station I worked looking like a fine man, wearing expensive clothes and smoking. To finding him at Paradise.

I had to clear my mind. I couldn’t let him run through my mind anymore, it was all his fault anyway. If he didn’t came that night and help us, if he didn’t came to my station. If I had never met Yoongi I wouldn’t be here right now.

At that point i was so angry at him, I couldn’t hear a single thing about that investigation every word was a painful reminder of how stupid I was and left the office.

As I walked down the hallway to leave I saw Namjoon walking down the same hallway with a few of his things from the office inside a box in his hands, wondering what that was about a decided to talk to him.

- hey - i called him, he turned back giving me a tired smile. - what you doing?

- I decided to fallow your words - he said looking down before meeting my eyes - I’m taking a few days off.

- That’s good, you more than everyone here needs a rest - i tell him, he continues to walk as i fallow him right beside him.

- What about you? - he asked me as we walked down the stairs.

- I’m just going out for a smoke - i tell him.

- I thought you stopped? - he looked at me, confusion on his face.

- I did… but difficult times call for not so healthy decisions - i tell him, we walked out the doors of the station.

The cold air of the late afternoon hitting my face as I took a deep breath in, turning to Namjoon at my side who watched me with worry in his face.

- is there anything I do to help? - he says.

Looking at him right now I felt sick, i hate having to lie to him. Anyone but him. He’s done so much for me and my brother, more than I could have ever asked for and now i had to betray him. Lie to his face. Tell him I was fine when I wasn’t. When all I wanted was to hug him and cry on his shoulder, have him tell me everything was going to be alright that he got my back.

But i couldn’t.

That girl wasn’t me anymore. I couldn’t be her anymore.

- I can do it don’t worry - i tell him, fake smile on my lips.

- That’s my girl - he says, genuine smile on his lips as he gives me a pat on my head - look at you all grow up, I’m proud of you Y/n.

I felt like throwing up. Fake smile never leaving my lips as i look at him, i took in all the details of his face one last time. He’s genuine smile to me, affectionate and warm. All of it.

- I’ll go now - he said, turning to leave he waved at me one last time.

I waved back.

I love you.

I cleared the tears forming on my eyes, taking the cigarette from my pocket lighting one. I look up at the sky as i blow the smoke into the air.

The sound of ringing sending a chill down my spine and i took the phone off my pocket, it said unknown caller. But I knew exactly who it was.

My first job.

- hello - i said.

- Did he left? - Jack said on the other side of the line, it didn’t took me long to realize he meant Namjoon.

- Yes.

- Good. I need you to bring the reports of the case to Paradise, third floor room 13 - with that he ended the call.

I took a deep breath, throwing the cigarette on the floor I turned to enter the station.

I had to focus. Forget about the past and everything else. They were not just some tugs but the mafia, my brother’s life was on the line.

I’ll give them the info. Than soon this will be all over.

At this hour the station was almost empty. As i walk down the corridors to Namjoons office, making sure no one was around as i entered closing the door behind me. I use the light of my phone to illuminate my way there.

His desk was clean and organized. He took almost all of the documents with him but, i could easily access them through his computer. All passwords were chosen by the TI of the station and it made a lot easy to enter his system.

Once i was logged in I made sure to select all the files and copy them, turning the printer on.

My heart was beating fast as I keep looking out of the office through the glass door, hands shaking as the sound of the printer anouced the files where being printed. It was a lot of paper. It took a while but once they were done I made sure to put them in an envelope.

Turning everything off before i make my way to the exit the lights of the office turned on.

I froze in my track. The sound of the door closing behind me, I gulped down as i heard steps.

- yn? - it was Jungkook. A breath of relief leaving my lips.

- Hey… - I turned towards him. He stopped at the door looking confused at me.

- What you doing here? - he asked.

- Oh… Namjoon forgot this and asked me to get it for him - I quickly made up a lie. He looked me up and down, before his face softens.

- That’s very him - he chuckled, walking to his desk.

- Yeah… I’ll get going then - i said , quickly making my way out- don’t work too hard.

- No chance… - he said.

With that I left the office. A sight of relief leaving my lips.

That was close. The phone in my bakc pocket ringed.

“Did you get the info?” it read.

“Got it”

I replied. Making my way out off the station again. Taking my keys with me, my heart still beating fast as i went to the parking lot. I still had to deliver the envelope to him. I would have to come back to Paradise, memories of the last time I went there filling my mind.

Not wanting but still think of him. Would Yoongi be there again?

I decided not think much of it, turning my motorbike on I drove out of the parking lot. Letting the night air fill my lunges as I drove to downtown.

I didn’t have much in my mind anymore. Letting the wind guide me to my destiny, at this point it felt like my life wasn’t mine anymore. I was just another puppet, controlled by those with the real power.

Driving fast It didn’t took me long to get there. The dark streets with questionable people walking around, smoke in the air and the strong smell of cheap alcohol.

The same streets changing into a less and less dark place to something out of the movies, expensive cars everywhere and people wearing design clothes and strong perfume.

I stopped my motorbike in front of the night club getting some looks from the people around as I walked towards the line in the entrance holding the envelope tightly in against my chest. Surely someone like me shouldn’t be here. It didn’t fit. I was still in my working clothes, white bottom up shirt and simple black jeans and a jacket.

The same security guys from last time where there and I gulped down, i wondered if I would have to call the consigliere if they didn’t let me in. Sounds stupid to me, what would I say? Sorry Jack I couldn’t get in ?

Once I stood in front of them I didn’t have time to think of anything else.

- is the Parks girl - one said to the other.

- You may get in miss - he said, making way for me to enter.

Park.

I was completely confused at first but, than the memory came back to me.

As in Park Jimin.

The man that helped me get in Paradise last time, he must be pretty powerful if they didn’t questioned me again.

Once inside the night club I was immediately greeted with a strong smell of aphrodisiac fruity perfume and alcohol as well as cigarette smoke, it all looked the same as last time.

Everyone in here seemed to be in their own world as they drank and smoked, danced against each other’s bodies.

I didn’t came here to party. I came to deliver.

Quickly I made my way to the stairs to get in the second floor, walking around through all this people I held the envelope harder against my chest. Making sure to not make any eye contact with them. Last thing I wanted was to drag attention towards myself.

- darling yn! - said a voice behind me, I recognized immediately.

Too late.

- Mister Park - I turned to him.

Jimin had a lazy smiled on his face as he made his way towards me drunkly. White shirt half opened exposing his chest and tattoos. Just like last time. Once he was in front of me his arms closed around my body as he hugged me tightly before letting go making sure to slide his hands on my back dangerously close to my ass stopping at my hips.

- I’m glad to see you - he said, alcohol on his breath.

- Good to see you too but…- I quickly try to make up a way to leave but he interrupted me.

- Let’s have a drink with me - he invited, face closer to mine - we can have some fun later….

His eyes looked heavy, sweet perfume on his skin. Everything about him was so dreamy i felt like i was on a high every time I was with him, they way he sounded like poison yet so inviting how sickly sweet his words came out of this lips, full and inviting.

He was a seductive man in a way it was so dangerous, it took all in me to stop him from coming any closer.

- Sorry - i whispered, touching his chest with the tip of my fingers pushing him slightly back - I have a job to do…

- Oh… - he said, a pout on his lips then he looked me up and down mischief in his eyes - you’re meeting Agust d right?

- What? - i almost gagged at my on spit, how did he knew?

- I saw you last time.. - he said - you with the mafia? Sexy.

- No no… More like… - i tried to come up with something but, thinking was really difficult when he kept running his hands down my back and looking at me like a sexy god.

- Is alright you don’t have to tell me…. - he sounded like a siren - I know how they can be.

- Yeah… - i nodded, remembering my last encounter with the consigliere.

- Go then… and if you have time - he brushed my hair over my ear - come back to me, I’m sure I can entertain you a lot more than them.

Not noticing I was nodding again as he let go of me, turning back to walk to the third floor.

I quickly made my way back to towards the big stairs that lead to the third floor. There was a big corridor with many doors on the sides, the light here was dim you could only see the numbers on the doors.

I making sure I was at the 13th room quickly. Standing in front of it i wasn’t sure if I should nock or just get in. So i nocked twice before opening the door.

It was nothing like I expected but, a netting room two big black sofas in the middle small coffee table divided them and behind it a big glass wall.

And sitting right there, all proud and confident was Jack. The consigliere sitting in the sofa in front of the glass wall. He didn’t looked at me as he continued to drink his whiskey and just made a signal from me to sit there.

I made my way to the sofa in front of him. Once i was sat I put the envelope over the table, eyes never leaving the brown paper.

No one said a word for a moment.

- I didn’t expect you to get here so fast - he said, finally looking at me and smirked - Min said you’d do a good job that’s why your here.

- Min?… - I questioned.

- Agust d - he stated, getting a box of cigarettes he offered one to me wich I accepted. - he chose you himself.

He leaned over the table holding the fire, i fallowed his move. Cigarette between my lips as he lighted for me, leaning back.

- we’ll continued with this until the investigation is over - he said.

- When will this be? - i asked.

- Min is working on it, don’t worry - he took a sip of the golden drink - as long as you do what we say your brother will be fine.

My brother.

Is for him that I’m doing this.

- you’ll pay his debit - he said, putting his cup down over the table.

- Debit? - I questioned, confused.

- Oh, you didn’t know? He owes us money - he tells me.

- What do you mean by that?! - just what was my brother doing?

- He’s addicted yn… you know what fallows right? - he smirked.

No.

Was this why he was in downtown that night?

He was involved with…. I couldn’t even finish that in my thoughts, but it was clear to me.

— can I go now? - i asked. Putting the cigarette inside his cup.

- what’s the rush? - Jack said - already missing that Park guy?

I looked at him incredulous and scoffed.

- not like if I stay here you’ll give me answers… - I tell him.

- And Park will give you? - he scoffed. I didn’t say anything.

- can i go now? - i asked inpatient.

- Yeah, Min said you can enjoy your time at Paradise - he said smirking - a treat for your good job. Your station is already closed anyway.

Did so much time passed already? I looked at my watch realizing he was right.

- I’ll go than - i said.

- Till next time cop.

I had to bite my tongue. He wouldn’t hesitate to hurt my brother and for that I had to lay low, to protect him. How could I not know he was on drugs? How could I have not noticed?

With everything that happened after mom and dad died I tried so hard to distract myself with my trying at the police academy, not once did I had the time to support my brother.

This was all my fault.

A treat from Agust d.

It felt so bitter. I hated.

As I made my way to exit the thrid floor, seeing all the people around drinking and dancing. Like there was no tomorrow, I envy them. How can you do something bad and still be able to sleep.

“And park will give you?”

Maybe he will.

At least I know he’ll distract me, if even my brother lost himself I could do that too. Just one night.

Let me be free for one night. I need to forget everything for just one night.

I made my way to the third floor, if I want to leave this whole thing with something might as well go and get. I’m tired of yoongi never telling me nothing. I’m tired of putting myself on the line for others, I just need to forget for a while.

Is a treat from his boss isn’t it?

Maybe I’ll have a drink.

The commotion on the thrid floor was much extravagant then the upper ones, from a distance a could see Jimin dancing in one of those stages with another girl doing pole dancing, some throw money at him some gave food on his mouth.

As a woman in bikini was passing with a few drinks in a tray I quickly grabbed one drinking the whole thing in a gulp.

Walking closer to where he was, just how am I supposed to get him to talk like that? He looked so out of it as he moved his body in the most sexy way.

Grabbing another drink without a single care as i drink it in one gulp, I took off my jacket feeling the alcohol warm up my body sitting on one of the seats in front of the stage.

My eyes fallowing his moves from the stage, noticing he found me in a distance as he smiled at me pleased to see I was watching him.

He walked down the stage to my direction, moving like a siren swimming in the ocean. Everyone stoped to look at him.

Eyes locked with mine the entire time, he stopped in front of me.

- so… you finally decided to come to me? - he tells me, sitting beside me.

- You were right - i moved closer to him, whispering in his ear - I got bored… so I hope you can keep me entertained…

I saw how gosepumps fallow up through his skin exposed by the shirt, the two cups of whiskey I drank before were making me confident enough to risk it. I usually I’m not like this but, I’ll use everything I can to forget. Even him.

- what kind of entertainment you want? - he said, tilting his head to the side as he smiled.

- Something… - I started, sliding my finger over his colar bones under his shirt. He closed his eyes leaning his head on my shoulder. - exciting.

- Oh yn you’ll be he death of me… - he said against my neck, then got up holding his hand out for me to take - I’ll give you everything you need.

I took his hand. With that it felt like the final step before I fall into an ocean of darkness, letting it consume me completely. Letting it wash all my shameful acts and betrayals.

I didn’t know if I was ever going back to being who I was, so i just let the sinner guide me.

Jimin took me to the second floor, a table close to the bartenders. He took a bottle of liquor and gave it to me, i took it from him drinking a good amount of it.

Who knows maybe i can enjoy it even.

He smiled taking the bottle from my hands to drink it, a bit spilling of his lips a single drop sliding down his face to his neck. He pushed me closer by the waist giving me a kiss on the check.

- look around yn - he whispered in my ear - all this people come here to forget about their sins… tell me yn, what’s your sin?

What’s my sim?

- My sin… i don’t know - I tell him.

- Than let’s change that…. - he looks at me in the eye - I’ll make you a sinner.

He smirked, pressing the bottle on my hand. I gulped down as i stared into his siren eyes, taking the bottle I drink more of its green liquor. In a second after he’s mouth was over mine. Kissing me hungrily.

I was surprised at first but then forgot completely about everything, he was indeed a siren. My mind was foggy and my body felt so light, my thoughts were completely washed away from me.

I grabbed his neck returning the kiss just as hungrily, his hands sliding down my body as he closed all the distance between us. Groaning over my mouth he slides his lips over my jaw and down my neck, sucking harshly on my skin.

- humm… dance with me yn… - he said against my neck.

I didn’t know why I nodded, why I let him guide me back to the third floor, why I just simply let him do anything he wanted.

We kissed in front of everyone, his shirt was a mess at this point. His soft skin full of scratches from my nails, he would mark all my neck not a single care in our minds.

At one point I tried to drink from the bottle only to find out we drank the whole thing already, he only laughed and pushed me towards where everyone else was dancing.

The loud music was booming, we kept dancing against each other. Hands sliding everywhere, sweat running down my spine, it was so hot.

My mind was so clear, nothing bothered me anymore. It felt like I was free. I felt so free. I didn’t wanted it to end.

A girl gave me her cigarette which I took a blow grabbing Jimins neck to blow the smoke into his mouth, he smirked holding my waist as he bite my lip before kissing me. And kept dancing.

I couldn’t care if my feet hurt. I couldn’t feel anything. It was so realizing to not have that weight over my shoulders.

At some point jimin desapear and I didn’t notice, i starded to search for him around the many people dancing but couldn’t find him anywhere.

My head was starting to feel heavy, I was bumping in everyone as I walked out of the bodies dancing around closer to the exit i bumped into another men.

Almost falling but someone else grabbed me by the arm. Strong smell of cigarettes and cologne hitting my senses, my vision was a little blurry but I could still make that scar. Those sharp eyes.

If looks could kill.

- Yoongi?… - sharp pain in my head I held my head before looking back at him, my body was beginning to feel heavy - oh.,. I feel… sorry…

- Enjoyed your treat? - his voice sounded close but it felt so distant.

- Treat?….

My body felt so heavy as my eyes began to close, I swear I was going to fall but his arms held me against him. My heavy eyes looking straight into his sharp ones, it felt weird.

I should fear him but, I just wanted to be engulfed into his warmth. No one could ever have the effect he had on me.

- Yoongi… - my arms circled around his neck.

- you’re drunk - he said against my lips, i nodded laughing.

He only held me tighter, taking my arms from around his neck. I thought he would carry me bridal style, but a tug like him would never. Silly me.

He simply threw me over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, waking me up completely this time.

- if I throw up in your expensive clothes don’t blame you dick- i say, he then slapped my ass. - ouch!

- Don’t curse, you know I hate it - he simply said as he walked to god knows where, I couldn’t see anything from there.

- Ohh no I’m getting sick - I lied, he just kept walking.

The cold air of the night hitting me like a truck, remembering I forgot my jacket there. Helpless I only sighted.

- I’m bored… - I tell him, but he just ignored me.

The only thing I could see was his expressive shiny shoes and his ass, it was almost bigger then mine. I was so drunk I felt lightheaded.

The only possible reason I could fine to why I did what I did next .

- your ass is big - I blurted out, I heard his loud breathing indicating his impatience. Laughing I slapped his ass back.

At that he brought me down so fast I felt dizzy, he looked angrier than ever at me. Face so close as he pinned me against a car, hands holding my hips tightly almost carving his nails on my skin through my jeans.

He breathed fast, lips on a thin line as he just stared at me, probably thinking how he’s going to end me right now.

But I didn’t care.

All I could think about was how his lips were so close to mine, how his cologne did nothing to help me sober up as I only felt more drunk on him. Of all people him.

His grip on my hips began to soften up as he let go of me, he looked everywhere but me. Licking his lips before finally looking at me, he opened his mouth to say something but stoped eyes looking up and down over me.

- don’t look at me like that - he said, opening the door of the car behind me.

- Like what? - i asked, he then smirked at me one arm over the car beside me completely locking me there. Coming closer to my face.

- Like you want me to fuck you right now… - he whispered on my ear. My checks burned so hard.

I couldn’t say anything else as he pushed me back inside the car, closing the door after. Jack was in the driver seat, he chuckled before driving out of there.

The cold air of the atmosphere was bringing me back to my reality. And I let it all sink into me, still a bit high on the freedom I felt there.

Still drunk on him.

I allowed my body to slide down the car seat and fall asleep.

…

2

days after.

Namjoon was going to have the whole week off. The fact that he was out of the investigation made a lot more easier to get the info about the processes of the investigation goin on, i could go in and out of the office and no one would notice. No one but Consigliere.

Somehow they knew exactly when I would left and when I would go in, they were in a whole higher level. The past cases involving them were giving the station so much stress as they couldn’t get a single hint right.

The past two days I was getting as much info as I could for them, but I wasn’t asked to go to Paradise anymore. Maybe I went too far last time, just the thought of it would make red.

Consigliere would come here every night to get the info.

And tonight it wasn’t any different.

As I was coming back from Namjoons office, walking the corridor to take the info for Jack. My phone started ringing non stop. He could wait, I was already going to give him the info.

Why was he calling like that?

As the ringing continued I stopped to turn off the phone, impatiently as I cursed at him for being like this when i sudden hit my face on a soft wall or something like someone, almost falling back if the person didn’t hold me by the waist.

My eyes staring at his in surprise.

- Namjoon?!

- You don’t look too happy to see me - he said, letting go of me he as he stands with a few documents in hand.

- I don’t… I mean what you doing here?

- I came back earlier- he said, determination in his eyes - you were right yn, I just needed some time off.

- Oh…

- See you then - he said, going in the direction of his office.

I looked at his back blinking confused, he came so quickly. Things would be a lot more difficult now. The phone ringed again.

I simply brushed off, Jack was a pain in the ass. Last thing I wanted was him using my brother to threaten me because I took too long to deliver the info.

Quickly I made my way out of the station, the black Porsche parked right in front of the entrance. Jack stood there over the car, coming towards me as soon as he saw me.

- I called you - he stated anger in his voice.

- I know, Namjoon… - before I could say anything else, he grabbed my arm harshly.

- I don’t think I made myself clear - he spat - if you don’t take my calls your brother is dead meat.

- I know…. - I gulped down. - Namjoon was there.

- What? - he seemed to be connecting the dots.

- That’s why… he came back earlier it seemed he has some new info - i said, he lets go of my arm.

- What ever he has - he took the envelope of my hands - get it before it blows up.

I only nodded as he gave me one last look before going in the Porsche and driving out.

I felt weak in the knees, almost falling down.

He had the most dark aura I’ve even meet, those dark eyes that showed nothing but, death.

Agust d was right when he chose him as his consigliere, no one could put fear in another’s like he did.

After that i decided to clock out.

…

The next day, the whole station seemed to be in a fuss. With Namjoon returning everyone was working a lot more, he made sure everyone was one hundred percent in the investigation. People were walking back and forth in the corridors.

The only focus being the Agust d case.

And for that reason I couldn’t even get close to their office, every time I tried they would call me out on it.

Your just an intern.

This is not you place.

I was so frustrated at that. I thought I could take something out of Namjoon but he too was way too focused on the investigation.

He didn’t came out for lunch. And stayed late at night with his teammates to work on the case. Another two days passed like that.

I didn’t hear a word about Namjoon for this two days. Consigliere was pressing me every day, they wanted to know what was this fuss about. Using my brother to threat me every damn hour, it became the only thing I could think about.

I couldn’t sleep with so much worry in my mind.

I was out in the dark. I couldn’t get anything out of them.

Jack kept pressing me for info but I didn’t have anything.

I was having lunch when he called again.

- nothing yet? - he spat.

- I…

- Your brother is leaving for school… - he said. My body went cold. He was at my house.

- Jack don’t… - he laughed.

- Didn’t I made myself clear? Should i give you inspiration to move!? - he said.

- No, don’t - I said, desperate and anxious - I’ll get the info tonight please….

- Tonight.

With that he ended the call. I felt dizzy. Leaving the place immediately, I went back to the station.

I was desperate. At this point he could do anything to my brother, I couldn’t let it happens not after everything I did to keep him safe.

I decided to stay late at the office, as I watched everyone else leaving hopping Namjoon would be alone until he office by now. He was my only hope, knowing his week spot for me. I felt terrible for using him like that but, I needed to for my brother.

I waited anxiously until all was left at the office was Namjoon and Jungkook.

Quickly making my way to their office.

Stopped in front of it thinking of what to say, but nothing came to my mind. Anxious i nocked on it twice.

It took a while before Jungkook opened.

- hey yn - he said, open just enough of the door to see his face.

- Hey is Namjoon free? - I try to sound as calm as possible.

- No, we busy - he said, closing the door again - bye.

- No, please I really need to talk to him…

He closed the door. I almost punched the door. The phone in my back pocket ringed.

“Anything yet?”

I felt helpless.

so i called him.

- stop pressing me already! - I whispered yelled - I’m trying goddamit!

- say that to your brother - he said, threaten again.

- You-

- Yn? - i turned to see Namjoon standing there, door opened and a worried look on his face.

- Namjoon! - i said out loud so Jack would hear and he immediately turned off the call.

- Is everything alright? - he asked.

- No, I’ve been trying to talk to you for days - I tell him, trying my best to act and lie. I needed the info as soon as possible.

- Sorry yn… it’s just… - he stoped looking around the corridor never at me.

- Exactly, I know you got some hint on this case but, why did you left me out?

- Sorry…. - he pushed me to a hug. - come in, I wanna show you something.

- Okay.

Finally.

As i walked inside the office behind Namjoon, the whole room looked like a big mess. Papers all over the place boxes and coffee mugs.

Jungkook was in front of a white board with pictures and writings all over it, i looked around shocked.

The place was a mess.

- don’t mind the mess - Namjoon said turning to me. At the Jungkook also turned to me.

- She’s not allowed here - he said to Namjoon.

- I know but is yn, i trust her - he said, giving me a smile wich I replied bitterly - you can trust her.

Trust.

The bitter taste under my tongue, I wanted to dig a whole and get inside. But still, I had to wear that mask and lie to him. What would my father think of me? What will Namjoon do when he find out I was the one behind all of it.

- this right here - Namjoon showed me a picture of a man - he used to work at the station, he came to me saying the Min mafia forced him into giving information about the investigation.

I gulped down looking at the picture of the man. Now here I’m, doing exactly what he did.

- he said they have his family that’s why he came to me asking for help - Namjoon turned to look at the board - those rats, all this time threatening one of our guys like that….

- But we got everything about them now thanks to him - Jungkook said - tonight it will be all over.

- Tonight? - I questioned. Namjoon turned to me smiling.

- We set a trap for Agust d - he said. I looked at him immediately - this days we focused on perfect trap for him, thanks to the info he gave us.

- One of our guys is there already waiting for him, he’s playing to be their old mole - Jungkook said - what they don’t know is that we got him locked up at the station.

- Once Agust d gets there our guy will make sure he reacts - Namjoon said, looking at Jungkook ray shared a look of wining - I’ll get him and kill him.

I lost my breath at his words. Namjoon is planing to kill the mafia Min boss, he really is going to do it.

“If something happens to D I’ll kill your brother”

I felt dizzy as the words of the consigliere run through my mind, if their plan works my brother dies.

I need to tell Jack.

- we already have a team there - Namjoon said - we are just getting things done here, once we’re good will go there.

- I see… - i manege to say - well I’m sure you’ll do a good job.

- You telling me this I’m sure I will - he smiled at me.

I’m sorry.

- I won’t take your time than - i said turning to leave.

- Yeah is almost time - Jungkook looked at the clock on the wall.

- Bye yn - he says.

I waved at him, opening the door of the office I leave there quickly trying to call Jack again as I run through the corridors towards the exit but, he doesn’t answer.

I keep calling as i quickly run out of the station, running to the parking lot i go to my motorbike.

When he finally answered.

- didn’t I told you- before he can say anything else.

- Where are you?! - I interrupted.

- What?

- where are you?! I got the info to their plan I need to see you now! - I rushed through my words.

- I’ll send you the location, come fast or I’ll leave before you.

With that he turned off, they were going there to Namjoons trap already. My breath got stuck in my throat a ring suddenly indicating he sended a message. Quickly turned the gps to the location he sended to me.

Turning my motorbike on I drove as fast as I could to the location on the gps, my brothers life was on the line. As much as I loved Namjoon I could let anything happened to my brother, he was the only family I had with all his flaws. My only family. It was my job as his older sister to protect him.

I’m sorry Namjoon, I’ll have to stop you. For my brother.

The location he sended me was almost out of the city, the more and more I drove towards it the less civilized it became.

My mind was racing with thoughts, heart beating so hard on my chest it was painful. I’ll have to carry this weight with me till the end.

Bright lights hit my eye sight and I stoped my motorbike quickly, the sound of motor raging and as my motorbike slided on the ground. The black Porsche stoped abruptly in front of me.

I saw Jack on the drivers seat.

Taking my helmet off I made my way towards the car, behind the Porsche was a big gate, that lead to a mansion but I didn’t give much thought to it.

Jack came out of the car towards me anger on his face.

- you better..

- it’s a trap. - i interrupted him. He looked at me confused - Namjoon knows everything, they have your old mole in the station and he gave Namjoon all the info about you guys. He made a trap to get Agust d.

After that was silence. Jack looked at me up and down, turning to the car. The door of the car opened. As someone else walked out of it.

- why would I believe you? - it was Yoongi, what was he doing here?

- Are you kidding me!? - I tell him, making my way to him before Jack could stop me - you think I would run to here, almost get caught by Namjoon, have my brothers life on the line just to lie to you!?

I stood in front of him, I was so pissed as i stared into his eyes. He looked at me for a good amount of time, neutral expression on his face unbothered by my rage.

I really wish I read his mind, know what was he thinking but he was the biggest mystery I’ve ever meet.

- she’s coming with us - Yoongi said to Jack, taking my arm to enter the car with him.

He pushed me inside the car getting in right after.

- Are you sure? - Jack said already in the Porsche.

- She’s been pretty useful - Yoongi said.

I scoffed not looking at him.

Jack drove fast hitting the gas pedal hard, I held on tight to the car seat. Not for fear of the swords but feather of how things would turn out once we are there, will Namjoon be there already?

Why did Yoongi needed me there for?

Once the car began to slow down I looked around through the window, Jack stoped the car in an abandoned construction site, there was a fire goin on in the middle of the empty site and a black car parked on the other side of it in front of the car was a man standing there with a hat on his head.

“One of our man is already there”

My body went cold. It was all set up already exactly how Namjoon said.

- I’ll go there - Yoongi said. - make sure she stays here quiet.

- Yes - Jack gave him a nod.

I looked at them incredulous.

- Didn’t you hear what I said!? - I say. Holding Yoongis arm.

- I did. - he looked at me, opening the door and getting out of he Porsche.

I watched as he walked to the man standing there, stopping a few meters away. The fire separating them. I couldn’t hear what the they were talking about but, I notice when Yoongi chuckled.

Jack seemed too focuse on Yoongi to realize what was happening, he didn’t know. They didn’t listen to me. He problems thought Yoongi could handle that, just like I would after seeing him take four guys down with only his hands.

“I’ll be there right after” was what Namjoon said.

That was exactly what Namjoon wanted, a reaction.

One move from him to take him down for good.

Take him down for good.

Him.

Yoongi.

My heart beating so fast in my chest. I was too busy trying to save my brother not once did it cross my mind.

How Yoongi was everywhere. At any time i was supposed to deliver info to Jack, he was at Paradise every time I went there. How he would warn me about keeping my distance. How he always carried himself.

He was the one making a deal with chief, he was at the directors house, he was at every crime scene.

How Jack obeyed his commands. How did I not notice once. Everything seemed to fall right into its place now, i could see it clearly. Feeling stupid at how long it took my to realize.

Yoongi was Agust d. And Namjoon was going to kill him.

- he’s going to kill him - i tell Jack, he loooked at me through the mirror.

- What?

My eyes lock into his, thinking of my brother. If Yoongi dies so will my brother. Why wasn’t he doing anything?

My heart racing as I look around the car, only to find Jacks pistol on the seat beside him. Looking up to Yoongi I see the men in front of him held up a gun.

Just one reaction of him to kill him.

I let my feeling take over me as I take my last step towards what would be my end, the cold feeling of the metal of the pistol in my hand. My heart racing so fast it pained my chest, my helpless self trying to save my brother.

Two seconds I was out of the car, walking towards Yoongi. Jack fallowing behind me but i was too late to stop me.

I wouldn’t let him hurt my brother.

Even if I had to betray Namjoon. Even if I lose him too.

With shaking hands I held the pistol high. Standing behind Yoongi. The men in front of him in my sight.

I took a deep breath pulling the trigger. My mind a mess and the only sound I heard before was the fire burning there.

Then the loud shooting of the pistol being fired filled my ears.

One.

Bang.

Two.

Bang.

Next?

Note: sorry for any grammatical mistakes hehe ☺️💖🤭

Taglist: @missmin @whipwhoops @glosstwn @i-have-no-life-charlie @kooslilhoe @catlove83 @taegicity @ginger-coffee-addict @rosquilleta @tarahardcore @liveyun @manuosorio @thvlover 7 @4ukiyo4 @passionandsuga @missroro @btspurplesky @crystallizedtime @i-am-invisible-for-you @celticcountrygal @dancerninjastudent-blog @fairywriter-oracle @m4gg13-g @alexxa013 @unadulteratedlyunique @kpopmultistantrashsstuff @anaspectoflife @younhakim29 @slinekyu @nochookiee @strxwbloody @yoongislatinagff @pandafuriosa60 @nattjuless @cuntessaiii @fatmaortiz @kimsonlyluv @wobblewobble822 @be0mluver @sukonsukuna

[dozing-marshmallow]

BAKING WITH TOTAL DRAMA CHARACTERS SCENARIOS

(Photos aren’t mine by the way!)

BAKING WITH LINDSAY

(AS A BIRTHDAY SURPRISE)

You were surprised when she told you she didn’t have a mani-pedi appointment today. As if the day couldn’t be more convenient.

In Lindsay’s world, there was no such thing as baking unless it was done for her. And she was no expert in cooking either, which is why she was hesitant to bake.

“I don’t get it... Why am I putting four eggs in when five is my lucky number?”

Yep. As long as she was in the kitchen you could not let your guard down.

“What are you saying? What’s with all this flour? And this butter? Is that supposed to help me remember it?”

Alright, you both definitely didn’t have the same image in mind,“Remember what, Lindsay? We’re baking.”

“Ohh bake!” See? “I thought you meant pake, you know like password authenticated blah blah... Oh I’m soooo happy that wasn’t the case, you really aren’t complicated in that way, (Y/M)!”

She still messes your name up sometimes. But on the bright side, her motivation and inner child was found.

She loved pouring the sprinkles into the batter and tried her best to not break any when mixing.

You strictly put yourself in charge of dividing the batter evenly between each tin and swapping them around fifteen minutes within oven baking.

In the meantime, Lindsay managed to get started on the icing- not without constant confirmation that she was doing it right. Seems like she learnt a lot already.

All was looking well, until you noticed something out of place in the bowl. Feeling icky, you carefully extract it,”Lindsay... Is this your hair?”

“Oops...”

You fixed her hair into various styles until the timer went off.

She was gasping in amazement to how solid and fragrant they came out, asking if she could just eat them like that, and you don’t blame her.

Fast forward to icing the layer in between the combined cake and it as a whole, you were about done preparing the piping bag from a separate bowl of icing when she suddenly pleaded to do it.

Anxious, you handed it over to her. Your worry about any mistake she could make was short lived when remembering that even if it did come out slobbery, you know that her intentions were pure and it’s not like anyone else was going to eat the cake anyway. Until watching her actually pipe made you realise she was no amateur:

She was way better at it than you expected.

Seriously, her flowering and swirls were so high in symmetry, it was practically perfect!

“Duhhh! I do makeup! Hair and makeup! I’m like basically holding a curler, ooo I wonder if I could use this bag to style my hair instead? This has to be Victoria’s Secret to smelling so good!”

Logic never went well with Lindsay’s talents. And that was fine with you.

“Taa-da!” She cheers out,”Ohh it’s so pretty... I almost don’t wanna eat it!”

You congratulated Lindsay for her fruitful efforts and asked if she knew why you wanted to bake a cake with her specifically on that day.

“Because you like like me?” Her response after her time of self complimenting over the finish product was done.

“Yes, and also...” This is it.

You grabbed your 1 candle and 7 candle, placing them next to each other on top of the cake.

She watched as you lit them up in seconds, and without warning, the occasion hit her.

“Ohh right! Now I know why my Facebook’s blowing up like crazy today! It’s today!” As though the piped cursive writing of her name on top of the cake didn’t tell her too, but when she started clapping her hands together with that big smile on her shiny lips, it made up for it,”Yaaay! Seventy one today! Can’t believe how long it’s been since I first picked up a magazine. And was born, can’t forget about that, duh. Uh oh. Does that mean I’ll get frail and wrinkles now? Aww I don’t wanna give up tanning! Not yet!”

“You don’t need to worry about that for now, Lindsay, because it actually says seventeen. You’re seventeen today, and for another three hundred and sixty five days. Happy birthday, baby.” ⟡

BAKING WITH GWEN

(HELPING HER OUT)

“A pie, huh? Which flavour you thinking, apple, blueber-“

“Blackcurrant. We’ll be making a blackcurrant pie... that okay with you?”

When Gwen told you that her clique were hosting a get together party, you were almost as enthusiastic as she was.

But...

Because this was Gwen’s first time going to a party, she never thought she would have to worry about oven temperatures and accurate measurements up until now where the group agreed to whip up something individually that everyone could all share and eat.

That’s why she came to you with this dilemma! Her one and only.

Definitely not so she could simultaneously spend time with you.

You believed the thought process behind her choice of baking a blackcurrant pie was genius: the lattice crust on top could mimic a spiderweb and the colour behind itself was the real thing that appealed to the goth eye.

At the start, Gwen was nervous. She never did this kind of stuff before and didn’t want to screw it up, especially if her friends were going to eat it.

That’s why you suggested: I’ll make the crust, you can make the blackcurrant filling.

Oh how she loved crushing the blackcurrants,“Just imagining it’s Heather’s head right now.” She said with a smile.

Isn’t she so cute!

After pouring the sauce in the base, Gwen’s ambition really skyrocketed- you couldn’t deny how happy you felt when she insisted on making the perpendicular crust for the top, and that was just one example.

Even with all the red on her hands, she really was an artist.

“This is fun! It’s really like painting! Only with dough and fruit.”

Now, all the pie needed was no more than thirty minutes in the oven. To pass the time, you guys decided to do some drawing in her bedroom.

And it came out beautifully! The crust was golden brown and the blackcurrant juices were steaming with sweet flavour. Delicious... You can tell by Gwen’s eyes that she can’t wait to sink her teeth into a slice of it.

But her craving was quickly replaced by annoyance, upon realising how messy the countertop and floor was.

You cheekily remind her that she could’ve just bought something and passed it off as hers if she didn’t want to go through the trouble of cleaning everything up.

“Y-You think I would do something like that just so I wouldn’t need to clean? Jeez, I’m not that bad! I couldn’t handle the dreading guilt of doing that to them. Besides, I made it with you. That alone already tops off any other pie I could have bought instead.” <3

BAKING WITH ALEJANDRO

(IN CELEBRATION OF A SPANISH FESTIVITY)

“It would be an utmost honour, mi tesoro.”

In light of his Spanish roots, you were going to be baking “Pan de Cea” which was some kind of bread that’s traditionally made in favour of this summer festival called “festa de exaltación”.

You couldn’t wait! However, because you weren’t so familiar with bread baking, you were naturally amazed by Alejandro having known the entire recipe off by heart.

“No need to be ashamed. Unlike my love for you, this recipe will be very easy for you to understand.”

And what would be a day with Alejandro without his charming lines?

You loved and hated the warm effect they had on you, even more so when they escalated to a physical level.

He loves to stand right behind you, with his hand being on yours when you were mixing the yeast, the flour, the salt, the olive oil together... 

He’d pour the water so majestically into the bowl and took over when your arm got tired of stirring.

After the dough was hard, he claimed that you’d have to leave it in the bowl under plastic wrap for a day,“I know I’d feel safe if you stayed here all day with this dough, your beauty is the perfect thing to maintain a high temperature.”

Pretending you weren’t flustered, he laughed and invited you to get churros with him to make up for the spare time- it was only fitting.

Timeskip to the next day where the dough was hard, just how it needed to be on the parchment paper. Two minutes of watching Alejandro rub the dough in olive oil felt like two hours with the frequent looks he shoots at you.

Once he’s done, he pampers you by also literally massaging you during the hour needed for the bread to rise. Guess he thought you got jealous of it.

Jealous was a stretch, but you didn’t think you’d groan when it was time to take the loaf out. At least it smelt as pleasant as it looked.

As you were about take a piece, Alejandro stopped your hand with his to take it for you instead. This was nothing out of the ordinary, Alejandro just enjoyed having the liberty to feed you like that.

“Delicious... You did so well...”

“Don’t hold yourself at such low standards, mi amor! We did very well. Words alone aren’t enough to describe how proud I am of you. Feliz festa de exaltación.”

“Happy exaltation party!”

For the first time in your relationship with him, he was the one caught off guard,”Did I say it in English before?”

¡Era canela fina! ///

BAKING WITH CHRIS

(JUST WANTING TO SPEND TIME WITH HIM)

Initially, he would accuse the activity something only for “peasants” to do so you quickly reminded him that it was an insensitive thing to say and it wasn’t always about material things; sometimes it’s just about wanting to spend time with him outside Total Drama.

Once he’s gotten over his pride, he joins you, on the condition that you made cookies- since, according to him, it requires the less mental strength.

This probably won’t be surprising, but he made you do most of the work (at first). Claimed that his hands would be “soiled” if he touched the “filthy” ingredients for too long.

In the beginning, he was mean spirited as Chris enjoys to be i.e pouring a handful of flour down your clothes, forcing your face down the sink with the tap on, general shoving.

You wouldn’t have minded if you could’ve also had a laugh whenever you tried to recite the treatment.

Yeah he would be seriously insulted if you tried even doing something as little as rubbing a chocolate chip against his cheek.

It wasn’t until you threw an egg at his head out of anger and watched the yolk oil down his hair where he took accountability that he went overboard. Sure, he was laughing while he did.

But his hair was ruined for the rest of the baking process so you were too.

Afterwards, there was less “joking” and more compassion. Somehow now that he temporarily moved past his sadist ways, Chris began to involve himself a lot more in the whisking and licking your finger and vice versa of leftover batter.

The rolling of dough into a collection of spheres was arguably the best part.

“Look Chris! I made one that looks just like you!” You held up a cookie circle, obvious that those two lines of dough were purposely added to be on top to mimic his hair.

“Oh? What a coincidence! I made one that looks just like you too!” He declared, revealing a sticky slob of dough in his hand right after he said that.

“Oi...” You smile helplessly,”That’s not a nice thing to say to your spouse.”

But hey, if he didn’t tease at all, was that really Chris?

Post setting them on the tray and into the oven, Chris immediately rushes to the shower, and by the time he’s done, you were on your fifth cookie.

He whined at you for not waiting for him, but you’re quick to hand the one you’re on to him.

He finishes it, not without reminding you that you were the only exception to treating him like a “regular” person. Which in his books, was a deadly sin.

Needless to say, he’s impressed; despite him letting on so little, you’ve been with this man long enough to know otherwise. You could only smirk when he makes dismissive claims that they would’ve came out better if it was just him making them as he took spontaneous sips of his glass of milk.

By the end, he’s really glad you had this time together. He won’t stop thinking about it for a while. Heck, he’s more excited about baking with you again than you are.

Even if he won’t admit it.

Yet. :)

[agendabymooner]

from the ground up ! fernando a. x ofc (professional wrestler!canadian!ofc)

“this life will go by in a blink of an eye but i wouldn’t wanna spend it without you by my side.”

summary: weeks after their 15th anniversary, trish and fernando alonso introduced the newest members of their family to the world. f1 twt were also posting about… everything alonso-related, including the names of their kids (in a loving manner)

content warning: mentions thirsty!grid of years 2023 and 2005, literally fluff, long ass names of the alonso kids, pregnancy/birth announcement, crappy spanish translations + taylor/fernando alonso references

note: i can see you lurking and i just wanna say hi 😩 everything’s been a bit of a flop, i know 🥲 there should be some pierre gasly content otw as well- but idk who else to write for (thinking about este and checo atm)

let me know what you think!! send me an ask- tell me what’s going on, etc. enjoy xx

masterlist

[1st image: “back in 2013, your husband - f1 driver fernando alonso - started a rumour about your firstborn’s name being seven something words long. you never addressed anything about it despite it being asked repeatedly. then you confirmed that that’s the case after you had given birth to your second child. the youngest.” trish: she’s not going to be the youngest soon enough but yes.]

[2nd: just for the record, our kids freddy and rey have been given at least three middle names. and since they were both born in spain, their surname follows after what the practices tell us. i didn’t honestly want to tell anyone outside our family about it but nando was so excited that he told his grid friends. sebastian vettel’s the one to basically cause chaos and said “yeah the two named their son after their ancestors.”]

[3rd: it became a recurring topic that would show up once in a while. we don’t like making a big deal out of it — our kids don’t need to have their legal papers be published or spread to the public because they are entitled to the privacy that they have now. though the two have been bragging about their names in front of a camera whenever they could. especially when their papa gets interviewed— oh god, they actually tell everyone their full name.]

[4th: “yes! i remember the press conference with him and the kids!” t: i was hoping that it wasn’t streamed live when they had that but what can i do? it’s already out there hahaha. they’re really proud of their name. “would you be willing to repeat what they introduce themselves as?” t: i might as well. so, their names are frederico hugo fernando patrick and reyna severina odette anastasia alonso staedtlander— don’t look at me like that. i know it’s long.]

tagged fernandoalo_oficial

liked by lance_stroll, estebanocon, amydumas

amydumas holy shiiii- more godbabies for aunt amy!! liked by thetrishalonso

thetrishalonso i carried them all for you to spoil them!

user1 what’s up with the names 🥲

user2 what are their nicknames?!!!

thetrishalonso tino and tiago 💕

user3 name inspo?!!

thetrishalonso rubén = rubens barrichello and michael = schumi ❤️

user3 IM IN LOVEEEEEE

lewishamilton oh my god you and rey are outnumbered 😂 liked by thetrishalonso

thetrishalonso there’s no need to point it out 😂

carlossainzjr cannot wait to see the chicos, beatrice!! liked by thetrishalonso

thetrishalonso hurry up, tiago’s waiting to meet his godfather for the first time 😉

estebanocon congratulations, trisha and fernando!! liked by thetrishalonso

user4 look at my bestie, getting noticed by the grid crush of the season

astonmartinf1 just found our drivers 1 and 2 for the 2041 wdc season 💚 liked by thetrishalonso

thetrishalonso freddy’s looking forward for the 2032 season 😂💚

astonmartinf1 he’s welcome to be lance’s no. 2 anytime!

fernandoalo_oficial estoy tan bendecido de tenerte a ti y a nuestros hijos 😍 i’m so blessed to have you and our kids liked by thetrishalonso

thetrishalonso thank you so much for your love, mi amor ❤️

[translation: i am so incredibly grateful for my wife and her strength to carry not just one, but four children that i am sure i will love and appreciate as long as i can breathe. freddy, rey, tino and tiago, you will always have a place in my heart. freddy, you are an incredible big brother to all your siblings, and i can't wait for you to make them feel proud when you start your career as a racing driver. reyna, you will always be the best girl in my eyes, don't let other people say otherwise, princess. tino and tiago, you are the miracles that your mom and i have been asking for for years and i am always glad that you have come into our lives as nothing but surprises.]

tagged thetrishalonso

liked by nicholaslatifi, mickschumacher, lance_stroll

comments have been limited

amydumas congrats alo!!! i’ve always known i trusted you with trish for good reasons 😉 liked by fernandoalo_oficial

lance_stroll look at tino! he’s just as handsome as his godfather 😎

fernandoalo_oficial eh, you’re not that handsome.

lance_stroll wOW MEAN

sevstaedtlander congratulations nando and trish! their cousins are excited to meet the two liked by fernandoalo_oficial

tillywolff aww 😍 much love from me and the whole pack! liked by fernandoalo_oficial

thetrishalonso thank you tils! we can’t wait to have a play date with the wolff cubs and have you and toto meet the twins!

danielricciardo man you’ve got some balls 🤣 congratulations on the twins, nando and thetrishalonso!

thetrishalonso thank you danny, i can’t wait for your little one to show up too. though word of advice: please don’t refer to the kids as “some balls” ever again 😭

maxverstappen1 me and sylvie are up for babysitting if you ask for it 😉

mickschumacher hell no, i’m watching the alos

charles_leclerc you guys are funny

landonorris the bigger alo kids literally love me. have you been considered a favourite by either? no? exactly.

lance_stroll bold of all of you to assume they’d even allow anyone to watch the kids

carlossainzjr you might be a favourite but me and lance_stroll are the godfathers. so, keep trying nonetheless 👍

[novafire-is-thinking]

(Until life picks up speed again, this is null. I’ll update it later.)

How to say goodbye ‘see you around’ and mean it…

The time has come.

First thing’s first: this isn’t goodbye—just a heads up.

Due to changes I’m making in my personal life, I’m easing away from the Transformers fandom for a partial hiatus. My ambition makes me restless, and it’s about time I put some of my plans into action.

Yes, a Chinese person becoming a doctor. How original.

Maybe I’ll turn out like Ratchet. Maybe I’ll suffer long enough to become Pharma.

Only time will tell…

In any case, I don’t plan on totally disappearing from the fandom any time soon. For the foreseeable future, you’ll see me around primarily on weekends, Wednesdays, and holidays—collecting posts for the queue, answering old asks, announcing completed WIPs, and making a post every once in a while.

What to expect:

The queue will publish a few times a day, and most original posts and extra reblogs will be scheduled.

I have 300+ post ideas saved in my notes and screenshots. My goal is to slowly release these into the wild.

I’ll try to keep writing meta, but when and how will depend entirely on how much free time I have, and what little energy I have to spare.

If I ever have extra time, I might open my ask box and play an ask game or two. Maybe…

Asks, tags, and other things:

If you sent an ask in the past, I probably have it saved either in my inbox or my drafts. Yes—even the asks that are almost a year old. I have not forgotten, and I still intend to answer, even if the sender doesn’t remember.

My inbox is closed for now, but I’ve set up a fancy little Google form as a replacement: Nova’s Commlink

If at any time, you tagged me in something interesting, I saved it in my drafts. If I’ve deemed it worthy of a response, you will see it eventually.

Feel free to keep tagging me in things. I’ll give posts a ‘like’ to confirm I saw them, and if I really like a post, I’ll queue it for later or drop it in my drafts if I want to give a longer response.

If you tag me and I don’t confirm receipt within a few days, drop me a note in the Google form.

If I said I would do something else for you, I haven’t forgotten. It’s on my list, and I will get back to you about it when I’m able.

WIPs:

Fics for my Constellations of Cybertron AU are on hold. I’ll still plot and plan, but it will be a long time before I publish any of those longer stories.

I will continue working on my shorter WIPs: short fics, zine pieces, etc.

How to reach me:

Anyone (mutual or otherwise) who has my Discord should message me over there. This extends to those I’m in servers with.

Mutuals who don’t have my Discord and anyone I follow here can still DM me through Tumblr.

Everyone else can contact me using the Google form.

Don’t be afraid of bothering me. It may take me a while to respond, but I welcome it.

Last updated: 5/14/24 - section(s) updated: intro, What to expect, and WIPs

[crowleysgirl56]

Concerning the reactions to the comment David made to a young woman about the ending of Good Omens season 3 (including mine).

Firstly let me start by saying that most of my posts are to be taken a jokes. They are written to be mostly tongue in cheek, sarcastic and (what I think) are hilarious. So even though my previous post about freaking out about what David said might seem like I was legitimately panicking I just want to say that it was a joke and please don’t take it too seriously. Honestly I hope it just made you laugh, and you continued scrolling. If my post caused anyone to further their own anxiety or freak out, I apologise. If my post contributed to the fandom as a whole slightly losing their minds, I also apologise.

For those of you who took your reactions to David’s comment a step further and threatened that poor girl, insulted her, or were just generally mean to her, stop it! Don’t do that! Don’t be awful. Please be kind. Go and apologise!

With that out of the way, I did want to do a quick* analysis of the comment and perhaps address why people (and to a little extend myself) are feeling nervous.

To begin with, Neil has previously said (and this is a really good point), David was speaking directly to a fan, and was unaware he was being filmed. So when he says “maybe it’s not the ending you want”, he’s speaking directly to the person who asked him. We don’t know the context of their interaction beforehand and maybe she (or anyone else) had already expressed what their desire for the ending is, so this was his response. However taken out of context, the fandom has put themselves in the shoes of the person asking the question and therefore inserted themselves into the you part. The ending might not be want we want or expect. And considering the number of discussions the fandom participates in, the number of headcanons the fandom throw around, and the number of fanfics being written and read, whatever ending Neil has written is not going to satisfy everyone. It’s impossible to. But that is the same of any fandom really.

Speaking of fandoms, yes we are collectively nervous for a few reasons. One, for a good month there, we were convinced that the ending of season 2 was what the end of that story was going to be. Then when it was announced there’s still one more story to tell, there was another four months before it was finally confirmed that we were going to get that story. Two, case in point Game of Thrones. I don’t think I need to explain anymore than that. We have been burned before and now we’re worried it could happen again (though I will point out here, Neil has a better handle of storytelling and the love, devotion, and desire to finish a story that is beloved to him and is effectively a love letter to his best friend, compared to two TV producers who got bored and wanted to move onto other projects…). Three, filming is still 6 months away, and the premiere likely another year after that. A lot can happen in that time. So after these experiences, I can appreciate why people get nervous and a little in their heads about things.

In terms of the immediate reaction to what this could mean for the ending itself, I honestly cannot fathom how some people have managed to draw a straight line from “It might not be the ending you want” to “Terry would absolutely hate it”. Like, that just boggles my mind. HOW do you extrapolate that? David then immediately said “It’s a good ending”. So I think it’s safe to say that it will be good.

So let’s talk about endings and what people are mostly worried about.

1) Crowley and Aziraphale become human. This isn’t going to happen. Mainly because Neil has joked multiple times that this is the ending. Therefore if he says “this is what will happen” I’m pretty confident that this is what definitely won’t happen. You know after season 2, I ended up writing my own little fan fiction about them becoming human. I thought it was sweet and cute. Then I saw a lot of people absolutely hate that idea, so I never published it anywhere. Oh well.

2) Either one or both of them will die. Also not going to happen. Something tells me that Neil would not participate in the “bury your gays” trope. I do think that maybe there might be a non-permanent death or near death in the climax. But both will live, I’m positive of this.

3) Sex. I’ve spoken about this before. We’re not getting hardcore sexual activity. This is not the show for that. Neil has said before he’s not into writing that kind of thing. Do I think we’ll get more kissing? Yes. Do I think there will be implied sex? Maybe, hopefully, I’m wishing for it. But there is not going to be actual sex folks. Please make your way to AO3 for your reading pleasure.

4) The South Downs. And now we get to what I’m most worried about. That we won’t get what everyone assumes the ending will actually be. Crowley and Aziraphale retired and living in the South Downs. Will I be disappointed if this doesn’t happen? Absolutely. Will I lament here about it? Sure, probably. Will I send Neil abusive messages about how he destroyed and ruined the ending? NO! ABSOLUTELY NOT! AND DON’T ANYONE ELSE DO THAT EITHER!

So, will the ending be what we want? There is every chance that it will be, but always a possibility that it won’t be. This is the nature of storytelling. You will never satisfy everyone. Will the ending be good? I have no doubt in my mind that it will be. David says it’s a good. I trust him. Neil says it will be good. I very much trust him.

This is a comedy, first and foremost. Comedies have happy endings. Let’s just take a collective breath and believe it to be so.

*by “quick” I actually meant “really long”. Sorry about that.