#and now it's more to avoid fucking traffic and car expenses

[sga-owns-my-soul]

7 year old me 🤝 24 year old me

fantasizing about using a puddle jumper to get everywhere

[powzapboom]

Late Night Drive | Kim Taehyung (m)

PAIRING: TaehyungxF!Reader

SUMMARY: Her phone pinged. Same hour. Same person. Same inquiry.

WORD COUNT: A little bit less than 1k.

WARNINGS: mature language, explicit sexual content, car sex, protected sex, riding, eye contact

A/N: Thanks for reading! Have a good day! :)

Her phone pinged. Same hour. Same person. Same inquiry.

You up?

Sometimes the message would change, but not by much. He'd often skip asking and just let her know he was on his way. That didn't bother her. She was always ready. That's how it was tonight. He asked. She answered. He drove to her house to pick her up.

The drive to his place wasn't long. 15 minutes with no traffic. It was often a calming drive, with the sounds of night life in a sleepy part of the city. The low rumble of the car engine. The fluorescent glow of the street lights passing through the windows. Lofi coming through the speakers. They would steal glances at each other once in a while, and smile when they caught the other looking.

"You got a haircut."

It had been some time since they did this. Her hair was to the middle of her back last time he saw her. She played with the ends of her hair that now sat a little bit past her shoulder.

"Yeah. Just a bit of a trim."

"I like it."

"Thank you. I do too." A tint of pink dusted her face. She was never used to his compliments.

They pulled into his driveway. The house seemed more daunting than last time. Her stomach started to flip. The click of a seat belt fastener startled her. Taehyung had reached his hand over to unclip hers. He was inches from her face. She couldn't avoid looking at him anymore. He took in all of her features, not being able to hide the smirk growing on his face.

"You ok?"

"Yeah." she said meekly. He moved a strand of her hair behind her ear. His hand lightly grazed her jaw.

"Don't be nervous. It's just me." He teased.

She nodded and accepted as he leaned in. She missed this. She missed the slight bitterness on his lips from his cigarette. The smell of his expensive cologne. The way he felt against her. She sighed contently into the kiss. He pulled away, staying close to her lips.

"Get in the backseat."

"What?"

"I've been thinking about it..." He licked his bottom lip. "I want you stretched out in the backseat. I want to see how loud you can get in this car. Is that ok?"

He waited for her answer. Part of her wanted to say no. It had been a long time since she fooled around in some guy's backseat. It felt so high school to her. But then again, this wasn't just any guy. It was Taehyung. In his luxury car. Her eyes flitted to the seats behind them. There was plenty of room.

"Ok." Her skin felt hot.

"Ok." They made their way to the back.

Every moment after seemed so surreal. She was getting lost in the feeling of everything. The feeling of their searing kisses. The feeling of his hands gripping and grabbing various areas of her body. The smell of sweat and sex that began to fill the space. She felt like she was gonna pass out from it all. Her eyes felt heavy.

"Look at me. Keep your eyes on me."

She brought her focus back to him.

His hold on her face tightened. He had never been this aggressive before. She never knew how much she liked it until now, feeling herself clench around him. He began to move again at an agonizing pace. Fuck it felt good. She was breathless as he continued to scowl at her. She sat on his lap - mouth agape and arms coiled around his neck - practically delirious.

"Move for me sweetheart."

She nodded idiotically, quickly moving to bouncing on him again. They both moaned at the contact. The rhythm of it was getting too much. Taehyung moved his hands to her waist again. He was moving her even faster against his dick. She was growing tired, worried that she would not be able to keep up. Unable to move her gaze, her eyes rolled back in pleasure.

"Fuck...take over...move me where you need me to be."

He kept his eyes on her. He groaned at her words, loving how she was enjoying it as much as he was. He brought a sloppy kiss to the side of her neck.

"So fucking hot..."

He muttered okay, and changed the pace again. Time was slowing down. The shake of the vehicle was no longer vigorous. The intensity was still there. He was fucking her for sure. But the speed...the way he knew her body... He was rocking his hips against hers in such an addictive way. How was she able to feel every part of him through the condom? How was this moment so intimate? How was he able to change his movements so quickly? His thrusts were getting sloppy. He was getting whiny. Or maybe it was her.

"Taehyung, I wanna cum..."

"Me too...fu-"

With every last bit of energy, he gave a few more powerful thrusts before he started to break. He threw his head against the seat, and moaned loudly. He stayed in her as he came undone. The strength of his actions made her fall apart, nothing but sounds of broken words coming out of her mouth.

The energy died down eventually. The heat they had created in the confined space stuck to them in an uncomfortable way.

"You owe me a shower," she said exhausted.

"Anything you want beautiful, it’s yours."

She kissed him sweetly. With some maneuvering, they put their clothes back on and finally headed inside.

[queenoftheworldisdead]

C.R.E.A.M

Chapter 4

A/N: I edited chapter 1 and 2 so reader doesn’t know who Zemo is. Just fyi if you’ve read this series when I first wrote it. Reader is female. No physical descriptors used. Let me know if i fucked up and not do that. Chat me up i don’t bite!

Summary: Thor crossed the wrong man, now you are caught in middle.

Warning: Adult content only! 18+ only please. Dark! There is potentially triggering stories ahead.

Dark Thor x Reader, Dark Zemo x Reader (Mein Hase), Drug lord AU

Mein Hase: German for my Bunny 🐇

💵

You felt stupid. This was stupid. A smarter version of yourself would’ve lied—found an excuse to get out of this situation. But no, you’d panicked and let him lead you to his SUV.

You thank the elderly driver as he opens the door for you both. Sliding into the back seat, you feel the soft leather beneath you, warm but somehow stifling. The space between you and Zemo shrinks and the air becomes thick. You turn your gaze to the window, watching the city blur by in streaks of color, trying to focus on the familiar sights in a desperate attempt to calm the rising wave of anxiety threatening to swallow you whole.

“Thank you for joining me,” Zemo says, his voice measured. You don’t turn to look, but you sense him leaning away, his focus drifting to the passing scenery. The steady hum of the engine only amplifies the tension.

An itch tickles your neck, and you glance over. In the reflection of the glass, you catch his eyes on you, watching. You quickly look away, heart pounding.

You shift in your seat, the edges of your nerves unraveling. “I guess… I don’t understand why you want to have lunch with me.”

“Tell me, how much does Thor pay you, mein Hase?” His words cut through the air with the weight of judgment, a thin veil of disgust coating every syllable.

The ground beneath you seems to tilt. A wave of nausea rolls in. Your mind scrambles, flashes of that night with Thor—how he refused to listen—how he had taken what wasn’t his to take.

You say nothing. The silence stretching as you felt your mind spiral, tightening like a knot in your chest.

“Does he fill your apartment with pretty things?” His tone casual, almost mocking, but each word lands like a punch.

Thor. Just the thought of him makes your stomach churn. You hadn’t asked for the expensive dinners, the extravagant gifts, or the uninvited touches that followed. Everyone knew the Odinsons—respected, feared, untouchable.

His wife, a frequent guest at the auctions, painted the perfect picture of a family man. But beneath that, he was a criminal, a dangerous man second in line to a powerful empire. And a womanizer. You’d tried to say no, but men like him didn’t hear that word. They couldn’t. To them, 'no' simply didn’t exist.

Now it feels like it was happening all over again. Had Thor sold you off? You dig your nails into your palms, trying to ground yourself.

“I-I,” your voice cracking, barely a whisper. The tears you'd fought so hard to suppress finally spilling over, burning hot against your skin. "I never asked for this… I-I didn’t choose…"

"Calm down... breathe." He turns to you, a hand sliding across your back, a light touch—reassuring, but unwelcome. More like a violation than an act of gentleness.

"We’ve arrived, Baron Zemo," the driver’s voice cut through the haze, pulling you harshly back to reality.

Zemo's attention shifts slightly and before you could fully register it, your body moves. You bolt from the SUV, ignoring the calls to stop.

Horns blare as you dart onto the street, your feet hitting the pavement hard. You dash through the lanes of traffic, narrowly avoiding vehicles as you reach the other side. Everything becomes a blur—faces, cars, noise—all distant, out of reach. It didn’t matter where you were going, just that you had to get away.

💵

The encounter with Zemo leaves you feeling hollow, as if everything inside you has drained away. How many people knew? How many more times would this happen? You’d hoped, naively, that you were just some temporary plaything Thor would eventually get bored with and discard. But now, an even darker possibility gnaws at you—that you’re nothing more than a pawn, passed around in his circle of powerful friends.

Cold realization slows your pace. Your heart pounds in your chest. What did you just do? Disrespecting one of Thor's friends could mean swift, brutal punishment. What would Zemo do? You don't know anything about him. Was he just as dangerous, or worse?

You bite down on your bottom lip, your fingers trembling as you clutch your phone. Without thinking, you open the browser, your legs moving on autopilot in a direction you barely register. You search for Zemo’s name, desperate to know more about the man you’ve just fled from.

You read the results, the headlines screaming at you: Sokovian Crime Boss, Baron Zemo blood rivals with the boarding Asgardians, Turn Territory into a War Zone.

You squint in confusion at another article: Zemo listed among his wife and son. all killed during their son’s birthday party, with rumors circulating that the Odinsons were prime suspects in the attack. Your heart stops. how could that be? from the pictures that was the man you knew as Zemo.

Your stomach sinks, lightheartedness creeping in. Was he going to kill you to send a message? You were disposable—just another one of Thor's whores.

The weight of it all crashes over you. Your phone feels heavier in your trembling hand as the dizziness threatens to pull you under.

💵

Your body returns to the warehouse, but your mind is still far away. You move through the motions of your tasks. Zemo’s face haunts every step, but you try and push it away in vein. He knew too much—where you lived, worked, even your connection to Thor. Should you even be here? Were you putting your coworkers in danger?

A hand lands on your shoulder, and you flinch, your heart skipping a beat. Natasha’s voice pulls you from your spiraling thoughts, but the tension doesn’t leave your chest.

"You alright?"

You nod too and force a smile that doesn't reach your eyes. "Uh… fine." You lie, though the tremor in your voice surely betrays you.

Natasha’s brow arches, skeptical, but she doesn’t press further. "I just wanted to thank you for the great work you did at the auction. I know it wasn’t easy, but you were great."

"Right," you mumble, still distracted. The praise barely registers as you shift on your feet. "Glad I could help."

"Good... Because I need another favor."

You fight back a frown, but you can't stop your stomach from clenching at the thought of doing another auction.

"Tony’s hosting a charity casino night. I need you to go in my place to represent the warehouse."

"Me? What about you?" you choke out.

She hesitates, her gaze lowering briefly before she answers. "I’ll be there… with Tony."

The words hang in the air, heavy with unspoken meaning. Your eyes catch the glint of a diamond on her finger. She notices and quickly shoves her hands into her pockets—it’s an engagement ring, no doubt.

"Natasha, I’m so sorry…" Your voice softens as you give her a worried look, but she refuses to meet your eyes.

She forces a chuckle, but it’s hollow. "Don’t be. I underestimated how far he'd go to torment me."

The weight of her admission makes your chest tighten. There’s more to her story, but you know better than to push.

"Anyway… the event," she continues. "It’s to celebrate his retirement. He’s passing the reins to his protégé. It’s supposed to be good faith event—introducing him to the other families, politicians, everyone. I know I’m asking a lot, but you won’t need to do much. Just show up, smile. People might hassle you for invites to the next auction, but you can handle that. Just… don’t mention my name this time. As far as they’re concerned, you’re in charge."

💵

You stand in front of your apartment door and breathe in. Today was long, too long, but now at least it was over.

You twist the key in the lock, and with a soft click, you push the door open. A wash of warm light spills into the hallway. Your chest tightens—you never leave the light on. The thought makes your pulse quicken.

Your eyes search the living room, nothing is out of place, but unease doesn’t leave you. Your thoughts fall to Thor, he didn’t have a key-not like a lock would stop him.

The familiar rattle of the kettle catches your ear, pulling you from your thoughts. You step in cautiously, your gaze drifting toward the kitchen. Steam rises, curling in soft wisps, the whistle still moments away. It hasn’t been on long. The realization makes your stomach twist.

“Hello again mien Hase. Welcome home.” Your breath catches in your throat. Zemo’s voice floats in from the hallway. He steps out slowly, a smile soft on his lips, but it does nothing to ease the gnawing fear clawing at your insides. If anything, it tightens the coil. “From the the look on your face I deduce by now you've figured out who I am by now-yes?"

Stiffly you nod as he moves to the kitchen. He opens the cabinet where you keep your cups and moves without fail to the next that keeps your teas. Every motion calculated, as if he’d done it a thousand times before.

“I assure you I am not a ghost,” he says, his tone gentle, almost soothing, though it sends a chill down your spine. “And you have nothing to fear. You’re not the one I’m after. Now, come. Have a seat. This is your home, after all.”

You don’t believe him, but you do as you're told, moving without protest. The bar-stool scrapes against the linoleum floor, the sound grating, as you drag it back and sit down. You swallow thickly, eyes on him as he steeps his tea with infuriating calm.

"Are you going to hurt me?" The question slips out before you can stop it, your voice trembling under the weight of your anxiety.

He chuckles softly, lips curving into a smile as he takes a slow sip from his cup.

"No, mein Hase." His voice dips, the accent curling around the words like a caress. "Tea?"

You shake your head, throat tight. "No, thank you."

He places his cup down with a careful clink, fingers spreading wide across the countertop, drumming lightly as he leans forward. The air between you feels thinner, suffocating.

"Relax, mein Hase. I've only come to congratulate you on your promotion."

Your brows knit in confusion. "I... I didn’t get a promotion."

He tilts his head, a mockery of surprise flickering across his face. "Really? How strange. Apologies, I must’ve been misinformed. Does that also mean you won’t be attending Herr Stark’s charity event?"

"Yes... I promised Mrs. Romanoff I’d attend on behalf of the warehouse." You answer, hands twisting together in your lap. You dig your nails into your palms, willing yourself not to shake. Running seems pointless. Calling for help, even more so. What would you say? That a man Thor tried to kill is sitting in the apartment Thor pays for? The police wouldn’t take you seriously. And Thor... Thor would find out.

Maybe that’s what Zemo wants. Have Thor find your corpse. Your stomach twists tighter at the thought.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, voice deceptively gentle, but you can’t find the strength to answer. Can’t even look at him. The air is getting thinner and your throat feels like it wants to close.

Hot tears spill over when you he touches you, it's almost tender, but you barely feel it through the haze of dread that clouds your mind.

"It seems I have a knack for making you cry," he tuts, a note of amusement in his voice. "I shall leave you to collect yourself."

You don’t stop sobbing as he bends down, pressing a gentle kiss to your temple, nor as his footsteps fade down the hallway. The door clicks shut behind him, but the sobs wracking your chest don’t stop, not even then.

[kickthecan-revolution]

Peach had a spay consult across the street on Friday and barring any issue, I could have gotten her in for her spay a few days later but my vet said the hospital they work with over in Oakland would do same day wellness check and spay so it’s all done. I’m desperate to have this over with and the foster asked me to keep her until she’s through healing from the surgery so I cancelled that Friday consult and went ahead and made the appointment there for Tuesday, only to realize that this fucking APEC conference is here and they are closing one lane of traffic on the Bay bridge. Traffic will be gridlocked everywhere and it won’t help that protestors are planning to block all of the streets so I could be on the bridge with a recovering kitten for hours. I should have just kept the original appt or thought ahead but the way things have been going, I only have energy and focus for one week at a time. So I made a reservation for a hotel close to the Oakland hospital so when I drop her off on Tuesday morning, I’ll go there, work, bring her back there after her appointment and then leave for home around midnight to hopefully avoid the insane traffic though it I’ll still be bad. The price freaked me out, this is all so expensive at this point.

As usual I have no idea what I’m doing and my intuitive coach has bailed on me which I should be used to by now, so I have to figure all of this out by myself. I trust no one to show up when it’s hard, when I am hard. No one sticks. The amount of things I have to figure out on my own makes me want to just not be here anymore.

And it’s just so vile that the city has “cleaned out” all of the homeless people and drug users for this conference but they couldn’t help more with dealing with literally dying people on the street from fentanyl beforehand. And a kindly fuck you to the massive shoplifting and mugging and car theft. I hate living in a place where I feel so unsafe.

Today I’m irrationally pissed at Minnie for being so angry and surly all of the time.

I’m so angry and sad and tired. I’m angry at everything.

Today is hard.

[vvatchword]

I fucking moved. Fuck that city in particular and fuck everybody in it except for the cool Bat Dude and the lady who gave me a ride so I didn't get rained on and the nice old grandpa who saw me staring into space at the hamburger joint (as one does).

Yes, I got into a stranger's car, but look. She was very nice and she reminded me of a dear friend, and I was so darkly miserable that the fact she asked was like a little ray of sunshine. Like look. Not everybody is fucking horrid, sometimes they're a nice librarian-looking lady in an SUV.

Oh, now I can't stop thinking of nice people. Let's face it: there were plenty of nice folks there. It's just that I'm not made for cities. There's what I thought I wanted and there's what I actually wanted.

I hate cities

I hate noise

I hate traffic

I hate rich people

I hate pollution (and so does my bird)

I hate the horrifying cost of living

I hate lights and need a real nighttime. If I can't see stars I begin to die. If your lights are so bright the moon disappears, you're too damn bright

I HATE public transit because...

I hate having to maneuver around homeless shenanigans. You know how many times I'd be genuinely terrified per month? Way too many times.

There were too many people everywhere I went. I would try to go shopping early to avoid rubbing shoulders and end up rubbing shoulders. There was just no easy way to avoid crowds.

Tamed nature. Do you know what I mean? Nature made as humans desire it, not nature existing outside of humankind. At the very least--nature that hasn't seen more than two separate human beings per month. I have learned a brand new appreciation for wastelands. I am not renewed by a park with a tree in it. I need to see land that doesn't need a sprinkler system.

I was constantly overwhelmed and I never got to do anything fun because I was too poor. Cool shit happens here, too, though. So I'm just going to try and go to something nice at least once per month. It's more expensive because you have to drive, but it's less expensive on the whole because half of my income isn't going to rent.

Moving was a nightmare. I basically packed up and left in a week. My dad contracted some friends from his church. They said they could help me pack if I wasn't done yet. Joke's on me: those guys didn't give a single fuck. They launched my belongings like we were Cape Canaveral. I thought I was going to die from the agony of seeing brain-dead rednecks bodyslam my books into boxes. I still haven't found parts of my stuff yet. Who knows where it's all gone. I'll find it eventually? I guess?

I proceeded to drive home in the dark and the rain, where I chugged energy drinks and longed for death. I stopped once to buy the best possible snacks I could find (Muddy Buddies, Dot's Pretzels, some donuts. My life is falling apart. I deserve nice things). My traveling partner was the sole surviving African Dwarf Frog (long story, but they started dying one by one, and she is the last).

Got home and weeks of abuse caught up to me. I proceeded to fall into a catatonic state for about two days. Caught up with myself today and finally set my PCs up. I have two; one is an old-school mid-tier gaming device from like. 2012. The other is my custom-built gaming PC from about three years ago. Anyway. I've been wanting to make them both dual-monitor machines but I had to do some troubleshooting, and I figured it out today.

I can't connect to ethernet because this house wasn't built with ethernet in mind. It's going to have to be WiFi. Ewwww. Oh well

Being home is a HUGE relief. My parents are ecstatic to have me. The DOG is ecstatic to have me. The bird is angry because I can just straight-up leave his sight now. The apartment may have been a hideous, dimly-lit hole, but it was a SMALL hideous, dimly-lit hole, and he knew where I was at all times. He has to hunt for me now and he hates it.

I can begin job-hunting again in earnest, as well as begin NaNoWriMo. I need to hit 5,000 words today. Wish me luck lol

[cyberdragoninfinity]

started drafting this last week but now im gonna talk about everyone's preferred manner of transportation in GX College AU. because i can.

Ive brought it up before but Syrus drives his brother's hand-me-down silver Prius, lovingly called the Cyber Dragon or just The Cydra. Sy put an Autobots sticker on it. He takes meticulous care of it half because He Wants To and half because "oh god if i fuck up zane's old car hes going to want to eject me into the sun" <- *anxiety spiralling*

Jaden bikes everywhere. Or walks everywhere because his bike got stolen. Or syrus drives him around ("i'll pay ya back soon I prommy!!")

Jesse drives a beat up truck older than he is and it only has a cassette player and he is driving around town getting so lost and just blasting old country tapes and you KNOW Crystal Beast Topaz Tiger is chilling out in the truck bed.

Do yall have those rentable Bird scooters??? These things?

I decided Alexis has a jailbroken one that shes uses to get to work. Zane hacked it himself for her for her birthday :^)

As mentioned above Zane used to have the silver Prius, but post-graduation drives a used hulking mass of a black 2017 Hummer because C’mon, Hell Kaiser Car Ever. He Looks Like One. mostly he just avoids social obligations by sitting in it for extended stretches of time eating grocery store baguettes.

Atticus has a red PT Cruiser with the stupid wood stripe. It's absolutely covered in bumper stickers, shit like Jimmy Buffett's head and a rainbow pot leaf and a pan flag "surf's up!" and "why not hugs AND drugs" and "i brake for all that is beautiful in this world." he has a custom license plate that says LUVMSTR, also.

He also longboards this is important. Has longboarded into traffic more than once.

I think I assigned Bastion as public transit coded. Dude loves taking the bus.

Chazz drives a Lexus (lmao) that he had Before he got cut off but now that hes cut off from his wealthy brothers hes like. Clinging to this car with all his being. The inside is the most trash filled interior of a car youce ever seen. chazz you cant fucking LIVE like this.

ive never seen anyone give aster a motorcycle before but i think he should have one. Little white yamaha-type bike, zips around and goes to biker meetups with sartorius (they really straight up gave him a motorcycle in s4 and honestly?? it fucking rules.) Aster i think also has some ludicrously expensive sports car gathering dust in his apartment complex parking garage. Little rich boy BASTARD.

i know i mentioned this before but hassleberry has a jeep. he just has to have one. he's saving up to get it painted like a Jurassic Park jeep <3

blair is a little moped coded i think

[axoxtxhxh]

Irish Cream Oat Milk Latte

Barista!Miche x Fem!Reader

Summary: Miche is a Barista at a drive-thru coffee shop. He’s had his eye on one of his regulars for quite some time. When will he get the courage to ask her out?

Content: Pure fluff

Word Count: ~2,800

A/N: I don’t write many oneshots, but I’ve been trying to get more into it because I know how easy they are to read. Please enjoy this Miche story :) also, thank you @luanabonn for always beta reading for me!

Every morning was the same. Miche would come to work at five o’clock in the morning to open up the drive-thru coffee shop and prepare for the morning rush. The shop didn’t open until five-thirty, but when the cars did start coming, the line backed up fast. Some of the patrons were grumpy, having to be up early to get to work and fight the morning traffic only to sit at their desks all day. Others were the early birds, the morning dwellers that thrived on waking up early, either just finishing their morning workout or about to get it started, they were the ones with a more cheerful smile than Miche and his coworkers.

They had their regulars, too. Most of the regulars were people that hated waiting in the morning rush and would get their coffee just after it ended. Miche preferred the regulars to any of the other customers. The regulars were the ones that talked to him about things other than traffic, the weather, and whatever holiday was approaching. They knew about Miche’s struggle moving from his apartment. They knew about his weekend plans of helping his parents replace the tile in their bathroom. And he knew about their families, their daughter about to start middle school and even celebrated with them when they landed that new job. He loved his regulars.

There was one regular that he appreciated a bit more than the others. She came nearly every day at eight o’clock in the morning, even weekends. She had been coming to get coffee from him for nearly a year now and since day one, Miche was smitten.

Each time she drove up, he found his heart beating quicker and he couldn’t help the smile that grew on his face. The first thing he noticed about her was her smile. She had the brightest, widest, most sincere smile he had ever seen. It made him laugh sometimes because she was one of those people that did that thing where they cover their mouth when they laugh and he couldn’t understand why she would cover her smile when it was so contagious.

He was lucky enough one day to see her laughing so hard her eyes started watering. It was at the expense of himself, but that was still a win in his book. She pulled up to the drive-up, always the same window, always his window.

“Good morning! Getting the usual—hic!” His eyes went wide and a second large hiccup made its way out of his mouth.

“Oh, hiccups!” She raised her eyebrows and smiled at him.

“Sorr—hic!” Miche put his hand on his chest to try and get the hiccups under control, but they only got worse.

“You just need to regulate your breathing.” She instructed, already starting to laugh at him. “Try taking deep breaths.”

Miche watched her take deep breaths, watched her hand on her chest, watched her smile slowly growing and he was smiling too.

“It looks like you’re dancing.” She laughed. Miche looked down at himself and laughed with her, pretending to dance before quickly knocking over a stack of cups.

“Fuck—hic! I’m sorr—hic! I didn’t me—hic! Curs—hic! Damn it.” He dropped his head and rested his elbows on the counter, holding his face in his hands. That’s when he heard her roaring with laughter and he looked up, his cheeks stained pink out of embarrassment, but deepening in color from how cute she looked.

She was laughing uncontrollably, tears filling the corners of her eyes and he was smiling at her, admiring how great of a laugh she had. She waved her hand in front of her face trying her best to apologize for laughing at him. It took her a minute to calm herself down, but when she did, she took a deep breath and looked at him.

“Thank you for the laugh. I thought today was going to be a bad day.”

“My pleasure.” He nodded and he was hooked.

If it wasn’t because of her smile or her laugh, it was because she was always asking him how he was doing and remembering the answers for her next visit. Miche found himself waiting for her every day at eight o’clock, excited to see her and talk to her for the brief amount of time they had.

He planned to try and ask her out after the first few times she came, trying to keep it professional, maybe asking her if she needed help with putting together her new bicycle she bought. Miche was a cyclist and they bonded a lot over that, once having a ten-minute conversation about cycling, much to the annoyance of the customers that were behind her in line.

When he finally worked up the courage to ask her, there was a man in her car with her that trip. She had never directly said that this person was her boyfriend, but Miche knew. He could tell. After that first time, the man was with her nearly every time after that. Any time she was alone, Miche would ask “Anything for him?” to be sure that she was actually still dating. She always got an extra drink for him.

After months of them dating, she started getting coffee at more random times, not always pulling up to Miche’s window, but his feelings for her only grew. Each time something making him wish even more that she was pulling up to his window and chatting with him. He was worried that maybe it was something he did. Maybe he messed up. Maybe he made a comment without realizing it and made her feel uncomfortable.

She was still nice to him when she got coffee, even waving to him when she was at someone else’s window, but it wasn’t the same to him. Once when she pulled up to Levi’s window, Miche immediately recognized the voice chatting with him. Levi passed the order to Miche, knowing he would want to help her. Everyone knew. But Miche quietly listened to Levi talk to her about her weekend. She had recently started using Invisalign and Miche could hear the lisp in the way she spoke and his heart was swelling at the adorable sound. He sighed as he prepared the second cup of coffee for him.

Another time when Hange was working with him, he could hear her voice from his seat in the back. Hange was talking with her about how early they have to wake up in the morning in order to make it to work. Miche peered around the corner and noticed her wearing a spring dress, yellow and pink flowers covered the front, a low V neckline showing just enough cleavage to make him happy their coffee hut was higher than her car. He smiled at her and she smiled back quickly, waving before her attention was back on Hange.

Miche held his smile, admiring how pretty she looked in those colors and the sunlight dancing across her skin. He inched closer to them, starting her coffee as he listened to them chat. He could see her hand rubbing her thigh and watched as it inched the dress up, bit by bit. He swallowed hard and looked away, continuing the coffee. Miche was a thigh man to the core. He quickly glanced back again. Just one more look. How he would love to lay his head in her lap, nuzzle his nose against her stomach. And if she’d let him, he would bury himself in—

“It’s just the one coffee today.” Hange told him, breaking him from his thoughts. He stood there holding the shot of espresso and Hange quickly grabbed her coffee, handing it to her and saying bye. Miche quickly turned, barely enough time to wave, but he did and she waved back. Only one coffee.

Y/N had no idea at what point she had fallen for her barista. She had been going to the same coffee shop drive-thru for nearly a year always seeing the same baristas. She loved that she knew them all by name and they knew her. They knew her order and it honestly made her day getting to see them. It was a big part of the reason she never bothered getting a coffee machine. The other big part was Miche.

From the moment she saw him, she was attracted to him. Who wouldn’t be? He was tall, sun-kissed skin, silky blonde hair with a great smile. She would catch herself daydreaming at his arms flexing and twisting as he made her coffee. His voice was raspy, warm, and low, flowing like honey to her ears.

She loved that he was always noticing when something was different about her. Either a haircut, a new shirt anything like that. She couldn’t believe that someone could actually be that attentive. It didn’t even stop there. He always remembered what they spoke about the previous time. Remembering that she was learning to cycle and asking about her new bike.

This was why she couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment she started seeing him differently. She had an idea that her boyfriend did. Always asking to go with her to get a coffee, she was no longer able to have conversations with Miche like she used to. Each time she would laugh and joke, he boyfriend would start a fight out of jealousy. He didn’t have any reason to be jealous. There was no way Miche was interested in her. They were barely even friends. Just two people with similar interests.

She finally started getting coffee at different times in order to avoid having to bring her boyfriend all together. Most of those times, Miche either wasn’t working or he was at a different window. He was different then. He barely spoke to her and she thought maybe she had done something to upset him. Maybe he didn’t appreciate her flirting when she was in a relationship. Maybe he was in his own relationship.

When her boyfriend and her had finally had enough and decided to call it quits. She knew the first place she wanted to go. She didn’t care that Miche might not be interested or that he could have a girlfriend, she just wanted that little bit of happiness she always used to get from him.

As she pulled up to his window, she was disappointed to see that Miche wasn’t there. In one of the first times she’s ever come to get coffee, he wasn’t working. It was much later than she normally came here, so it was possible that his shift was over. She was even more surprised to find that the owner was the person taking her order.

“Hi, Erwin! I barely see you in here at all anymore.” She smiled already feeling better being there. “I was expecting to see Miche.”

“Sorry to disappoint.” He laughed. Everyone that worked there was beautiful. “He’s out sick today so I’m filling in.”

“Aww that’s too bad. I hope he’s okay.” She was genuinely concerned, but may have gone overboard in trying to mask her disappointment in not seeing Miche.

“He’s a big boy. I’m sure he will be fine soon.” He leaned over the counter to get closer. “What are you getting? The usual?”

She nodded, getting her card ready and handing it to him.

“Anything for him?” He asked.

“Nope.”

She pushed the card out further to him, but he ignored it, getting started on the coffee. The sounds of the coffee being made held her in her thoughts, lost as she looked at the steering wheel.

“We broke up.” She said, to herself, but also to Erwin.

“What’s that?” He leaned over to her.

“We… we broke up.” She looked at him and smiled. “My boyfriend and I. We broke up.”

“Oh.” He continued stirring her coffee, not sure what to say. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Oh gosh, I’m sorry. I don’t know why I said that.” She laughed, completely uncomfortable with how awkward she made everything. “I’m just rambling. I’m sorry.”

“No need to apologize.” He smiled. Pouring the coffee into the paper cup, he popped on the lid and handed it to her. “Here you go.”

“Thank you.” She took the cup and handed him her card again, but he put his hand up.

“It’s on the house this time. A small pick-me-up.” He smiled. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“If you’re working, I will be here.” She laughed and drove off.

The next day, she couldn’t bring herself to visit the café early in the morning. She had let herself stay up all night being miserable that she spent most of the day in bed. By the time four o’clock rolled around, she was feeling guilty that she’d told Erwin she would stop by and she quickly got herself ready to go. The café closes at five o’clock so she didn’t have much time left by the time she got dressed.

She pulled up to the window and Miche walked up to the counter, leaning over to her and smiling. He definitely didn’t look that sick so it must have been a quick cold.

“You look healthy.” She smiled.

“It was a quick bug. Are you getting the usual?” He brushed through his hair and she felt a shiver run through her. She nodded her head slowly as she watched him stand up straight, his muscles flexing as he pushed off the counter.

He looked different today. Almost like he was back to his old self. She watched him move quickly in front of the espresso machine, mixing her drink. He turned to look at her.

“Anything for him?” He called. She had no idea why that question coming from Miche made her smile, but it did. She was grinning widely back to him.

“Nope.” She shook her head and he was beaming back before turning back to her coffee.

She noticed Erwin walk over from the back and she waved. He moved over to Miche and they were whispering, Erwin nudging Miche with his elbow. Miche finally left her coffee stuff and moved back to her at the window.

“Hey, Y/N. Would you want to go cycling this weekend? With me.” He asked her leaning back over the counter. Her mouth opened, closing again quickly. She wanted to say yes, she would say yes, but her brain was short-circuiting and all she could do was smile at him awkwardly. “Sorry, maybe that came out as creepy. I’m sorry. I just—we both like cycling and you seem—”

“It’s okay. No—Yes! I would like that.” She smiled, her face burning with heat.

“Great.” He was smiling back at her. “Maybe we could meet here? Like eight?”

“That works.” She was so excited she couldn’t even contain it. She wanted to jump out of the car and yell into the sky. “I’ll see you then.”

She waved and drove forward, barely making it twenty feet before she realized she never got her coffee. How embarrassing. She looped back around, pulling up to the window. Miche was leaning over the counter, a bright smile on his face, his cheeks pink.

“I forgot my coffee.”

“I see that.” He handed her the cup and laughed. He couldn’t handle how adorable she was, his face was flushing as he smiled at her.

She waved again and drove off, this time with her coffee. She made it to the same point as before and stopped the car. Maybe she should be bolder. She didn’t have much to lose. Why not be really bold and just ask Miche to dinner. It doesn’t have to be some grand thing, but she could make herself known. She looped back around and pulled up to the window. Miche leaned forward again, smiling at her.

“Forget something else?”

“Would you want to have dinner with me? After we cycle.” She quickly looked down, worrying that maybe she was too forward. Miche leaned even further forward.

“I would like that a lot.” They both smiled, Miche’s blush deepening, but that glint in his eyes had her melting into her seat. She waved and pulled off again.

Again, she stopped at the same spot. What if he thinks they are eating dinner as friends? She never said it would be a date. She needed him to know it would be a date. That was important enough to turn around, right? She looped back around again, pulling up to the same window. Miche was waiting for her again, but she didn’t even give him enough time to say anything.

“I made that clear that it was a date, right?” She felt so stupid.

“Yes.”

They were both smiling. Miche was blushing, his chin resting on his hand as he looked at her. He was completely hooked, so totally head-over-heels for this lovely woman.

“Y/N?” He bit his bottom lip.

“Yeah?” She definitely noticed it.

“I get off in like ten minutes, do you want to have dinner tonight?”

“Yeah, I’d like that a lot.”

[neonponders]

I’m sorry, I couldn’t help myself @hoegrove your Bond!au is just too strong.

Based on their post here ~

I hope you like it 🥺 🌹 it’s on ao3, if that’s easier for anyone to read 🌹

• • • • • • •

013.

Fucking 013. Not 00.

Which meant he’d have to wait for whoever got the 00 status he deserved to either die or become incompetent.

“Congratulations, Hargrove. Report to HQ for briefing.”

He’d rather be headed for the private plane that would take him to some tropical location, where capitalist monsters waited for his bullet.

Hargrove stepped out of the elevator onto the spacious floor. He really wished HQ would renovate. The concrete floors, glass walls, and metal beams were urban but not chic.

He found the corresponding desk of his... “partner” of sorts. Every number had a letter. The computer and the muscle. As Hargrove removed his outer garment, though, only the computer desk was present, while the person - 

“Could you not dump your nasty jacket on my work station?”

Hargrove sighed and found the loon - on a bicycle. He frowned. “What the hell are you doing on a bike inside?”

“It helps me think,” Q said, riding slow laps in between the cubicles. Granted, there weren’t many of them, and Hargrove was pretty sure he’d only ever seen Q and maybe three other people on this entire floor, unless there was a crisis.

Maybe that’s why he had yet to be promoted to 00. Too much peace.

“Take your jacket off my seat!”

“Jesus Christ,” Billy cursed. He balled up the ruined jacket and threw at the bastard’s head. To his credit, he didn’t crash into anything. “Clean freak.”

“That’s Q to you,” he barked, dumping the raggedy garment into the nearest bin.

“Sure, Steve,” he purred, knowing his partner loathed the fact that he had figured out his real name. Hargrove wouldn’t work for just anybody, after all. And he was a detective first. Hired gun second.

He didn’t actually need Q. So he told himself. But Steve sure came in handy.

“So help me god, Billy. Did you at least keep my pen intact?”

“Your what?” He landed in Steve’s spinning chair, forcing the guy to lean his bike against his cubicle and stand with his hands on his hips.

“My pen, dip shit. You know, the one that’s basically a Swiss army knife. The one sanctioned by HQ to one Asshole Hargrove - ”

“Oh, that,” he said distantly, gazing out at the city around them. “It broke.”

Not surprised, nor impressed, Steve remarked, “You realize that if some nerd civilian reverse-engineers half the shit you lose, we might be genuinely compromised, right?”

“Then make better stuff.”

“Stop losing it, and you might actually be 00 one day.”

Billy glared with all the menace a man could while having his chair rolled out of the way. Steve shoved him aside with his foot and entered his computer password before navigating to the corresponding case briefs. Billy let his head recline on the seat while Steve went through the list.

“Target?”

“Deceased.”

“Car?”

“Totaled, but returned.”

“Pen: lost in action. Suspect?”

“Null. Excellent in bed, though.”

“You’re a cliche.” Steve glared from behind his glasses.

“Stop giving me cases with attractive people, then,” Billy smirked. “Who’s my next target? Tell me they live somewhere expensive and sunny.”

“Like a desert?”

“No, like Marseilles.”

“Oh, Marseilles is nice,” Steve chirped distractedly. “If you like French people.”

Billy snorted, but it evolved into laughter. “What’s wrong with French people?”

“They’re French.”

“Wow. Picky.”

Steve giggled under his breath and said, “I’m sorry I don’t have a gig for you in France.”

“I’m sure I’ll managed,” Billy sighed. “What do you have?”

“Something more domestic.”

Billy exhaled through his nose, warranting a curious peek from Steve. “Yeah, that’s what I’m stuck with. One zero and domestic jobs.”

“You’ll get there,” Steve reassured. Softly. Which was...odd.

Billy’s head rolled over the back of the chair to stare at him. Steve quickly added, “If you stop breaking the shit I loan you.”

Billy looked toward the ceiling, pressing his lips into an impertinent line...

“Q.”

“Hm?” he asked while typing away.

“There’s a bird in here.”

Steve looked at him. “What?” and followed his gaze up to the metal rafters. A grey bird gazed right back at them. “Oh shit - ”

Billy already had his pistol out. One shot knocked the bird off its perch. It landed with a loud, metallic clatter.

Steve's body doubled over when Billy wrenched his arm in the direction away from the device, and not a second too soon. The force of the explosion knocked them both over one cubicle and roughly onto the concrete floor.

"Q," Billy growled when the guy scrambled to his feet and back to his desk. He reached underneath it, uncovering a baseball bat of all things, and swung right over his hard drive. Metal and plastic debris rained over the floor, and then he ran to the router standing on a low piece of furniture along the wall. He wrenched its cables out and smashed the thing too.

Then he looked up at Agent Hargrove. "We're compromised."

Billy was already moving toward the scattered carcass of the spy bird. They didn't have a lot of time. Already, another explosive rumble sounded beneath their feet, on another floor. Billy quickly found the piece he was looking for, and pocketed it before yanking Steve in the direction of the stairs.

"I need a car."

"You know where the garage is."

"You're coming with me. That thing heard both of our names."

Steve defended, "We both lost our original identities when we signed up for this bullshit."

"We don't know what we're dealing with yet," Billy reasoned. "Until then, you're safest with me."

"Well that's pathetic." His words might've landed better if they didn't rattle out of him while they did their best to sprint down several dozen flights of stairs.

"You're really sassing me right now? What are you gonna do with that bat?"

Steve ignored that to proclaim, "We need to get to my place. I have a backup computer connected to the system."

"And how do we know it's not compromised too?"

"Because it's mine. Not the system's."

Billy could only frown at him ever so briefly, but he pocketed that information away for another time. For now, they descended into the belly of their organization, where the garage of vehicles rested beneath the city. There, another argument awaited him.

"You're not taking the goddamn Camaro."

"I'm taking the goddamn Camaro," Billy retorted, already ripping the keys out of the cabinet Steve unlocked for him.

"It's loud as all hell!"

"So are you. Get in the car."

Another explosion shook the concrete columns of the garage. Steve ducked his head and coughed on the dust while he threw himself into the car a millisecond before Billy left tire tracks on the floor. "What are you doing?"

Steve was pressing buttons on the dash. Somewhere behind them, a mechanical part was moving in the car. "We don't know how many birds infiltrated the building. I'm rotating the license plates - egh!"

He collapsed against his seat when the car angled up to speed onto the city streets. Billy mused, "And what can you do for speed trap cameras?" and held up a middle finger to the camera angled over the four-way intersection.

"Nothing yet. We'll have to trade cars eventually."

"Not soon enough."

"What?" Steve all but screeched, and turned around to see behind them. "At least you're not the only stereotype in this business."

He got the words out a moment before the large, black SUV rammed into the back of the Camaro. "Put your seatbelt on."

"IT IS ON!"

Steve provided his own chorus of swears and exclamations while Billy navigated through the city, tossing his partner left and right in his seat, avoiding another collision with the SUV that would spin them out of control. When Steve began digging through the glove box and lowering his window, Billy bellowed, "What are you doing?"

"A PEN!" he yelled before throwing something behind them. A second later, the SUV's front lifted off the road so the whole thing fell onto its side.

It was Billy's turn to exclaim, "Those things explode?"

"YES THEY EXPLODE!"

"YOU NEVER TOLD ME THEY EXPLODE!"

"WHY DO YOU THINK I TOLD YOU NOT TO TAP THE PEN THREE TIMES?"

"YOU ARE SO GODDAMN LUCKY MY DICK HASN'T BEEN BLOWN OFF."

Steve pointed out the front windshield. "BILLY!"

Another SUV narrowly rammed them from the side, but Billy pulled on the brake and swung the car into a 180. Some civilian took the brunt of that particular attack, but Billy officially needed to get them the hell out of here. Whoever wanted their heads for trophies didn't care about national news.

Which was possibly the most dangerous piece of this mess. Arguably the most powerful component of a country was its press, and these assholes didn't care if they earned the media's or internet's attention.

It was another aspect in itself that Billy had ridden in one too many black SUV's. That would also account for someone's ability to install too many explosive birds in the building.

"Billy?" Steve piped when he drove down the stairs leading to the boardwalk along the river. Billy focused on the new car behind them. He looked across the river at the opposite riverbank, where the walls sloped up. He needed to get over there.

The car rattled as he sped up a flight of stairs to the street once more, but did a hard left onto the bridge that crossed the river.

Down the stairs again, this time slaloming over the ramped wall, keeping an eye on his rearview to see how tunnel-visioned the SUV behaved.

A hand gripped the wide bell of his forearm. "Billy," Steve rasped. There wasn't a stairwell at the end of this riverbank. Just a concrete wall.

Billy went up the ramp, and braked with a hard turn on the steering wheel. The SUV tried to brake in time, but the Camaro clipped the back tire, and it spun right over the side into the river.

Billy k-turned back in the direction of the stairs. He drove seamlessly into the midday, traffic, turning on his windshield wipers against the heavy drizzle. He glanced at Steve, who had not let go of his arm. At a stoplight, Billy's other hand overlapped his, earning a pale, ghostly stare.

"We need to get to the subway. Then your place."

Despite his shock, Steve nodded and said, "Two blocks down."

Billy found the station, lodged their car in a back alley between a Polish restaurant and a laundromat, and circled the car to help Steve out. "I'm fine," he said even as his knees gave out and he hung between his arms on the car door and roof.

"I see that," Billy replied. He nestled in close to wrap an arm around Steve's softer waist. "Put your weight on me."

He did, and Billy kicked the door shut behind them. "Do you have a metro card?"

"Do I have a metro card?" Billy snorted on their way to the entrance.

"You can't jump the turnstiles."

"I'm not leaving a paper trail. I don't know if my cards are compromised too. That bird sat right over your desk, pretty boy. Someone wanted a real close eye on you. Maybe even kill you. We can try and figure out who else was under surveillance later."

They did not earn approving looks from vaulting the turnstiles, but they made it to the train, and then forty minutes or so later, Steve's apartment. By then, his color had returned to his face, and Billy couldn't help but tease, "Do you always bring colleagues home?"

Steve sighed and didn't grace that with a response. He unlocked his door, and Billy perused the living room and its bay window. The place was nice. White walls. Light wooded floors. Colorful dish ware. A bedroom off to the right with an unmade bed, and a dining room to the left with an array of folders and a laptop on it.

Billy placed the broken bird piece beside the laptop. "I don't know how much you can get out of this. But it's a start."

Steve maneuvered around him and sank into the chair. "Help yourself to the kitchen."

Billy did exactly that, and only found a few hints at the neurosis of a tech genius: Steve's pantry was entirely filled with bags of chips and hot sauce. His apartment also wielded the same characteristic Steve used at work: cleanliness. There wasn't so much as a lingering cereal dish in the sink.

Billy went about scrambling some eggs, frying up some bacon, and heating up a box of leftover diner hash browns. He poured a bottle of white and brought the dishes to the table. He set the glass of wine in view of the laptop. "For your nerves. Try to eat something."

"Thanks," Steve murmured. He didn't touch his food, but Billy sat opposite him and plunged his fork into his eggs.

After he cleaned his plate, he started tapping the back of the laptop screen, causing whatever Steve was reading to bounce. As if tossed out of a reverie, Steve inhaled sharply and took his glasses off to scrub his face. Naturally, Billy chuckled and plucked up the glasses to see how the other half lived...

"Steve."

"Hmm?" he mumbled from inside his hands.

"Explain to me why your glasses are asking for 004 authentication?"

His hands lowered so he could see Billy wearing his glasses and the nearly invisible screens layered inside the glass. The muscles of his jaw ticked as he reached across the table. Billy let him remove the glasses, but his stare did not waver until Steve relented, "I'm not 004 anymore."

Billy blinked, hard, as he absorbed that. "When were you an agent?"

Steve pushed his fork around his plate. "Right as you joined."

"Am I really going to have to pull your teeth for this? Because someone must know who you are, or were. Knows enough to keep an eye on you. How many other 00s are retired into office work?"

"My whole team," he heaved. Surrendered. "It all happened too fast. I was elevated to 00 status and just as quickly flunked out of it. Then they gave me you."

Steve exhaled as if there was a whole lot more there. Then he added, "Consider this a mentorship."

Billy huffed and relaxed against his chair. "So my guardian angel is the one keeping me from my promotion."

It took a second, but Steve processed that and lifted his head. "What?"

"You. I don't get to be a 00 until a 00 gives me the okay."

Something shy of a grimace flitted across Steve's features. "Maybe you'd be one, if you learned how to say thank you. You're not god. I've saved your ass at least twice without even being in the same country as you."

"You're a P.T.S.D. case with a laptop. That's all."

"And you're a gun with childhood trauma and abandonment issues. Welcome to the fucking club. We have special glasses."

He stabbed his hash browns and started eating. Billy crossed his arms and brooded in silence.

Abandonment issues, my ass, he mused, but could not help but watch the man opposite him eat. He'd never actually seen Steve eat. He'd certainly always been available whenever Hargrove called, regardless of timezone or courtesy of sleep.

It's hypocritical to call him an angel and treat him as disposable...after you hauled him around like precious luggage.

Billy didn't like that thought one bit.

This job wasn't actually a business. It was a lifestyle. One that didn't grant angels or precious items. And the same voice that called Steve, Angel, kept whispering in Billy's mind.

Compromised.

Something moved in his periphery and he had his gun out before he even thought twice. "What the hell is that?"

Steve, to his credit, hadn't flinched. "The cartoons refer to it as a pussy cat. She wants your bacon."

The fluffy ginger that had jumped onto the table stared Billy down until he relinquished his last piece of bacon. "Why am I not surprised that you have a cat?"

"Considering your reaction, I'd say you were petrified."

"Shut up, Steve."

"No guns on the table."

Billy groaned and set the device on the console table behind him. "Yes, dear."

It was going to be a long case.

[shootthemessenger]

the delicate art of a criminal mind [a.m-r. ; b.d.h.]

ally mayfair-richards x fem!reader x billie dean howard

summary: two of the FBI’s most wanted, two convicted felons, and a policeman’s daughter make for one hell of a love story

disclaimer: strong language, sexual nature, brief adultery, short-lived angst

I’m so sorry that this sucks, I had a fucking AMAZING version of it that got deleted due to technical difficulties (me, im the technical difficulty) also this is an edited version of a story I wrote YEARS ago so if some of the names/third person editing are/is wrong I’m sorry

gif belongs to @valenthatgurl

Billie’s eyes traveled slowly down your body, mind drinking in your figure as a delicate smirk probed at her lips. “Have I ever told you how much I adore you, sweetheart?”

You couldn’t help the laugh that tumbled from your throat or the smile on your face. The blonde moved carefully behind you, letting her hands fall against the curves of your hips where they rested gently. She liked to hold you between her two hands.

“Often.” You replied simply which only caused her to let out a breathy chuckle and press a chaste kiss to the base of your neck. Billie locked eyes with you through the mirror in front of you, eyebrow twitching in amusement as she watched you adjust your earrings carefully.

She had bought you them last week, in a small shop in Miami, refusing to show you the price tag even after she bought them. It was often that she showered you in small, expensive gifts. Afterall, she believed she had to pay you back for kidnapping you in the first place.

It wasn’t planned, necessarily. Your mother was a police chief in the small town you lived in who had been hunting after Billie and her team for months. As crazy as it seemed as you stood there so intimately with her, she was a criminal and had been for most of her life.

It started when she was younger, stashing trinkets into her backpack from stores and gifting them to her friends. Then she moved on to bigger things, clothing and electronics from the mall that she would keep just for the thrill of knowing she had them.

Then came the bank heist. She had gathered her team, team being her good friend Misty and Misty’s girlfriend, Cordelia. They forced their way into the bank and forced the money into the bags as swiftly as they could.

By the time they got outside, they was surrounded with bags upon bags of cash tucked in her team’s hands. Completely drowning under the police presence, they had no choice but to shovel into the police car closest to them and pray they were capable of getting away.

What Billie hadn’t accounted for was the fact that you would be sitting in the passenger seat of the car she rushed, waiting for your mother to return and finish, what had started off as, your ride-along for the day.

Nevertheless, she had no time to think before she was barreling down the road and hoping she could figure out what to do with you once she was out of such traffic.

In the beginning the two of you hated each other but the more time you spent together the more you fell for one another.

Eventually, you started dating and had been growing strong since then. Now you were here, the four of you had been on the run together for 3 years and had covered most of the U.S..

You were the current occupant of an old, run-down hotel in LA. Tonight, you were headed to a new club that had just opened up downtown.

Billie called it “hiding in plain sight” but really it was just an excuse to get you into the black dress she had loved so much and grinding up against her into the late hours of the night.

"I love you so much." Billie’s voice was low and raspy, the way she knew you liked. "I love you, darling." You returned.

Weird looks were shot to Billie from her two partners, they had never seen the woman be so affectionate towards someone so openly.

It was easy to say that Billie had never been affectionate to anyone until you came along.

Billie was the leader of the three; easily the brains of the group. She was cunning and persuasive and intelligent; all things you'd think a criminal would have to be to do the things that they would do. She was damn near a loose cannon and not many people risked getting too close.

Cordelia and Misty were the only friends Billie really had and she didn't mind one bit. She worked better alone.

Never get in Billie Dean Howard’s way; everyone knew that by now.

Misty was what most people would call the muscle of the group, though all three of them could easily take down someone on their own. She was tactically trained and she could easily rough someone up.

She always wore a set of thick leather gloves around her slender fingers, which meant that she was ready to start swinging anytime she might have needed to. It kept people from messing with Billie and Cordelia and it got them whatever they needed and wanted.

Cordelia, on the other hand, was more of the beauty of the group. Not that she couldn't rough someone up if it came down to it, but there was something about her that drew people in. She was incredibly beautiful and she had no problem using that to her own advantage. She could get anything with a bat of her deep brown-colored doe eyes and, of course, her habit of biting her lip didn't hurt when added to the mix.

She was irresistible, especially in the type of clothes she was wearing now; a short black dress that hugged every delicate inch of her body. She had the perfect hips to fill in a dress like that. She was the team's biggest distraction.

“Uh...B?” Misty interrupted, her eyes scanning over her phone screen. “Maybe we should just stay here tonight.” She proposed, glancing up at the blonde.

Billie cocked her eyes, hesitantly pulling away from you to sit on the end of the bed. “Why’s that?” She pulled a cigarette between her lips and lit it, watching glancing between her two partners.

"Ally is in town and by the looks of it, she’ll be in the exact same place we will.” She turned a phone around to display a text sent from her from one of her former accomplices, it read “look who i just ran into” with a photo of the woman attached.

“We need to take her out.” Cordelia piped up, moving to sit on the dresser across from the bed. “Tonight.”

Ally Mayfair-Richards was another criminal, just as the three girls were. She was the only woman or man who had ever dared to step up towards Billie’s authority. When it became two much, the three girls parted ways with Ally and decided to stick together without her.

Since then, they had all been rivals and avoided each other at all costs in fear one party would cause harm to the other or worse; they’d all get caught together.

Billie knew that all she needed was to get the cops and Ally in the same place and let the law do it's job to rid her of her rival. It wasn't like they wouldn't know her from her face, they'd been chasing her for almost seven years now, but it wasn't like they didn't know Billie’s face either.

“How are we supposed to take her out and go unnoticed? That’s fucking impossible without getting our own asses caught.” Billie huffed as Misty began to pace in thought.

It was silent for a moment until Cordelia’s face lit up, a look that had caused Billie trouble since the very beginning. It was never good when Cordelia gave that look. “Y/N!” She suddenly blurted out, face curling into a cunning smirk.

All three of you made a weird face at her, “What about her?” Billie questioned cautiously. “We can use her.” Cordelia answered as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, “shes smoking hot and everyone knows Ally is a sucker for an attractive woman.”

Billie’s eyes widened as she rose to her feet before narrowing at the woman across from her, “Don’t even fucking think about it.” She hissed, hand already balling at her side.

She moved in front of you, blocking you from Cordelia’s view, “Get that thought out of your thick skull because it’s not happening.”

Misty sighed, “Come on B, all she’s gotta do is a little bit of grinding and a lot of distracting and we can handle the rest.” Everything was quiet as Billie glanced between Cordelia and Misty, “No.” She mumbled harshly.

Misty huffed, “It’s our only option, B. Ally doesn’t know what Y/N looks like and by now, she’s grown so much she could easily hide from the cops. It’s perfect!”

“It’s Ally to prison or us, you choose Billie.” Cordelia added, causing Billie to huff and glance at you.

“I don’t mind.” You finally spoke, playing with Billie’s fingers gently. “I’ve always wanted to help.” You pouted, knowing Billie had a weak spot for your eyes.

After a moment of silence she sighed and stepped towards the two women across the room, “Anything happens to her and I’ll send you both to prison myself, whether I have to join you or not.” Cordelia and Misty both grinned as they murmured their enthusiasm and disappeared down the hall to their own room.

Billie turned to you as soon as the door clicked closed, pinning you against the mirror you had been getting ready in. You offered a sheepish smile to which she shook her head, “ That’s not going to work this time. Anything goes wrong and I swear you’ll never get to help us again, do you understand me?”

Her eyes watched you, fueled with fire. You gulped and nodded as she pressed her lips to yours firmly, gripping your hips with a new kind of power she had not had a few minutes ago.

By exactly eight-thirty, the four of you rolled up to the club. Lights and loud music from inside were already screaming at you and you could feel the music vibrating against the concrete. Billie was starting to get nervous, all thought she’d never openly admit it.

Cordelia turned from her place in the drivers seat and glanced at you in the back, “Alright chica, all you’ve got to do is dance. There’s a cop down the street and we’ll get him on Ally’s trail. We’ll all be keeping an eye on you. You’ve just got to keep her attention long enough. Just be sexy, that’s all you have to do.” Billie huffed in protest at the last part, her grip on your leg becoming tighter.

Once Misty and Cordelia had scurried out of the car, Billie turned to you and pressed her lips against your ear, “I’ll be watching you, little one.” She watched the shiver rack your spine before jumping out of the car and disappearing into the club.

You let out a heavy breath before getting out and making your way inside. Immediately, you were met with the sexual tension suffocating the room as bodies moved against one another.

You located Billie across the room, settled at the end of the bar and the other two women situated in a booth across the room.

You locked eyes with Billie and winked descretely before settling into an open seat and ordering the strongest drink you could find; you were going to need it.

No more than ten minutes past before you could feel someone standing behind you, a hand brushed against your hip as they sat down and you jumped slightly.

“Didn’t mean to scare you.” The woman mumbled softly as she settled into the seat next to you with her arm rested on the bar. “Let me get you another drink.” She offered.

Her voice was quiet and thick as she leaned into you, a strand of her hair brushing against your shoulder.

Looking up, you locked eyes with her and caught a blush that began to spread across your face. You nodded softly, regaining composure as you stuttered something along the lines of “sure” and allowed her to lean into you as she laughed, “No need to be nervous, beautiful.”

“I saw you from across the room, no woman as beautiful as yourself should sit alone.” Mentally, you rolled your eyes at her cheesy confidence, watching closely as she licked her lips before ordering two drinks.

You were so caught up in staring at her that you couldn’t even catch what she was talking about. That was, until her fingers snapped in front of your face and you had to force yourself into reality, “Huh, what?”

She shook her head and laughed, “I asked you your name.” She repeated, leaning in so that you could hear her better. “Y/N. Yours?” You answered softly, taking a sip of your drink.

She licked her lips once again, “Ally.” Your eyes widened before you quickly corrected your face. She propped her elbow on the counter as you glanced at the clock nervously. Now that you knew it was her you were talking to, you were growing nervous.

“Would you like to dance?” You questioned, shaking of the nervousness that probed at your stomach. She simply smiled and pushed herself onto her feet, allowing you to stand. She followed you out onto the dance floor, waiting until you were situated before letting her hands find the dip in your waist and pulling you to her closely.

As you started to roll your hips into her, she leaned in until her mouth was lingering against your ear, “You really are a sight for sore eyes. You were having trouble concentrating as her lips began to trail down your neck.

“T-thanks.” You let your eyes flutter closed, almost finding yourself enjoying the feeling of her lips on your skin until the thought of Billie popped into your head and your eyes snapped open again.

Ally was surely leaving a hickey on your neck, and the eerie feeling of someone watching you was bubbling in your chest though you couldn’t figure out which direction it was coming from.

One again, you let the feeling of Ally pressed against you and the base rattling your tipsy brain take oven. “You’re enjoying this just as much as I am.” Ally mumbled from behind you, fingers digging into your skin.

You couldn’t deny it. You had Billie, you would never be able to deny the love you had for her. But in that moment you craved Ally.

And you couldn’t stop it. It was eating you up inside but you let the alcohol pumping in your veins control you and simply nodded and turned to face her.

You couldn’t help but notice she smelled like honey. As you took a deep breath, a fire ignited somewhere within you. It was very different from the strawberries and cream smell you were used to with Billie.

Your little bubble with Ally was burst as the door to the club swung open and a cope stepped in, his eyes glancing around the room as if he was already looking for someone.

You felt Ally tense beside you, before your eyes met and her face spread into a mischievous grin. “You’re coming with me.” And with that she was tugging you out the back door.

Billie felt a heaviness in her chest, one that made it heard to breathe and made her heart feel as if it was beating so hard in on her chest that it was rattling her bones.

Her eyes had turned a violent black color as her fingernails dig into her palms so persistently that she created crescent shapes in her skin.

She could have killed someone right in that moment.

She was only brought out of her state by someone clearing their throat from beside her and turned to meet her partners, who both look d so nervous they could faint.

“We lost her.” Misty squeaked out, they had all taken their eyes off the dancing girls for a split second and by the time their narrowed their attention, they were gone.

Billie’s eyes visibly darkened and Cordelia gulped nervously as Billie backed the two of them into a wall, “Find her. Or so help me God, you’re dead.”

Back outside, you and Ally slowed down next to a car you assumed to be hers. You could see the outline of two bodyguards through the tented windows.

Ally smirked, pressing you against the passenger door as her lips ghosted against yours; neither of you leaning in enough to fill the small gap.

“I-uh-“ you mumbled underneath the taller woman, who let her eyes open again and pushed back slightly. “Come with me.” She stated quickly, taking your hand into hers, “we can travel all around the world and stay in fancy hotels; honeymoon suits for just the two of us everywhere we go. I can spoil you and make you mine. I can care for you. I want to.” She was rambling.

She took your silence as a cue to continue on, “I know you just met me and there are so many things you don’t know about me. There are so many things you deserve to know about me. I want to learn about you and let you learn about me.” She talked so quickly that she was having trouble catching her breath.

You took your bottom lip between your teeth, “Ally, I can’t.”

You were thinking about Billie.You were thinking about all of the memories you shared. All the moments you shared. The moments filled with hatred, the moments fueled by love, the times you went wild in towns you’d never traveled to before and probably never would again, the words you’d exchanged, the intimate moment where the whole world melted and it was jus the two of you. There were the times you made love, when Billie really took her time worshiping you and your body. Then there were the more rough times, usually fueled by anger or Billie’s raging jealousy. Just an hour ago you couldn't have fathomed the thought of doing any of those things with anyone else. But here you were, possibly going to run away with a woman you’d not even known for a full half hour.

“I have someone and I love her, I really do. She’s given me everything I’ve ever wanted and I can’t possibly betray her. She’s my soulmate.”

"You can't. Not if it's not me. I want you...I crave you...I need you." Ally’s voice was weak and she looked like she was ready to cry. Her chest heaved as she spoke, her voice wavering. "Please."

Your eyes locked with her, lip quivering as you a pressure in your chest.

A voice broke the two of you from your staring contest, "What the hell is going on here?" You could see Ally’s jaw lock as she turned towards the woman. "What do you want, Howard?" Ally moved between you and Billie, squaring her shoulders.

"I want what you took from me." Billie furrowed her eyebrows, training her eyes on you. You started to panic; on one hand you wanted to leave with Ally. Because you were attracted to her the moment you started talking. You couldn’t explain it, like you had known her forever and you were only catching up. It was like those cliché movies with the high-school sweethearts that loose touch and then reconnect. But on the other hand, you had been with Billie for so long and you loved her with your whole heart. You loved Billie so much it scared you. Billie was the type of first love that never went away. So you just stood there, looking between the two in agony.

"I haven't taken shit from you." Ally huffed, her eyes shooting daggers at the three girls in front of her. Misty and Cordelia stood tall at Billie’s sides, their eyes fixated on Ally.

Ally’s eyes flickered to you then back at Ally and you could see Ally tense even more. As Ally turned around, you could see the tears starting to pool in her eyes. "She's your..." Ally let out a deep sigh as you nodded.

Ally was sure you could hear her heart breaking in her chest. "Darling, come here." Billie said gently, motioning you to come to her. You hesitated for a second before slowly making her way over to her. You could just barely feel Ally’s hand brush against her wrist.

Billie quickly pulled you into her arms with a tight squeeze, "Thank God, you’re okay.” She breathed into your hair. You nuzzled your face in Billie’s neck and let the tears fall.

You had chosen Billie, you had chosen your home. You knew that, even if you had left with Ally, Billie would always be on your mind. You were in love.

The sound of Ally’s car pulling away caused both of you to let out a breath. Billie pressed your lips together before the sound of rapid footsteps and policemen shouting broke your moment. Billie pulled away, her face breaking into a wicked grin. "Run."

Taglist: @mssallymckenna , @proudnlittle , @coxmicbabygirl , @sapphicpaulsxn , @its-soph-xx , @fand0m-obsess3d-g33k , @paulsonix , @madamevirgo , @saucy-sapphic , @kikaykimkim , @billiedeansbottom

[fictionfunshop]

Reunited - One Shot

Spencer Reid / Lila Archer

I watched their episode again and they were ROBBED of a happy ending so I gave them one.

18+ Smut.

You would recognise his eyes from anywhere. Captured within the honey flecks, framed with dark circles, was the innocence that made you weak at the knees all those years ago. He had chopped his hair and let his natural curls show through, which made him even more handsome than his younger self.

"Lila?" he grinned. You send him a short wave before you approach where he's sitting in the café; he pushes the heavy book back into his bag and signals to the chair in front of you to sit down.

"Spencer." You give him a small smile as you take your seat.

"What are you doing here? It's not that I'm not glad it's just…Virginia?" You could see he was flustered more than usual which made your heart swoon all over again.

You had tried to keep contact after everything that happened, but life got in the way; a new film to shoot, a case to solve, hour-long phone calls, and daily letters turned into sporadic texts until it just dwindled out.

"I'm filming a TV show here; get this, I play a Doctor." You both let out a giggle, "Are you still with the FBI?"

When you found out filming was in Virginia, you thought what would happen if you bumped into each other; wishful thinking that you could finish what you had both started after all these years. Now he was sitting in front of you; you could almost taste him again.

He nods his head, "Part-time, I lecture at the university too to keep me busy. So a TV show, no more movies?"

"I wanted to be in one place for more than a few weeks. Get a semi-normal life now I'm older." He nods in understanding. Being a movie star was fun, and you were successful, but long shoots and weeks away didn't make you a great girlfriend or wife when you tried that out.

You drop your eyes to his long fingers wrapped around his coffee mug, and you remember how they felt gripping your face and in your hair. You know you're blushing when he lets out a cough and throws you a smirk.

"So, you live here now?" He breaks the tension

"Yup, well, for the next while at least…."

"Your husband or boyfriend, not mind?"

"I don't have either." You interrupt him. "There's no one…" he smiles at your answer.

"And you?"

"You remember how awkward I am," he looks at his watch and finishes up his coffee. "I've to go to class…" you were sure the same flash of disappointment was reflecting in your eyes like his right now.

He stood up, and that's when you noticed he had filled out; chasing bad guys has added muscle to his tall frame.

"Do you want to grab dinner sometime? I'm new here, and I need a tour guide to show me around." he nods his head before you even finished the sentence.

"Yeah, you free tonight?" you could see the hesitation in his answer. Little did he know you were just as desperate to see him again in a more private setting.

"Yeah, that's good for me." He digs deep into his satchel and hands you his card. "Give me a call, and I'll arrange something."

He places his hand and your shoulder, and by instinct, you nuzzle your face there. You only notice now how long his fingers are. He squeezes your shoulder before walking away like all those years before.

All you could think about right now as Spencer Reid. After he left you in the café, his touch burned into your shoulder; it felt like a match was lit inside you. You replayed the night you first kissed him in your head. Would it be different now? Would he initiate? Would he keep his hands in your hair, or would they drift down your back? You clench at the idea of more than kissing him.

You were utterly distracted for the rest of the day, fluffing your lines in the read-through, forgetting meetings and appointments even after being reminded. You thought it would stop your thoughts if you called him and heard his voice, but it didn't. It only amplified them. You now had an internal countdown to when you would see him again.

You smoothed the black dress you finally decided on after changing your mind six times. You had never been this nervous about a date before. Ever. You were a movie star for crying out loud; men always made it obvious that they wanted you but not Spencer. Even on the phone earlier, he seemed timid and reserved, repeating the restaurants address to you and the time of the booking. You wanted to be early, but Virginia traffic made that impossible, and you arrived and the restaurant 10 minutes late. Your heart stopped when you finally saw him again. He was dressed dangerously good in a dark three-piece suit, a small bouquet in his hand; your heart raced when you approached him.

"Sorry, I'm late," you approached him, "I thought LA traffic was bad.." you kiss his cheek.

"These are, em for you. I remember they were your favourite..." he hands them over, your fingers grazing.

"You just googled that," you teased him. "Nice suit, by the way..." now you're up close, you see that it's a dark grey tweed, his blue shirt and tie matching it perfectly.

It took everything in you to not run your hands down his chest to feel the expensive material.

"You look great too; you were always beautiful, though," his brown eyes meeting yours, his irises blown out. Neither of you said anything for a while until the hostess interrupted you both to let you know your table was ready. Even though you were both nervous, the conversation flowed exactly like all those years before. It was surprising how open you both were after all that time and how he could still surprise you.

"A Cowboy?" you look at him in disbelief, sipping on your wine

"Yeah, few horses and cattle. Be surrounded by nature."

"What would you do on your imaginary ranch?" you can feel your cheeks start to hurt with the smile you have pinned there.

"I dunno…look at them? I'll figure something out" he drifts into thought. "What would you do if you weren't acting?"

The first answer you thought of was too corny to be by his side on this dream ranch, so you thought for a moment.

"Maybe a writer? I took a few classes at Juilliard and loved it…."

"I think you'd be great at that, better than me as a cowboy" he smiled at you softly.

The unmistakable tension was back; even in the dim light of the booth, you could see his eyes had turned black. You didn't want to break it; being under his gaze like this felt euphoric, and you were now sure the world would collapse if you didn't kiss him again. You both finished up your meals in comfortable silence, both occasionally stopping to compliment the food or, in Spencer's case, give you little tid-bits of information about Virginia. After you finished your meal, which he insisted on paying for, he offered you a ride home. He opened the door of the car for you, unintentionally trapping you in a corner. You saw your opportunity and pressed your lips against his lightly at first, so light that you didn't think it happened until you felt Spencer grab your jaw and push your lips together harder. The stubble on his chin is scratching your face lightly; your hands found his waist as your tongues sought each other out. You were glad the days of photographers following you were over because you were sure the scene of you two tangled together was obscene. He was the one to break the kiss, a repeat from the first time.

"I need to get you home; we'll get in trouble if we keep going," he smiles before letting you slide in the passenger seat. His hand rested on your bare thigh as he navigated you both back to your apartment, where he quickly pulled into the parking lot, the kiss from earlier giving him confidence.

"Do you want to come up?" he nods his head as he turns off the engine. You both jump out of your seats, his hand finding yours as you guided him to the elevator.

"How many stories are you up?" He asks as you both wait,

"24 – why are you afraid or something?" you turn to look at his face. He was chewing on his lip.

"A little", He chuckles. "I got stuck in one at a case a few years ago. I try and avoid them now."

The door of the elevator bings open, and you both stumble inside. He pins you against the furthest wall as you hike one of your legs up to rest on his hip; he keeps it there with his hand, his body now flush against yours as you both continue what you started in the restaurant car park. You groan as you feel him getting hard through his trousers as your hands finally make their way up to his chest into his curls. He hisses and nips at your bottom lip when you tug lightly on his hair. The elevator doors open, and you both scramble to get out; you dig through your bag for the keys.

"Wow, I didn't even know this view exists!" he announces as the door swings open into your open plan living room and kitchen; there are panels of floor to ceiling windows leading to the balcony outside.

"Is that a hot tub?" he points to the structure in the corner outside.

"Don't worry – I won't push you in with your clothes on again." You tap his nose, and he grabs your hand back, leaving it on his chest as he captures your lips in a kiss again.

As soon as he lets go, his hands steady themselves around your waist, his nails digging into your hips; you slip his jacket off, throwing it in the corner, hoping it reaches your couch. Your fingers get to work on his waistcoat; as he nearly rips your dress, he tugs on the zip at your back that hard. He breaks your kiss to shrug it from his shoulders and to slip off his tie.

"You wear too many clothes,"

"Same could be said for you," he pulls the straps of your dress down, letting it pool at your feet, leaving you in your underwear; you kick the dress to the side and slip your shoes off. He takes the opportunity to rid himself of his shirt and shoes before he gathers you into his arms again, his fingers tracing up and down your back.

"You are so fucking gorgeous," he rasps in your ear, boxing you in to your breakfast bar; one of his hands travels down your side, giving your hip a quick squeeze before he slips his hand into your underwear to find you soaked. "Did I do this?"

You whimper and nod your head as his fingers circle your entrance. You can feel yourself tighten in anticipation for his next move. He gathers your juices and circles your clit, and your knees start to shake; you are confident that if he weren't quick to grab your hip with his other hand, you would be on the floor. You bury your head into his neck, moaning his name and your hands are on his biceps as he circles your clit and dips a single finger inside you, teasing you to perfection, feeling the spring in your stomach tighten. He must notice because he plunges two fingers inside you harshly, causing you to yelp out his name. He continues his assault, his thumb joining in, rubbing your clit as the feeling in your stomach builds up quick.

"'Spencer, I'm…" you plead with him. He kisses you harshly as you crumble around him, stars appearing behind your eyes. You flutter them open as he slips his fingers out from you, a smile on his face.

"You enjoy that?" You nod your head, "You were so tight when you came. I'm surprised you didn't break my fingers," he chuckles. The quiet confidence he has gained over the years is a complete turn on.

You take his hand and lead him to your bedroom. He lightly pushes you on the bed as you shuffle up to your pillows. He finally takes off his trousers, leaving you both in your underwear. You can't help but drink him in; you were correct when you said that he had filled out, his chest and shoulders was broader and a little sun-kissed, and he was still lean. You gulped when you saw how hard he was through his boxers.

"We don't have to do anything." He whispers, climbing on top of you.

You shake your head and smile, he might have physically changed, but he was still a complete gentleman on the inside. He traces his fingers around your hips, his thumbs massaging you a little before he pulls off your underwear, leaving you exposed. You sit up on the bed and kiss across his chest while he works on taking off your final piece of clothing. Once off, he sits back on his heels and looks at you.

"Fuck, I'm lucky" he stares at you, and you could feel yourself drip on the comforter with those words.

"Spencer," you buck your hips, trying to gain any relief.

"Do you have protection?" he asks, slipping down his boxers.

"I've got an IUD, and I'm clean."

He climbs on top of you, and you settle your hands around his shoulders as he lines himself up at your entrance, sliding in easily. Your legs wrap around his waist as he drops down on his elbows, staring into your eyes as he bottoms out.

"Oh God," you bite your lip.

He sets the slow pace as you tangle your fingers into his hair, kissing him harshly. It was so intense between the two of you; it was sensory overload. His skin on yours broke you out in goosebumps, and he's biting your lip as you tighten around him with each thrust made you squint your eyelids shut. He grabs one of your hands from his hair and places it beside you; your fingers are interlocking.

"Look at me, Lila," your eyes snap open. You struggle to breathe as your gaze locks, and you whimper. He dips his head and sponges kisses down the valley of your breasts, and you push your chest into him. He smirks as you tighten your grip on his fingers, chanting his name as he makes his way back up to your neck and attaches his lips there.

"This is better than I ever imagined," He rasps in your ear. "I'm so close,"

"Me too,"

He lets go of your fingers and moves them down to your clit as he picks up the pace. You can feel him hit your cervix with every thrust now, and you are sure that the whole building can hear you both. You grab his face and kiss him hard as you feel yourself tighten around him as you fall off the edge. A few moments later, you can see his face tense and the vein in his forehead pop as he comes inside you. He stays still for a few moments before he kisses you again as he slips out and collapses next to you. He pulls you into his side, kissing your forehead. You trace your fingers on his chest, letting the silence envelope you both for a few minutes.

"That was…" you whisper. He chuckles and nods his head in agreement.

"All those years, that's what we were missing."

[fanmoose12]

catch me if you can

Сharacters: Hange Zoe, Levi, Erwin Smith, Kenny Ackerman

Genres: Mystery / Romance

Summary: The Ackerman duo. Just the mention of this name filled Hange with so many feelings. Mostly, when she reread the files of their cases over and over, until her eyes watered, she felt pricking annoyance. Sometimes, when she stared at the dead bodies of those scarce unfortunates who stumbled upon their crimes, she was filled with hatred and a pushing need for revenge. Hange couldn’t deny, however, there were times when she marveled at the impudence of their crimes. And, when she was investigating the Ackerman’s cases and saw just how meticulously planned they all were, she couldn’t help but feel something close to fascination.

No one knew who they were. No one had seen their faces, no one knew their true names. Almost everyone knew of their crimes.

Hange was determined to unravel every last one of their secrets. She will put an end to their crimes and then she will get the elusive Ackermans behind bars.

Chapter 4/?

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

“I can’t talk right now, Nile,” Hange hissed into her phone, taking a step away from Levi. “I’m—”

“On a date, yes, I know. There is a hardly a pen in our department that doesn’t know that some loser asked you out on a date.”

“I’m off duty,” Hange gritted. “So if you’re calling simply to annoy me, then I’m hanging up.”

“I knew I should have asked Erwin to do this…” Nile muttered darkly. Hange could practically see him closing his eyes and breathing heavily through nose. It was a sight she was quite familiar with. She was seeing it almost every time that hers and Nile’s paths crossed. “Zoe, I know we don’t usually see eye to eye, but this is important.”

“Important?” what that could possibly mean? The only thing more important right now than her date with Levi was…

“It’s about the Ackerman case.” Nile confirmed. Hange gripped the phone tighter in her hands.

“Was there another robbery?”

“No. But we just apprehended a criminal.”

“Ackerman?”

“No.”

Hange cursed. “Why are you calling me then, Nile? To brag that your team isn’t a bunch of complete idiots? Well, congratulations, but I’m kinda busy right now.”

“Would you shut up for just a second?” Nile snapped. “I’m trying to tell you something, Zoe!”

Hange huffed, irritated. “I’m all ears,” she said sarcastically.

“We caught a thief, name’s Traute Caven. You probably don’t know her.”

“That’s right. I don’t.”

“Well, she wants to talk with you.”

“About what?” Hange questioned. “And why me?”

“She asked me to bring in detective who leads the Ackerman case. And she refuses to say anything else.”

“Fuck.” Hange exhaled. She was having a really good time with Levi… she didn’t wish to leave him, but… her duty and work came first. Always did, always will. “I’ll be there soon.”

“Stay where you are,” Nile said. “I’ll come and pick you up.”

He hanged up before Hange could give him another sarcastic comeback.

With a heavy sigh, she returned to Levi’s side.

“I need to go,” she told him, shamefully avoiding his eyes. “Sorry for ditching you, but… it’s an emergency.”

“Do you want me to walk you back?”

“No, thanks,” her face changed, turning into a sour mien, as she thought of Nile and his awful, ugly goatee. “My, um, friend will pick me up.”

“Oh, alright,” Levi nodded, looking lost, like he didn’t know what to do. Hange felt another prick of guilt.

“I’ll text you, yeah?” she wasn’t sure if Levi would want to see her after that, but, well… she was an eternal optimist. “So we could meet again. If you wish to, that’s it?”

“Sure,” he agreed. “I would love that.”

“Awesome!” a bright smile bloomed on her face. Giddy and excited, she snickered, giving him finger-guns. The exasperate roll of his eyes that followed made her giggle again.

Out of the corner of her eyes, Hange saw a car approaching, its bright headlights almost blinding her. It was time to leave, it seemed.

“See you soon!” she gave Levi one last wide grin, and hurried to Nile’s car.

 ***

“Jesus, Zoe!” Nile looked over Hange’s wet hair and clothes with disgust, written all over his features. “Did you get dunked in a pile of snow?”

Hange hid a smile. “It’s called a snow fight, Nile. If you already forgot what that is or you’ve never knew because you were a giant nerd as a child, it’s when two or more people—”

“I know what a snow fight is,” he threw Hange a quick, annoyed look and then started the car, riding out on a street. “I have kids, you know. And I wasn’t a nerd.”

“Erwin tells a different story.”

“Erwin is full of shit,” he grunted, stopping before a traffic light. In a second before the green lightened up, he looked at Hange once more. Her arms were wrapped around her body, and her teeth were almost audibly chattering.  Nile rolled his eyes, let out a tired sigh and turned up the heater.

“Thanks,” Hange quietly said, bringing her red fingers closer to the source of warmth. “How are your kids, by the way?”

“They’re good,” Nile nodded, his expression softening slightly at the mention of his children. “And how was… your date?”

“Good!” Hange answered, a smile breaking on her face. “It was really, really good.”

“So what, you like, er,” Nile winced and then frowned. “You like… them?”

“I do,” she watched his obvious discomfort with amused look. “And I was meeting up with a man, if that’s what confused you so much.”

The tips of his ears became red. “I just didn’t want to assume,” Nile grumbled with a stubborn scowl. “Your last date was a woman, so…”

The awkward silence fell over the car. Hange thought of fiddling with a car’s radio, but quickly decided against it. Her relationship with Nile was tense as it was, there was no point in adding fuel to an already raging fire.

She estimated that it would take them another ten minutes to get to the precinct. She desperately thought of a new topic for a conversation. Casual small talk proved to be too awkward for her and Nile.

The metaphorical bulb lightened up in her head. Of course! What was the only thing in the world she and Nile had in common?

“So what about that woman you’ve apprehended? Traute Caven, right?”

“Oh yes,” Nile nodded, obviously relieved to have something else to discuss and fill the silence with. “I brought a case file with me, it’s in a glove compartment.”

Hange followed his directions and took out a thick enough folder. Quite a portfolio that Caven had, she thought with a grim smile. She didn’t open it, instead glancing at Nile’s face again.

“You’ve spoken with her, yes?”

“Yeah.”

“And? Do you think she really knows something? Do you think we should trust her?”

“I don’t know,” Nile answered truthfully. “She asked to speak with you, Hange. So, it’s up for you to decide.”

“Awesome,” Hange grumbled, opening the folder on a first page. “No pressure at all.”

***

Standing in front of a sturdy, metal door, Hange recited everything she had just read.

Traute Caven, 47 years.

Was involved in a life of crime since teenage years. At young age of fifteen, she was apprehended by a police for the first time. Caught for shoplifting at a local mall, they let her go. A couple of months later, she was detained once more, this time for stealing from a jewelry store. Because she was caught before she could actually steal anything, she got away again once again. Just after she turned seventeen, Caven and a few of her friends decided to rob a bank. The police got them fairly quickly, and Caven received a jail sentence. She spent three years behind bars, but jail wasn’t able to change her. Once she was a free woman again, she returned to stealing, but this time— she was more cautious. She changed her name and appearance after each theft, and she had gotten acquainted with a skill of fraud as well, which complicated her arrest even more. The police spent years, chasing after her. Hange was actually quite impressed that Nile and his team were able to get her.

And now Caven wanted to talk with her.

About Ackerman case.

Hange couldn’t lie, she was excited. And nervous. Very, very nervous.  

After all that time and efforts she poured into that goddamned case, just a small clue, a seemingly insignificant detail meant the world to her.

And what if she was at the verge of breakthrough?

Just the thought of it made Hange feel giddy. If Caven really knew something, if she could really lead them to Ackermans…

She was getting ahead of herself.

Too much haste is too little speed, Erwin always reminded her.

She needed to pull herself together.

Hange gripped the folder with Caven’s case tighter and put on a serious, determined face.

She had to look professional, authoritative.

She inhaled, exhaled and then opened the door.

Traute Caven didn't look like a thief. With her long blond hair tied up in a neat ponytail, in an elegant dark blue dress suit and white expensive-looking coat, she looked gorgeous, despite the unnatural lighting of the interrogation room.

A life of crime paid well, Hange thought bitterly. Much better than what she received for trying to catch the scoundrels.

"Miss Caven," she greeted. She sat down on the opposite side of a table and leveled her with a hard gaze.

"Detective Zoe, I take it?" Caven retorted, her each word slow and measured.

Hange nodded, taking a notebook out of her breast pocket. "You wanted to talk to me, right?"

"I have something to tell you," Caven confirmed.

"So I've heard. And what is it that you wanted to discuss?"

Caven curled her wine red lips in a smile. "Let's discuss the details of our deal first."

Hange answered her with a sly smile of her own. "Tell me what you know, Miss Caven. Or I'm walking out of here."

"And miss your chance to catch Ackermans?"

"I'm sure I can manage without your help."

It was a bluff, and a weak one at that. Erwin would have done a much better job, but Erwin wasn't there and Hange didn't have enough time to come up with a more efficient trick. But it seemed like she didn't have to. Despite the confident way she held herself, Hange caught a glimpse of what she was hiding behind that tough exterior – in truth, Caven was too desperate to argue.

"So let's hear your offer first," Hange prompted. She threw Caven an expectant look and uncapped the pen, holding it above the notebook.

"Fine," she gritted, flicking her hair. "I'll tell you what I know. But that’s it. I refuse to cooperate further, if you don’t uphold your end of a deal.”

They had no deal, Hange wanted to remind her. But if Caven’s information was worth at least something… Hange was ready to beg Erwin to shorten her prison term.

“I’m listening, Miss Caven,” she told with a sweet smile.

Caven sat back in the chair, folding arms across her chest. On her face she wore an expression of superiority and complacency. Hange unconsciously leaned closer.

If her previous distress so quickly turned in such blatant display of arrogance, then what she knew must be good, real good. Hange’s heart hammered in her chest, as she anxiously waited for Caven to start talking.

“I know one of the Ackermans. And I can lead you to him.”

Hange blinked a few times. Opened and closed her mouth. Looked up and down, pitched the skin of her arm.

She wasn’t dreaming.

Hange narrowed her eyes, studying Caven’s face. She didn’t look like she was lying. And why would she? As soon as her lie uncovers, she’d get sent in prison, for a much longer time than her original term.

So Caven wasn’t lying, and she was evidently real, so— it wasn’t Hange’s dream or fantasy. And that meant—

Whatever remains, no matter how improbable, must be the truth.

This was all real.

Caven really knew an Ackerman. She could bring Hange to him. She wasn’t just at the verge, it was a breakthrough.

I know one of the Ackermans, Caven had said. Meaning there were two of them, meaning they didn’t always operate together. Hange quickly scribbled it down in her notebook. Compared to Caven’s other revelation, this seemed like a laughably unimportant detail. But Hange was a creature of habit, and she wrote down a few words, no matter how insignificant they might have looked to others.

“I want to have my term shorten by a half. At the very least.” A smirk didn’t leave Caven’s face. She was glowing, basking in the effect her words had on Hange. “So do we have a deal? If we do, I can call him right this second.”

“No!” Hange cried out, bending over the table to grab Caven’s hand in hers. “No need to call anyone.”

Caven raised her eyebrows, watching Hange closely. As she noticed the almost feral look in her eyes, she tentatively backed away.

“You don’t want to apprehend them?”

She did. More than anything, Hange wanted to throw the bastards behind bars, where they rightfully belonged. But they were hurrying things up.

Too much haste is too little speed.

She couldn’t get to Ackermans, not now. She didn’t have any proof to back her up in a court, they could easily whisk away, far out of her reach.

She shouldn’t rush things, she had to act cautiously, taking into account every possible outcome.

She should approach it just like Erwin would.

“Miss Caven,” Hange pushed the glasses up her nose, smirking deviously. “How do you feel about committing one last robbery?”

 ***

“Erwin!”

Hange was on the phone with him, as soon as she walked out of the interrogation room. She had a person, who would lead her to Ackermans, she had a way to get to them, she had a plan on how to orchestrate all of it and get the evidence they needed to put them behind bars. All she needed now was support from Erwin. If he would believe in her plan, if he would agree to back her up in front of their colleagues… the success was practically guaranteed.

“You like a good gamble, right? I have a perfect one for you.”

 ***

It's been four days. Four days since Hange had left him in the snowy, quiet park. And she was yet to call or even text him.

Rationally, Levi knew that she must be incredibly busy. She was probably working day and night, doing her best to protect this city from... People like him.

This thought was rational, problem was - nothing about his relationship with Hange Zoe was rational.

If he was thinking rationally, if he was acting with a clear head, he'd run away from her, as far as it was possible. Or he would fool her, making her fall for him, just so he could get closer to the evidence she had gathered on him and Kenny. He'd destroy it, break her heart and then - of course - he'd run away, as fast and far as he could.

If he was thinking rationally, he wouldn't be glaring at his black phone screen, waiting for it to light up and announce a new incoming text - or better yet, a call.

But four days went after their date, and - he got nothing.

It made him angry. And worse than that, it made him sad. He felt neglected. Abandoned. Forgotten.

He wasn't used to neither of those feelings.

He tried contacting her, of course. His finger hovered above the call button dozens of times, and he typed several texts only to delete them just before pressing send.

Hi, how are you seemed too trite.

What you've been up to sounded too nosy.  

It's been a while made him look like he was too clingy.

Hey, do you want to hang out would probably make her think he was too needy or demanding.

Levi would never think that texting someone could be so hard. Picking locks to high-security doors was easy. Hacking all the survey cameras in the building at once was easy. Climbing through ventilation shafts and jumping off the skyscrapers with one thin rope as his back up was easy. Communicating with another person was not.

He had half a mind to go and ask Kenny for an advice.

But, obviously, he wasn't that desperate. For now, at least.

In the end, Levi didn't have to ask. Kenny came to him himself.

"So that's it?" Kenny walked into the kitchen, joining him at the table. Shifting his gaze from the phone to his uncle’s face, Levi raised an eyebrow, silently asking him to elaborate.

***

"Your date!" Kenny clasped his back, almost making Levi choke. Letting out a deep, amused chuckle, he continued. "Did she get sick of you already?"

"What the fuck—"

"That must be a record, I'm sure," Kenny carried on, ignoring Levi's sizzling gaze. "To be done with you just after the first date. Her loss, I guess," he shook his head in fake disappointment. "Or yours. Since now you're definitely going to die a virgin."

"I'm not—" Levi paused, taking a deep breath and mustering his expression into the murderest one he could manage. "I'm not a virgin!" he hissed.

"Really?" Kenny, that fucking asshole, had the audacity to look shocked. Levi's hands curled into fists. "Was it that waitress then? The one I told you to seduce? I didn't expect you to get in bed with her. Good job, Levi!” he received another hard pat on his shoulder. “Or, no, wait! Did you do it with that artist? The one that had the security code to the gallery safe?"

His ears were burning. He was sure his cheeks were red too, because Kenny kept looking at him with that insufferably smug smirk of his.

Levi was going to kill him. He was going to murder his own uncle. He could plunge the knife into his chest, or maybe, throw the tea cup into his face..... As soon as he finished the tea, of course.

"This is none of your business," he said, his voice much calmer than he was actually feeling. "And my date didn't grow sick of me."

Levi hoped so, at least.

"Oh? Then why have you been boring holes into your phone for the last few days?"

He shamefully averted his gaze. Kenny started laughing.

"She's probably busy," he muttered.

"So busy she can't reply to your text?"

"...I didn't send her a text."

"Have you called then?"

"...No."

"Levi!" Kenny cried out. "Are you serious? You didn't try to contact her and that's why you're brooding? I didn't know you're that shy!"

"I'm not shy," he grunted. "I'm just—"

"Terrified of making the first move, eh?" the smirk was back on Kenny's lips. "I bet she was the one who asked you out in the first place."

Levi turned his face away, hiding from Kenny's amused look. The fucking bastard was right but— he'd rather die than to admit this to Kenny.

"Jesus fucking Christ, Levi," Kenny gave him look so full of disappointment that the beginnings of shame actually prickled his heart. "Just send her a picture of a funny cat or some other shit. Stop being such a goddamn chicken."

Levi slowly nodded, pondering.

That was.... A sound advice. He wouldn’t send a picture of a funny cat, of course, he had a feeling Hange was actually a dog person, but....Sending something to get her attention. That way he could easily initiate dialogue without directly asking for it.

Huh. Who knew that Kenny of all people would give him a good advice.

As he moved his hand to grab the phone, Kenny stopped him.

"Wait, before you start making a fool out of yourself, I need to discuss something with you."

"What?" Levi snapped, quickly pulling his hand away. He crossed arms on his chest, glaring at Kenny beneath his eyebrows.

"Remember I told you about a job? We need to do it soon."

His glare turned into a frown. "You said we'll wait..."

"And wait we did." Kenny retorted. "We need to hurry."

Why, Levi wanted to ask. But he felt like he already knew the answer.

"Who is our client?"

Kenny hesitated. For a moment he shifted his gaze to the side. It was all the answer Levi needed.

"It's Reiss, isn't it?"

"Levi it's—"

"It's bullshit, that's what it is!" Levi growled. "I get that Uri was your friend and you owed much to him. But why the fuck you continue working for his deranged brother is beyond me!"

"You don't have to understand anything, Levi." Kenny told him, his gaze hard and his lips pressed in a tight line. "You just need to do what I say."

Kenny stood up, turning on his heels. "End of discussion. I'll call you when I finish the plan."

He left the room without another glance at him. For a few moments, Levi watched the spot his uncle was just sitting at, his anger growing and growing. He wanted to punch something. Or someone. Preferably, Kenny.

He almost rose up to go and do just that, but then he remembered.

Detective Zoe. He needed to text her.

His tea now completely forgotten, Levi grabbed his phone. Kenny was a shithead and a jerk, however... his advice wasn't that bad. But he still had to find a way to implement it. He opened the browser and furrowed his brows. What would Hange enjoy?

A link to an article? Not a bad choice, but what should he chose as a topic? Science? News? History? Or, maybe, a video from YouTube? A song? But he didn't know what music Hange liked and he wasn't sure their music tastes would be compatible. Or maybe—

His musings were suddenly interrupted. By a loud ping. Levi almost jumped at the unexpected noise. He glanced at top of his screen. He had an incoming message. From Hange.

In a span of a heartbeat, Levi opened it.

hey! sorry for being absent for so long, work is kicking my ass :( are you free this evening? do you want to go to that place you've showed me? i have the first day-off in forever :D

It was a simple message. It had no right in making him that flustered.

Levi stood up, went to a sink and put his cup in it. After washing it as thoroughly as possible and wiping his hands, he returned to the table.

He took the phone in his hands, he received a message from Hange five minutes ago. It was probably an appropriate time to respond. He didn't reply instantly, so Hange wouldn't think he's too eager. And he didn't reply too late as well, meaning that he wouldn't come across as negligent.

i'll be there at 8, he wrote back.

He went to brew another cup of tea, an unusual lightness taking residue in his chest. For the first time in five days, he was content.

***

"Hange," Erwin walked up to her, laying a hand on her shoulder. Tearing her gaze away from the papers on her desk, Hange blinked a few times, adjusting to the sudden brightness in the room. The sun was already up? It was up for quite some time, if Erwin was already here. "Did you really spend another night in here?"

The crease between his bush eyebrows was disapproving. Hange averted her eyes in shame.

"I just wanted to check one thing, and I guess I got carried away a bit..."

Erwin sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I appreciate what you do, Hange, I really do. I'm proud of what you’ve accomplished, but you need to take care of yourself. C'mon," he wrapped his hand around her arm, pulling her upwards. "Go home and get some sleep. Come back in the morning."

"But—" Hange cried, her eyes widening. "The today's shift has just begun! You want me to skip a whole day of work?"

"That's exactly what I want you to do. The precinct will survive one day without you, Hange."

"But!" she lifted the papers from her desk, shoving them into Erwin's face. "My work! My operation! It's important, Erwin!"

"You did all that you could for now," he reminded, his expression turning darker. "We still have a couple of days before Caven contacts Ackermans to lure them into our trap. So take this time to rest. And then give this operation your best."

"You really won't let me work, eh?" Hange's shoulders sagged, as she put down the papers, the plans she so carefully crafted. "I'll go home then, fine, but," she narrowed her eyes, glaring at Erwin, who, unfortunately, didn't look fazed at all. "I'll be back tomorrow."

"I don't expect anything else," he smiled, patting her arm. "Have a nice day, Hange."

She answered him with a smile of her own, albeit hers was too weak in comparison. With a defeated look, Hange started to pack her things.

She was grateful to Erwin for everything he's done to her, for all the times he stood behind her shoulder, backing her up. Without him, this operation would never be allowed to come to fruition. But all that aside, there were times when Erwin pissed her off so much. Sometimes he became too overbearing, breathing down her neck and pushing her to take a break like he was not her captain, but a mother.

As she turned to give him one last look, Erwin was still watching her, taping his foot impatiently. Sturdy like a rock, Hange’s protests would never sway him. She sighed, putting on her coat and grabbing her bag.

"Bye, chief!" she waved her hand before leaving the office.

As she walked through the hallways of the precinct, expertly avoiding bumping into one of her colleagues, the exhaustion started to catch up with her. She thought long and hard what should she do once she gets home. She could go to sleep, after several nights she spent sleeping at the small, uncomfortable couch in her office, she needed that catch eye more than anything.

But what she could busy herself with afterwards?  Working was out of question, she left all printed documents in the office, and, knowing Erwin, he already blocked her access to the precinct's database. So what was left...

Hange pondered on it, taping a point finger against her lips.

And then— it hit her. Levi.

Levi!

She promised to text him after their date. And that was - Hange took out her phone, checking the date - fuck, that was five days ago. Would he still agree to hang out, she wondered.

Only one way to find out, Hange decided, unlocking her phone and opening the last chat with Levi.

***

They agreed to meet at eight. Levi entered the café at 7:30. He sat down at a table in the corner, the one that was separated from the rest of the café by a thin wall. He ordered tea and prepared to wait. He watched the entrance intently, his heart racing every time the door opened.

He finished his first cup and went outside to have a smoke. He ordered his second cup and soon finished it too. He had another cigarette. He walked inside again and ordered another cup. He paused from watching the entrance to glance at his wristwatch.

8:31

Hange was running late. Again. He was starting to see a pattern here.

He was thinking of going for another smoke break, when Hange finally stumbled inside. Red-faced and panting, she rushed to the table Levi was sitting at.

"Sorry!" she cried out, her voice ringing in the quietness of the small café and reverberating from its walls. "I swear it's not intentional, I just—" she took a deep breath. Levi pushed the unfinished cup in her direction and Hangs gulped in one go. "I just overslept."

"Overslept?" his eyebrows went so high they reached his hairline. He checked his wrist watch. "It's almost nine o'clock."

"Crazy day!" Hange giggled, sitting on the opposite side of Levi. "But I'm glad I finally get to see you! It's been a while!"

"It was," Levi nodded. It was good to see Hange, even though he couldn't quite find the words to express it.

"What do you wish to order?"

"I'll leave it up to you," Hange replied, smiling. She was sitting with her chin resting on her hand, and her eyes looking straight at Levi. Under her gaze, it was hard not to fidget.

"Do I have something on my face?" he asked, getting more and more flustered with each second.

"Nope," she said. "I just like looking at you, that's all."

Levi felt heat rise to his face. How the hell he should answer that?

"You reek," he blurted out. He cringed as soon as these words left his mouth. What is wrong with you, the voice in his head - the one that sounded exactly like Kenny - wondered.

Hange, however, didn't look fazed in the slightest.

"Yeah, sorry about that,” where any other – sane – person would start throwing insults or possibly even slap him, Hange just carelessly shrugged. “I was kinda living in my office and didn't have the time to take a shower. Today is the first time I came home, and I was so excited to see you that I totally forgot to clean up."

What she just said - it disgusted Levi beyond compare. Hange’s hair was greasy, her body emanated heinous odor of sweat and he was pretty sure she hadn’t brush her teeth too.

But at the same time - what she just said - it made Levi's chest feel weird. His heart skipped a beat and a warm, fluttery feeling settled in his stomach. It almost made him forget about his disgust.

"So what you've been up to?" he asked after Hange's order arrived.

She looked up from a cake she'd been devouring to give him a silly grin. The corners of her mouth were stained with cream. Levi sighed, bending over the table to wipe it out.

"Thanks," she mumbled. "And about work... sorry," she spread her arms. "That's kinda classified."

Of course, it'd be naive to think Hange would reveal her cards so easily. But if he could get at least something from her...

"You seem pretty excited," he noted, watching her carefully.

"I am!" Hange exclaimed, sending another spoon of cake into her mouth. "I feel very, very good about this operation. I've been working for more than a year to get to those bastards. Can't believe I'm so close to doing it!"

A chill ran through his spine. Hange was close. Hange was close to catching them. They needed to run, needed to get out of the city. He had to warn Kenny. Before it became too late.

His heart beat in unsteady rhythm and his hands turned clammy, as he tried to concentrate on what Hange was saying. His thoughts were going in circles, as he forced himself to snap out of it. He had to keep up his lie, had to play the role until the end, otherwise he risked rising Hange’s suspicions.

He had to think of something, some change of topic, something that would distract him from his possible downfall.

Putting on his best poker face, he straightened up, looking her in the eyes and willing his heart to calm down. A new direction to their conversation was already at the tip of his tongue.

Unfortunately, talking had never been his strong forte.

"I have been wondering..." Hange perked up. Levi winced, continuing. "Are you a cat or dog person?"

***

Finally, he was in his element.

After numerous discussions and arguments with Kenny, he was unable to convince him to leave. Not until they finish this job, or so Kenny had said.

“It's a piece of cake”, he had said. “The easiest job we've done in a while. Walk in, grab the money and walk out.”

“We can leave the city after that for a while,” he added. “Go on a vacation, travel to Caribbean or some shit.”

Levi hoped it wasn't one of Kenny's bullshit lies. They needed to get going and soon, the threat was hanging over them, so close that Levi could almost feel the tip of that metaphorical sword on the top of his head. But Kenny didn't understand. And Kenny wouldn't understand, because explaining to him meant revealing the way he got this information. And Levi couldn't allow that to happen. If Kenny finds out, he would never trust him again.

Or worse, he would decide to do something stupid. For example, try to outsmart the police. His uncle was a cunning man, but Levi knew what Hange was capable of. And he had met her boss, Erwin Smith. Kenny didn't stand a chance against the two of them.

To his credit, Kenny didn't lie, not this time at least. Getting inside the house was indeed surprisingly easy.

***

"First, you hack into security cameras," Kenny had instructed. "Judging by the blueprints of the house, there shouldn't be many of them."

"The house is small then?"

"Not the smallest one we've robbed."

"Who is our target?"

"Don't remember the name," Kenny gave his flippant reply, scratching the back of his neck. "But he's some big shot politician."

Politicians? Since when did they start targeting politicians? Something was up...

"Don't give me that look, Levi!" Kenny snapped, taking notice of Levi's furrowed eyebrows. "It doesn't matter anyway. What matters is this - will you be able to get through their security system?"

Levi huffed, rolling his eyes. "Please. Do you really need to ask?"

***

Just like Kenny had said, getting in was surprisingly easy. He hacked into security cameras and turned off the alarms in a record seven minutes time. And that incredible feat was achieved, despite the fact that he was working, using a shitty Wi-Fi signal from a nearby cafe.

Once that was done, they could move to a next stage of a plan.

***

"I take it the house is surrounded by a fence?"

Kenny huffed. "Obviously."

"Barbed wire? Guards? Dogs?"

"Nothing of the sort. We're breaking into a house, Levi, not a prison."

They broke into a prison once, to help escape one of Kenny's associates. It was a tough job. And a surprisingly fun one.

"We just climb the fence and that's it,” Kenny assured. “Don't worry, I'll help you do it."

"Fuck off," Levi growled, sending Kenny a death glare. When his uncle did nothing, but smirk, he scoffed and returned his attention to the blueprints on the table. "What do we do next? Which entrance do we use to get in?"

"Whichever we want to," Kenny replied, shrugging. "The house will be empty."

Levi pursed his lips. "You sure?"

"Sure as can be. The whole family is going on some kind of auction for rich assholes. Reiss will be there too, he promised to make sure that our guy stays for as long as possible."

"At least, he's useful for something," Levi muttered. His finger traced the outline of blueprint, as he announced his decision. "We'll use the back door. No need to raise suspicions. Who knows how nosy his neighbors are."

***

Another advantage of using the backdoor was a fact that usually they weren't as protected as the main entrance.

And this door was no exception, Levi picked its lock in less than thirty seconds.

"Welcome," he grunted, pushing the door open and letting Kenny go in first.

The house, as expected, was engulfed in darkness. Kenny with his black pants and jacket instantly merged with the shadows. After carefully closing the door, Levi joined him, becoming one with the darkness as well.

***

"Do we know where he keeps the money?"

"Where do all rich douches keep their money?" Kenny snorted. "The study, of course."

"Alright, so we do what? Just simply walk in there?"

"You want to use the window? Or try looking for a ventilation shaft? It's an easy job, Levi," Kenny patted his shoulder. "Relax and don't overthink it."

***

The house was not only dark, it was quiet. The unnatural silence got on Levi's nerves.

Usually when they were on a job, there were other people there. Banks were full of workers, going about their jobs several floors above the vaults, museums and art galleries had guards, casinos were bristling with noise and chatter no matter the time of a day. And when they escaped the noise, moving closer to their goal, silence was a good thing. Silence meant they were undetected, meant they were safe. Silence used to bring him comfort.

This house was an exception. The silence there... It didn’t give him a sense of safety, only unease. It made him even more alert than usual.

The smiling faces in photo frames that stared at Levi from every wall were unnerving him even more. Two redheaded kids, standing between their grinning parents seemed completely out of place in this dark, silent house. Levi breathed a sigh of relief when they finally reached the study.

"You take care of the safe," Kenny told him. "I look around."

Levi gave him a curt nod and, without another word, set out to work.

The safe was of medium size and it stood in the corner of the room, half hidden by a large dieffenbachia.

Levi crouched next to it, taking out his instruments.

The safe broke down quickly. It almost felt like an insult. Kenny and him were world class thieves. And this house could be easily robbed by an amateur.

Smoldering his annoyance, he opened the safe. As soon as he did, Kenny pushed him aside. He grabbed something from it, pocketing it inside his jacket. His movements were quick and the room was dark, but Levi's eyes were sharp. He saw a document - a birth certificate - and a photo of a young girl whose blond hair was vivid enough to be visible even in the darkness.

"What the fuck was it?" Levi hissed.

"Does it matter?" Kenny laughed so carelessly that to Levi's ears it sounded almost forced and insincere. "Let's just get out of here.”

He threw the door of the safe shut and turned around, motioning Levi to get going. Levi grabbed the back of his jacket before Kenny could take another step.

Perhaps, he was getting paranoid – he hoped he was – but he had heard something.

The noise, the barely audible clatter downstairs. And the sound of footsteps that sounded closer and closer.

"Fuck!" Kenny hissed, his eyes widening. So he wasn’t paranoid. "Shit! They were supposed to be gone for another hour at least!"

"And yet they're already here," Levi snapped, the tension getting to him as well. "We’re on a second floor, jumping is—"

“The only way to escape,” Kenny finished grimly. “Go, Levi.”

He didn’t like the way Kenny had said that. And he really didn’t like the hand that Kenny put under his jacket.

That’s where he kept his gun.

His heart fell.

“Kenny, no!” Levi whispered, urgently tagging at his sleeve.

“Hurry up, Levi,” Kenny replied, unusually quiet. “You don’t like when things get dirty.”

“Ken—”

The door had opened, before Levi could finish. A man, probably somewhere in his forties, stood on a threshold. Levi had seen him in one of the photos - it was the father of the family, the one, who embraced two redheaded children. However, in this moment he wasn’t smiling. His eyes widened, his mouth opened in a scream.

That was devoured by a thunderous gunshot.

“Get going!” Kenny urged, hiding his gun. He grabbed Levi by the collar to drag him forward. “This place is going to be swirling with cops any second now!”

Numbly, Levi followed him. He opened the window, climbed on a windowsill and jumped down. He roughly landed on a ground, the snow softening his fall, but ever so slightly. It left him with scratches on his palms and bruises on his knees.

Levi felt none of it. His ears were still ringing from the gunshot, and before his eyes still stood that man.

“Snap out of it!” Kenny raged, forcing him to stand up. “We need to go, Levi, you can deal with your inner turmoil later.”

“Why did you kill him?” he asked, surprised by the hollowness in his own voice. He stared at Kenny, anger growing inside him. “Why did you kill him?!” he pushed his uncle away, making him stumble. “We could have escaped!”  

“And he could have seen us.” Kenny replied, straightening his jacket. “Just a glimpse of our backs would give police an advantage we can’t allow them to have. So stop throwing a tantrum like it’s a first dead body you’ve seen.”

Kenny was right, he had seen his fair share. The first dead body he had seen was his mother’s. But it wasn’t the last one. Not all of their jobs were successful, they didn’t always remain undetected. They weren’t invisible, and, even if they were damn good at what they did, accidents still happened.

Usually those accidents ended in violence – knock the unlucky guard down, before he sees you, and you’re safe. But sometimes – just like today - those accidents ended in death.

It was nothing new to Levi, and yet – each time it happened, he felt the weight in his chest so heavy it threatened to drag him down all the way to the ground.

Violence, death – they were following him since he was born. But dealing with them, getting used to them was a skill Levi had yet to master.

“C’mon,” Kenny wrapped a hand around his shoulders, pushing him forward with uncharacteristic considerateness. “You can scold me for not valuing human life later. When we get home.”

The sirens were already heard in the distance, they had no time for arguing. Levi let himself be led, climbing up the fence and jumping off it. Hidden by shadows, they rapidly left the house behind.

His mind was still filled with images of smiling man from the photo, that vision merging with his dying expression.

 ***

It was quite a productive shift, Hange was almost pleased by what she had achieved today. The clock was nearing eight, making her contemplate if she should call it a day. There was always more work that could be done, but Erwin could come in any minute, scolding and chiding her.

It was best to be gone before he would throw her out of the office.

Hange was turning off her computer, when the door to her office was thrown open. In stumbled Mike – disheveled, panting, he looked a far cry from his usual tranquil appearance.

Hange felt her stomach drop. A thousand guesses and suspicions swam around her head, as she waited for Mike to catch his breath and start talking.

Judging by Mike’s agitation, it couldn’t be anything good.

“We’ve got another robbery!” he managed to finally say. And before Hange could start cursing, he added.

“And this time, it’s a murder as well.”

[rhysismydaddy]

An Artful Revenge Pt. 2

Feyre’s part of The Damnation Series. Part 1 is here.

I am proud of myself for finishing this shit, because it’s long as fuck. Whoops.

~Feyre~

Honestly, I should’ve known.

I should’ve known that somehow, with whatever endless resources he has, he would find me. 

That’s all I can think as I find my way into the Impressionists exhibit and find Rhysand Azara, real estate agent to the stars, leaning against the wall, sipping a cup of coffee and looking at Dancers in Blue with narrowed eyes. 

It’s been five days since our date, and like the cliché I am, I’ve spent the entire time thinking about him. I’ve checked my phone countless times, and I even decided to stalk him and Googled his name. 

When--just like he’d said--nothing came up, I googled Dancers in Pink. He said he had it, but it had been sold a few years ago in an auction to “Amren Valenta.”

Unless Rhysand had a stage name, that was definitely not him. 

I dug some more, but after three hours all I discovered was that he owned Azara Industries, which owned a lot of buildings downtown. Oh, and he never let himself be photographed. 

Which was upsetting, because it means I had nothing to stare at whilst stalking him. 

Pathetic. I am so pathetic.

But anyway, I should’ve known he’d come here. He’d said he’d call, but he didn’t have my number. Plus, I’d told him I come here pretty much every day, so really, what did I expect?

I still laugh as I spot him though, somehow surprised, and ask, “Here to flirt with more art students?”

“Just one,” he answers, running his eyes over me as I draw closer. 

Gods, this man is seductive. He’s just looking at me, but I feel his gaze like a touch, dragging over my entire body with slow, intentional grazes. 

My breath hitches, and his eyes twinkle, like he’s well aware to the dirty place my mind has wondered. I can tell he’s holding in some likely-male comment, but he refrains from embarrassing me and he holds out another cup of coffee. 

I take it, grateful for the caffeine boost, and find it somehow made exactly the way I like it. Maybe I’m not the only one stalking. 

Although his methods have to be better than mine if he already knows about the definitely unhealthy amount of sugar I put in my coffee. 

“How many times have you been here this week?” I ask, curious to see his level of devotion. 

“Three. Not a very convenient way of communicating with someone, I admit. I was about to send a smoke signal.” He watches me sip the coffee, watches my tongue dart over my lip. “Plans tonight?”

I fight a sigh and decide to be a student worthy of my scholarship for once. “I told myself I’d work on my senior project.”

His lips twitch at my dejected tone. “What is it?”

A ginormous pain in my ass. “Bad,” I say simply. 

He shakes his head, sipping his coffee and eyeing me over the rim of the cup. “Details.”

For someone who offers no information, he loves demanding it from me. Instead of fight it, I groan and give in to the patriarchy. “It’s just bad! It’s supposed to be a mix of different styles and mediums, but it’s going so poorly I might just start over. Or drop out and become a starving artist a year ahead of schedule.”

Rhysand smiles at my phrasing. “I would never let you starve. And what do you mean, mixing styles and mediums?”

“For someone who frequents museums and has millions of dollars in art, you don’t know much about it, do you?”

“I have people for that.”

“Amren Valenta?” I ask without thinking, exposing myself as a stalker. 

He pauses, cup halfway to his smirking mouth, and raises a brow. “Clever, creepy little woman,” he teases. “But yes. Amren is my curator, and we use her name because I don’t want media attention. As I’m sure you know.”

Busted and blushing to high hell, I roll my eyes and become a junior detective. “Isn’t it illegal to buy something with someone else’s name? What if the IRS comes after you?”

Rhysand looks at a loss for words at that. If I weren’t serious, it would make me laugh how shocked he looks. “I guess,” he says after a moment, “I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it.”

I roll my eyes again, because we both know he doesn’t give a shit. It’s not like the IRS actually enforces rules for the one percent, anyway.

“Now tell me about your project.”

Rolling my eyes at how bossy he is, I tell him, “I wanted to combine photography and painting. And I wanted it to be kind of abstract, but also realistic enough.”

“Ambitious.”

I sigh, not able to repress it this time. “Stupid, is what it is. I don’t even know where to start. I have no motivation, let alone inspiration, to work on it.”

A contemplative look crosses his face. “I know where you could find inspiration.”

I raise an eyebrow and gesture around us, because in case he’s missed it, we’re in a museum. Inspiration abounds. But he scoffs and whispers, “This is child’s play compared to a certain someone’s private collection.”

“Oh yeah?” I ask, playing along and pretending I don’t know the someone he’s talking about.

He nods, looking around as if making sure there are no spies in the completely empty room listening we’re standing in. “He has Degas, Monet, Dali, you name it. And he’s generous enough to let you come over tonight.”

Pursing my lips, I scan his face, trying to see if he’s serious. I mean... I am dying to see his collection. But, “Is this just a ploy to get me naked?”

He puts a hand on his chest, offense written across his face. “You think I’d try to seduce you while you study?”

“Yes.”

“You’re probably right.” He chuckles, then says, “If you need to get naked to look at art, I certainly won’t complain. But no, Feyre darling, this isn’t a ploy.”

I pause, half stuck on the whole darling thing and half contemplating what to do. 

Ploy or not, I know that if I go to his apartment or house or mansion or castle, I’ll probably sleep with him. He’s too attractive, and my resolve just isn’t that great where’s he’s concerned. 

Plus, I know it’s insane, but art just... Never mind.

I tell myself nothing’s going to happen and that I’m going because of the art--both lies--as I say, “Okay.”

He extends a hand, and I slide mine into it, almost sighing at how perfect we fit together. Would that be the case everywhere? 

Feyre.

I avoid looking at him as he leads me from the room and outside, where a very beefy guy holds open the door to a black sedan. “Seriously?” I ask Rhysand as he ushers me in the back, then climbs in beside me.

“I usually drive myself,” he says in defense, smiling when I roll my eyes.

The city blurs around us as Beefcakes drives, and I’m about to ask where the hell he lives when the car pulls to a stop and the door opens. Climbing out, I look up at the black, shiny penthouse tower, and say, “Of course you live here.”

It’s expensive and in the city and has a million floors, and I bet he lives at the very tippy top.

He gives me a strange look but pulls me in the lobby, then into an elevator. We shoot up flight after flight till we reach the penthouse, confirming my suspicions. 

For what feels like the millionth time, I ask myself why the hell Rhysand’s taken an interest in me. I mean, a year of therapy got me to admit I’m decent looking and all, but I’m... I’m a college student. He’s older and richer and has his life together. Why does he want me?

I don’t have long to contemplate life’s great mysteries because the elevator doors slide open, revealing his apartment, and I become too busy trying to mask my surprise.

I thought the place would be... I don’t know, like him. Sleek. Modern. Luxurious. 

And it is, at least that last part. Everything is obviously expensive. But there’s also a homey quality created by a fireplace, plush couches, decorative rugs, tapestries.

It’s burgundy and black and cream, and so unexpected I smile.

I step in and walk automatically toward the huge windows, taking in the view and realizing we’re at the dead center of the city. In all directions, Chicago’s spread out, lights and traffic and Lake Michigan surrounding us.

Even though the place is beyond wonderful, there’s one thing missing. 

I turn to Rhysand and raise a brow. “No art?”

“One floor down.”

I have to press my lips together to keep the questions in. One floor down, as in it takes up the whole floor. As in he has a private museum. As in I’m so fucking excited I can hardly walk. 

But he seems to be baiting me, seeing how long I’ll last before demanding to be taken down there, so I casually walk around his apartment, taking in all the little details. “It’s more... lived in than I would’ve thought.”

He nods, knowing what I mean even though it was a poor way of explaining it. “I have a few places around the city, but this is the one I prefer.” Nodding to the kitchen, he asks, “Hungry?”

“You cook?” The thought of him covered in flour seems absurd, but we all have our hobbies.

He smiles like I’ve said something funny. “No, but I have takeout menus in there.”

“Hopeless,” I tease, going to the kitchen and opening the fridge like I��m the one who lives here. “I’ll find something.”

I end up finding beer, wine, cheese, and various fruits and vegetables.

Not a lot, but enough to make a charcuterie board, which just so happens to be my specialty. I search for a few minutes before finding a wooden cutting board, then start to assemble whatever snacks I can find.

Cherries and grapes, two types of cheeses, carrots, and crackers fill most of the board, and I fill in gaps with blackberries and chocolate chips I’m surprised he has. 

Once it’s completed and visually appealing enough, I slide it over to where he’s seated on a barstool and bow dramatically. “I’m a master cheese plate maker.”

“I see that. Wine?”

Nodding, I reach in the fridge and grab the first bottle I see. Setting it in front of him, I move to the cabinet and get two glasses and an opener.

Rhysand takes the opener and eyes the bottle, lips twitching as he smoothly uncorks it.

“What?” I ask, unable to figure out what’s funny. Was it weird to make a board or something? Surely even rich guys like cheese and crackers, right?

He pours two glasses, shaking his head and silently refusing to let me in on the joke.

Eyes narrowed, I sit next to him and suspiciously take a small sip from my glass. He watches me, probably expecting me to say something about it, so I offer, “It’s good.”

He bites his lip but can’t keep the laugh in at that, so I finally demand, “What?”

“It’s an $800 bottle of wine, Feyre.”

I almost spit it all over him, which would indeed be a shame, because there’s probably $50 in my mouth. Managing to swallow it down, I sputter, “You... you should’ve said something!”

He’s still laughing, but he stops to take a huge swallow and shrug. “I say we drink the whole bottle.”

I put my head in my hands, blushing. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I couldn’t care less.” He pries my hands away. “Seriously. I just wanted to tease you.”

Now that, I believe. But I still ask, “You’re sure?”

“I’m sure.” He smiles, taking another sip. “I keep the really expensive stuff at the townhouse, anyway.”

I roll my eyes and drink some more, somehow trying to taste it better or something now that I know it’s liquid gold. Shifting to put my foot on the stool, I lean across him to grab the platter.

His gaze glides over me slowly, and there’s surprise in his eyes, like he can’t believe I’m sitting in front of him so casually. 

It’s probably weird to be so... open around a stranger, but he’s not exactly normal, so I don’t feel any pressure to be, either.

Regardless, it’s a little hard to breathe with him looking at me like that, so to break the tension, I grab a cherry, pull the stem off, and hold it an inch in front of his face. 

“Ready?”

His eyes cross and he pushes my hand away so he can actually see what I’m holding. “Ready,” he confirms.”

I stick the stem in my mouth, using a trick I spent three hours teaching myself on a rainy afternoon to tie it in a knot, then pull it out with a victorious grin.

“Very impressive,” he notes, but before I can gloat about my supreme cherry-knotting abilities, he steals the stem and sticks it in his own mouth.

My eyes are wide, but I don’t have time to ask what the hell he’s doing before he pulls it out. 

Unknotted.

“Impressive,” I repeat, actually meaning it. “How’d you do that?”

“I’m good with my tongue,” he says immediately, obviously having been lying in wait for the question, and I huff a laugh.

If I called my sisters and told them what I’m going right now, they’d probably try to have me committed. I’m sitting in a billionaire’s penthouse apartment, drinking expensive wine and watching him untie cherry stems with his tongue. 

“How was your week?” I ask to get us back in semi-normal territory, grabbing a cracker off the plate.

He answers vaguely and asks me about mine, and just like that, we fall into easy conversation.

It’s honestly strange to me that after one date, we can talk like this. With my ex, it took weeks before I was really comfortable around him, and yet I feel completely at home with Rhysand.

He tells he’s from the south side of Chicago and asks about my hometown, and I it feels natural. It’s just... easy.

“By the way, you can just call me Rhys,” he tells me as we finish off the platter. “Using my full name reminds me of when I got in trouble in grade school.”

I drain my wine glass, a slight buzz in my veins, and ask, “So I only call you Rhysand when I’m about to spank you?”

He howls with laughter, then surprises me by asking, “What’s your middle name?”

“Adalene. Why?”

“Just trying to figure out what I’ll call you when we get around to spanking.” I blush as he continues, “Feyre Adalene should do.”

He puts the empty wine bottle in the trash and runs a finger over my red cheek. I bat it away, embarrassed, but he just laughs and asks, “Ready to go downstairs?”

For some reason, I get a little nervous, but I put on my big girl pants and nod, taking his hand when he offers it.

Then we’re back in the elevator, coasting down a floor, and just before the doors open, he says, “Close your eyes.”

Anticipation makes it difficult to follow the request but I manage, and he guides me out of the elevator and turns me slightly. “Open.”

I open my eyes and come face to face with something I never thought I’d see. 

“You... you have a...” I whisper, not quite able to get the word out.  

“Meule.”

One of eight left in private collectors hands, Monet’s Meules--or Grainstacks--are some of the most recognizable, renown works of art in the world. The last was sold four years ago for over $80 million.

Amren Valenta is a very, very rich woman, according to her art collection. 

I’m standing inches from it now, mildly unsure of how that happened, looking at the sunset colors bleed into the shadows of the grain, taking in the easy lines and brushwork.

Turning to look at him, I see he’s leaned against the wall next to the painting, head tilted as if I’m the most interesting thing in the room.

“I can’t believe I’m here right now,” I say honestly, my voice airy and light.

He just smiles and motions to my right. “The collection goes in a loop.”

I nod, and after a few more minutes staring at the Monet, I start to walk.

Or more like mosey. 

If he’s irritated with how long I’m taking, he doesn’t mention it. He follows me as I stare after pieces of art I never dreamed of being close to. Van Gogh, Rembrandt, Klimt, Pollock, Munch.

And then, at the edge of my peripheral, I see it.

Dancers in Pink hangs besides a smaller Degas, but it’s all I can look at. The dancer’s skirts are so bright in person, the tulle layers seeming to come off the canvas. The gold in the background is vibrant and metallic, in sharp contrast with the dark wall it hangs on.

Gods, it’s beautiful.

I know there are more famous paintings in here, but I’ve spent three years going to look at Dancers in Blue, never imagining I’d see one a similar work. 

Tears slide down my face and a laugh bubbles out of me, the two reactions complete opposites but both somehow feeling right.

Strong arms wrap around my waist, and I feel Rhysand’s chin settle on my shoulder as he hugs me from behind. “You know,” he whispers, seeming to not want to disrupt my moment with loud noises, “I never understood how important this is to people.”

“Oh, Rhysand. It’s... wonderful.”

It’s an inadequate way to say what I want to say, but it’s all I can come up with at the moment. I lean into him, and we stand like that, me staring at the painting, him at me, for a long while. 

When I start to get tired, I turn in his embrace, wrap my arms around his shoulders, and kiss him softly. “Thank you. Thank you so much.”

I somehow finish the loop, and by the time we’re in the elevator again, I’m so emotionally spent I can’t hardly breathe.

“Inspired?” he questions, linking our hands and pulling me closer to his side.

I nod, but inspired doesn’t begin to cover it. I’m grateful and overwhelmed and so happy I could burst.

A professor once told me that art is a gift that lasts forever and never stops giving, and I never really understood what she meant until now. Over a hundred years after Dancers in Pink was completed, it still brings people to tears.

It’s a powerful and beautiful and eternal way to send a message, and it makes me feel like a small piece of the puzzle, but at the same time, so important and alive.

We glide smoothly back up to his apartment, but neither of us move once the doors ding open. 

Because technically, there’s no longer a reason for me to be here. 

I’ve seen the art, drank his expensive wine. I should get my bag and go. 

I should... but I don’t want to. 

Rhysand’s perfectly quiet and still beside me, patiently waiting for me to make up my mind. 

The angel on my shoulder tells me how sweet and considerate he’s being. The devil tells me to reward this behavior with a few sinful ideas. 

Running a hand through my hair, I debate my options. Be smart and leave, or stay and try and fight the urge to throw myself at him. 

“Oh, fuck it,” I mutter, dramatically taking a step forward like I’m going into war.

He laughs as he follows me off the elevator, strolling back to the kitchen. “More wine?”

I nod, because at this point, I’m already a lost cause. He opens a new bottle and pours me some. “How much was this one?”

“Ten dollars,” he lies, fighting a smile. “On sale at Walmart.”

“I’m surprised you even know what Walmart is,” I laugh, taking my seat back at the bar. 

“You forget I’m from the south side. All this,” he motions around us, as he takes the seat next to me. “Used to be nothing more than a dream.”

“How’d you do it?” I ask, genuinely curious. Most people with his kind of wealth were born into it and given every advantage possible. “What’d you do?”

He looks down at the floor, but there’s a sudden set of his jaw, a tightness in his shoulders. “Whatever I had to.”

I don’t point out he’s given me yet another non-answer. Instead I say simply, “I find working for something makes you value it more, anyway.”

His eyes find me again, and there’s something I can’t read in his gaze. “Yes, it does. And it makes you do whatever it takes to keep it.”

I swallow and nod slowly, trying to figure out what exactly he means.

He takes a deep breath, then drinks the wine in his glass in a single swallow. There’s a story there, and it’s easy to see it burdens him, but it’s his to tell in his own time. 

Just to get that strain out of his gaze, I switch topics completely. “Honestly, I’m still trying to figure out how you untied that damn cherry stem.”

Rhysand smiles, a full one that showcases all his pretty little teeth, and leans in, the intent clear in his eyes. 

“Come here and I’ll show you,” he whispers.

I press my lips to his and open them immediately--for the lesson, of course--and his tongue meets mine in a slow glide. 

Where our first kiss was all heat and drifting hands, this one’s slow and sensual and like ice cream melting on a summer day. 

His mouth fits mine perfectly, and his hands seem to be made to hold me, sliding up my thighs to settle on my hips. The hair at his nape is soft against my fingers, and I lean on the stool to get closer and wrap my arms around his neck.

I suck on his tongue, and he makes a low sound, then his hands are tightening and lifting, and I’m being settled on his lap.

Both of us on one stool isn’t ideal, but I wrap my legs around his waist and hope we don’t go crashing over. 

Gravity comes into play and I start sliding, so he turns the stool and traps between him and the counter. The granite digs into my spin, but I can’t be bothered to care, because the new position gives his hands freedom to roam again, and he slides them over my thighs, across my ass, up my sides. 

His thumbs brush the sides of my breasts, and they become heavy and aching against his chest.

His mouth slowly drags down to my neck, and I sigh as he finds that one spot that drives me crazy. His nips the skin, tongue smoothing the small hurt, and his name slips out of me in a quiet moan. 

Everything seems to change at once.

Cursing creatively, he sweeps me into his arms and stands, then walks us into his living room and plops onto a plush couch. 

My ADHD kicks in and I’m momentarily distracted by how soft the leather is, but then his tongue runs across the seam of my lip and I snap back into focus.

My hips are churning against him, desperate for some friction, and I kiss him without restraint, abandoning our slow, peaceful rhythm from earlier. I hadn’t realized I’d been working on the buttons of his shirt, but then a band of tan skin is exposed, and I dip my head to press my lips against it. 

He tugs my hair to bring my mouth back to his, and I practically attack him, biting his lip and pulling his hair and generally acting like a depraved cavewoman.

He doesn’t complain, though. His hands drag my hips closer, then slip under the hem of my sweater. 

The scrape of his callouses on my sides snaps me back to the shocking reality where I’m--yet again--making out with a man I hardly know, and I gasp, then curse, then practically jump backwards off his lap. 

Standing in front of him, I put a hand over my mouth like that’ll stop me from using it and look him over. 

He’s all sprawling legs and swollen lips and beautiful eyes, and I force my eyes to the ceiling. “You look like a hot, virginal dork I just deflowered in the back of my minivan,” I tell him. 

“I feel a bit like that,” he laughs, running a thumb over his bruised lips almost in shock. “Although it’s always nice to be desired.”

I’d be embarrassed if I wasn’t so distracted by him looking so thoroughly messy. 

But I know that despite what just happened, I can’t do this with him yet. 

I mean, I definitely could, and it definitely would be enjoyed by all parties involved, but I would regret it. 

Rhysand isn’t someone I can just sleep with and forget. I’ve known him a week, and I already feel a strange sort of bond with him. 

If we slept together, then never spoke again, it would hurt me more than I’d care to admit. 

“I think I should leave.”

He nods like he was expecting this, but asks, “Why?”

Putting my hands on my hips, I repeat what I said earlier. “Working for something makes you value it more, remember?”

He smiles and stands, taking a minute to straighten the clothes I’d pawed out of place.

“It also makes you do whatever it takes to keep it,” he reminds me, a shiver sweeping over me at the words. “Come on; I’ll walk you out.”

We go to the elevator and stay on opposite ends the entire ride down. I’m a little proud, because I most certainly thought about crossing over to his half. 

Stepping outside, Rhysand motions for Beefcakes to open the door. “He’ll drive you home.”

“Thank you,” I say, starting towards the car. 

I take two whole steps before he’s somehow in front of me, blocking the path. “Two more things.”

He kisses me, gently but firmly, then pulls back and slips a piece of paper in my hand. “It’s your turn to send smoke signals.”

I look down at the paper and see a number written in a slashing scrawl, intelligently putting together that it’s his phone number. I look back up to respond, but he’s already back at the entrance to the building. 

Rhysand looks over his shoulder, winks, and disappears inside. 

I get in the SUV and tell Beefcakes my address, and off we go. I study the piece of paper the entire way there, mind reeling with everything that happened today. 

The easy conversation, the art, the kiss. 

Is this how it feels to be swept off your feet?

And how long, exactly, do I have to wait before calling him?

________________________________________________

This took me so long to edit holy FUCK. Part 3

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[silhouetteofacedar]

Impersonal, Ch. 9

Previous Chapter - AO3 - MSR, Rated E

Mulder gets to the office half an hour early the next morning, his spirits unusually high. He feels like skipping through the halls, flinging goddamn rose petals. He’s too antsy to stay in his chair just yet, so he walks to get a cup of coffee. He briefly considers getting one for Scully before deciding it’s Too Much, Too Soon, then changes his mind and gets her one anyway. It’s just coffee, it doesn’t have to mean anything.

He doesn’t know what they are, or what last night meant. All he knows is that he made a move and didn’t get punched in the face. It feels like progress.

He returns to the basement, coffees in hand, and tries to calm himself down by perusing a stack of files he’s been ignoring for two days. Scully usually gets to work by 8:50, so he has a few minutes to get settled before she arrives.

Nine o’clock and still no Scully. Mulder sharpens a few pencils and resists the impulse to throw them at the ceiling tiles.

At 9:07 he throws one. It bounces off the tile and falls to the floor. He nudges it under the desk with his foot.

At 9:12 he picks up the phone to call her and hangs up before the first ring.

She enters the office at 9:23 and leaves the door ajar.

“Morning,” Mulder says, holding out her cup of coffee. It’s lukewarm and he feels slightly pathetic offering it to her. “Hit traffic?”

She takes the cup wordlessly, sips it, and makes a face. “Sorry it’s cold,” Mulder apologizes, getting up to close the door. The latch clicks and he sees her stiffen momentarily. “You’re usually here early.”

“It’s fine,” she replies. “I just didn’t sleep well last night. Missed my alarm.”

Mulder nods in understanding. “Hope I didn’t keep you up too late,” he says.

Her head snaps up, eyes wide. Her cheeks look pink. Interesting. “What-”

“You said it was getting late. Last night,” he explains hurriedly. “Is what I meant.”

“Oh.” She looks down again. Why is she avoiding looking at him?

In awkward situations, the Dana Scully he knows is nothing but cool. She’s collected, composed, and fears no man; it’s one of Mulder’s favorite things about her. Even during the height of their sexual arrangement she showed up at work on time, well-rested, and acting like absolutely nothing happened over the weekend. She was so good at compartmentalizing that it almost scared him. But something about her today is different, off somehow.

He studies her, gathering visual clues. Her hair is smooth and shiny as always. It probably smells like the shampoo he got a whiff of last night - God, he needs another hit of that scent - and is neatly tucked behind her ear on one side. She’s wearing her little pearl earrings, and the sight of her earlobe makes his mouth water. He’s sucked that earlobe, kissed that neck, and all he wants is to do it again and again and again-

“Mulder,” Scully says cautiously, “Are you okay?”

Her lips seem darker today. Is she wearing that lipstick again? The one that stained his collar one of those passionate nights…

“Yeah, why?” he replies casually, leaning back in his chair. He feels a twinge south and quickly changes position, sitting upright and scooting the chair under the desk.

“You were staring.”

“Sorry. I was thinking about something else.”

“Something else.”

He scrambles mentally. “Yeti.”

She presses her lips together. “Right.”

Mulder sees Scully’s lips move; she mouthes “yeti” to herself. He swallows, tries to think of something to say. The only thing that comes to mind is the truth.

“Thanks for coming out with me last night,” Mulder says softly. “It was nice.”

“Expense reports are due by five,” Scully replies, and it's like being hit with a bucket of cold water.

———

Scully hates being late; it throws her whole day off. She slept through her alarm and didn’t have time to wash her hair so it was probably flat and lifeless. She didn’t have time for breakfast either, just half a dry bagel wedged between her teeth as she hurried out the door. She heard that stupid “Friday I’m In Love” song in the car and turned the stereo off with a punch of the button. The only lipstick she had in her bag was the rich berry one that she usually saved for rare nights out, so she was self-conscious about her mouth the whole way down to the basement.

Then there was Mulder, awaiting her like an eager puppy with a wagging tail and tepid coffee. His enthusiasm was sometimes charming, often exhausting; and today it was almost offensive.

Yeti? You look at me with those starry bedroom eyes and then say you’re thinking about yeti?

To be fair, Scully does feel a bit like an abominable snow person this morning; hulking and frosty, reduced to base desires. She’s sleepy, stressed, and hungry. And horny, but she’s really fighting that one back.

He thanks her for last night, as though she was doing him a favor by spending time with him. As though she didn’t go straight home afterwards and get herself off thinking about him, too wound up and exhausted to feel any proper shame.

Hell, he never seemed embarrassed by his sexual proclivities; why did she have to be so uptight about hers?

Mulder’s eyes are warm and earnest, and she feels almost naked under his honest gaze. She redirects his attention to their expense reports, like tilting a beach umbrella to block the afternoon sun.

There’s a new tension between them now; like they’re standing on the edge of deep pool, dipping their toes in, waiting for the other to take the first plunge. She can see a version of herself, a braver Scully, opening her mouth and letting her secrets spill out. Stripping down to her naked soul, letting Mulder see exactly what she’s been so afraid to reveal. She can feel the shape of the words against her palate, balanced on the tip of her tongue. But she can’t. Not here, not yet. She has work to do.

Just a few more hours, Scully thinks, then it’s the weekend, and you can spend the next two days wallowing in your feelings and avoiding Mulder until Monday.

She glances up from her papers and catches him quickly looking away, and she suddenly wonders if maybe they’re both fucked.

[jinmindeulle]

the art of love | cs

pairing: choi san x reader ft. mentions of park seonghwa 

word count: 5.1k

genre: artist!reader, florist!san, exes to lovers au | angst, fluff

warnings: minor swearing

find ateez’s masterlist here!

enjoy ♥

How many deep breaths did I have to take to put myself together every time I started driving back to my hometown?

I think I stopped counting five years ago. It didn’t matter how many times I had done that, it had always driven me crazy.

But this time, it was worse.

“Please, text me when you’re on your way. Let’s meet at Jjinsong’s Café before going home. Be safe, love you!”

Yet, I couldn’t be mad. I missed my family too much to be upset over that. It’s been seven years, y/n, get over it!

I replied to my sister with a short message full of heart emojis and I put my phone inside my pocket. I started the car and glanced at my (ex?) apartment floor. Hope to see you empty when I get back.

Last time I visited my family’s home in Namhae, it was all tears and sad eyes. Making my way back to Seoul was one of the hardest things for me. However, every time I went back to the capital city, the driver’s seat was always taken by the same man, who at least tried to make my trip bearable by holding one of my hands when he could. But that day, I was the one driving, all alone.

I couldn’t break the news to my mother over the phone. She had gotten attached to him over the years. But she didn’t knew the whole truth, and honestly, going back to Namhae was way cheaper than calling my mom to tell her that I had rejected my boyfriend’s marriage proposal without second thoughts, and that my life was just a mess in general.

And I also needed to see her, my dad, my sister and my nephews. They were going to help healing my open scars. At least try to.

I picked a random playlist and kept it on repeat the whole trip. Fortunately, being a Thursday, the traffic was not that bad, especially at such an early hour. I really didn’t want to stay under that roof any longer. I felt miserable there. Why did I have to put it off that much?

“Why did you have to put it off that much?”

“I wonder exactly the same”

My sister looked at me with a raised eyebrow while she quietly sipped her coffee.

It had always amazed me how calm and collected Eunjung acted and reflected in situations like mine. She would never get upset unless it was the end of the world, and that hardly ever happened.

“I knew something was wrong since the last time you came home with him”

“But it was not that bad back then”

“You sure?”

“Well…”

He had been promoted a week before and his father had announced that he was soon going to retire, leaving him his position as CEO of one of the greatest companies in South Korea. It had easily gone to his head, and I wasn’t able to stand staying in the same room every time he brought that up.

“Maybe you’re right” I sighed, quietly stirring my own coffee. “I honestly don’t know, Jung. I didn’t like to think about it because it meant doing something about it. And I think I was way too comfortable living like that to try and change it.”

“And he made you do it”

“Pretty much, yes. I couldn’t get married to him. I don’t think I loved him enough to sacrifice what I wanted in life just for him”

“I’m glad you did that, y/n. It means you’re still chasing your dreams”

“I mean, yeah. I have always been. Not actively, but I kept dreaming about having my very own gallery, and everyone in Seoul wanting to have my art pieces on their living room’s walls.”

“Why not everyone in the country? Or in the world?”

“My dreams are more of the realistic type, Jung” I chuckled, munching my last chocolate cookie.

“How are you going to tell mom?”

“With your help?” I smiled innocently, trying to display the best puppy face I could master.

“And how do you want me to do that? ‘Hi mom, y/n here broke up with Seonghwa right after he proposed to her because it was not the life she wanted! Please don’t be that happy, it will break her poor heart!’”

“Eunjung! Please!” I begged “She won’t leave me alone and…”

“She will” my oldest and only sister interrupted me, smiling like the Cheshire Cat. “There’s been a rumour going around…”

“Wait, what’s going on?”

Eunjung sipped from her blue coffee mug and looked at me with the same innocent eyes I had displayed some seconds ago. Then, she quietly put the mug down and got closer to me over the wooden table, encouraging me to do the same. Once we were close enough to avoid being heard by the rest of the customers, she whispered in my ear.

“Rumour has it that Choi San is getting divorced”

I resoundingly sat back down, looking at my sister with a mix of weird emotions in my eyes. I hadn’t heard his name in ages. Not because I happened to not hear it, but just because I had deliberately asked my family not to bring his name up when I was around.

“Eunjung…”

“His wife cheated on him”

“Please, stop” I murmured, tightly closing my eyes, trying to get rid of the million memories that my brain decided to bring back after so many years of suppressing them. “You know how I feel about him”

“You’re telling me that after more than seven years you’re still upset about him and what you went through? You were like twenty years old, c’mon! You’re a woman now, y/n!”

“I was twenty two, and yes, I’m over it. But I don’t want to know, hear or talk about him. He’s dead to me. He’s been dead to me since the day I moved to Seoul, and will be until the end of my days”

“I didn’t know it was that deep”

“You were too busy taking care of your babies, Jung. And I’m not complaining here, I just know that you never got the full story, but it’s OK. It’s in the past now”

“You sure?”

“Stop making me question my life!” I cried, throwing a used paper napkin right at her face.

“What do you want me to say?”

My mom had always been understanding. She would calmly nod and hug me, telling me that everything was going to be okay, and letting me soak her blouse with my teenage tears. However, there were situations in which you could never guess what her reaction would be. And that was one of those times.

“Honey, I think we all knew that you were going to end things with that guy” my dad intercepted “but we weren’t aware of the fact that it was that bad”

“In all honestly, I wasn’t either” I murmured “it was just my routine. I had been waking up next to him for nearly five years. I had a job that let me live comfortably and not worry about anything else than buying expensive clothes every now and then because I was supposed to be accompanying Seonghwa in every fucking company’s party” I allowed me to cry for the first time, letting the pain and desperation out “I was living like a damn princess. But I never wanted that. I had never wanted that!” I sobbed. A pair of gentle arms held me tight, and I instantly knew that it was my mom. I hugged her back, holding onto her like she was the only oxygen mask available in a crashing plane.

“I know dear, I know. And I’m proud of you. You did what you wanted to do, because you should always do that. And it’s OK. It will never be a bad thing to follow your heart, y/n”

I nodded, drying the flowing tears with the back of my sleeve. “Thank you mom, dad. I love you”

“We love you too, darling” my dad affectionately kissed my cheek, chuckling when I showed him a weak smile. “Why don’t you take a shower while I finish preparing lunch? I bet your nephews want to see you as much as you do”

“Yeah, will do” I nodded, grabbing my large pastel purple suitcase. “I need to recharge before seeing those little demons”

The whole Thursday and the day before had been an emotional rollercoaster, so I expected to get the sleep I deserved. But sometimes things don’t go as planned. Just like my life, really.

The first night that I slept in my old room was just a blessing. No alarm clocks were rushing me out of bed, no angry faces were shaking me out of sleep, and no boring tasks were waiting for me in my office’s desk.  

“Aunt, wake up!”

I opened one of my eyes when the curtain was drawn and sunlight hit my face. I was about to bury my head in one of my pillows when the oldest of my nephews, Jiwon, took it away from me and slapped me with it.

“Mommy’s taking us to the park so we can have a picnic as breakfast!”

“And told us to wake you up so you can go with us!”

“Please, auntie! Wake up!”

I wanted to scream. I swear to God I loved those kids, but sometimes they made me think twice about having my own in the future. Yeah, well, it won’t happen anyways. You’re single now, and you’ll probably be forever.

“C’mon auntie! Or mommy will be upset!” Jihwan cried.

“I’m coming, I’m coming!” I sat up, rubbing my eyes. “Go tell your mom that I’ll be downstairs in like 10 minutes”

“Okey dokey!”

Getting ready in the mornings was not my favourite thing to do. I liked to pick whatever was clean in my closet and wear it like it was a Prada dress. Nonetheless, it was never like that for me. I had to be well dressed. I had to wear the actual Prada dress. I just couldn’t choose.

But that day, I could.

After taking a shower, I took my old, worn out pair of jeans out of my suitcase and put them on.

“It’s been so long since I wore these jeans” I whispered, caressing the fabric.

Next, I chose a simple, colourful shirt that I myself had intervened years ago, and tucked it in. The most comfortable pair of sneakers finished my look.

“You look like you’re twenty again”

“Oh Lord Jesus, knock next time!” I shouted, startled by my sister’s voice.

“You’re back to being you. I like that” she smiled at me from the door frame. “But hurry up! These kids are driving me crazy down there”

Taking a look around that familiar yet so long forgotten park, made me feel emotional once again. That was the reason why I always tried to avoid it every time I decided to return to Namhae. My hometown brought back too many memories, memories that I had decided to erase seven years ago.

But I was tired of it. And at that moment, my future was uncertain — what I had always feared the most. Bringing back painful memories was nothing for me at that point.

“Fluffy is crazy!”

“Give it to me, Hwanie” I took the red dog leash from my youngest nephew’s hand, trying to prevent the huge dog from running around the park chasing the ducks, and probably throwing to the ground the old ladies that were feeding them. “When did this dog get this big?”

“We are feeding him puppy food that makes him stronger, auntie!”

“Well, maybe you shouldn’t d… Fluffly!” the dog was able to release himself from the leash while I was giving wise advice, and started running towards the ducks, leaving us four way too far away to stop him before a massacre happened.

“Oh no!”

I reacted as fast as I could, although I knew I was way too late. My legs were not that fast, and even if they were, how was I supposed to have enough strength to pull him away from innocent ducks and old ladies?

Just when he was about to throw himself over the lake, a man in a black hoodie that covered most of his form took him from his collar and kept him under control. I kept running towards them, busy thinking about what that crazy dog would do to the stranger if he made a false step.

But I was stunned — and out of breath — when I found out that the beast was happily wagging his tail to the man, while he petted him. “Are you still misbehaving, Fluffy? Didn’t I teach you to stay calm near the ducks?”

“Uhm… hi?” I breathed out, trying to call attention to the man who still had his back to me. “The dog…”

“Are you still struggling to ta…”

My eyes watered in a matter of seconds. The man that I was successfully avoiding for years was standing right in front of me, looking the way I remembered him, like seven years had done nothing to him.

But he looked tired. Like he was going through hell and was needing a break from it all. His eyes had all the time shown his feelings, and back then, I was the only one able to read him like an open book. I knew in an instant that he was feeling like crap, but there was something else.

And maybe he was not the man that I used to know. Well, not maybe. He wasn’t the Choi San I had been in love with. The Choi San that I had cherished like no one else, who I had wanted to spend the rest of my life with and grow old together.

And I was not the same either.

“I…”

“It’s been so long” he sighed, looking me in the eye. I felt intimidated. I had forgotten how powerful his glances were, no matter the situation. He had always managed to do that to me, and I wasn’t ready to go through it once again. I had been invested in studying his glances way too many times in the past, and I was never able to reach a reasonable conclusion. So I just settled for leaving that matter alone.

“Yeah…” I exhaled, playing with the read leash in my hands.

“I didn’t know you were visiting your family”

“You know when I come here?”

“Of course I do. Everybody knows. It’s a small town, y/n”

I closed my eyes tightly upon hearing my name leave his lips. I felt like crying all over again, and I wasn’t willing to let him see me like that anymore. He had had enough of it. We both had.

“Should have guessed it” I nodded, looking down and avoiding his gaze. “Can you give me Fluffy back?”  

“Oh yeah, sorry” he petted the dog for the last time while I secured the leash back on his collar “He’s been misbehaving a lot lately”

“You know him?”

“I helped Eunjung a couple of times with him. She told me it’s been hard to keep him quiet when they take him out to the park so I offered to help. I need to take a break from life sometimes, and he’s great company”

“He seems to like you a lot” I smiled weakly, looking down at the happy dog who was still wagging his tail while looking at San with what seemed like adoration.

“I think so, yeah” he giggled softly, petting him once again. “He’s nice, but he needs some rules before it goes out of hand”

“I’ll make sure to tame him, then”

“You’re staying?” I mustered all of my courage, and looked up to meet his eyes. His voice tone had changed tremendously, but I wasn’t sure what that meant. This was a new Choi San for me after all.

“For some weeks, yeah. I still don’t know how many, to be honest”

“You’re on a little vacation with your boyfriend?”

“I…” I was about to reply, but then it just hit me. I was talking to Choi San, the man that had marked my whole existence with burning, hurtful words. He had given me everything and taken it away from me as fast as he could. So no, I was not giving him explanations. “Yeah. Well, goodbye, San.”

And I left as fast as I got there.

After my encounter with San, I kept thinking about him and everything that happened in those years together. Not only the tragic ending, but also the beautiful things. And that made me realize that I could at least get part of it back.

Although Eunjung saw everything, she didn’t bring it up. She knew that I was struggling — and I’m pretty sure she heard me that night.

So while a soft breeze accompanied me as I was watching the night skies in the petit balcony of my room, I decided to make my way towards the basement to find the boxes full of the stuff I had left there and never used ever again. Many oleos were dry and unusable, but some others seemed to be just fine. I took one of the empty canvases and my easel as well as my collection of paintbrushes, and went back to my balcony.

“How had I missed you” I whispered, looking at my empty canvas. Tears gathered in my eyes, and a sad smile appeared on my lips as they rolled down my cheeks. “I really missed this”

But although I tried, I couldn’t bring myself to do anything more than a soft stroke which was supposed to be the very same night sky above me.

My hand didn’t respond. It was painful.

So I let it all out. My desperate cries were most probably heard around the neighbourhood, but that was my last concern. The only thing that was supposed to make me happy turned out to be a total failure.

I had no purpose. I had ruined my career as a painter years ago. Why would I paint a night sky that would be seen by no one but me? That would be recognized by no one but me?

San was right.

He had been right all along.

“Why didn’t you tell me that you ran into San yesterday?”

Mornings at home were usually not that noisy, but that day it had to be. My mom had organized a tea party with her girlfriends, and I was supposed to help her out as the only one who was free around the house. My dad was out of town for the weekend because of work, and my sister decided to go out with her sons, probably trying to get away from our mom’s demands.

“Eunjung told you?” I sighed, mixing the cupcake mix faster than I was supposed to so that I could get out of there.

“Yep” she nodded.

“I don’t want to talk about him. You know he’s dead to me”

But even though I said it bluntly, I was feeling like that sentence had no meaning to me anymore.

“You’re being too rude, y/n”

“I’m being honest, mom.” I stopped my eager mixing and looked at her, supporting my weight against the kitchen counter, and crossed my arms over my chest. “I know you and everyone in this town love San. But I don’t, and I don’t want to talk about him anymore. Please”

“Fine” she sighed “Then lend me a hand with the stra— oh Dear God!”

“What’s wrong?”

“I was supposed to bake a strawberry cake but I totally forgot about buying the strawberries”

I rolled my eyes. Totally my mom’s behaviour. “I’ll go to the supermarket. Anything else?”

I shouldn’t have asked that.

Making my way down the aisles, I struggled to find everything that my mom asked me to buy.

“Where the hell are these fucking powders?” I murmured, slowly walking with my cart and carefully reading each package. “Well, not here”

I looked in front of me to check the signs over the aisles, but my eyes encountered something very different.

A painted night sky.

I knew that painting. I knew that night sky.

Those soft strokes and the shiny details on the moon were familiar. Too familiar.

Of course. They were mine.

And once I understood that I was not looking at an actual painting but the back of an intervened denim jacket, it all came crushing down once again.

But I didn’t have enough time to run away.

He turned around and saw me. I froze like I hadn’t just seen him the day before. My eyes became glossy once again. Keep it together, y/n!

“I thought that yesterday was a coincidence. But I don’t believe that anymore”

San was right in front of me now, a couple of meters away from me. He was carrying some instant noodles in his hands and a bottle of water.

“Let’s not do this, please” I shook my head, tightly gripping the cart’s handle.

“We need to talk, y/n”

“There’s nothing to talk about, San” I gasped, avoiding his eyes.

“If your eyes keep watering whenever you see me and my heart keeps pounding whenever I see you, then yes, there’s a lot of talking to do” he calmly stated, taking a step closer to me “I know you have been avoiding me, and I cannot blame you alone. I also had whenever I knew you were around. But this needs to stop” he sighed “I am aware of the fact that you’re in a relationship and I don’t int—“

“I’m not” I interrupted him, looking at him in the eye “I left him. That’s why I’m here”

“I’m… I’m so sorry to hear that” he said, and I could clearly see the sincerity in his eyes.

“It’s okay…” I whispered.

“Can we please meet so we can finally say whatever we have to say to each other before you leave?”

“San, I… I find it really hard to talk to you” I came clean, playing with the ends of my shirt “You hurt me a lot, and… and I really don’t want to keep digging in the same old scars. But maybe…” I took a deep breath “Maybe it will help to finally close them”

He nodded “I know, y/n. I need this. We need this”

“What about your wife?”

I just had to ask. He knew about me and Seonghwa, so it was only fair.

“It’s a long story, but in a nutshell, I’m divorcing her”

“I’m so—“

“Don’t bother” he shook his head, chuckling with a noticeable pain in his voice “I’m not sorry, so no one should be for me. Especially you.”

I don’t know why I was so nervous. It was just San. Choi San, that beautiful, talented and perfect man.

And that was the problem.

Choi San had always been a mystery. A simple mystery. Back then, he liked to show me that he needed to wear nothing more than a dazzling smile to make my day better. He used to take me out at night to stargaze because he thought that I could find inspiration up there.

“You need to paint these, baby” he had said “I know you’ll do an outstanding job”

And of course I painted them. Every single one of them.

“Could you pretty please paint this same sky on the back of my denim jacket?” he had asked.

“Why do you want me to do that, Sanshine?” I had chuckled, looking up from his chest so that I could see his stunning features illuminated by the stars.  

“Because today I feel like I could do anything I want with my life. I have you, so that’s enough” he had replied, sweetly kissing me afterwards.

I hadn’t been enough, though.

My thoughts were abruptly interrupted when I felt his sweet perfume coming near me. I turned my head to my right, and I was able to distinguish his slender form from afar. He was still wearing that denim jacket and carried a large envelope in his hands.

“Hey there” he softly smiled.

“Hi San” I replied, trying to get rid of any sign of desperation in my voice.

“Do you want us to stay here or you prefer to go where used to… hang out?”

“I’m perfectly fine here” I sat back down on the bench, and he cautiously did the same, both of us in each end of it. The evening was warm and a nice breeze hit our faces. Although there were no stars yet, they were on their way.

And I honestly wasn’t ready to stargaze with San.

“Shall I start by saying that I am truly sorry?” after some minutes of silence, San broke the ice. “I never meant to hurt you like that. But I know that saying sorry now it’s meaningless. I just want you to let it all out, say the things that you wanted to yell at that 23 year old me but you never got to” the sorrow in his voice was evident, and I believed him. I felt how sorry he was for what he told me that night.

But it still haunted me. So I had to tell him.

“You ruined my dreams, San.” I whispered, already feeling hot tears go down my face. “You were my only fan back then. You encouraged me to keep going, practising, learning, and experimenting. But that night… you just threw that away. Why would you tell me that I was never going to be successful? Why would you yell right at my face that I was talentless?” I sobbed “That my paintings were nothing special and that I would never become a renowned artist if I kept painting night skies, when you were the one who encouraged me to do that in the first place?” And just as he wanted me, I let it all out. “You buried my dreams. You crushed them and you even made sure to throw them to the trash before leaving. I hated you for so long! I despised you! You were my best friend who suddenly became my worst enemy. But why? I just want to know that. I don’t care if you still think that my paintings were garbage. That’s my last concern” I sighed, violently drying the still falling tears “I just want to know why”

I looked at him, and it made me feel a little bit better to know that I was not the only one crying about it. Although he kept silent, his cheeks were soaked, and his eyes reddened and puffy. “You were talking about leaving Namhae” he whispered, looking down at the grass that surrounded us “and I couldn’t go with you, so I just needed you to stay. But after you moved to Seoul, I realized that I was being selfish and that I thought of my happiness over yours. I was going to be happy if you stayed with me, working at the flower shop and painting night skies as a hobby. But you would never have been if you did that” he cried, letting out a sorrowed and choppy breath. “And for the record, I never meant those words, y/n. I never believed that, and I know for a fact that I’m still your number one fan. You are the most talented person I know. You are amazing, and you more than anyone in this world deserve to be recognized out there. I’m so sorry for making you believe the opposite.”

I stayed silent, processing San’s explanation.

If we just had talked it out back then, maybe, just maybe…

“We were young and stupid” I finally replied. “I was trying to get out of Namhae to become an artist and I tried to take you with me. You were building your flower shop here and you tried to make me stay. It was never going to work out even if we tried” I reasoned, getting closer to him.

“But I shouldn’t have said that anyways” he shook his head “I prevented you from pursuing your dreams”

“I was stupid enough to believe that and stopped trying. I should have kept painting despite your words. I now see it” Slowly, San raised his head and looked at me in the eye. I weakly smiled at him, taking one of his hands for the first time in seven years. “I’m sorry too, San. I blamed you for my misery when I was the one who had to go after my dreams anyways”

“We both fucked up. But it’s on the past now, and we’re still young” he tightened his grip on my hand and shook the mysterious envelope with the other “I don’t know about you, but I just came from my attorney’s office. I’m officially divorced”

“I can’t believe our lives turned out this way” I quietly laughed, playing with San’s fingers. “If you had asked my 20 year old self, I probably would have said we were having our own house full of flowers and paintings by now, and why not add a couple of wedding rings. I was delusional”

“Not really, y/n. I expected that as well” his free hand softly caressed my cheek, travelling down to my jaw. He carefully grabbed my chin, making me look at him. I felt my eyes watering again, and San raised an eyebrow, showing me his confused gaze “Is there something wrong, baby?” he whispered.

I let out my tears, because I wasn’t trying to hide them from him anymore. “I’m just happy” I replied “I used to think that seeing you again was a mistake. That living in my luxurious Seoul apartment with a man that I no longer loved was what I needed to live the decent life that I was supposed to have. And now I know that it was just me trying to supress the urge that I had to come back to you. Because despite the horrible ending, you made me be who I am today. You loved me endlessly, San. And I hope you still do” I admitted, blushing like I was that 20 year old once again “Because I know I never stopped loving you, Sanshine. Even when I hated you the most”

He replied in the most beautiful way. A sweet, awaited, and loving kiss.

Although it wasn’t, it felt like the first time. No rushing, no hurting. Just love.

The love that I was waiting to get from someone that actually never loved me like San did.

The love that San was waiting to get from someone that actually never loved him like I did.

The love that we both deserved to get after so long.  

— jinmindeulle ♥ 

[lambourngb]

If you are still doing this, to make it through (with hearts and wrists intact)

combining the wip ask with WIP Wednesday ! Alright, so there’s two remix challenges going on right now, but I didn’t sign up for either of them because I have enormous anxiety about deadlines and I’m also kind of a control freak about my work. I do love the concept, so I decided to remix my own work.

to make it through (with hearts and wrists intact) is a remix of Last Years Wishes. It is completely the fault of @haloud who mused aloud about what if Jesse got to use the shed on Michael. You guys remember what I did to the shed in LYW right? Yeah. Poor Michael. So while Alex is waiting at the Airstream, talking to agents Ross and Rollins, this is how Michael’s day is going....

[warnings: canon divergent within 1x13, mention of Michael’s feelings for Maria, but nothing happens past the discovery of Rosa’s body in the cave ]

“Old man, you are calling me on my day off,” Michael yelled into the receiver of his cell phone speaker over the rushing sound of air after picking up the call. 

The windows were down because his AC in his truck went on the frizz again sometime during when Max had stolen-borrowed it to drive Liz home from Texas, leaving him behind to share a long awkward ride with Maria in her classic Chevy. Awkward because he had been buzzing from the encounter in the desert. He hadn’t slept with anyone in weeks, not since Alex, and that had been a ridiculous attempt for him to pine in celibacy considering just how little the other man had missed him. Some things end in a whimper.

Texas had been about hope, about maybe finding someone who was connected to him on a species level. He hadn’t realized how deeply Max’s enthusiasm had sunk into him until the fraud had been revealed and disappointment had set in. Between Alex’s brusque brush off and realizing they really were alone on this planet, Michael hadn’t thought he could feel even lower with the weight of Isobel’s salvation fully on his shoulders (and Liz’s). Then shining like a bright star in the night sky, he had found Maria. 

She had effectively chased away the touch starved ghouls that had haunted his skin that night, he could still barely believe they had dropped right to the rocky ground and scratchy blanket to fuck. It was the type of raw passion he had with- no, in that particular moment he hadn’t thought about Alex but afterwards? He couldn’t avoid the connection the next morning, particularly when she had sworn him to secrecy, and then had reinforced it when she had fully kicked him out in the cold after he had returned her repaired necklace. 

It was unfortunate for her that he was already wired to enjoy a push-pull hot-cold dynamic.

Ten years of Alex Manes meant Michael had learned to read past a blustering denial to see the real truth. She really liked him, she just didn’t want to admit it, and good god, if that wasn’t a déjà vu moment for Michael, he didn’t know what was. Maybe it was stupid to believe it would work out any better with her than it had with Alex, but with Noah dead, his m- his reason for building his ship gone, what did it hurt to try again?

His healed hand curled around the grip on the steering wheel with a shiver of disorientation at the new flexibility, but he pushed it down to concentrate on that meager bubble of hope of what was ahead for him. Maria. Normalcy. When he had offered to leave her alone at the gala, she had refused to take him up on it. That's the problem, I never do. 

It had felt good to hear that, that he was wanted, even as he heard the conflict in her voice over what she desired versus what she thought she deserved to have. That was also painfully familiar to Michael as well.

Caulfield had seeped into his skin, three layers deep in the worst type of burn. That brief moment of his mother, wrapping around his mind with her love and sorrow and hope, and then she was gone. The screaming, that he had heard from outside the chain link fence, suddenly disappeared as the explosion moved outward in a shockwave. For a few minutes he had stood on solid ground in that prison, for the first time since a sweet boy had returned his kiss at seventeen under a galaxy of plastic foam planets, and then it was over. His mother was gone, and in her stead, he had Alex telling him that -

Michael forcefully pushed that thought away and returned his attention back to the cranky drawl of Walt Sanders, “I know kid, but I’m already out with the wrecker in the other ass-end direction, so I need you to go help this cry baby who can’t change a flat. Help me make some money, so I can afford to keep your ass employed.” 

“Fine, tell me the location, but this is holiday pay, not overtime.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Sanders muttered, before rattling off the mile marker and the highway. “It’s a Lincoln sedan, black. Probably some old geezer out on a drive to church who ran into trouble.”

“You calling someone else a geezer is funny to me, I hope you know that,” Michael replied, hitting his turn signal to make a left to pick up the state road. It wasn’t as if he had a planned time to see Maria, the lunch hour and official opening of the bar was still an hour away. A little delay that made him some extra cash was doable. 

“Shut the hell up kid, and get going,” Sanders griped good-naturedly, before hanging up on Michael. 

The sun was bright overhead, the storm from the night before having washed the land and sky clean of clouds. Across the pavement ahead, the heat and the brightness, cast a mirage of dark shimmering water that creeped just out of reach as he drove toward his new destination. His mind ticked over the set of priorities ahead, to make a little money with a tire change, then to drop in on Maria to make his case, and finally, he knew he needed to swing by Isobel’s to check on her in the aftermath of Noah’s betrayal. Somewhere in all of that, he knew he would need to make it home to see Alex for that promised talk, but there was plenty of time for that because Alex rarely came by during the day to see him.

“I’m still fighting his battles, not mine.”

Michael flexed his hands on the steering wheel again and pushed down the heaviness in his heart that accompanied thinking about Alex. Ten long years of waiting and wanting him. If Michael cared to count up all of the trips to Roswell that Alex had made on leave, the two weeks together after the class reunion that frankly felt like a hallucination to Michael, all of those hours spent together would add up to a month. A month that stretched out over ten years, 520 weeks, or 3,650 days.

Counting the distance to the nearest star was in light years, but when it came to counting the distance between the stash of wedding rings he had purchased for Alex over the years and what he had been actually allowed to have with Alex, well, that was a calculation beyond the redshift spectrum. It would take energy to transverse that distance one more time, and Michael had nothing left inside to fuel that journey. He couldn’t afford to be lost in the black again, not with Isobel in free-fall from Noah’s years of manipulations, not with the prospect of telling Liz they had found Rosa’s body on the horizon. It was just too hard to believe that this time, with Alex calling him family, with Alex throwing back the closest declaration to love that he had ever made, actually meant he was ready to move toward Michael and work to cut the distance between them on his own.

It was better to head forward in a new direction, than to look back like Max had said. Besides, every other time he had failed to be enough of a reason to help Alex bridge his own chasm between what he wanted and what he had allowed himself to have. What could have changed? Caulfield had just cemented the complications for them both. 

A dark shadow in the distance, parked just off the road caught Michael’s attention. He glanced down at the odometer to mark the mileage and started to ease up on the gas. That must be the motorist Sanders had fielded a call from earlier, he realized. The ‘old geezer’ in the black Lincoln with a flat tire. He glanced in the rearview mirror to check for traffic but the road behind him was devoid of other vehicles. 

Michael hit the turn signal and hazard lights on his truck, turning briefly to the side to check that he had some spare water bottles for the customer and his toolbox within reach and then turned onto the shoulder of the highway. Mentally he was already five steps ahead of himself as he stepped out of the truck to approach the car, thinking about the size of socket to fit over the lug nuts for the Lincoln’s wheels, whether his torque wrench was even in his box, or if he would have to camouflage his telekinetic efforts to change out the tire, that it took a moment to realize the tires on the Lincoln were whole and unharmed on the driver’s side.

Puzzled, Michael slowed his approach, and started toward the passenger side of the car. The windows were rolled up and dark, the tint was straddling the threshold of legal for New Mexico. There was still no sign of defect in the tires, he noticed as he was halfway around the passenger fender. Faulty tire gauge, he mused before he noticed the engine was rumbling almost inaudibly. Fucking hybrid, which meant whatever issue it had been definitely beyond the parts available at Sanders.

It was a little odd that the driver hadn’t stepped out to greet Michael, but not terribly unusual when it came to elderly customers who seemed to have a healthy paranoia about everyone they encountered. Still, Michael pasted a smile on his face and tapped on the window. 

The automatic window slipped downward in an expensive whisper, but it wasn’t a helpless old man on his way to church at the wheel. 

Jesse Manes smiled at Michael flashing his teeth, “Surprise.” Before Michael could do more than step backward, Jesse lifted a large gun-shaped object and fired. Yellow particulate matter exploded into the air, enveloping Michael completely. Pulling his arm to his mouth to attempt to block the pollen, did little good as he felt the sedating effects almost immediately.

He coughed into the open air, scrambling back toward his truck on weak legs as he tried to clear his lungs of the fast-acting poison. Behind him, he heard the car door open, and the crunch of boots on the loose gravel from the road’s shoulder as Jesse approached him. Though his powers were gone and his strength was waning fast, Michael had never backed down from a fight in life.

Certainly, not a fight for his life.

Swinging with all of his might, he hurled his heavy toolbox at Jesse blindly. There was a thump and a curse, but the footsteps kept coming. Animal-like terror set in as Michael crawled now on his knees toward the cab of his truck. He had to move, he had to live, he wasn’t going to die here on the side of the damn road- Suddenly a black boot came down on his hand, pinning him place and lighting up a fierce agony of pain in its wake.

“I like the fight, Guerin, I do,” Jesse remarked with a quiet menace. “Shall I make this hand match your other-” 

It was on the tip of Michael’s tongue to point out the obvious, but then Jesse saw it for himself. His left hand, healed and pristine, clutching at the hot blacktop surface. 

“I see.” He barked out a laugh that chilled Michael. “I knew it. I knew you weren’t the only one in Roswell. I thought about killing you right here you know, but now, you might finally serve a purpose in your useless life. You thought you could use my son in your perverted schemes? Well now it’s your turn to be bait.” 

Michael’s vision was already fading into blindness with the pollen taking hold, but he managed to spit out between numb lips, “Go fuck yourself.”

“Not today. You’re the one who is fucked.” A hand grabbed a tight hold of Michael’s hair, wrenching him backward, and then it was merciful darkness. 

*** 

[victory-red]

PSA: drunk driving isn't a FUCKING joke, guys.

I'm sharing this to vent, and also to make how fucking destructive drunk driving is a bit more real for all of you who haven't been unfortunate enough to witness it firsthand.

tw: blood, trauma, death. like, actual, real-life fucking death. i saw a kid die today. i literally watched a child die today over some FUCKING ALCOHOL.

I still can't get over the irony of the billboard I saw before it happened. It was one of those that warns against drunk driving, but in that witty, "memorable" sort of way or whatever. I remember commenting about how much of an issue it was in our area if they were putting up fucking billboards about it, but I didn't really think much of it past that. Looking back, maybe it was supposed to be a sign or something.

We came across him maybe ten, fifteen minutes later, heading north on the highway. He was driving on the right shoulder in his stupid red pickup, southbound against the flow of traffic. I found out later that he was going about 70-75mph. My mom's an excellent defensive driver, so she got over to avoid him and honked. I live in a relatively rural area, so the highway's usually pretty empty. I think that's the only reason he hadn't hit anyone sooner. But there was a lady in a white truck behind us. Right after we'd passed him, literally right behind us, he decided to speed up and swerve into traffic. The memory's some weird mix of hazy and clear now, but he drove right into her. Almost head-on. Their cars crumpled like aluminum foil. They were fucking mangled. Had anyone been in the passenger seat of either one, they would've been absolutely pulverized.

I asked one of the EMTs, later, how often she saw accidents this bad. She said that she saw them once maybe every five years, at least in our area. But she said that this was probably the worst she'd seen, just because of how many kids were involved.

The lady in the white truck had a young toddler with her, who was mostly okay because she'd strapped him into a car seat. (He was bleeding from his mouth, but it turned out he'd just bitten his tongue, or so I heard. My sister still has his blood on her shirt from carrying him.) His mom couldn't move her arm; she said she broke it. She had a really, really bad gash on her forehead, and another one down near her ankle. Her face was covered in blood. It looked like the movies. She was really calm once she found out that her baby was okay, just pissed. She had a hair appointment, she kept saying. How was she supposed to get to her fucking hair appointment with a fucking broken arm.

The guy was drunk off his fucking ass. His hands were covered in blood, though I don't know from where, and he was just...looking at them. Looking at all the blood. I thought he was on some kind of drugs at first (yes, that's a pretty big problem in rural areas), but then my mom asked him if he'd been drinking. He just looked away and kind of sighed, and then said "No" after a really long pause. I knew then that he had. It was too early to be drinking. The sun hadn't even set yet. I was too stressed to even register smell, aside from all the car fuel and the asphalt and the heat, but I heard from the cops later that you could smell the liquor on his breath. It was to the point where he wasn't even in his right mind. He kept saying his wife was in the passenger seat. There was nobody in the passenger seat.

He had three kids with him. The oldest went into shock pretty quickly, but I don't think he was hurt. My sister said she saw him later, once the first responders had arrived. He was just sitting in the back of an ambulance, staring vacantly. The youngest was a sweet little girl that my mom held for a while. She had bruising on her forehead, and she was bleeding from her nose. She said that she hurt everywhere. Bruises started appearing all over her body the more time passed. She could move her arms to cling to my mom, but she couldn't move her hands. She was airlifted off of the highway in the second chopper that landed. Last I saw her, she was on a stretcher in a neck brace. She was only 4.

When the lady who'd been following the drunk guy from the other side of the highway pulled out the middle child, he was unconscious. He'd been sitting in the middle seat; he'd only been wearing a lap belt. He wasn't breathing, and he didn't have a pulse. He just lay there on the pavement next to his dad's truck (stepdad's, I found out later, as the drunk guy corrected the lady when she screamed at him that he'd fucking killed his son. She was a godsend, and coincidentally, also a respiratory therapist). I watched his stomach go up and down, up and down with the chest compressions while the dispatcher kept talking in my ear. He was bleeding from his nose, so much blood, so much blood that it was pooling on the pavement under his head. It was surreal. I've only ever seen that shit in movies. It's not fucking "glamorous" or "exciting" or "dramatic" in real life at all. It's stressful and traumatizing. I don't wish witnessing that on anyone.

She managed to get him to start breathing once, just for a brief minute. I saw his nostrils flare, and his eyes opened just a little bit. His sclera, from what little I could see, were red like the toddler's mom's had been. I only remembered after the fact that that was an indicator of head trauma. I thought that maybe he'd be okay. But he wasn't. His pulse stopped again, and so did his breathing. He went under, and didn't come back up.

My mom asked one of the EMTs later if he made it, if he'd be okay. I learned today that EMTs can't divulge that kind of information. But I knew even before she walked away, even before my sister told me later that as long as she looked to have been in the business, she was visibly emotional. I knew even before the state trooper told us he was certain that "one of the kids probably wasn't going to make it." I knew when I saw his lips turn blue, when the first responders didn't arrive for a good ten to fifteen minutes and she'd only gotten him breathing once. He hadn't been getting oxygen for too long. I just...I just knew.

I hope I'm wrong. I hope he made it, once they got him to the hospital in what I'm pretty sure was the first ambulance to leave. But I don't think that I am.

He couldn't have been much older than 8. He'd shared a name with a character from Voltron. I don't think I'll ever be able to hear that name the same again.

It was the kind of accident you hear about on the news, where you see the pulverized cars and you go, "Oh shit, that was a bad accident!" But you don't think much of it, because you didn't see it happen. You didn't see all the blood. You didn't attach names to the people who were involved, with faces and lives and personalities.

It was the kind of accident where they brought out yellow tape. They completely shut down that half of the highway. There were probably a dozen plus law enforcement vehicles on the scene, sheriffs and police and state troopers. I think there were four ambulances there at one point, maybe even five. They called in two separate choppers, one for the oldest boy, I believe, and one for the girl who couldn't move her hands. It almost didn't seem real. It still almost doesn't seem real. I wonder what the drunk guy is going to think when he comes down off of his high.

That lady didn't deserve that. Her toddler didn't deserve that. That guy's kids didn't deserve that. His stepson died because was drunk driving! He was a fucking kid! He didn't fucking deserve that!

I wish there was some way I could help--start a GoFundMe, maybe, to help pay for their medical expenses. But I didn't get their contact information. I don't know how else to help.

I don't know what the point of all that was. Maybe just to vent. Maybe just to spread my story, what I saw. To make drunk driving more real for the people who haven't had to witness how fucking destructive it is, how it literally ruins people's lives in fucking seconds. I hadn't known before. I mean, I had, but I hadn't really known. Hearing about things and actually seeing them are two very different things.

If you happen to find this and feel moved by it, please feel free to reblog, repost, whatever. I just want to raise a bit of awareness about how truly, truly destructive drunk driving is.