#because there were reports of her swerving and stumbling

[robertsbarbie]

watching this insane video on tiktok and the comments somehow make it more insane

[dimeurz]

For the Sambucky lyric prompt!

"Cause I'm useless when you're stuck in my mind/I'ma lose it if you're not by my side"

this ended up being hurt/comfort kinda? sorry if that’s not your thing!

“Can you watch where the fuck you’re going?” John Walker had snarled, aggressively wiping the ketchup off his black and red uniform. Bucky had basically walked into him while carrying his burger.

“You look awful. Like you’re half-dead. Are you finally dying?” Ava Starr had asked, her tone more concerned than teasing. It’s true — Bucky’s eyebags had never been this heavy since the time he got out of the cryostasis in Wakanda.

“You should go home.” Yelena tells Bucky, shoving him on the shoulder. She takes the paperwork from Bucky’s grip. “Get out of here.”

Bucky barely moves, and he barely blinks despite the weight of his eyelids. “I’m fine.” No, he’s not. “I’ll finish this for Ross, then–”

“You almost got Antonia shot earlier. Did you know that?” Yelena asks, her head tilted. “Right in the head.”

Scoffing, Bucky attempts to take the folder back from Yelena, but she holds it tighter while staring up at him. She’s waiting for his answer, yet her expression reads as if anything he says would sound dumb.

“She had a helmet on.” Bucky retorts.

“She was covering for you because you were standing by the lamp post, defenseless, like an idiot.” Yelena snaps back, then she sighs. She wipes the hair out of her face in exasperation, placing the folder of paperwork on the nearby desk. “You are usually good, Barnes. Usually. But tonight on that raid, you almost compromised somebody. Something is wrong.”

Something is terribly wrong, Bucky thinks to himself. But it doesn’t mean he hasn’t been trying. He has tried everything — sleep, coffee, harder missions — yet nothing works and he seems to just get worse.

When Bucky doesn’t reply while looking like the saddest puppy Yelena has ever seen, she sits on the desk and waves Bucky off with a hand. She knows what’s wrong, she’s been in America too long. “Go home. I know you need to. I won’t tell her.”

Bucky’s eyes softens, his eyebrows gently creasing together. There’s so much on his plate as a Thunderbolt, so many restrictions and secrets. Yelena promising (kind of) to not spill it around Val helps. And so, Bucky turns around so quick he could’ve put a dent on the wall when he opened the door so strongly.

He runs. He runs along the corridors of their headquarters, bumping on Alexei Shostakov with a stumble, but he doesn’t stop. He goes to the parking lot, to where his motorcycle is, then jumps on it hurriedly.

The back wheel skids as he drives away. He’s avoiding the Manhattan traffic with quick swerves and turns. At this point, honking resounds among the cars and cabs in this particular street, and the only way Bucky could pass is if he goes through the sidewalk. He doesn’t want to do that, obviously, so he hops off his vehicle and maneuvers it to the side. Parking it by a fire hydrant, Bucky starts jogging north, now trying not to bump into anyone.

As if it couldn’t get any worse, a raindrop trickles down his forehead, then it pours down. Everybody puts their umbrellas up while Bucky just sprints faster without minding the amount of water hitting his face. He passes by an electronics shop, the news from earlier that made him stop and stare during the mission replaying in the screens.

Captain America, also known as Sam Wilson, is still in the hospital after a horrendous mission-gone-wrong four days ago. He has sustained multiple fractures and concussion, as well as damage on the ribcage. Authorities refuse to disclose any information about the mission. We are currently waiting for Cap to wake up and regain consciousness just outside MGH—

The puddle splatters beneath Bucky’s stomp as he turns the corner to Metro General Hospital. Paparazzi and news reporters are swarmed at the entrance, and although Bucky doesn’t want to deal with them, he braces himself and crosses the street. Upon noticing his arrival, cameras started flashing in his direction, a variety of microphones shoved up his chin. They don’t even mind that he’s sopping wet, they’re crowding into him and he’s fighting the urge to just push everybody away.

“Do you have any idea what happened? Were you with him on this mission?”

“Winter Soldier! Do you think you deserved the pardon you got from the president since you murdered quite a lot of political figures from the past? Did you assassinate JFK?”

“Do you feel guilty that you left Captain America behind? Do you think this is your fault?”

“What are your thoughts about the speculations about you and Captain America briefly dating and then breaking up?”

Bucky raises his metal arm to shield himself for another bright light to his face. The voices blend in together and he couldn’t even comprehend what the other questions are. He shoves a man lightly as he steps further to the door, but another one slithers in.

“Being at the hospital will come real fuckin’ handy for a bunch of you if you don’t stop pushing me around.” Bucky says with such roughness in his voice that everyone pauses and moves away. There’s whispering, but the camera flashes have stopped, so Bucky doesn’t care. Hell, with all the live cameras rolling, Valentina must already know that he has broken the rules again. Despite the consequences, Bucky pushes the door open and heads straight to the receptionist.

The receptionist finishes a call and looks up to Bucky in surprise. His hair is sticking right on his forehead, and it doesn’t help that he already looks too pale to even be alive. He’s sleep-deprived and he feels like he’s going to pass out if he doesn’t see Sam any sooner.

Before Bucky could even talk, the receptionist points at a hallway. “Cap’s in room 217. Go through that hallway, turn on the first left, up the stairs, and you should see where it is.”

Exhaling a “Thank you.”, Bucky starts to jog again, his wet boots squeaking against the white tiles of the hospital. Despite his low energy and worry consuming his very being, he runs and runs, as if he can’t get to Sam any faster. He feels like he’s been days late — no, seconds.

He should’ve been there when the incident happened. He should’ve been by Sam’s side, then maybe the outcome would’ve been better. Maybe if he wasn’t with another group, then maybe he could’ve made sure nobody hurted Sam this badly.

Bucky sees the steel numbers 217 on the door. He stares at it, then looks at the door knob, reaching for it with a shaky hand. He doesn’t know if he can manage seeing Sam lying there unconscious. Tubed up with IV fluid attached, he doesn’t know. He twists the door and takes a deep breath.

“Really, I’m okay. I’ve drank 5 glasses of water now, Sarah, and–” Sam complains, then pauses upon hearing the door open.

Sarah was passing a glass of water to Sam while sitting on a chair beside his bed, and when she turns to look at Bucky, she gasps and raises a hand to her mouth. “Bucky?”

Bucky doesn’t speak yet. He feels like the world has stopped, and while he thought that seeing Sam sleeping would be bad for him, he can’t even explain what’s happening with his heart now that he knows he’s awake.

“Hey.” Sam speaks first, leaning back on his pillow. His head is bandaged, and his right arm is in a cast. Even so, Sam grins and says, “You look like absolute shit, Buck.”

With that, Bucky laughs. He laughs, then he transitions to crying. He wipes his eyes as his shoulders shudder with sobs, closing the door before walking towards Sam. He positions across of Sarah, then leans down gently as Sam opens his better arm for a hug.

Bucky is home.

send me a lyric prompt and i’ll write a sambucky fic!

[amjustagirl]

Love knows not its depth (until the hour of separation) 

pairing: Kuroo x f! reader  genre: angst / fluff, post timeskip! warnings: a tiny smudge of suggestive content wc: 4.9k m.list ~ taglist. ~

a/n: this is my rendition of a grown up Kuroo. life has been a little hectic for me recently, so i’m only getting around to posting it now. pls be kind and i hope y’all love it <3 

“I need a break.”

Kuroo continues to snore. You are unsurprised he doesn’t hear you. After all, he came home glassy eyed, smelling strongly of alcohol after yet another night of drinks with his boss before quickly falling asleep in bed. It’s what he does most weekday nights, leaving you alone at home to manage your two daughters and tuck them into bed. 

“I’m tired, Tetsuro.”

You are too tired to even tell him how you feel. You have a career of your own, two daughters to raise, a never ending list of chores and errands that must be done. You are a mother, a wife, a career woman. You have so many roles to play yet there is no space for you. 

You must do something, anything or risk your heart imploding in your very chest. 

You cannot survive that. 

The next morning, you call your boss, ask for a day off. Then you pack your girls off to your mother’s place with two little suitcases with toys and clothes enough for a long weekend before you take the train to Hakone, check yourself into the ryokan with a view of Mt. Fuji that you spent your honeymoon at - except this time, you’re alone (but then again, you’ve been lonely for so long, you hardly notice the difference anymore).

You dip yourself into the hot waters of the onsens, watch bamboo sway in the breeze. It’s been at least a year since you’ve been even able to take a bath uninterrupted. There’s always something - Aiko needing help with her homework, Fumiko whining for another piece of mochi, your boss calling to chase for yet another report, so all you’ve ever had time for is a hurried shower before placating your daughters or seating yourself in front of your laptop to deal with your boss. 

Finally, you’ve stolen a day to yourself. It’s absolute bliss. 

The water is kind to you. Its heat soothes your aching muscles, the rising steam steadies your breath. You walk out of the baths feeling refreshed, renewed, but when you enter your room you find Kuroo Tetsuro waiting for you. 

“I’ve been calling your phone all afternoon”, he says, face pinched. “I was worried.”

“Were you?” you say before you can stop yourself. “Really?” 

“Of course”, he says, uncrossing his legs to stand. “You’re my wife and the mother of my children, of course I care.”

Wife. Mother. Employee. 

The roles that life has handed you haunts you again. There is no escape for you. 

Your skin suddenly feels as if it’s stretched too tight over your frame. Your bones rattle, brittle. They threaten to break if you take another breath. Yet you laugh and laugh and laugh, the sound spilling from your lips filling the room, suffocating the pounding of your heartbeat in your ears. 

“If you really cared, you would have noticed that your wife is broken”, you tell him between bouts of laughter. “I tried fixing myself with a break but you can’t even give me that.” 

Kuroo stares at you, equal parts horrified and confused. He takes a hesitant step forward towards you before thinking the better of it, swerving over to the kettle instead, clutching it as if it holds the cure to your madness. 

“Calm down”, he says, “take a seat”, and you do. He offers you a cup of tea. You accept it, even though you’re still shaking from the aftershock of your laughter. “Drink”, he says, and you bring the cup to your lips, though you wonder absently why you taste salt in the bitter tea. 

“Tell me what’s wrong”, he begs. “Tell me what I can do to fix you.” 

You want to tell him that you’re not strong enough to do what’s expected of you. You want to tell him that you’re drowning from the weight of being his wife, the mother of his kids, from being a working woman that he can be proud of. You want to tell him that you understand his career is important, but so is yours, and you can’t carry the weight of the world alone. 

But that would take too many words, and you are far, far too tired for that. 

So you say blankly - “I can’t do this anymore, Tetsuro.”

His face falls. 

You should remember that Kuroo Tetsuro, first and foremost, is a child scarred by his parents’ divorce. You should remember that you made promises that you and he would never put your daughters through that. But you’ve floated beyond hysteria into a grey indifference, your mind too broken, too tired, too numb to consider him when you can barely even hold on to yourself. 

You don’t even notice the hot tears soaking through your yukata. You are deaf to his pleas to give him another chance. There is nothing left in you to give because you’ve poured all you’ve had into him, into your family, into your job. You are so, so empty, and you just sit and sip your tea and wonder idly if the warmth from the liquid you’re ingesting will make you feel a little more alive, or if it’s possible to ease the dull ache in your heart. 

It is only when you wake up the next day and the sun is high in the sky that you register that he rolled out your futon for you, tucked you into bed, and kissed your forehead as a goodnight and goodbye. But all of this is washed away by the relief you feel when you read the note he’s left behind telling you that he’s returned to Tokyo, and to enjoy your break. 

So you do. 

You relish every bite of the meals you have at the ryokan. It’s nice not having to cook or scarf down your food at your office desk for once. You fill your time flitting between the onsens and curling up in your room with a book, taking frequent cat naps until tomorrow comes around again and it’s time to check out and head home. 

There’s a brief moment of surprise when the reception informs you politely that your husband already paid your bill - but you suppose that’s just Tetsuro being efficient at racking up credit card points. The bullet train takes you back to Tokyo, and a couple stops on the subway takes you home.  

“Okaeri”, you call softly out of habit, not expecting anyone to respond, but Kuroo responds with an even softer ‘Tadaima’, striding over to take your bags from you and usher you into the apartment. There are pink roses sitting in a vase, but you pay it no mind. 

“The girls?” you ask, already headed in the direction of their room. 

“I picked them up from your mom”, Kuroo responds. “Don’t wake them up, I just put them to bed”.

A peek into their room and it settles your mind to see that your girls are safe and sound asleep. 

“Thanks,” you say, back in the kitchen, checking the fridge for what you can whip up for breakfast for you and the girls tomorrow. “By the way, I’ll pay you back for the hotel room from my own money, don’t worry.”

“It’s fine”, Kuroo answers, scratching his head. His hair seems a little more rumpled than usual. “I’ll cover it. I should’ve realised you needed a break.”

“You sure? You don’t have to pay for me, I’ve got money of my own.”

“No, let me pay for it, please. It’s the least I can do.” 

You shrug. “Okay”, you say gracelessly. “Thank you.”

He continues to watch you over the kitchen counter as you lay out bread, eggs, ham, cheese. It’ll do for a quick breakfast for the girls tomorrow, never mind the guilt eating away at you that you really should do better than feeding them processed food all the time. You’re so preoccupied with planning the morning rush, the best way to clear the stack of reports that must have piled up on your desk at work by now that you miss Kuroo rounding the counter to stare down at you worriedly. 

“You haven’t had dinner?” 

“Oh no, I had a bento on the train on the way back.” It’s second nature to you to brush away anyone’s concern. “It’s for the girls’ breakfast.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll take them to childcare before work tomorrow. Sleep in and take a break.”

“Really?” You stare back at him, confused. He doesn't even take charge of the girls in the mornings when you’re sick, your mother always has to fill in your place. He only ever turns up on the first day of school each year. 

“Yes, of course. In fact, I’ve rearranged my work schedule so I can take them to school all of this week at least.”

“Oh”, you say, brows furrowed in confusion. “Okay, I guess. Wake me up if you need my help.”

“I won’t”, he replies, with a cocky smirk that seems almost false. “Goodnight, love.”

You don’t think of Kuroo’s strange behaviour overmuch, falling asleep as soon as your head hits the pillow. 

Kuroo continues to act strangely all of next week. 

As promised, he takes charge of getting the girls out of bed and ready for school. But you’re taken aback when he starts coming home for dinner, completely floored when he hands you a whole armful of bath salts and orders you to take a relaxing, hot bath while he wrangles both the girls and the washing machine into submission. 

He even calls your mother to ask her to babysit on a Saturday evening so he can take you out for dinner at a fancy restaurant that serves foam instead of food. You manage to stumble through conversation with him - a commendable effort, since it’s been so long since you’ve even held a proper conversation with him besides snatches of discussion about the girls. 

At least until he states during dessert - “we can make it work if you want to quit your job and stay home full time with the children.”

The mousse on your spoon melts by the time you put it down on your plate. 

“Did the guys at work tell you it’s easier to have a housewife instead of a working wife? Are you saying this because you don’t think I’m a good enough mother to our girls? Is that what this is about?”

Kuroo shakes his head frantically, reaches across the table for your hand, but you yank it away with a glare. The extra rest you’ve gotten this week has injected a little more fight in you. 

“I try my best to be a good wife and mother, but I’m sorry I can’t be perfect and be there for you and the girls 24/7.” You press down on the sliver of cake with a vengeance. Clink! goes the flat of your spoon against the porcelain plate. “I’m sorry for being selfish, but I don’t want to be reliant on you.”

You regret your harsh words when Kuroo slumps back into his chair, murmuring “I just wanted you to be happy. Forget I ever said that.”

He pays the bill and you walk home in silence. He bids you goodnight with a crumpled smile. 

It finally clicks when you are startled awake by Kuroo’s shout of alarm. 

You roll over, grabbing his shoulder to shake him awake from the nightmare that has him in its grip. His eyes jolt open, and the sight of your face makes him sink back into the pillow with a sigh of relief. 

“Thank the gods you haven’t left.”

“Why would I leave? This is my home, isn’t it?” You mumble, turning your back to him again. 

You feel the bed shift as Kuroo sits up. 

“No”, he rasps, voice rough with sleep. “I was afraid you left me”. 

Oh. So that’s what all of this is about. 

You must stay quiet for far too long, because he gingerly crawls over to you. 

“Dearest”, he says, your heart suddenly aching because you don’t remember the last time you heard him use that pet name with any amount of affection. “Darling”, he tries again, pawing at your back. You shut your eyes resolutely and refuse to turn to face him. 

He doesn’t give up, even though the distance between you seems to yawn wide and wider with each passing second. 

“Are you?” he asks, his words small, shrunken in the still, dark room. “Going to leave me, I mean.” 

No, you’re about to say, the word balancing at the tip of your tongue but it feels wrong. Your break has given you the space to breathe, the time to think. It’s made you realise what you’ve said to him in the ryokan that night remains true. 

This week has shown you that Kuroo can do better as a husband, as a father if he wants to. But he’s poisoned your marriage with neglect, forced you to dress up your sadness in silence, allowed your resentment to fester and simmer into frigid indifference. If you reassure him that you aren’t going to leave him, it’s only because you’re too tired to, not because you actually love him anymore. 

“I don’t know, Tetsuro. Our daughters deserve to grow up with both their parents, but I’m not sure I want them to learn from my example that it’s okay to shoulder the weight of marriage, parenthood and a full time job all by themselves. Your dreams and career are important, I know, but I’m just so tired of being alone in this marriage when it was always supposed to be a partnership between me and you.” 

You hear him choke back a sob. You should comfort him, but the exhaustion you feel at being honest with him, with yourself, weighs your bones down, forces you to sink further down into your mattress. 

“I’m sorry”, he finally says. 

“I’m tired, Tetsuro”, you whisper brokenly, clutching the blankets to your chin. “I think I deserve better.”

“I know. I’ll make it better, I promise.” 

You want to ask him how, but your eyelids grow heavy, and you allow yourself to submerge into slumber. 

You’re not sure what to expect, but the ground beneath your feet shifts. Things start to change. 

Kuroo continues to take your daughters to childcare in the morning on the way to work as he did last week. That very weekend, he straps Fumiko to his chest, takes Aiko by her hand, and within an hour at the department store aided by a flash of his credit card, he purchases a dishwasher and robot vacuum for the house. He loads the dishes without you asking, runs the robot vacuum remotely once a day. It buys you time to breathe, a little more time to sleep. 

He doesn’t always make it home in time for dinner, but he tries his best to rush home so he can read the girls a bedtime story and tuck them into bed. 

“Dada”, Fumiko lisps, chubby fists wound around Kuroo’s tie. ‘I wanna hear another princess story!” 

“No Fumiko! Papa promised to tell us how he met mama!” Aiko prods Kuroo’s side with the wooden doll Yaku sent from Russia that you know he abhors. ‘Keep your promises, papa!” 

“Alright, settle down you monsters. I’ll tell you two stories if you promise to go to sleep right after that.” The girls cheer. “Now. Let’s see. A long, long time ago, your papa met your mama when she decided to beat him up because she thought he was trying to steal her food.” 

“You were trying to steal my food”, you interrupt, leaning against the doorway amused. “You didn’t stop til I stabbed you with my fork.”

He glances up, surprised when you sit beside him on the bed. Then he grins. 

“You left it on the table, dearest. What was a guy supposed to think?” 

“Mama, please let dada tell the story”, Aiko interjects with a huff. 

“Hurry up, dada! I want the princess story next!” Fumiko pulls at her silly dada’s shirt, pouting. 

You both laugh. There’s a soft smile playing on his lips when his eyes meet yours. 

Travelling all around Japan is still part of his job as a marketing director of the Japanese Volleyball Association. But now Kuroo pares it down to the bare minimum, makes sure he’s always back by the weekend at the very least to sweep the girls in his arms and shoo you off for a break of afternoon tea with your friends or shopping with your mom. 

“Will you be ok when I’m gone?”

You hand him his suitcase, a flask of his favourite tea. “I’ve always managed fine. Nothing’s changed.”

He bends down to kiss Aiko on her forehead, pinch Fumiko’s cheek playfully. 

“Yes. Well. I’ll come home soon”, he says, quietly. You startle slightly as he brushes his thumb over your wrist, lets it drift over your pulse point. “Please wait for me.” 

You glance up at him from beneath your lashes. “I’ll see you soon then”, you reply. His smile widens, his eyes are hopeful, bright. 

On the weekends, he stops flitting off for work functions and events. Instead, now he joins you for lunches at the kaiten zushi near your house, indulging the girls by ordering yet another plate of sushi just so Aiko has another chance to win a toy from the gachapon and Fumiko has another chance at feeling grown up when she lifts the plate from the conveyor belt. He stops ducking out from dinners at the grandparents’ place - both his and yours. Your mom stops giving him dirty looks when he actually turns up more than three times in a row with sake in hand. 

Once every so often, he even throws little parties for your family of four, going so far as to buy a frilly pink apron that makes your daughters giggle when he whips it out for the first time. After a few mishaps (and a number of frantic calls to Fukunaga), he masters how to make takoyaki and okonomiyaki, and in the colder months, he makes steaming pots of nabe and shabu shabu. 

“Itadakimasu” you murmur, and the girls follow suit. “It tastes good”, you say. 

He ducks his head bashfully, pink dusting the column of his neck. 

“Thank you”, he replies. “That means a lot, coming from you.” 

You start to savour the bubbles of happiness in your chest when you see how your daughters’ eyes shine when they see their papa whip out the pink apron. You learn to laugh when you hear the pitter patter of little feet, their delighted squeals and shrieks when they tell you the latest exploits their silly papa is cooking up - sparklers under the stars one weekend, a nerf gun fight, the next.

The weight on your shoulders grows lighter and lighter until one day you hardly notice it at all. 

“What’s wrong?” you frown at the sight of your husband dashing out of your bedroom, hair a frazzled mess. 

He whips around at the sound of your voice. “Oh. Oh.” He approaches you, slowly, carefully. “You’re still here.”

Your frown deepens. “My boss called and asked me to send out an urgent email. I was just about to go back to bed. Tetsuro, is everything alright?” 

He nods. “It’s fine - I just... I just woke up and thought you were gone.” 

You take a closer look. It’s dark, but the shadows of the night fail to hide the purple smudges beneath his eyes, the fine lines carved into his brow. His shoulders are bowed, his lips downturned and he looks broken, battered.    

Your heart hurts for him. 

“I’m here”, you say, beckoning him towards you. Physical affection has been scarce between you two for so, so long but he looks so distraught it’s only natural to pull him close, let him rest his head on your lap. “I’m here, Tetsuro. I’m not about to run off into the night – you know I don’t like the cold.”

He doesn’t laugh at your feeble joke. “Are you happier now? Are things better for you?” 

“Yes”, you say firmly, combing your fingers through his hair, rubbing circles along his back. “Thank you, Tetsuro. I appreciate it. I really do.”

You can feel him sag in relief. 

“You don’t have to work yourself to the bone for me. That’s – that’s never what I was asking for. If you’re tired, you need to take a break.”

He shakes his head stubbornly. “I’m fine. I can bear it as long as you don’t leave me.” 

“Tetsuro –“ 

He sits up abruptly, takes your hands in his. 

“Promise you won’t leave me”, he begs, head bowed. “I know I’ve been a shit husband to you for so long. It’s no excuse, but I thought - ” he swallows heavily, waits until his voice stops wavering. “I thought we were ok, ‘cos we didn’t fight, not like my parents did before – before my mother left.”

“I was too tired to fight with you”, you say simply. 

He nods once, jerkily. “I know – I know that now. When you disappeared that day, I didn’t know what to do. I went to your mom’s place and she reamed me out, screamed at me in front of the neighbours. I took the kids back, and it made me realise how fucking hard it was for you to do it all alone.” He inhales, closing his eyes as if the memory aches. “I know it’s late but I’ve changed, I swear. The girls need you. I need you. I’ll do anything as long as you stay.”

His fingers are freezing, but you do not pull away. Not when the desperation reflected in his irises makes your heart lurch in pain.

“It was hard”, you confess, and he shudders, struck in the chest by your honesty. “It was so hard, Tetsuro. You hurt me so damn much that I think I became numb to the pain. I don’t think I was really functioning for a while. For a long while.”  

“I’m sorry”, he whispers, and you nod shakily. 

“I know”, you reply, reaching out a hand to cup his face, a bittersweet twist to your lips as he melts into your touch. “That’s a chapter of my life, of our marriage that can’t be re-written. We can’t rewind that. But the past few months have been so different. I – you’ve shown me you’ve changed. And I think –“

You fall silent. 

He prompts you. “Dearest?” 

You recall the glimmer of light in your daughters’ eyes every morning when he takes their hands to walks them to school. You hear the echoes of their laughter, the lilt in their sweet voices every night when they welcome him home. You think of the tea parties he throws, the blanket forts he builds, the frilly pink apron he wears without shame and the bedtime stories he weaves every night.

“I think”, you say, with a smile that reminds him of the rising sun. “I think we can make this work again.” 

He stares at you until the weight of your words dawns upon him, and he surges forward to fold you into his arms. 

“Thank you”, he whispers into the shell of your ear. “I won’t fuck this up again, I promise.” 

“Don’t thank me, you silly man”, you nuzzle into his neck sleepily, draping your arms around his waist. “Thank yourself for making me believe in you.”

He laughs wetly, cradling you close as you fall asleep against his chest, soothed by his heartbeat and the tenderness in his gaze.  

Fumiko wakes you up unceremoniously before the sun even rises by climbing into your lap, and you open your eyes to Aiko pouting, hands on hips, demanding to know what’s for breakfast, and dada, dada, make a ham sandwich, pretty please with a cherry on the top. 

“You guys are little monsters”, Kuroo teases with dancing eyes. “Can’t even give your papa a break to snuggle up to your mama.” 

The girls shriek in dismay. “Don’t be mean”, you admonish him gently. 

He mock sniffs. “I’m cranky in the mornings unless I get a morning kiss.”

Aiko and Fumiko crowd the sofa, clamouring to give their papa a kiss, but he stalls them with an imperious wave of his hand. 

“This morning, only a kiss from your mama can chase my crankiness away”. His tone is teasing, but his shoulders remain tense.  

“Nonsense. You make it sound as if kisses contain caffeine”, you scold, swatting his arm lightly as the girls giggle. 

“Yours do!” he protests, and you roll your eyes as you press your lips to the corner of his lips, laughing when he puffs out his chest and declares his day can now start, that everything’ll be as right as rain.

Some days are full of sunshine, whilst others are full of rain. That’s life – but it’s bearable, enjoyable even, now that you and Kuroo face each day together, thanking the sun when it shines, and splashing through puddles on rainy days. 

Things recalibrate. 

The mornings are his domain now – he’s a master at concocting the most random breakfast items to satisfy your finnicky daughters. Aiko sniffs when she informs you that she’d prefer her papa to braid her hair, thank you very much, and when you shoot a look of death at Kuroo, he can’t even keep his face straight, his trademark hyena laugh erupting from his chest. 

You cook dinner in the evenings, appreciating the times when he can join you at the table, not counting the nights he can’t against him because you know he’s trying his best. The girls clamour for his stories every night, laughing when he teasingly scolds them for yanking on his tie, demanding goodnight kisses from both him and you. 

Now you force Kuroo to take some time to himself, shoo him off for lunches with Kenma, get-togethers with his Nekoma schoolmates. “I know you can manage it”, you tell him archly, “but you need breaks  so you don’t burn out, or worse – you’ll lose your hair and we don’t want that”. When he opens and closes his mouth without a smart retort, you smirk. You get your way. 

Both of you organise parties and playdates, inviting your shared friends – Kenma, of course, is a frequent guest, Bokuto, who brings along Akaashi and his sweet tempered little son (who Aiko always manages to pick a fight with, much to Kuroo’s amusement). You host Kai, who always brings offerings of flowers from his garden, Yaku, when he’s in town with his daughter, son and alarmingly fat cat. The adults congregate in the kitchen with food and alcohol, cracking good natured jokes at Kuroo and his frilly pink apron, watching the children cause a ruckus in the living room. 

But you cherish the quiet moments you share with Kuroo at night when the children are asleep in bed. The chats you have whilst soaking in a hot bath about your day at work, the snippets of stories he shares about his boss, his crazy colleagues, the warmth of his arm around you as you stay up to clear emails late into the night, the heated kisses he presses to the nape of your neck to distract you when he thinks you’re working too hard. 

It’s a good life. You’re happy, and so is he. 

A year slips by. 

The seasons come full circle. You return to the ryokan, finding peace in soaking yourself in steaming pools, watching the bamboo sway, the sun rise over Mt. Fuji. But this time, you’re not alone. You persuade Kuroo that he, too, needs a break - deserves one, truly. So you leave the girls with your mother and take the bullet train down to Hakone. 

He shoots you a smirk as you both emerge from the private bath he’d insisted on booking. You swat at him, pulling your yukata higher up your neck, scowling as he winds an arm around your waist to press you into his side. 

“You couldn’t wait til we got back to our room?” you hiss at him. 

He chuckles lowly in response. “Didn’t hear you complaining”, he retorts. 

“We were in an onsen, Tetsuro!” 

“A private one”, he says with a waggle of his eyebrows, laughing aloud when you try and fail to slap your hand over his mouth. “What d’you think I was going to do with my lovely wife? I’m not a monk, sweetheart”

You try your best to shush him, but his cackling manages to capture the attention of everyone in the lift.  

“What a happy couple”, an old lady remarks, within your earshot. “They must be newly married” 

You think she must be a little senile. Or a little blind. 

Neither of you are in your first flush of youth anymore - there are streaks of grey in Tetsuro’s mop of hair, extra weight in your hips and lines in your faces. No one could conceivably mistake you for a pair of newlyweds.

“Nah”, Kuroo drawls easily into your ear. “Just your regular old, married couple.”

You don’t speak until you’re safely in your room. 

“A regular, old, happily married couple”, you say, as he hands you a cup of tea. “That obaa-san got that part right at least.”

Kuroo chokes on the lump of emotion in his throat as you serenely sip your tea. 

The tea tastes bitter (as it always does), but the kisses that follow are so very, very sweet. 

[buttterknifeee]

Date with Destiny- Teen Titans x Aquagirl!Reader

Masterlist

Summary: you guessed it bitches its the prom episode with everyone's fav guy Robin (S2 Ep6)

Pairings: Robin!Dick grayson x reader

Word count: 4218

A/N: hey yall I love writing for this series bfgkfhg so if you want my inbox is always open to request!!! love yallll~

Nights in Jump City are the worst time of the day; the sun is long gone and the wind constantly bites at your skin. But it depends on what you're doing to decide whether you like it or not. Sometimes it’s not as bad; that’s when you’re hanging out with your friends, maybe going to a carnival or out partying all night. Sometimes it’s worse, like you being forced to chase after some villain who decided to only operate AT NIGHT. Unfortunately, the latter is true for you tonight.

You slump over in the backseat of the T-Car while Cyborg and Raven sit attentively at the front.

“Why can’t I sit in the front?” you whine, staring at the two Titan’s heads.

“Because I’m the only one that knows how to drive this car and Raven needs to use her telekinesis so we dont die!” Cyborg yells, focusing on the target, who happens to be a guy with a spider for his head that stole a bunch of jewelry.

You groaned and poked your head out the window. Starfire and Beast Boy were up in the air, Robin close by on his motorbike, and you were all chasing the half-arachnid. You stretched out of the vehicle and made punching movements at the criminal, ocean water from the bay twisting over towards him, mimicking your movements. The jets of water just barely nicked him before crashing into the sides of buildings, the teenage spider continuing to scuttle across the city.

You turn your attention back towards the road as the spider guy created a webbed barrier in front of Cyborg’s car and Robin’s motorcycle. You and Cyborg gasp, but Raven calmly holds her hand up towards the road. It cracks, creating a ramp for the four of you to jump over the webs with.

After making the jump, the half spider looks at the car. He shoots webs at you, and its splats on the car windshield.

“I can’t see!” Cyborg yells, swerving the car over to the side. You lurch forward as you finally come to a stop, thankful that Cyborg had installed heavy duty seat belts.

“I don’t see why you can’t let me drive,” you mumbled, stumbling out of the car. You aimed your hands towards the car and a jet of water sprung out from a fire hydrant, cleaning the silk from the windshield.

“I already said it, I’m the only one who knows the inner workings of the T-car! Besides, you don’t even have your license.” Cyborg said, stepping out of the car calmer than before.

“I do too!- You know what, we’ll talk about this later. Right now we need to find the others.” You say, taking in your surroundings. Then out of nowhere, Beast Boy popped out from behind the car.

“Uh hey guys! Kinda got lost back there!” he grins, dusting off silk strands from his arms.

“I’m going after them!” you tell the other Titans, sprinting off into the direction Robin and Starfire went. You flick your wrist as you run and water from the fire hydrant trickles out and forms a wave that you could ride on, like an aquatic skateboard.

You catch up to the two as Starfire gets shot down by the spider teen’s webbing. You make eye contact as you pass her, unsure whether to help her free.

“Just go!” she yells, already beginning to rip the webs thanks to her brute strength. You nod and race forwards to catch up with Robin. You find his abandoned motorbike and look up to see him chasing after the villain using his grappling hook. I’m trying to help him, but I can barely catch up to him, you grumble as you will the water to shoot you into the air, almost like a hydro-cannon. You bounce from roof to roof, inching closer to the Boy Wonder and his pursuit with the villain.

You were right under Robin when the spider-guy shoots some type of laser at him. Suddenly, he freezes up, and begins to fall, knocking you down with him.

“C-can’t… move,” he grunts, on top of you in mid air.

“YEAH NO SHIT” you yell, still stuck under him. Ok ok, options… you think, time seems to slow down around you. I can’t make a geyser because that’d take too long. I like Robin but not enough to break his fall, hmm…

You notice the grappling hook in his belt. You yank it out and shoot it at the wall you just fell from, wrapping your other arm around Robin. Your arm feels like it was about to fall out of its socket as you abruptly stop, hanging in mid air with Robin safely in your grasp. Starfire catches up with you, having broken free from the webbed trap. She helps you down and brings you to where Cyborg, Beast Boy, and Raven stood.

“He is okay?” Starfire asks, holding Robin in place while you catch your breath.

“He will be. The venom’s effect is only temporary.” Cyborg says, examining the Boy Wonder, who was still frozen in a climbing position.

“Getting away...we have to...go after him!” Robin musters, but almost falls over doing so.

“You mean, we have to go after him,” Raven corrects him.

“Yeah, you gotta wait until that stuff wears off,” you say, knocking on his frozen arm to prove your point.

“But-” Robin begins, but Beast Boy cuts him off.

“Dude, we can handle it. The guy's got a spider for a head. Not like he's gonna be hard to find.” he said. Robin didn’t say anything, which was code for a reluctant agreement. Cyborg, Raven, and Beast Boy agreed that they would go after the spider thief, while you, Robin and Starfire return to the Tower to get Robin sorted out.

Later at the Tower, you watched in utter horror and amusement as Starfire shook Robin while holding his feet. He hung upside down, making random yelps of pain as she did… whatever she was doing.

“Um Starfire?” you say. “You know I have healing powers… I could just heal him if we need to.”

“Nonsense Aquagirl!” she chirped as Robin groaned. “There are few problems that Tamaranean acupressure will not solve. Don’t you feel better Robin?”

“Uhhh yeah, thanks.” he said, getting back up to standing position. “Now we can focus on our other issue.” He pulls out his T-communicator.

“Titans! Any luck on finding our jewel thief?”

“We found something worse,” you hear Raven’s voice from the communicator. A live cam of the scene pops up on the living room TV screen. They were at the bridge near Jump City’s Bay; hundreds of cars pass there per minute. You noticed something was near the bridge cables, and upon closer inspection, you realized that it was thousands of moths gnawing at the bridge support. As more cables broke, the bridge grew more and more unstable, cars beginning to slide around.

“Titans go!” you hear Cyborg say, and the three of them run towards the giant cloud of bugs. Unfortunately, they were no match and could barely put a dent in the population.

“Uh, we’re gonna need backup.” Cyborg says to the communicator. You were already out of your chair and adjusting your wrist gauntlets.

“We’re on our way,” Robin says, the three of you making your way to the door. But a familiar voice stopped you in your tracks.

“Don't bother. Even if you defeat a few of my children, you won't be able to stop me from releasing the entire swarm.” the villain you recognized as Killer Moth said, his face appearing on the screen. “Unless you want your city reduced to a moth-eaten wasteland, you'll do exactly as I say.”

“What do you want?’ Robin asked, brows furrowed.

“My demands are simple. The city will declare me ruler, the Teen Titans will surrender, and Robin…” he starts. You flinched at the mention of the Boy Wonder’s name. What could he want to do with Robin? To step down as a hero? Admit defeat? Reveal his identity???

“... will take this lovely young lady to her junior prom.”

Huh?

“Hi Robbie-Poo!” said a girl who appeared on the screen next to Killer Moth. She had blonde hair and blue eyes, was wearing pink pajamas, and although you had just met her, you could already tell that she was a bitch.

“Um… What was that last part again?” he asked, clearly not expecting that demand.

“Um Robin?” you ask. “Who’s this girl and why’d she call you… er, you know.”

“Her name is Kitten,” Killer Moth gloats. “And you will take her to prom.”

“This prom is the matter of a duel, yes?” Starfire asked, not very assimilated in American culture. “Robin eagerly accepts!”

“It’s not a duel, Star. It’s a date.” Robin patiently corrects her.

“Oh”

“Robin! You can’t do this!” you say, looking at him through his masked eyes. “Isn’t that right Starfire?”

“Oh yes!” she agrees. “You mustn't accept!”

“We’re gonna need a minute,” Robin sighs, pulling the two of you away from the center of the room. You stare at him, arms crossed.

“This is so stupid.” you begin. “What kind of villain makes a superhero go on a date with some girl? And what kind of parent names their child Kitten? There’s no way you’re actually going to go to a dance with some random chick!”

Robin doesn’t say anything about your comments, but opens his T-communicator again,

“Cyborg, report. How bad is it?” he asks.

“Bad! We can’t hold 'em much longer!” Cyborg yells through the communicator. “If you’re gonna do something, do it quickly!” You stared at the floor, knowing what he’s gonna have to say to Killer Moth’s demands.

“I have to do it.” he grimaces. You stayed silent as Starfire reacted.

“WHAT?!” she yells.

“It's the only way to save the bridge. The only way to give us enough time to stop Killer Moth.” Robin explains. Starfire looks at you and back at Robin.

“But you do not even have the feelings for her!” she protests, looking straight at you.

“I’m sorry, but I have to, as much as I don’t want to. And I really don’t want to.” Robin says, walking back towards the screen.

“So do we have a deal?” Killer Moth grins, as much as a person with mandibles can.

“I’ll take the girl to prom.” Robin says grimly.

“Don’t tell me. Ask her.” Killer Moth says, referring to the blonde girl still pasted on screen. Even though you couldn’t see Robin’s eyes, you could tell that he was rolling them.

“You’ve got to be-”

“Do it!” the villain yells. Robin sighs.

“Kitten, was it?” he asks.

“Meow,” she replied. You almost threw up when she said that. You could see Robin reacting in the same way.

“Right. Will you...go with me to the prom?” he said, his voice showing his utter disgust.

“Oh, Robbie-poo! I thought you'd never ask!”

I can’t do this you thought, as the screen finally blipped off. Robin calmly pulled out his T-communicator and projected it onto the screen. Raven picked up, Beast Boy and Cyborg crowded around her. You could see in the background that the moths were no longer gnawing at the bridge. He told them that he bought them some time, telling them to find out what he has planned. Then he shows them a picture of Kitten.

“Who is she?” Raven asked.

“She is a manipulative gremlock not worthy of Robin's time.” Starfire pouts.

“Yeah, she's a bitch too.” you add.

“She's got some kind of connection to Killer Moth. Find the connection, and I bet you'll find him.” He said, turning to you and Starfire. “Aquagirl and Starfire will join you to help with the search.” you rolled your eyes; Is he seriously going to do this alone?

“Hey, what about you? Aren’t you going to help us?” Beast Boy asked.

“I can’t. I have a date.”

.

You and Starfire were going to prepare for your mission when she shoved you into her room. You’ve forgotten how pink all her furniture is, from the curtains to her pillows. She whips out her T-communicator.

“Starfire what are you-” you begin, but she shushes you.

“Starfire to Raven,” she says into the communicator. “Please note that I will be the only person joining you, as Aquagirl will provide Robin backup on his date!”

“Um… okay.” Raven says, then hangs up.

“What??? I’m supposed to help you guys, remember?” you protest. “And I thought you had a crush on Robin??” The alien girl took you by your shoulders.

“Aquagirl, my feelings for Robin have long dissipated, but I am sure you still have the feelings for him!” she chirped. “Do not worry, four Titans are more than enough to defeat Killer Moth! You should go to the prom of non-duels!”

“B-but what do I even wear? Prom dresses were not on my shopping list.” you argue.

“Oh do not worry Aquagirl, you may borrow mine!” Starfire opened her closet to reveal a rack of sparkly dresses, all in different colors. You eyes glittered in awe.

“Ok, I’m in.”

You spent the next half an hour getting ready for the prom. You picked out a blue dress with black lace and black gloves that went out to your elbows. Your suit was camouflaged underneath, just in case you needed to ditch the dress.

“Oh you look wonderful!” Starfire cheered. You blushed, looking at yourself in the mirror.

She flew you over to the prom location, which was on a boat. Water, you thought. Perfect. You looked at Starfire.

“Thanks again for, uh, everything.” you said sheepishly. She smiled.

“It is the no problem!” she says. “I will see you afterwards!” And with that, she flew off into the night. You sighed, holding a corsage for Robin in your hand. You hear the sound of a motorbike. Robin appeared in view; he was still wearing his mask, but his usual outfit had been replaced by a tuxedo. He was still stoically frowning, probably due to not wanting to be here, but something about him just makes your heart skip a beat.

You walked over and tapped his shoulder. He flinched at your touch, but calmed down as he realized that it was you.

“Aquagirl?” he asked, eyeing you up and down.

“Um, just call me (y/n) for today, don’t want to raise eyebrows.” you winked. You pinned the flowers onto his lapel. “It’s my first prom, so I got you a corsage.” It’s true; this is your first prom. You were supposed to go to your junior prom this year, but of course, being a superhero kinda distracted you from that.

“Aqu- (y/n)...” he began. “You’re supposed to be helping the others track down Killer Moth.”

“Well, you said that our job was to investigate that b- uh, girl. And there’s no better way to do it than up close.” you grin. “Besides, Starfire insisted that I backed you up, you never know if you need saving, right?”

Just then, you heard a loud honk from a car. You turn to see a pink limousine pull out. Out stepped an even pinker girl, Kitten. Her headband, dress, corsage, and heels were all an obnoxious pink. She scoured the scene until she found Robin, fiercely waving at him.

“Yoo-hoo! Robbie-poo! Your Kitten has arrived! Me-ow!” she yells. You both physically cringe at her words. Robin leans over to you before he leaves.

“On second thought, maybe I will need the savings.”

You purse your lips as Robin leaves, reluctantly linking arms with the girl. You open your T-communicator.

“Cyborg,” you say. “Robin just entered the boat with Kitten. “How’s it looking on your side?”

“Poor guy,” he says sympathetically. “We just reached Kitten’s house. Going in now. Nice dress by the way.” You grin.

“Thanks man. I’ll be watching him just to see if he needs any help.”

“Got it. Cyborg out.” the screen blips to black and you close your communicator with a sigh. Time for prom.

You awkwardly shuffle onto the boat, making sure to stay a few meters behind the two. Luckily, no one noticed that you didn’t go to their school because they were so distracted by Kitten’s yelling.

“OH ROBIN!, YOU’RE SUCH A GENTLEMAN! NOT AT ALL LIKE MY WORTHLESS EX-BOYFRIEND FANG!!!” your fists clenched as she moved closer to the Boy Wonder, all over his arm. Why did we let her take Robin to the prom again? I’d rather see that bridge collapse than whatever this is.

You stationed yourself at the punch table, pouring yourself a drink. The two were talking at the table. You knew Robin didn’t want to be here in the beginning, but what if he changed his mind? What if, somehow, he falls in love with Kitten, and then you are never gonna have a chance with him?

“OF COURSE ROBIN I’D LOVE TO DANCE WITH YOU!!!” Kitten yelled, the two of them moving towards the dance floor. Your cheeks burned with anger, and maybe a little bit of jealousy. You clenched your fist again, and the sickly pink punch from the punch bowl shot into the air. The couple next to you who was about to get some punch slowly walked backwards away from you. But you didn’t care. You stomped away from the punch table.

You were leaning at one of the clothed tables as you glared at Robin and Kitten dancing away. You don’t even know why you felt so angry; maybe it was the fact that they’ve been dancing for 10 long minutes, or the fact that Kitten’s resting her head on his shoulder, or maybe the fact that you’ve never held Robin’s hand before and she is!

You notice him looking at his T-communicator while he was dancing, relieving you of the idea that he was actually enjoying the dance.

“Kiss me,” you hear Kitten say, and you froze.

“Sorry, I don’t like you that way,” he smirks. “As a matter of fact, I just don’t like you.” YES, you thought, smiling from the table.

“WHAT?!” the blonde girl shrieks.

“Killer Moth’s being taken down as we speak. We’re done here.” He pulls away, tucking his T-communicator into his pocket.

“No we are not!” she yells, ripping the corsage off of her dress. The petals fall away to reveal a cylinder, push-button controller. “Daddy’s not calling the shots tonight, I AM!!!”

“Daddy?” you and Robin said at the same time, in shock. So that's why Killer Moth made Robin go to the prom with her.

“And unless you want me to let those bugs out for a late-night snack, you better pucker up!” she makes kissy noises at Robin, her lips inching closer and closer. Robin put his finger out at them as if to shush her.

“Not even if you paid me,” he said, pushing her away and grabbing the controller out of her hand. They fight over it, and you wonder whether to jump in and help. Suddenly Kitten turns her focus away from Robin.

“Fang?” she smiled. You turned to see the jewel thief from before climbing onto the boat, spider head and all.

“That’s your ex boyfriend?” he asked, staring in shock.

“Get your hands off my girl!” he yells, knocking Robin down with his spider leg, Kitten snatching back the controller. Ok, time to act you thought, holding up your hand. A jet of water sprung up from under the boat and hit Fang, sending him flying backwards.

“And keep your legs off my guy!” you yelled, not even sure if you and Robin were on that level yet. “You alright Rob?” you ask as the Boy Wonder stands up.

“Best I’ve felt all day,” he smirked, ripping off his suit to reveal his costume underneath. You smiled; you two seemed to be on the same track in terms of disguise. You ripped your dress off and your costume uncamouflaged, revealing the familiar blue and black swim gear you always wear. You yank off your gloves to show your gauntlets underneath, the spikes swing up into place. You both look back at Kitten and Fang to find them making out; mandibles and all.

“I think I’m gonna throw up,” you mumble, getting into a fighting position.

“You know…” Robin says, bring the couple’s attention back to you two. “You two make a really bad couple.” Fang charges at the two of you, shooting his webs and venom. One of the webs hit you, sending you to the floor. You used the spikes on your gauntlets to cut yourself free while the spider villain goes after Robin. You finally free yourself as Kitten watches the action.

“Isn’t it romantic? They’re fighting over me!” she swoons. Your cheeks burn hot with anger. Now that you're out of disguise, it's the perfect time to beat her up.

“You’re not worth anyone’s time to fight over!” you quipped loudly, causing Kitten to start screaming at you. She tackles you, and the two of you fall onto the table.

“What the-” you grunt, the air knocked out of you as you crash into the food. You roll over and pin her to the table. You try to reach for the controller, but Kitten smacks a cream pie in your face. She pins you down this time, but you extend your leg to her side and swing, sending her flying across the table. She lands flat on her back, stretched lengthwise across the table. You lunge at her, but she grabs you and dunks your head into the punch bowl. You almost burst out laughing; she was trying to drown you, and you could breathe underwater.

Your eyes glow blue from underneath the punch bowl as the beverage explodes in the girl’s hunched over face. She screams, and you push her into the chocolate cake. She lands on the floor, her pink dress now stained with chocolate frosting.

“YOU.. RUINED… MY… DRESS!!!” she screams, clicking the controller. You gasp in horror, she’s crazy. She runs at you again, screaming and you dodge her, using your water powers to shoot the controller out of her hand. The controller rolls away, right towards the bottom of Robin’s foot.

“Consider yourself dumped.” he said, breaking the controller.

“NOOOOOOO!!!” she shrilled. You rolled your eyes and punched her square in the nose, her falling to the ground.

“I’ve been wanting to do that all night,” you grin at the Boy Wonder, who looked at you in awe.

.

The other Titans rejoined you as you watched Kitten, Killer Moth, and Fang get pulled into a police van.

“Nobody dumps Kitten! Nobody! You're going to pay for this, Robbie-poo! YOU'RE GOING TO PASAY!!” the blonde girl screamed while being pushed into one of the vans.

“So, no second date?” Cyborg jokes. Beast Boy was sitting over the edge of the boat holding one of Killer Moth’s moth larvae. According to them, the controller Kitten had allowed them to turn into moths, but when Robin broke it, they all turned back into harmless giant bugs.

“So what becomes of Killer Moth’s larvae population?” Starfire asks.

“You know...now that nobody's making 'em all mutate-y,.these things might actually make good pets.” Beast Boy said, poking at the larvae's belly.

“Don’t even think about it.” Raven says, staring in disgust.

You and Robin walk towards some of the students to apologize for ruining their nights when spotlights turn on, the bright lights moving across the floor. The two of you braced for impact. The announcer began to, well, announce.

“And now, the moment you've all been waiting for...the king and queen of this year's prom are...Robin and (y/n)!” Your eyes widened at the announcement.

“I’m back on duty so it’s Aquagirl now! Sorry!” you yelled awkwardly.

“Well um then Aquagirl-” Robin begins, but you stop him.

“I mean, you can call me (y/n), if that’s what you want,” you offered, slightly blushing. He blushed back.

“Oh! Ok, then (y/n) it is.”

“So how about that dance, Boy Wonder?”

“I guess one more dance wouldn’t kill me.”

.

Robin led you towards the middle of the dance floor. You put your arms around his neck and he put his arms around your waist. His hands were gentle, and was only lightly touching your back, as if he was ready to pull them back at any time.

But he was smiling; something he barely did all night. You both laughed as you awkwardly shuffled across the floor; it's like you had two right feet and he had two left feet so it canceled out. You pulled in a little closer, he hugged you a little tighter. You stared at his masked eyes, imagining them looking back at you.

Suddenly you heard a whistle and whipped your head to see the rest of the Titans nonchalantly watching you two dance. They grinned, waving hello. You rolled your eyes and whipped your hand at them. A small geyser jumped up and landed on the Titans, drenching them. You and Robin laughed, then resumed your dance.

Nights in Jump City are the worst time of day, but with Robin, it’s a whole lot better.

[marvel-and-mischief]

Show Me Warmth

Pairing: Marcus Pike x GN!Reader   Words: 3000 Warnings: pining, couple of swear words, two idiots in love, pure fluff Synopsis: When the heating goes out in your apartment building you end up with unexpected company in the form of the neighbor you have a slight crush on

Masterlist

The day had been too long and you were looking forward to a shower, changing into your comfiest pajamas, and binge-watching your latest obsession on Netflix. The weather had taken a turn for the worse somewhere between entering work in the morning and leaving in the evening. So instead of being prepared for a cold snap, you were left to face the onslaught of wind and rain in just your cheaply made uniform. Your teeth were chattering loudly and your fingertips, already numb from the heavy plastic bags of groceries you were carrying, were icy cold from the frosty chill in the air.

You made it to your apartment building in one piece but froze at the sight of the handle, or the lack thereof. A golf-ball sized lump of smooth, shiny metal, no grooves to dig your elbow into, no mechanism to lean your weight on. You'd have to drop your groceries and turn it with fingers that currently had no feeling in them.

Then you heard a clearing of a throat and your body swerved around of its own accord to face Marcus, your endlessly kind, thoughtful neighbor, who went out of his way to give you a lift to the vets last month because Sprinkles, your cat, had cut her paw trying to climb behind the television. The very same Marcus who gave you his only phone charger four days in a row because yours had caught fire (you still have no idea how he charged his own phone during that time). He was now pointing to the door over your shoulder, indicating the handle you were having trouble with.

"Want me to get that?"

You stumbled over your words before finally nodding and stepping aside.

"You okay?" he asked, a look of genuine concern pinching at his brow. You could tell him the truth, that his never-ending kindness made you flustered and unable to grasp the English language, that you wished your heart wouldn't thump inside your chest so much you could hear it loud enough to cause permanent ear damage.

But instead, you shot him a reassuring smile. "Tired. And hungry," you aimed for humor, raising your arms to indicate the grocery bags but all that did was exasperate the ache in your arms, making you grimace at the action.

"Here, let me help you with those," but instead of simply taking a couple of bags from you, he took all of them and lead you towards the elevator before you could object.

"Thank you. I thought my arms were going to drop off," you huffed a short laugh, pressing the elevator button once you realized Marcus was unable to.

"Y'know, if you need a ride to pick up groceries, I'm happy to take you."

You wondered briefly if Marcus' generosity extended to anyone else in the building. You imagined him collecting dear old Mr Jenner's pills from the pharmacy, or walking Carol's chihuahua at the weekends when she worked the day shifts at the nursing home. It's exactly the kind of thing Marcus would do. Or perhaps you were special?

The elevator door opened and you stepped over the threshold the same time Marcus did, earning you a knock to the hip from a tin can in one of the bags he was carrying.

"Sorry, I should let you-"

"You first, I insist-"

Feeling the heat of embarrassment licking up your body you passed him to enter the elevator. You prodded the buttons on the inside, missing your floor number twice before lighting it up, muttering a curse word under your breath.

"So, did you have a good day at work?"

"Erm," you bit at the cracked skin of your lower lip as you remembered mopping up the pile of sick five minutes after clocking into your shift at the ER, "it was like any other day at work." Marcus didn't need to know you'd cleaned up someones vomit this morning. "And you? Any new art thefts to report?"

A toothy smile paired with a twinkle in his eye conveyed his excitement at your question. It was the look of a man who thoroughly enjoyed his job and loved to talk about it, as much as he legally could.

"I closed a big case today. It's going to be all over the news this week and knowing I had a part in catching the gang, there's no feeling like it."

If he hadn't been weighed down by your groceries Marcus probably would have been bouncing on his toes like an excitable puppy. It was adorable. No wonder you'd fallen so ridiculously in love with him.

The elevator came to a juddering stop, the doors opened with a clang and a ding, and it was then you realized you had traveled up to your apartment floor.

"I'll go first this time," you remarked, stepping out of the elevator and leading Marcus to your apartment door. You spent the walk rummaging through every pocket in your uniform until you found your keys. You couldn't imagine what kind of disorganized mess you looked like to Marcus, but a quick glance in his direction and he seemed to be as un-judgemental as always.

"I can take the bags-"

"I can bring them in... if that's okay with you? I don't want to overstep..."

"No, no," you rushed to reassure him, "it's a mess in here, just don't look at anything."

Marcus barked out a laugh.

"I'll keep my eyes on you, and only you."

You don't know if you were imagining it, but it sounded like Marcus was flirting with you. You didn't have time to think too much about it before you opened the door and bounded through, passing the tiny kitchen to your right to enter the living room in front of you.

"You can put the bags on the counter, thanks Marcus," you smiled warmly, genuinely thankful that you could now feel the blood pumping around your fingertips again.

"I was serious, about what I said earlier. If you need a ride, I'm more than happy to help you."

You heard the sincerity in his words, saw the softness in his gaze, and relaxed. Your body was tired, so that probably helped to knock down your defenses, but you liked this man, and you wanted to hope that he liked you too. He'd given you all the signs after all. Helping you in your times of need, being considerate by asking before overstepping boundaries.

Your thoughts were interrupted by a loud clap of thunder rumbling overhead. The weather had worsened since you were outside. It was raining heavily and the force of the wind was enough to blow stones and litter through the air.

"Do you think it'll get worse?" you asked, turning to see Marcus had joined you to watch the oncoming storm.

"Nah," Marcus sounded convincing but when you looked at his expression it was unreadable, "but maybe we'll get a day off tomorrow."

"You love your job."

"I also love sleeping in," Marcus remarked, clapping his hands, "I should get going."

"Yes," you exclaimed, aware of how eager you sounded to get rid of him, "I mean... I need to unpack the bags, and I have to jump in the shower."

"That's all good, I'll see you around. Knock on my door if you need anything." With a parting wave, Marcus politely closed the door behind him, leaving you standing there hoping and praying for the wind to reach through the walls and blow you far away, to another universe preferably. How had you grown into a financially, independent adult who can barely hold a conversation with your hot neighbor? Maybe you'll never know.

-

Your shower was the first indication that your day was only going to get worse. Thankfully you'd done all you could with your hair and was about to wash the suds off your body when the warm water changed to cold, leaving you a cursing, shivering mess as you hurried to jump out of the shower.

The bedroom, which you'd made sure was heated to a high enough temperature so you could comfortably dry yourself off, was not as warm as you remembered. But you shrugged it off, putting it down to the shock of the ice cold water you'd been left with. You scoffed at the pajamas laid out on the bed; baggy and figure-hiding, colors faded to mute pastel shades over time, letters barely visible anymore. But they felt so good against your cold skin and aching muscles.

Sprinkles jumped onto the bed, pawing at the comforter and meowing for fuss.

"Good girl," you whispered, scratching under her chin until she'd decided that was enough and moved to settle down at the end of the bed.

Padding into the silent living room you scrutinized the blank television. You were sure you had switched it on before heading to the shower. It was your routine, to fill in the background noise of your apartment that would otherwise be deafening silence. You remembered the news reporter, a middle-aged guy with a receding hairline and crows feet in the corners of his eyes, talking to the camera and looking very serious doing so. You have no clue what he was talking about but you know he was there.

You grabbed the remote from the coffee table and pushed the red on/off button. Nothing.

The storm was worsening outside, the wind whistled through the minute gaps in the badly maintained wood around the window. A lost, upturned umbrella flew into a flickering lamppost on the street below. You could only guess that the television had something to do with the storm.

You were brought out of your thoughts by a knock on the door. Looking down at your raggedy pajamas you thought about quickly changing into something else, mindful that it could be Marcus at the door. But by the time you did that he might have left so you opted for grabbing a large, tartan printed blanket from the back of your couch and wrapping it around your shoulders.

Of course it was Marcus, who else could it be? Sporting a blanket just as large as yours around his broad frame, holding up two metallic flasks with a shake as if they were a pair of maracas.

"My kettle boiled just as everything went out. So I made hot chocolate. I thought we could share and keep warm together?"

Your heart leaped at the idea. Marcus wanted to spend the cold, dark evening with you? Images of snuggling underneath a mountain of blankets, drinking hot cocoa as the storm marched on outside, safe in the arms of the man you had an immense crush on flashed through your mind like the final shot of a cheesy romcom.

"I'd love that," you agreed, waving him through the door into your apartment. You noticed the bottom of his blanket dragged across the floor as he walked, and only then did you see the patterns that adorned it.

"Are those pizzas?"

His bark of laughter took you by surprise as he gave a twirl of his makeshift cape.

"Hawaiian, extra pineapple, just how I like it."

You remembered to shut your apartment door, shaking your head in disbelief.

"I knew you were too good to be true," you mumbled, only realizing what you'd said once you plonked yourself down on the couch.

"You thought that?"

The conversation had shifted elsewhere, the laughter fading out to something more serious and frighteningly uncomfortable. You tried to dismiss the comment but Marcus was insistent.

"I just mean-"

"I know what you meant. I'm asking if you actually thought that."

You frowned at Marcus, who stood in the gap between the kitchen counter and the second-hand rug that marked the edge of the living space. He must have noticed how intimidating he looked and took two large steps to sit on the other end of the couch, the blanket covering everything but his head.

"You're always so kind. Offering to help with my shopping, or give me lifts to work. I appreciate it, I do..."

"Look, you can tell me the truth. If I'm being too forward, I can back off."

"You're not, it's just..." your mouth was dry and you were struggling to say the words that you needed to say because you didn't want to mess this up. You hadn't been in a long-term relationship in so long you'd forgotten how useless you were at this bit. When you had a crush on someone and you didn't know if you liked them back and you had to navigate around the awkwardness of 'do they like me too or are they just after friendship?'.

"Marcus, do you like me?"

Marcus started smiling but it didn't ease your worries because it wasn't quite what you wanted to ask; it didn't encapsulate all the feelings welling up inside of you, all the uncertainties and questions you needed answering before you made a huge fool of yourself.

"Yeah, I thought I'd made myself clear."

"No, Marcus, I know you like me, what I mean is, do you like like me?"

You were mostly keeping your eyes on the horribly stained coffee table you'd gotten from a garage sale for ten dollars last June, but a small glance to Marcus told you he was biting his bottom lip and trying to keep from laughing. You groaned in despair and shoved your face in your hands.

"Alright, come on, turn around. I'm not going to bite, you don't need to be afraid of me," he said with a chuckle, hands softly resting on your forearms to guide you into a sidewards position to face him.

"This all feels very high school," you mumbled, shucking your blanket off your shoulders, the embarrassment you felt making you warm all over.

"It's not. We're adults. Adults with too many feelings, not always good. But no one told us how these things work, did they? We just get thrown into the world and are expected to know everything."

"Exactly. It's made even worse when you see other people and they seem to have their shit together. And you wonder, how do they do it?"

"Yeah, and I feel like my flirting's been subpar."

You scoffed, smacking a hand to your mouth as if it would take back the unattractive sound.

"Wow," Marcus feigned a look of shock, "you're not supposed to agree with me."

"Marcus," you felt your earlier embarrassment fading away to something much more comfortable like you were two old friends settling into familiarity, "I've been so confused lately. I wasn't sure if you were like this with everyone." you motioned to him with a vague wave of your hand. Marcus' response was to raise a sharp eyebrow in amusement.

"What? Did you think I was trying to make Mr Jenner fall for me too?"

"No, but I didn't think it was all just for me either," you shrugged.

"That's my fault, and I apologize. I'll make it up to you. Until then, I'll make my intentions clear, right now," and with that Marcus pushed away his blanket and got down on one knee in front of you.

You giggled at the sight, partly from shock and partly because you didn't see your evening going quite like this. You felt that all too familiar heat of embarrassment whenever you were around Marcus. He said your name sincerely, hands clasped over your blanket covered ones as he looked up at you from the floor.

"Will you do me the honor of going out with me? Will you let me hold open elevator doors for you, take your cat to the vets if you need me to, or bring over flasks of cocoa and an abundance of blankets and let me hold you in my arms on stormy nights, in the knowledge that I won't extend such goodwill to anyone else in the apartment building?"

By the end your cheeks hurt from grinning so widely, but you gathered yourself together enough to nod your agreement.

"I will do you the honor. I think it's only fair, with how painstakingly oblivious I've been."

"I'm happy to share the blame," he agreed, a twinkle of mirth in his eyes and a calmness coming over his expression. You sighed, a happy and hopeful sound, and leaned in to press your forehead to his. You weren't expecting anything more, and you weren't sure whether Marcus would want to give anything more, but it didn't matter because you jumped away from each other as a loud bang resounded around the room. Quickly scanning the window you saw an object had hit the glass, leaving a smudge of mud across the pane. Marcus' hands moved up and down your arms in a soothing motion.

"Do you have a flashlight?"

It took you a moment to hear what he'd said, instead noticing how much darker the sky looked outside. Was it the storm or had you and Marcus been talking for longer than you initially thought?

"Maybe under the sink. But I have candles in the bedroom."

"Great, get them, we'll set them up on the table and get under the blankets. Is that okay?"

You smiled and nodded.

Once the candles were lit and you'd situated yourselves underneath a pile of blankets, arms around each other and your head resting on his chest, your breaths evened out and you fell into a restful sleep.

When you woke the next morning, the storm was still raging on, and Marcus was still curled up around you on the couch keeping you warm. You let yourself have this moment to imagine the mornings to come where this would be the norm. You found yourself sighing happily at the thought.

"Are you watching me?" his sleep filled voice rasped, a smirk lazily tugging at his lips.

"Maybe," you whispered, not daring to move despite how much you wanted to run your fingers along his laughter lines.

"Go to sleep."

"Do you have work?"

"No. D'you?"

"No."

"So go to sleep."

So you did. And you'd never fallen asleep happier.

Permanent Tag List: @autumnleaves1991-blog @phoenixhalliwell

[ijustwant2write]

Father Knows Best-Thomas Shelby x Shelby!Daughter!Reader

(GIF credit to @devileyedbanana​)

Masterlist

Tags: @captivatedbycillianmurphy​ @jenepleurepasbaby​ @amirahiddleston​ @bloodorangemoonlight @haphazardhufflepuff​ @mzcrazy2​

Requested by anonymous: ‘Can I request a Tommy x daughter angst one shot where she falls in love with a rival gangster and Tommy asks her to choose, and she chooses her love but then he turns out to be violent and Tommy comes and saves her.’

Characters: Thomas Shelby x Shelby!Daughter!Reader, Finn Shelby x Shelby!Reader (Uncle)

Meanings: (Y/N)=Your name

Warnings: Alcohol, being drunk, swearing, mentions of a sexual nature, family arguments, domestic abuse, weaponry, fluff

(A/N: Matthew is a made up character, AND THIS IS MUCH LONGER THAN I ANTICIPATED)

                                       *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

I covered my mouth as I giggled uncontrollably, Matthew was shushing me despite chuckling himself. We held onto each other as we stumbled out of the club, our feet aching from all the dancing we had done, struggling to walk in a straight line due to the drinks. As we stood up straight, swaying slightly from the alcohol, Matthew took me in his arms, kissing me sloppily. Neither of us were anywhere near sober. 

“You’re so beautiful.” he breathed out, going in for another kiss.

I smiled into it, gripping onto his coat for support.“Tonight was amazing. I don’t want it to end.”

“It doesn’t have to.”

I groaned.“It does though. You know I’m already past my curfew.”

“Your dad should be happy that you’re out making friends.”

“You don’t know anything about my dad then.”

We hesitated to start the walk home, though both knew that Matthew wouldn’t receive the best welcome if he got me back any later. I was in trouble now anyway, but I didn’t care what any of my family thought. Time flew by too quickly when I was with Matthew, it was as if we never had enough of each other. And I wasn’t stupid, my father definitely knew about us. As leader of the Peaky Blinders, he had eyes everywhere, and if he wanted his men to follow me, they would. I had spotted several of them just tonight, but I didn’t care.

Seeing as these men would be reporting back to my dad as soon as the night was over, I didn’t want to wake up to a lecture from him. Instead, I decided to head to my uncle’s house. Finn had given me an extra key, just in case, and we were extremely close in age, he understood what I was going through; he also wasn’t allowed to do anything dangerous, let alone be involved in any plans, even tough he tried. 

“You sure your uncle won’t let me in? You can try to be quiet.” Matthew whispered as I stood outside of Finn’s house. 

I scoffed at him.“I can be quiet!”

“Well I have yet to experience that.”

“He won’t let you in. I’m sorry Matthew.”

“Don’t be sorry. I’ll see you in the next few days?”

“Of course you will.”

We slowly kissed, hands still wrapped around each other. It was always so difficult to let him go. This time, Matthew was the one to pull away, gently kissing me on the forehead before leaving. I watched him leave until I couldn’t see him before unlocking the door. Although I had been incredibly quiet, I heard a thud, someone (my uncle) was fumbling around, thinking an intruder was here. He had a gun in his hands as he whipped open his bedroom door. The panic in his face was replaced with annoyance.

“For fucks sake (Y/N), what do you think you’re doing?” he sighed, rubbing his eyes.

“Um, coming in from a great night out?” I said, chuckling to myself as I walked into a chair.

“Oh good, you’re drunk. Why didn’t you get the driver to take you back to your house?”

“Because I don’t want to deal with dad. You know he’s awake too, he would shout at me as soon as I stepped foot in the door.”

Finn rolled his eyes.“You were with that prick weren’t you?”

“His name is Matthew and he’s not a prick. He’s my boyfriend. And I know that dad knows about him.”

“You should really stay away from him. He doesn’t come from a good family. We’re in the same circles (Y/N), people tell me things.”

I groaned.“Urgh, I didn’t come here to get told off by someone who is literally two years older than me. I’m going to bed. Feel free to call my dad, tell him I’m fine and that I had a good time, cause I know he won’t ask that.”

“What do you mean?”

“As soon as you call, or he calls you, the first question will be, ‘who was she with?’. Yeah, my dad really cares for me.”

Even though I slept late into the afternoon, I still didn’t feel rested. My head was pounding, I felt as if I would be sick every time I moved, and my feet throbbed, so all in all, signs of a great night out. As I shuffled into the kitchen, Finn was sat at the table, arms crossed and staring at me. Oh no, he was not going to act like a saint right now.

“I’m not dealing with you right now Finn.” I said as I poured myself a cup of tea.

“Tommy’s coming to get you in an hour. Make sure you’re ready.”

I mockingly saluted him.“Yes sir!”

“Come off it (Y/N). I don’t get why you act like this. Sometimes you’re really sweet, other times you’re...”

“Go on, get it out of your system.”

“You can be a bitch.”

“Look, I understand what you’re saying.” I sat down across from him.“But dad really hasn’t paid much attention to me recently. He doesn’t even greet me when I come down for breakfast. I know he’s got a lot on his plate, and it’s a big plate, but lately he’s been really harsh on me.”

“It’s because of Matthew.”

“He’s going to have to drop that soon. I get that I’m his only daughter so he’s overprotective, and because I’m a Shelby, but he doesn’t have to worry.”

“That’s the thing (Y/N). This Matthew has made him worry even more.”

“Why? Because it’s my first serious boyfriend?”

“No because...look, what I tell you now, you can’t say a word of it to anyone else, do you understand?”

“Finn-”

“Do you understand?”

I hesitated, but nodded, my curiosity getting the better of me.

“Matthew is....he’s part of a rival gang.”

I couldn’t help but laugh.“I get you don’t want me to date him, but that’s ridiculous.”

“(Y/N), I’m being deadly serious.”

“No he’s not. I’ve met his family, they’re sweethearts.”

“Because they want you to trust them.”

“You’re being ridiculous.”

“I’m not trying to piss you off, or make up something so you break up with him. He’s dangerous (Y/N), it’s all one big trap. They get Thomas Shelby’s daughter and they can bargain for anything.”

“Wouldn’t it be less hassle to just kidnap me? What if I didn’t fall for Matthew, what would they do then?”

“That’s not the point-”

“No, there is no point to this, at all Finn.”

“(Y/N), please, I’m trying to look out for you.”

“I’m going to get ready. I need to look decent for dad.”

Part of a rival gang? Pathetic. It wasn't even an interesting story. Yes, Matthew was a little wild, he brought out the party girl in me, but I was having fun! As long as he wasn't harming me, nor were we harming anyone else in the process, I saw no flaws with our relationship. We also had our downtime moments, times where we could lie down in each others arms, hint at our futures. Apparently not everyone could see that.

There was a knock at the door, and I sighed to myself, knowing my time of hiding was over. Luckily dressed, looking pretty decent after the night before, I took time walking out of the spare room, hearing some mumbling before I even saw my dad. Although he never showed much emotion anyway, I could tell he wasn't happy, staring me down as I approached him in last night's clothes.

"Morning dad." I greeted him kindly, hoping we would have this conversation away from Finn.

Dad looked at Finn in disbelief, then back to me."Morning? Fucking good morning?"

"Dad-"

"Get in the car."

I obeyed his order but not before saying goodbye to Finn."Thanks for letting me stay."

He just nodded to me, awkwardly waiting by the door as I followed dad outside. I kept up with his usual long strides, bracing myself for what could end up as a screaming match. Thinking about it, I never argued much with dad, but when we did, it was over serious topics, never anything petty. I loved him dearly, he always looked out for me, gave me anything I wanted, ensured that I had a good life he never had growing up. So the guilt growing inside of me was huge, but my stubbornness was strong. I was an adult now, I was allowed to make these decisions.

Surprisingly, there was no driver for us. I slipped into the passenger seat, both of us remaining silent as dad started the drive. I watched the streets of Small Heath pass by, the regulars of the city slowly making their way to work, dirty from the shift the day before, probably drunk to keep themselves warm. It was a sad, poor place sometimes.

"Are we going to talk?" I mumbled, putting my focus on him.

He sighed loudly through his nose."Are you going to listen?"

"Please can we not be malicious about this?"

"Why didn't you just come home last night? Any bar would have let you use a phone, they know who you are."

"Because I didn't want the hassle. And I stayed at Finn's, so I don't understand why you're so angry?"

"You were with that boy."

"Dad, when will you just accept that I'm twenty one and I'm allowed to see people?"

"It's not that. If you had found someone who wasn't trouble-"

"Matthew isn't trouble."

"You don't know everything (Y/N)."

"Oh, don't tell me, he's part of rival gang, right?"

Dad's eyes widened as his head snapped towards me, his gaze flickering between me and the road."You what?"

"Finn told me."

Dad groaned, putting all of his concentration back on the road."Told him to keep his mouth shut. Neither of you seem to be able to follow orders."

I rolled my eyes.

"I saw that."

"Look, I'm sorry for not at least calling last night, I know that was wrong." Dad was silent.

"But I really like Matthew. I don't want you to scare him away, or make up ridiculous stories about him."

"Stories eh? That's what you think they are?"

"I know they are."

Suddenly, dad put his foot down, making us go faster than I liked. He ignored my pleas for him to go slower, somehow not swerving off of the country roads that lead to our house. He was driving at this speed for far too long, skidding on the gravel as we braked in front of the house. Dad hastily got out of the car, whereas I needed a second to get my breath back. He was already walking through the front door by the time I was shakily getting out of the car, stumbling in my heels across the gravel.

I called after him but he wouldn't listen. Storming towards his office, he flung open the doors, not even flinching when they whacked into the walls. Quickly following, I watched his manic actions, shuffling through paper work and slapping down files onto the desk.

"There's your story." he said, pointing at them.

Hesitantly I walked towards him, scanning my eyes over his evidence. There were pictures, reports, files containing personal information. I focused more on the parts about Matthew, reading things such as where he was born, where he had lived, the schools he attended....and none of them matched with what he had told me. There was a portrait picture of him, I didn't know where dad got it from, and another photo slipped out from under it as I picked it up. Only this time, it was a mugshot.

"So, do you still think we're lying?" dad said.

"I...I..." I was speechless.

"You know that everything I do, I do for you. You're my daughter, it's my job to protect you. You need to stay away from that man."

"Why wouldn't he tell me?"

"Did you really just ask that?"

"We've talked about everything. He didn't even hint at it." I was talking to myself at this point."I met his family. Why would they go through all of that? Host that dinner, make me welcome, say such nice things?"

"I didn't take you to be stupid (Y/N)."

"I know what it sounds like. But dad, Matthew wouldn't lie to me-"

"HE'S USING YOU!" he screamed at me."You're a fucking Shelby, you're the daughter of Thomas Shelby, you have a huge target on your head! It's an easy way to get to me, and to find out secrets about us!"

My mouth dropped open in shock."I would never tell him anything they he wasn't supposed to know!"

"Wouldn't you? He seems to have a hold on you, and it's scaring me. I've never seen you like this."

"That 'hold' you're on about is called love! Not that you would know anything about that, seeing as my mother was a whore!"

"Don't you dare speak to me like that!"

"It wouldn't be a surprise would it, if I ended up with a fucked up relationship? Because I had oh such a great example from you. Fucks a random woman, she knows who he is, so she dumps the baby on him, hoping he won't give her away to an orphanage."

"Stop changing the conversation. We are talking about how we get you away Matthew."

“You’re not going to.”

“(Y/N)-”

“I’ve been with him for months, why is this now just coming out? How long have you known about this?”

He didn’t have to say anything but I still got my answer.

“Ah.” I scoffed a laugh.“You have known about this. And for some reason, you have’t decided to mention this.”

“It was for-”

“I’m going to stop you right there. Dad, I am going to speak to Matthew about this.”

“You will not go near him.”

“Yes I will. I’m going to get the truth, right now.”

My words escaped me before I could really think about them. I was already walking away from him, back out to the front door. Opening a cabinet, I searched through the keys for any car, any vehicle that would get me far away from here.

“I’m having someone follow you.” dad informed me.

“I know.”

“You’re stepping into enemy territory.”

“We’re not in the war anymore dad. And you’re not a soldier.”

I finally found the right key, heading towards the only car I had ever driven. Making my way to the garage, I ignored my dad, not even looking at him. I definitely felt guilty for what I had said, and what I was about to do. But I needed to do this myself, I needed to speak to Matthew without the pressure of anyone else.

I was not a good driver. Everyone was safe whilst I was driving, I just wasn’t very fast or great with spacial awareness. In my head, I had expected to be racing to Matthew’s, getting to his in record time. This had ruined my fantasy. Once I did reach his house, I slowly lined up the car with the path, wincing when I bumped into the curb; thank god no one was around to see that. 

“(Y/N)?” I heard Matthew call me as I got out of the car. He was approaching me down the pathway of his house.

“Matthew, I need to speak with you, urgently.” I rushed out, pushing him back towards his home.

“Woah, wait, wait. What’s happened? Why are you in last nights clothes?”

“Just get inside.”

By looking at his house, you could tell he was well off. It was in a nicer neighbourhood, it was separate from the other houses and had multiple rooms. I asked him if anyone else was home, and when he said no, I was relieved. We didn’t want them getting involved, and I felt like shouting if this went wrong. 

“You’re worrying me (Y/N).” Matthew said.

“Oh, are you worried about me?” I sarcastically said.

“(Y/N), can you just tell me what’s going on?!”

“Are you part of a rival gang against the Peaky Blinders?”

“What?”

“You heard me.”

“What makes you say something like that?”

“My family told me.”

“What makes them think that?”

“Matthew, I’ve seen the evidence. I didn’t admit it to my dad, but I believed him. I’ve seen your real information. You’ve lied to me about a lot of things. And why do you have a fucking mugshot?”

He exhaled through his nose, looking away from me for a few seconds.“I can’t lie anymore.”

“You shouldn’t have in the first place!”

He held up his hands in defence.“Alright, alright, let’s just use our inside voices. I’ll explain everything to you.”

Matthew directed me to his front room, sitting beside me, and although I initially wanted to shuffle away from him, I couldn’t bring myself to do it; especially when he took my hands in his, resting them on his lap. He wasn’t afraid to look me in the eyes, perhaps a sign of him about to tell the truth.

“(Y/N), your family is right. I am part of a company that rivals yours-”

I tried pulling my hands away, but he gripped onto me tightly.

“-but we would never cause any harm. We are only rivals in business. There is no bloodshed, no injuries, no deaths. The only thing we fight over are numbers.”

“That still doesn’t explain everything.”

“I didn’t tell you because I didn’t know if you already knew who I was. You know how it feels to have everyone already judge you based on a name.”

“Don’t use that against me.”

“I’m not. I’m trying to connect with you on this. The mugshot is from a brawl we had with a couple of ex-employees, they wanted to expose us with lies. Unfortunately we were typical men, and apparently that was the only way we thought to solve it. The police were called and I spent a night in a cell, but I was released the next morning.”

“That’s it?”

He nodded.

“You promise?” 

“I promise. And my family have not been plotting anything like your father thinks they have. Of course, they had an idea when I told them about you, you know, to ‘unite’ our families to stop the feud. Obviously that was ridiculous because fights don’t just end like that. But when I brought you to them, it was because I was proud of you, I wanted to show them the amazing woman I had found and fell in love with.”

“Love?”

“Yes. I love you (Y/N).”

“I love you too Matthew. I’m sorry for attacking you with all these questions. But even if I tried to convince my dad that he was wrong, he wouldn’t believe me. I’m scared he’s going to try and separate us.”

“Then live with me!”

“What? No I couldn’t do that to you-”

“Of course you can! You’ve seen this house, there’s plenty of room, my family loves you, it would be perfect! And...” he leaned in closer to me, whispering in my ear,“they’re hardly here, so we would have a lot of alone time.”

Although my heart jumped at the thought of living with Matthew, being able to see him everyday, spending every moment with him, I also dreaded telling my dad. I was old enough to make my own decision though. I could move in with Matthew if I wanted, what was stopping me? I believed everything he said, he had an explanation for everything. If Matthew was in a rival gang, using me for their own purpose, wouldn’t he just threaten me or kidnap me when I confronted him? It all seemed like too much effort.

All of that information dad accumulated must have been biased, especially if our families were rival companies. Although I was leaning more towards staying with Matthew, I didn’t want to lose my dad. I would have to be an idiot to believe that he would let me leave home with a man he didn’t like, but on the other hand, I was at the age where I could do what I wanted. Just because I had the last name Shelby didn’t mean I was going to be trapped by it.

There had been a lot of back and forth that day, both emotionally and physically. But here I was once again arguing with my dad. Stupidly, I had let Matthew come along (he was very persuasive), though he stayed in the car. Set on convincing him to let me leave with Matthew, we shouted at each other, screaming our opinions. He didn’t believe a word I said. Tears streamed down my face as I grew more frustrated, pleading him to listen, to give Matthew another chance.  

“I don’t know why I’m bothering to ask! I could have left without asking, without even telling you. But I did it out of respect for you.” I suddenly exclaimed.

Dad stopped shouting for a moment, heavily breathing.“Fine. Go then. If you’re so grown up, pack your bags and move onto the next part of your life. I just hope for your sake that I’m wrong.”

                                       *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

I had never felt such conflict in my heart before. The first month of moving away was extremely hard, I cried most nights in Matthew’s arms. I had loathed every moment of collecting my belongings from dad’s house, saying goodbye to my family because I wouldn’t be seeing them as much as I was used to. They thought the same as dad, all had tried to convince me to stay. But Matthew was always by my side, reassuring me that we could start our own life now, not forgetting our old ones of course, but creating a new one. 

And oh, how quickly things changed.

Three months, three months of pure bliss. I was living with my boyfriend, having the joy of seeing him everyday when he came home from work, eating meals with him, sleeping beside him, not having to arrange weeks in advance when to next see each other. Matthew had even started talking more about our future, hinting at marriage, finding our own home to live in. It excited me. I was growing up, doing all the things a person should do. Perhaps this would show dad that I was happy, that he was wrong about those rumours, and I could finally see him again. I missed him so much.

It was like binding a contract with the devil. Once that engagement ring was slipped on my finger, my whole world was flipped. Matthew started staying out late. I knew he wasn’t going out drinking, he didn’t smell of alcohol when he returned, neither could he be cheating because I never caught a whiff of perfume, or found a hair on his jacket, or even see him come home disgruntled; he was just as immaculate as he had been leaving. Sometimes him, his father, his brother and uncle would come home, immediately gathering in the front room and slamming the door shut. They would be in there for hours, deep in conversation. And that scared me, because it reminded me of my family whenever they were scheming.  

“Matthew?” I had mumbled late one night, disturbed from my sleep when he opened the bedroom door.

“Go to sleep.” it was an order, no note of sympathy in his voice.

I watched him undress.“Are you alright? I heard you arguing downstairs.” 

“What did I just say?” I had never seen someones head snap around so quickly.

“I’m sorry,” I didn’t know why I was apologising,“I just wanted to make sure you weren’t upset.”

“I am now.”

“Why?”

“Because of you! Asking me all these questions! I thought you were smart.” he made a show of collapsing into a chair, starting to untie his shoelaces.

I sat up.“Matthew, there’s obviously something wrong. You know you can tell me-”

He suddenly threw his shoe against the floor, but for a split second I thought it was aimed at me.“Just go to sleep (Y/N)!”

I was scared to move, thinking I would somehow do something else wrong. But when he continued to stare at me, I slowly slipped back under the covers, clinging them close to me, trying to steady my breathing to hide how much I wanted to cry. I listened to Matthew get ready for bed, the silence making me more nervous. He climbed into bed, shuffling towards me. I flinched as he wrapped an arm around me, his body pressed up against the back of mine. Who was this person? What made him act like this?

“I’m sorry darling.” he whispered in my ear.

But I didn’t feel comforted by that, or feel like I should give him forgiveness. And I realised it wouldn’t have even mattered if I did, because it kept on happening.

Smaller things started to annoy him. I would simply ask him what he was doing with his day, and receive an eye roll. He would question why I was wearing a specific outfit, who was I wearing it for? His family would try to interrogate every detail about me, and it was suspicious from the beginning. I wasn’t receiving questions such as ‘How many siblings do you have?’, ‘Do your family get on well?’, ‘Where do they live?’; I wondered if it was because everyone knew about the Peaky Blinders, but it was getting too personal. I had been an idiot to become trapped by this man, however, I wasn’t going to let them use me against my family.

Some days I didn’t know how much I could take of Matthew. I was walking on egg shells around him. I quickly learnt what not to say or ask, how the tone of my voice should be, how I should look. It didn’t matter how many times he was sweet to me, apologised, bought me presents, I didn’t recognise the man I had wanted to marry. His hand held mine tighter, his grip on my waist hurt, and our intimate moments together...everything hurt me, and he didn’t care.

“Writing a letter to a friend?” Matthew startled me from the doorway of our room.

My head whipped around to see him standing there, casually leaning against the door frame.“Yes.” I quickly replied.“Well, it’s for my aunt, Ada.”

“What are you saying?”

“I’m asking how Karl is. He’s growing up so fast.”

“Mention anything about me?” 

“Of course.”

“Can I read it?”

I handed him the letter, hiding my nerves. He read through it, no expression at first until he looked at me, smirking to himself. That wasn’t a good sign.

“(Y/N), my father was in the war. He’s told me about how they got secret messages out of the trenches.” he smugly said, walking towards a set of drawers and opening the top one. He pulled out a pile of letters, the envelopes opened, and the handwriting was mine.“Being Thomas Shelby’s daughter, I had expected more from you.”

“You’ve lied to me this whole time.” I shuddered at the thought of him reading my letters, begging for someone to help me escape.

“No, I haven’t.”

“You said you were only rivals in business!”I leapt up from my chair.“I fought my family to be with you! I am such a fucking idiot!”

“Isn’t that what we are? A business at the end of the day? Look, you’re here now. We’re happy. I can make us happier once we receive our upcoming bonus.”

“What bonus?”

“The bonus of having the Shelby Company all to ourselves.”

My eyes widened, screeching out as I lunged for him. I landed a good punch to his face, but due to his size and strength, he managed to grab my attacking arms. 

“Stop now (Y/N), before you get hurt.”

That was a threat from him, not a concern I may harm myself. But for once I didn’t care. They were going after my family, I would take all the beatings for them. 

“You’re a fucking liar! A cruel, terrible, waste of space!” I screamed, pulling myself away from him.“I vowed to never become one of those poor women who had to live this life. You were in my head, and I’ll admit it, you were convincing, but I know who you really are. You’re all a bunch of sad men who feel that they need to murder, threaten and mock anyone in order to make them feel better. You’ll never be as powerful as my dad, it  just won’t happen.”

“You’ve grown naive. I did like you (Y/N), once I got a good look at you, I wasn’t angry about the plan of marrying you anymore. And I’ll admit, you’re an interesting woman, easy on the eye which helps. And how loyal you were, standing beside me in everything. Don’t be upset (Y/N), we don’t want any blood on our hands, as long as your family are cooperative. And think, you will be in charge with me once they’re gone.”

“Gone? What do you think you’re going to do with my family?!”

“Nothing. We have a meeting tomorrow, you’ll be coming, and you will convince them to hand it all over to us.”

“I won’t.”

“That wasn’t a request.” he opened one side of his blazer jacket, revealing his gun.

“I would rather die than go against them.”

“You’ve done that already. And I would rather keep your brains inside your head.”

The next morning felt colder, more bitter than it usually did here; there was even a low fog creating a tense atmosphere. Although I didn’t want to comply with Matthew, I knew I had to go to this meeting if I wanted a chance of seeing my family and keeping them alive. Running on adrenaline and anxiety alone, I forced myself to get out of bed, having to get changed under the watch of the man I thought I knew. As I did my hair in the mirror, I had a sudden realisation that I wasn’t me anymore. I looked older, years older even, even though I had only been engaged to this monster for a few months. My skin felt...unusual, not right, it didn’t feel clean. The bags under my eyes seemed to droop more and more every day, as if they were dragging down my eyes with them, and my lips were missing the feeling of a genuine smile. 

Matthew kept a hand on my back as we walked downstairs, his family waiting for us. I wasn’t scared to glare at them. They weren’t going to kill me, not yet anyway. I still had some time to live, and I was going to despise them every second. They talked as if I wasn’t there, checking their weapons and the plan. Matthew had managed to confiscate my gun, I was left with my fists.

I was in the middle of the group as we made our way to the meeting point. I knew the area now, we were headed to the back of a factory. There was a lot of noise from the machines, no one would be walking around because they would be working, and Matthew’s family had a very good deal going on with the owner; they pay him large amounts of money to keep quiet, he takes that on top of his rich salary already and keeps quiet. 

As we rounded the corner, my heart dropped when I saw just my dad standing there. Out of instinct, I started to hastily move towards him until Matthew grabbed me, gripping onto my arms to keep me in place. I felt like a little girl again, scared and needing her dad to come save her. Although dad was expressionless most of the time, I was worried that he thought I was neglecting them all these months, when really, Matthew had stopped any contact between us.

“Mr Thomas Shelby, when I said about meeting, I didn’t think it would be just yourself.” Matthew’s dad started.“But that’s fine, you’re the only one we want to speak with anyway.”

“A business meeting outside, eh?” dad said.“Why do I think this is heading in another direction?”

“Let’s just get to the point, yes? You know what we want, we’re not going to stop till we get it.”

“Of course.” dad didn’t seem bothered.

“And we’re serious. But don’t worry, there will still be a Shelby within the business once you pass it over.”

Matthew urged me forward, staying very close behind.“Dad, I’ve been trying to contact you but they wouldn’t let me! I-”

“Shut up. That’s not important.” Matthew snapped at me. 

“Don’t talk to her that way.” dad lowly said, and I recognised the warning in his voice.

Matthew wasn’t bothered.“She does as she’s told.”

“I fucking don’t!” 

I stamped on his foot with my heel, quickly getting out of his grip and turning around, managing to knee him in the head as he doubled over. Another gang member pulled me away, and I didn’t know whether he was ordered to or not, but he held a gun to my temple, his arm in a choke hold around my neck. I had tried, but it was too risky to do anything when my dad and I were clearly outnumbered. 

Despite that, dad pulled out his own gun, aiming it at the man.“Let her go.”

Matthew’s dad laughed.“I know you’ll have some of your people hiding around here somewhere. But you’ve seen the weapons we carry today, and how many of us there are. You are under prepared.”

 Dad was still for a moment, suddenly whistling. I saw the men around me tense, wondering what my dad could be summoning. As expected, more men started to appear around my dad, a much larger group, some even rounding around the back so that we were surrounded. They all held weapons of some sort; guns, knives, knuckle dusters, anything of the sort. Matthew’s dad tried to not look effected, though you could tell he was shitting himself. 

“What were you saying about no bloodshed?" I smugly said to Matthew.

He frowned at me, taking me out of the man's arms and throwing me to the floor. He got out his own gun, once again placing it on my temple.

"I don't want to shoot her. But I will if you don't go through with our deal." he stated.

My hands were scraped, blood already trickling onto the ground. But I didn't moan, I didn't complain, worried that one slight move would set him off and he would shoot.

"You will put down your weapons, give me back my daughter, turn around, and walk away." dad said."We don't want to start a war between us. Look at my men, now look at yours. You will lose, and you will lose your lives along with it."

"How dare you threaten us-"

Matthew's dad interrupted."Shut up Matthew! This doesn’t mean you’ve won Shelby.”

Dad didn’t reply, lowering his gun but the others kept their weapons on display. Matthew’s dad was waiting for a reply, and when he didn’t get one, he sharply turned away. Matthew was shocked, glancing between me and him as he wondered what to do. Although I was desperate to run to dad, I slowly made a move to stand. Matthew kept his eyes glued on me. I slid off my beautiful engagement ring, now despising it, holding it up in front of his face, and letting it drop to the ground.

“In case you were wondering, the wedding is off.” I spat, instantly turning on my heel.

My body broke out into a sprint, throwing my arms around my dad’s neck as I burst into tears. My legs went weak as he clung onto me, reassuring me that I was safe now, I wouldn’t be hurt any longer. How could I have done such a thing? I turned my back on my family for a man I should have known more about. I had to face it, I was a Shelby, and it was going to be difficult to find someone who wanted me for me, not my name.

“I’m so sorry dad!” I sobbed.“Please forgive me! I don’t want to be hated by you forever. I need you. I love you!”

He calmly shushed me, as if I was a baby again.“It’s alright, it’s alright (Y/N). I’ve got you now. You’re my daughter, I would never hate you.”

“I’m sorry! I won’t ever leave you again.”

“Come on, let’s go home, eh?”

“Please.”

“You’re my family, you always will be. I’m always going to protect you (Y/N), always.”

[sweetbunnykook]

Only You (9)

Word Count: 13,197 // [SPOILER IN WARNINGS] angst (mention of double homicide, gore/blood, miscarriage, mistreatment of a corpse, panic attack), smut (period sex, cunnilungus, blowjob, throatpie, body worship, mommy kink), brief fluff, toxic relationship, manipulation

Photographer!Jungkook X Noona!Reader

Summary: Jeon Jungkook, your wedding photographer, helps you escape on your big day upon learning about a secret your groom-to-be kept hidden. You soon fall for this young, passionate photographer. However, you underestimated just how much he was willing to reciprocate that love. Maybe, you think, he’s loving you just a little too much.  

A/N: If you are still reading this series, I wish you the best of luck. Please leave a review if you can and let me know your thoughts. - 🐰

You were every mother’s blessing – kind, caring, intelligent, obedient. She watched you stumble and fall many times but you manage to catch your footing with a smile. Despite your yearning for independence, your mother kept you in her embrace as all mothers do. In some ways, it would be loving; things like helping you choose the venue for your wedding and holding your hand while you inquire about using chiffon instead of silk for your veil. You were such a wonderful daughter that she didn’t wish for a son even when you decided to carve your own path rather than follow your father’s footsteps into medicine and entrepreneurship.

It’s why your mother sits in the parking lot of your apartment complex, dumbfounded beyond belief, teeth gritted. She looks up at your window to see Jungkook staring back down at her, unable to read him. She holds his steel hard gaze, daring him to look away or pull the curtains close.

He doesn’t take the bait.  

Pulling the shifting gear and rolling out of the parking lot, she peels her eyes away and takes several deep breaths.

There is no way on God’s green Earth that you fell in love with a middle-class photographer. Of all people, of all the men in your circle, affluent men coming from money both new and old, you couldn’t have fallen for a lowly photographer who doesn’t care about you enough to know his place and leave you be. How could Jungkook not know that you aren’t meant to live like this? How could he be so selfish as to hope for marriage when he could barely afford the ring he wants to slip onto your finger?

Your mother throws back her head and cackles. The only reason you were able to study abroad during college, the only reason why you could walk into an upscale neighborhood and look like you belong there, is because she followed the natural way. She never loved your father, not even once, but he was a good husband and an even better financial asset. Not only did she not have to lift a finger after tying the knot, but she also became part of the untouchables.

There’s a sense of power and invincibility that comes with wealth. It comes softly, like a whisper of wind that keeps a dandelion intact; it’s invisible to the eyes but she can feel it when she shakes hands with politicians, celebrities, businessmen and women, important people doing important things.

It took nearly twenty years of work. Getting close to the Kims, making sure you attend the same school as their children, running into Namjoon when you visit their vacation home, and letting his parents witness what a great wife you would be for him – it was all going so well. Puberty treated you well enough too that she didn’t need to consider getting you minor cosmetic procedures when you graduated high school. Sure, you could lose a few more pounds, but you were healthy and fit to give the Kims, and her, the grandchildren who will guarantee a new generation of wealth and prosperity. Gone are the days when she could only dream about creating the perfect family, respected by the social circle and the general public. You, her lifelong project, made it all come true.

Yet, life proves to be cruel once again.

As soon as she set her eyes on Yori she knew she was trouble. She didn’t object when you stayed out later and wore a bit more makeup than what was deemed graceful for a woman of your age. She knew that if she’d raised her voice, you would be compelled to rebel (it didn’t help that you were as stubborn and thick-skinned as your father). However, she wanted to warn you, just a tiny bit, that Yori is the kind of girl whose eyes strayed to find a new target and you were a hair away from standing right in the middle of that mark. She knew, because Yori had the kind of eyes she had as a twenty-year-old woman who climbed that very same social ladder.  

You were such a good daughter, so intelligent and transparent, that she believed you would have the backbone to come into your mother’s arms at the first sign of danger. It looks like you were just as clueless as the rest of the sheep you called your bridesmaids.

A Jeep honks from the next lane as she swerves into the street and bangs on the steering wheel with the heel of her hand, her Cartier bracelets clanking together in unity. The light turns yellow and she stomps on the accelerator, lurching the vehicle forward.

At the end of the day, she knew it was her fault. She could have warned you earlier, planted seeds of doubt in your mind, even pull Namjoon back into your arms if you realized soon enough; but alas, your day was chosen to be one of desolation and misfortune. Her poor daughter, the apple of her eye, the one precious gem of a person who would propel the family into royalty, whisked right away from under her nose.

She shakes her head, tires screaming as she veers into the next semi-busy lane, watching the sun disappear into the horizon as the familiar roads darken.

Letting you mourn on your own terms was the biggest mistake of her life, second to not following her gut feeling and keeping Yori away from you. She knew about this photographer lover of yours who has the face of an angel and seem to follow you like a puppy wherever you go. From a distance, she’d watched you wrap your arms around him and kiss him with such fervor in a public space she felt bile rise for the first time looking at you – her most precious creation acting like a hussy for all to see.

The boy seemed to be in love with you as much as you depended on him. She waited until you would be sick of him like the ones you took to bed after the wedding night (yes, she knew about your shameful conquests). She waited countless nights, praying that you would come to your senses, that you won’t refuse her advances, until months later she sees you living with him and sharing meals and completely forgetting about her. Yes, she had been mainly focused on making sure the investors haven’t pulled out and that you still had a name for yourself after the wedding. It wasn’t an ideal response as a mother because you needed help and she knew you’d throw a hissy fit but you must understand that while you had been taking men to bed, she had been busting her ass saving what’s left of the family pride.

The Kims also attempted to salvage your reputation, but they won’t do so at the cost of Namjoon’s name. The true reality is that parents will only care for their own blood in the end.

It’s why she finds herself confused and drenched with sweat when the car halts in front of the white villa lined with jasmine bushes. There’s a new gate installed, probably to keep away reporters during the first few weeks after the wedding incident hit the papers, and it momentarily angered her that she must now ask an intercom to enter a space that should have been a gift to you from the Kims.

Her hands tighten around the steering wheel with the intent to squeeze something warm and pulsing. She still remembered the day Yori knelt on the floor of your dressing room and she still remembered the strands of hair that squeezed her fingertips as she tore the whore’s flower hair clip off her head. The yelling, the panic, the uproar, the whispers that came from the guests – it was humiliation to the tenth degree.

Wiping the bead of sweat off her temples with the back of her hand, your mother hushes the engine and places the key in her coat. She steps out of the vehicle and marches up to the gate and buzzes in, huffing when her heels wobble on the cobblestone steps.

A few heartbeats later, Yori’s voice pours through her ears and reached into the crevices of her scalp like a dull headache.

“Hello?”

She leans forward. “It’s me.”

There’s a long pause before the gates click open and the stone stairway up to the front door reveals itself with a moist gleam. The garden sprinklers die down just as she steps onto the platform and makes her way up to the front door where Yori is leaning against, one hand on her stomach, the other hand tucking her fringe away from her face. She notes that the knitted silk dress, tied above the swell of her belly, is from the latest Prada collection.

“What a pleasant surprise,” she smiles. “Come in. Welcome to my home. I apologize for the mess…I had a baby shower earlier today and help is gone for the rest of the week.”

Your mother wanted to rip that smug grin off her face but she kept her eyebrows still and her lips soft.

“Excuse my intrusion.”

She walks into the spacious living room, eyes quickly glancing at the stacks of presents on the couch and the empty bottles of sparkling water and champagne sitting on the coffee table. She can recognize, just from the color of the boxes, that the gifts were not cheap. Had you married Namjoon, this would have been your palace.

“I’m in the middle of decorating the nursery. If you don’t mind…” Yori says, not bothering to look back as she makes her way up the stairs. She didn’t have to turn around to see that steam is coming out of your mother’s ears. “Can you help me with unrolling the mat in the hallway? I can’t bend over very well.”

Your mother trails behind in place of answering, watching Yori’s hip swing side to side as she makes her way up the stairs and then turn to leer down at the older woman. It’s a bit laughable, Yori thinks, as your mother pretends not to ogle at the stacks of Tiffany blue boxes tucked beside the living room couch like shoeboxes. Her face flushes when she meets Yori’s eyes once more but she doesn’t comment as she follows the young woman into the hallway just a few feet away from the stairs. Her head turns at the smell of fresh paint to see the nursery on her left, the door left open as if the room expected her arrival.

“Where’s Namjoon?”

Yori fixes her fringe once more. “He needed to attend a conference in Ginza. I’ll tell him you stopped by.”

“There’s no need.” She leers at the stacks of presents next to the crib. More aquamarine boxes, all neatly stacked according to size with the smallest at the top.

The younger woman leans against the tall, heavy vase next to the wall leading into the hallway to the East wing. “If you say so.”

There’s no reason for your mother to be here. It should be you instead, coming back to tie loose ends and perhaps inquire about Namjoon’s injuries if you cared enough. Compared to your mother, you didn’t have much of a backbone when it comes to relationships and it makes it so easy for men to take what they want and go. It’s what made you a bore, what gave Yori the power to pull Namjoon right into her bed and have him calling her name like a prayer.  

“Did you forget basic manners?” Your mother finally snaps, beady eyes darting from side to side to admire the nursery that could have been a snapshot from a furniture magazine. “Not even offering a glass of water?”

Yori only smiles, motioning to the unrolled mat slumped against the wall, adjacent from the staircase.

“I assumed whatever you wanted say would be quick as you came uninvited. You’d probably think the water is poisoned even if I offered any way.”

The older woman glances at the rug – no doubt imported from Dubai with its elegant coloring and silk touch – then walks over to it before tracing her fingers around the rolled edges. She shouldn’t have accepted to do such demeaning housework but given how she pulled into the driveway unannounced and that the woman is heavily pregnant with no help around, it was only fair. She may have left behind her patience with Jungkook but not her manners.  

“Why did you have to pick that day to tell her?”

Yori’s eyebrows raised just slightly before falling back down to its former position. She puts a hand over her stomach and walks towards the giant vase again, rubbing her fingers over the cool lacquered surface. Namjoon’s parents had a thing for porcelain she just couldn’t wrap her head around.

“What do you mean?”

“Why did you wait until the marriage ceremony to tell her you were screwing her husband?”

“Husband?” She cocks her head to the side with an incredulous widening of her pupils. “Last time I checked he only had a fiancée he rarely saw who ran away with some pretty photographer the first chance she got. I’d say that’s far from married.”

Your mother shakes her head. “Answer the question,” she looks down, chin trembling. The world is falling apart, her dreams are nothing but a pebble in quicksand, and you no longer cared. “Please.”

Yori watches, in a way one watches a fly buzzing around a piece of fruit, the older woman bring her hands together in front of her like it has taken all her energy to ask such a question. Maybe for a moment she considers telling the woman the truth. She considers telling her that you broke her heart first, that you had the world succumbing to your every need, that your mother’s greed doesn’t only belong to her but you too because you made Seokjin your lap dog while Namjoon promised you a future. She considers telling her about the night she saw you laying like a swooning damsel in distress as Seokjin – the only man she had to beg for attention – suckle your tits like you were getting paid for it. She considers telling your mother that her daughter is the two-faced whore here, not her. She considers telling her that you touched what belonged to someone else first.

But what difference would it make? What would it change? The baby is still due in a handful of weeks, Namjoon is set to take over the company once he gets his shit together and his nose heals, and you’re perfectly happy with a new and exciting boyfriend of yours. The truth doesn’t set anyone free, it just makes sure the shackles aren’t too tight.

Yori turns her moist eyes away towards the living room downstairs. She walks over to the railing, resting her wrist on the copper before she stares down at the half-eaten cake on the coffee table with utmost disgust, as if she can still smell the overly sweet frosting with too much blue and pink dye. Catching her voice, she brings the smile back onto her face.

“I picked that day,” she turns her head, just slightly to catch your mother’s expression. “Just because I wanted to watch her look as pathetic as you do now.”

Your mother’s lips part, hands falling to her sides.

“It just happened. That’s all there is to it.”

“That’s…all?”

Yori chuckles, her empty gaze falling back down to the cake. “That’s all.”

Years of planning, years of giving you the best education the country has to offer, years of making sure you never have to suffer as she had, years of shaking hands and kissing the ground the Kims walk on, only for this girl without new or old money to come and…

Before your mother can think, she lunges forward and grabs Yori by the ends of her hair, twisting the locks around her wrist as the younger woman gasps and shrieks. Her swollen stomach hits your mother’s side as she screeches and uses both hands to grab at her taught hair, pulling away to place as much distance she can. The heel of her ankle catches the edge of the first step and she watches the older woman’s eyes widen as she slams, back first, into the steps and then bounce off the next step as her jaw and skull slams into the copper pipe railing. Yori’s stomach hits the corners of the last several steps before the swell of her belly squeezes inwards, the final gurgling scream ripping out of her throat as her vision turns black and the house falls in silence.

It all happened so fast. Your mother watches with her hands over her ears, chest pounding and bracelets clattering as her limbs turn cold and her knees buckle.  

Her eyes widen, more and more, as the pool of blood around Yori’s head expands until there lays maroon halo around her crown. She’s lying flat on her stomach and it takes another moment for the trembling woman to realize that, in the silence save for her own labored breathing, the bump is no longer there.

“Oh my god…”

Curling over to the side, your mother’s jaw falls open and the remnants of her early lunch spills over one of Yori’s shoes ledged between the railing and the first step. She empties her stomach until there is nothing left, her knuckles white as she grips the railing for support. Wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, she descends down the staircase, back pressed against the wall and eyes darting from the body to the tinted windows with burgundy curtains tied to the side. When she reaches the body, she trips over Yori’s limp feet as she quickly dashes to the living room to draw the curtains close, her neck craning from side to side as she finds any opening where an imaginary eye might witness the ultimate sin. It was only when she finds herself in the kitchen, washing her hands that she realized she had, in fact, stolen two lives.

Yori, and the baby who never had the chance to see daylight.

…

You’re sitting in a bathroom stall, turning over the small flash drive between your fingers when you hear the clattering of heels against polished tile and the sound of handbags slumping on the counter. One of the women walks into the stall next to yours, undoing the tampon wrapper as if she were scouring for the winning lottery number written on the string.

“Did you see Jin with her again?” The woman outside of the stall says and you recognize her by voice. She works for the accounting department and regularly walks into your office for weekly reports.

“I was keeping an eye of him. It’s annoying that they work together now so he’s always all over her.”

No doubt this conversation is about you.

“Tell me about it. I bet they’re fucking, you saw how he looked at her.”

“Doesn’t she have a boyfriend?” The toilet flushes and you can hear her shrugging her skirt back up to her thighs.

You hear a gasp. “Oh my god, you’re right. It’s that young guy who keep bringing her lunch, right? She didn’t break up with him?”

The stall opens and both women are in front of the counter. You’re stuck in your seat, not knowing whether to kick open the door or to interrupt the conversation but with Seokjin’s flash drive in your clammy hands, you struggle to even breathe.

“They’re still together. Looks like that photographer dick is too good to give up for the office hunk.”

They laugh like hyenas – that high, shrieking kind of laugh that makes their red lipstick bleed onto the corners of their mouths.

“They’re so out of her league. What do they even see in her? She’s painfully average. The only thing she’s got going on is a good wardrobe.”

You keep your head lowered when they walk past your stall as if they could see you. They pull on the paper towel lever until they can rip a generous piece and wipe their hands.

“She’s rich. She’s probably only working here because it keeps her humble or some bullshit like that. You know how girls with daddy’s money are, thinking they’re doing charity for working like the rest of us-”

You don’t hear the rest of their conversation, glad that your face no longer feels hot but you’re angered all the same. Jungkook’s visits, for this reason, had made you nervous in the beginning because you know they’ll talk and come up with their own little villain fantasy about you. It doesn’t bother you as you keep work separate from life (something Jungkook had been interrupting much to your discomfort) but hearing it in person ignited the kind of angry tears that has you cursing at yourself for letting yourself be disturbed by it.

You grab your handbag off the hook, place the flash drive back in your pocket, and unlock the stall before pushing the door open. You wash your hands in haste as the air had become suffocating in the aftermath of the two women. Wiping your wet hands down your black slacks, you let your wavy hair down and let it frame your face to hide your flushed cheeks, making sure that your eyes are no longer moist and your nose isn’t pink. What a way to end a workday.

When you arrive back at the office, most of your coworkers are gone except for the new interns organizing papers for tomorrow and the occasional workaholics making coffee in the makeshift cafeteria. You just hope you won’t run into the two women if they choose to swing by for whatever reason but, thankfully, it was never a common occurrence. They never did above the bare minimum any way.

A sigh of relief leaves your lips when you slump back down your office chair, squeezing your nose bridge as a wave of exhaustion wracks havoc in your pulsing head.

“There are some more sandwiches in the fridge, please help yourself if you’d like.” A student intern says as she carries a crumpled file under one arm, peering from above your divider.

“Oh!” You exclaim, your head darting towards the room Sora left in a mess before turning back to the girl. “Thank you, I’ll help myself. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

She gives a short nod before leaving, the glass door squeaking as the office once again is filled with the sound of coffee machines whirring and papers shredding.

The USB flash drive sits heavy in your pocket as you wave goodbye to the last person leaving your department with a cup of coffee. She nods, smiling, and pushes out the heavy glass door and you silently hope she won’t forget to return the mug before leaving the building. You listen to the clacking of her heels fading before turning back to the work computer still logged into your account. The saturated blue screen is harsh on your vision and you find yourself squeezing your eyes shut, turning to look at the clock on the wall momentarily to keep yourself grounded.

Jungkook can call at any minute as your shift is coming to an end.

Maybe it would be easier to do this with your phone turned off but knowing him, he would worry enough to drive over to make sure you’re safe.

Within the gray walls that surround your cubicle, you should feel secure. Yet, some part of you wonders if he would suddenly appear behind you and wrap you in his arms before asking you what you’re up to. In this nightmare of a scenario, you can also feel the antagonizing gaze of the two women.

Looking back down at the USB, you’ve come to realize that you have bigger things to worry about. Some part of you feels just as disgusting as a cheater taking off her ring in the presence of another man.

What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.

You’ve rehearsed the same mantra in your head at least a hundred times within the same hour (before you had the unfortunate chance to overhear that unpleasant conversation) and it sickens you that this is a phrase that Namjoon would have used to justify his time with Yori. It’s a cheater’s mentality – a cowardly way of shifting responsibility away from themselves without considering the consequences when the truth comes to light.  

With a sigh, you pull the flash drive out of your pocket and flip the black casing open until the lid hangs off its hinges to reveal the silver end. You look around once more, taking a deep breath, and push the end into the appropriate slot of the system unit. The USB flashes a neon green light, pulsing as it loads, before it dims and a small ping pulls your attention back to the screen.

The file explorer window expands, showing a ZIP file among an array of photos that had you squinting to observe. You jolt straight from the seat as your phone rings. Cursing under your breath as you note an incoming call. You’re just about to turn back to the screen when you recognize that the number flashing across your screen isn’t Jungkook’s but your mother’s. She never called at this time and if she did, she would have texted you first to make sure you weren’t in a meeting.

Just as you reach for the phone, it stops ringing and you contemplate turning it off. But something tells you you should have taken the call. When the phone rings again, causing you to flinch, you let it vibrate twice before swiping across the screen.

In exactly five minutes, you will regret ever picking up the call. In ten minutes, you’re running for your life.

…

Jungkook paces back and forth with his thumb between his teeth. If he bit his nails any shorter, he would pierce through skin. Your voice still rings in his ear as you cry into the phone, your tires screaming through the speaker as you speed through the streets back to the apartment. He’s sick with worry, wondering if you crashed into a tree of if you decided – on a whim – to handle this situation yourself. Because you called him immediately after you left work, he has a feeling you wouldn’t do anything stupid but today has been especially unpredictable.

First, your mother coming to meet him. Second, the same woman pushing Yori down the stairs and threatening you to take care of it. If he’d heard you correctly, the old wench even mentioned she would make his life a living hell if you don’t head over immediately. Some mother you are. It pisses him off to no end that you had to live with her for half of your life but it makes him even more upset that you’ve been hiding your mother’s behavior, throwing excuses about how much she worries when she’d call in the mornings and leave voicemails that you delete without listening.

He changes into a pair of jeans and an old university sweatshirt that is a bit too tight on the cuffs. When he hears the sound of your heels clack on the other side of the door, he barely had the time to wrap his head around such a God-given opportunity.

As soon as the door swings open you’re falling into his arms, wracked with sobs as he engulfs your entire torso in his arms. He presses your head further below his neck, reaching behind you to grab his coat off the hanger and wrap it around you before kicking the door close in case a neighbor passes by. You can’t bear to lift your head, trembling as your teeth chatter and your pupils are wide with fear. He’s never seen you like this – not even during the wedding night – and it makes his insides squeeze as if someone had reached in him and pressed a hand against his organs.

“I-I don’t know w-” you sob, “I don’t know w-what to do. I can’t breathe. Jungkook-”

He hushes you softly, threading his fingers through your hair with his thumbs curling around your ear. He tilts your head up towards his gaze, watching your tears trail down your face and onto the coat. Between gasps, you’re wailing, your throat tightened to the point that even his name sounds like nails on chalkboard on your lips.

“Noona, you have to breathe for me. Inhale,” he brings air into his nostrils as demonstration, “and exhale. Can you do that for me?”

You nod, swallowing first before you mimic and close your eyes. Jungkook brings a hand up to your chest, digging underneath the coat to feel it pounding against your ribcage.

“Keep breathing, noona. It’s going to be okay, keep breathing.” He rubs his warm palm over the chiffon and you find yourself leaning your forehead against his chest in exhaustion.

You wish you could stay in his embrace forever. Locked inside this warm and unassuming apartment, away from your mother, away from the past that has now resurfaced in the worst way imaginable – you wish you can curl into his arms and never leave. That…or you just want the world to swallow you in a deep well and leave you to starve.

“We have to tell the police.” You tremble. You can’t imagine the repercussions, not to mention the heartache of seeing your mother behind bars. She’d rather hang herself than end up in prison, you know that much. You’d sworn to your father before his passing that you’d keep her safe and you’re already thinking of running away.

“Noona…”

“We do. We…I have to. I-I mean it was an accident,” you’re suddenly peeling yourself away from him, bringing your hands up to rub your face. “They’ll give her m-maybe three or four years at most, right? If it was an accident it won’t be…”

Jungkook comes up behind you, placing his hands on your shoulders and rubbing up and down. You’re shaking again, tears streaming even quicker than before and the nausea is causing you to falter from side to side.

“Kookie, I don’t know what to do. Please tell me what to do, I’m going crazy. I don’t know what to do.”

He places his forehead against the crown of your head, staring into the distance. You feel his fingers tighten around your arm before he’s wrapping his arms around your shoulders and resting his weight upon your collarbones.

“Do you trust me, noona?” He whispers.

The fridge hums in the distance. You nod.

“Yes…I trust you. With my life.”

When he doesn’t reply, you turn your body, slowly, as if you were anticipating a monster and not a man, until you can look up at his face. He’s rubs his thumbs over your tears and moves down to your chapped lips, swollen and pink from your incessant gnawing. Your lips part just slightly as you exhale, keeping your eyes locked onto his loving eyes. He looks so angelic under the kitchen lights, the yellow bulbs blurred by the moisture in your eyes to form a halo around his long fringe. His hair is parted in the middle to form a curtain around his structured face, casting a shadow over his eyes in the semi-darkness. You can’t see him clearly with the lights behind him but you can sense his confidence, his reassuring grip on your cheeks; he’s no longer the boy from the night before but a man who is willing to keep the promise he made to you.

“I can help you.” He whispers softly once more, his voice lowered. “If you take me to the body…I can help you, noona.”

He holds your gaze, his thumbs still rubbing softly over your cheeks as if to coax the words into your skin. The implication isn’t lost on you but your body reacts first, fingers shaking as a fresh wave of sweat prickles down your back.

“W-What do you…” you trail off as your breathing grows heavy. Jungkook puts a hand on your chest once more as he did before, rubbing softly over your chest to calm your pounding heart.

He holds you close, breathing in your skin once more as his own eyes sting with unshed tears. Fate is a terrible thing and for every moment of bliss with you, he must pay the price; except, this price is a new opportunity to secure you by his side and earn your mother’s silent approval. It’s okay, Jungkook thinks, he can do this for you. He has the resources, the will, the strength, the plans – the only thing he can’t predict is your mental well-being in the aftermath.

Will you lose respect for him? Will you still love him? One thing he was sure of was that this was the only chance to keep your mother from arranging a marriage partner for you. He must go through it to not only save your sanity, your mother, but your answer when he puts one knee on the ground and opens the velvet box he keeps on top of the fridge for the perfect time. Oh how the universe responded so quickly to the day’s worries.

“Back then…when you said you would…”

Kill

“…You would do that for me. You really meant it, baby?”

Jungkook brings your head back under his chin and keeps you there, rocking from side to side as if to lull you to sleep.

“I meant every word. I’m not afraid, noona, not if it means I can protect you and your family.” His eyes darken as he tangles his fingers into your hair, twirling the ends of your waves between his fingers. “You love me, don’t you?”

“I do.”

“Then I need you to listen to me.”

With great reluctance, he pulls you away and holds your palm in both of his larger hands. Your eyes are closed, whether from fatigue or concentration he doesn’t know until your brows scrunch when he speaks.  

“Call your mother when I tell you to and tell her you’re on your way over. If she asks why you didn’t answer her previous calls, tell her you had an emergency at work. Reassure her and make sure she doesn’t touch anything more than she’s probably already touched by now. Don’t mention that I’m coming with you, understand? She might panic and bring attention to herself if there’s any witnesses.”

You nod continuously, creating a mental checklist. Call, inform, excuse, reassure, move.

“And noona?”

You look back up into his eyes.

“You…you won’t hate me after tonight…would you?”

How could you fathom it? With his warm, sincere stare and willingness to walk to the ends of earth for someone as plain and unlovable as you, you should be on your knees worshipping him. You don’t understand how he can think of you hating him when he had so willingly put his entire life at risk without reluctance. You aren’t asking him to fetch a forgotten carton of milk at the corner store. You’re asking him to clean up the mess your mother made, a mess that can tear your entire world apart, a mess that has nothing to do with your boyfriend who has no boundaries to prove his devotion.

You shake your head. “I could never,” you breathe.

You hold him this time, letting his body bow towards your trembling figure as he breathes in the scent of sweat and perfume on your neck. You give him a moment of peace. You wanted him to remember this touch as after this night is over, you don’t know if you’ll be the same person. You don’t know if he’ll be either.

He goes over the plan once more and leads you to his car. When Jungkook straps you into the passenger seat and turns the ignition key, you curl your fingers around your shaking knees. He notices your anxiety and takes the closest hand in his before letting your palm rest over the gear shift. He places his own hand on top of yours, gripping tightly when he shifts and maneuvers the car out of the parking lot and onto the road before unclenching.

The sky is pitch black and the moon stalks from behind. You count every tree, read every sign, tense at every sign of a police car passing by, and sniffle when your burning eyes refuse to calm. You don’t register where you are until Jungkook lets go of your hand on the shifting gear and undo his seatbelt. You’re inside the garage of his studio, surrounded by wires, cardboard boxes, plastic bins, and office supplies. When you grasp his arm, letting out a small cry, he hushes you instantly, bringing your hand up to his lips to place a tender kiss on your knuckles.

“I’ll be quick, noona. I just need to get some things, okay? I’ll be right there-” he points to the very back of the car – “in view.”

You swallow, nodding before uncurling your grip from his arm.

It takes every ounce of self-restraint for Jungkook not to coo at your desperation. He missed this dependency of yours (he had only seen it during the wedding night and the necklace argument) and for once he wonders if he went a bit too far with his role as the sweet and needy boyfriend. He’s not acting in a way that he doesn’t want to but he is guilty of dramatizing some of his pleas and affectionate touches. He knows, in his head, that he is a man. He’s stronger, taller, capable of committing a crime and not just cleaning its aftermath, and will eventually be the father of your children. He’ll tug his collar open to expose his vulnerabilities, but he will show you his strength too. Tonight is a blessing from the universe that will, finally, keep you where you belong: at his side, looking at him, and needing only him.

You watch as Jungkook swings open the trunk of his car and load three large plastic bins and pile photography equipment – tripods, developer fluids, camera bags, lighting equipment, and even a small monitor. And then you see the last box of supplies: rope, black plastic bags, gloves, masks, bleach, towels, and tape. When his eyes meet yours, he flashes you a small smile between his labored breaths, the kind you’re used to seeing after you make love to him and he’s spent, sprawled on the sheets with an arm over his perspired forehead. The car jolts slightly as pushes the back door shut and hop back into the driver seat, adjusting the temperature in the car, muttering something under his breath, and latching his seat belt back on.

He keeps both hands on the wheel. “Noona…make the call now.”

You’re frozen, hands clasped together on your lap.

“Kookie…”

You’re having doubts. He can see it in the way you can’t even bear to look at him. He digs through your pocket and presses your cell phone on your lap. When the lockscreen awakens to the photo of you two, you feel your heart anchor to the bottom of your stomach.

“I-I can’t do it.” You shake your head. “We have to go to the police. I can’t live without you, I can’t live without mom, we’ll get caught and I-” You press your hands to your face, your hoarse sobs lodged deep in your throat before it rips from your chest in the kind of wailing that makes Jungkook’s own heart squeeze. “I can’t do this. I can’t do this to Yori either e-even if it means my family…I’m sorry…I’m sorry…”

He sees himself in you. He sees himself as the teen boy who let Taehyung drag his scalpel across his father, then his mother, before encouraging him to give it a try. You’re a virgin. Even if tonight worked out perfectly according to his plans, you’d still be a crime virgin. It was your mother who pushed Yori, not you. Knowing how empathetic you are, how tender you are, it might as well be you who pushed the woman down the stairs. He knows your fear all too well and he knows just how quick your hummingbird heartbeat is underneath his coat that you’re wearing. You’re just like him.

“You’re beautiful, noona.” He places a palm over your clasped hands and brings his other hand up to your face, tucking your hair behind your ears and strumming your cheeks with the back of his fingers.

“No one deserves your kindness. It fucking upsets me,” he swallows, allowing his eyes to water, “that even a mother will take advantage of that kindness.”

You sob into his hand, leaning your temple against the head rest. He’s right. How many times have your mother, before Jungkook came into your life, morphed you into something you’re not? The days you spent trying to please her, comparing yourself to other children she would complement to get a reaction out of you, letting yourself be a pawn for when she wanted something from your father that either required money or the right handshake. You still love her above all because she’s your mother but there’s no denying how much it still touches every part of your life from your relationships to your career. Moving away from her and letting her fade into the background was a true feat and it pains you that all that effort crumbled away and you’re left in a bigger mess to clean than before. If only you hadn’t taken the fucking call.

Maybe this was your fault. Maybe, if you hadn’t been such a hard-headed person, she would never had driven over to Yori’s place and none of this wouldn’t have happened. You wouldn’t have to get Jungkook involved either, as willing as he is.

“You trust me, don’t you?” Jungkook slouches back into his seat, putting his hands back onto the steering wheel. “Don’t you, noona?”

You nod, keeping your head lowered.

“Then be good for me and call. I’ll take care of you and I’ll take care of everything else. I’ve never broken that promise, not now, not ever.”

Jungkook hopes that’ll work. He’s rather annoyed but not at you, never at you. Why couldn’t she tumble down those stairs too instead of giving you such unnecessary stress? This kind of stain would be terrible for the baby had you been pregnant. It’s tearing him apart watching how different you are now compared to this morning, leaving the apartment in comfort only to come falling into his arms in tears. He came to the conclusion that you’re simply too pure for the world.

Oh how romantic tonight would be if you were honest with yourself all along. Claiming to loathe your mother with the strength of a thousand suns only to act like this when she shows up with baggage. Jungkook can’t blame you for you shared a majority of your life with the wench, but he finds it exasperating that you can’t see how little of your pity people like her deserve. Nevertheless, you wouldn’t be the love of his life if you weren’t so sensitive and caring.

It was with great relief that you mustered the courage to swipe across the phone screen and type your mother’s number.

He clicks open the garage door and the vehicle begins to descend down the elevated lot.

“M-mom? I’m on my way now…c-can you tell me where you are? It’ll be okay…I know mom, I-I’ll be there soon…”

…

You feel eerily calm as Jungkook drives past your mother’s car parked in the front of the gate to circle around the perimeter of the fence. He doesn’t recognize the new gate but he’d climbed over the old ones many times to watch you on the balcony. The metal may have changed but the level of security should be the same given that the villas are built a good distance apart between trees and the residents – people with mostly new money – keep to themselves. Lodged between a large tree and a partial opening in the back gate that is no doubt left ajar by your mother, Jungkook step out of the vehicle and press the door close before coming over to your side.

He’s relieved that you’re no longer in tears but your hands are still freezing cold despite the heat turned to the max inside. Your eyes are wandering and your breaths are labored as you press your body close to Jungkook’s.

Your mother is waiting near the door, her head poking out just slightly in the darkness and you can see the familiar row of bracelets on her wrist. She seems to have aged several years in just the last few months and the reason for her demise is standing next to you.

“Are you insane?” She seethes as she pulls you by the arm into the dark house and keep her eyes on Jungkook whose gaze bore into her skull. “How could you bring another-”

Jungkook barely had the time to secure your grip on his arm when you gasp, flinching back to hit the chess table next to where he’s standing when you see Yori’s pale arm stretched out from beneath a mat. The deep crimson shade of blood had congealed on the marble, partially smudged by the mat above her weighing her corpse down. Deep inside you had hoped that at least the baby could be saved, by some miracle, but the damage is far too great. Accident or not, a police officer finding this scene would not consider a light sentence if you mother decided to confess.

The older woman’s jaw is clenched, no doubt suppressing the panic she too feels hammering inside her as you hang off of Jungkook arm, trembling still. She looks up to your boyfriend and finds herself jolting awake when his eyes are peering down at her. He looks kind, sympathetic, soft, as if he is still sitting across her on your couch, eager to prove that he can be the son-in-law she’s been looking for all along.

“You should head home for the night. I’ll handle the rest.”

She scratches at her bracelets, her nails tugging the gold free from her skin. “B-But…where are you taking her? Anyone will find it if she’s buried in the yard.”

Jungkook doesn’t answer the question.

“Please go home and make sure there are no witnesses. I know you didn’t inform anyone before coming here,” he turns his head towards the body, “so go home as if you were never here. I promise I’ll take care of it.”

It’s evident the older woman is relieved by the way her shoulders slump but her gaze is still firm as she measures her trust into the young man who is in full control of your heart. Your eyes are still on the body when your mother takes your hands in hers and gives a squeeze.

“Sweetheart…” she croaks. She knew she gave birth to such a dependable, obedient daughter. You’re every mother’s dream and she makes a mental note to come back to your apartment with more boxes of food and perhaps make amends. There are far too many misunderstandings and miscommunication; it’s no way for a mother and child to live.

However, when you rip your hands away and take Jungkook’s hand in yours, her face crumbles.

“I don’t ever want to see you again.” You hiss, your voice straining. You’ve never spoken to her like this and didn’t think about doing so until you saw the body, the mess your boyfriend has to clean. “You did this to us.”

“Wh-”

“Leave me alone. Please, mom. Get out of here, okay?” Your eyes glisten and you wipe away the droplets before they have the chance to fall. “It’s…we’re putting our lives on the line for you. It’s the least you can do now…so please…”

Between your pleas and Jungkook’s silence, your mother bites the inside of her cheek from saying anything more and turns back the way you came in. You watch her figure recede into the darkness, her shoes clacking softly on the cobblestone path. She turns back to look at you before the door closes and for once, you earn the most genuine apology you’ve ever received and this time she didn’t even need to open her mouth.

When the door falls back into place, Jungkook gives your shoulders a comforting rub and leads you towards the staircase, reminding you to breathe. He feels a bit more relieved that your mother didn’t raise too much of a ruckus. How could she when he’s the one getting his hands dirty? It’s what the perfect son-in-law will do and after this night is over, he’ll no longer have doubts about her approval. She wouldn’t have a valid argument anyway – not when he had just proved that he’s willing to go to the ends of Earth for your family and stability.

You’re too cute, Jungkook thinks, as you breathe through your nose and exhale through your lips. You’re a mirror image of his virgin self coated in blood, panicked but euphoric, angered but more than relieved to be rid of the parasites that kept him in the sewers.

“H-how are we going to do this?” You breathe, looking up the stairs as if you were expecting Namjoon to be standing there.

“I’ll handle the body. You can help me wipe down the stairs, okay?”

And handle it he did. He first fetched the supplies from the car, making sure once more that there are no witnesses while also keeping you within sight. Even without a severe puncture wound, Yori made quite a mess.

The terror didn’t come from seeing your former friend of years lay in a puddle of her own secretions. Nor did it come from seeing how calm and collected your boyfriend is peering down at the body with something akin to annoyance. No, terror came from how easily your mind and body adapted to helping Jungkook. You had no more tears left to shed when he lifted the mat from the body and placed a plastic covering next to her before rolling her body onto it. The sheet rustles beneath her weight and the stench of iron and urine fills your nostrils, prompting you to place your gloved hand over your nose.

Jungkook seems to know just what to do. He orders for you to wipe the railings first, which you do so with the slowness of a snail climbing a brick wall. The smell of bleach kept the nausea at bay and prompted you to focus on the smaller tasks because you can feel your heart already beginning to race with the sound of your boyfriend dragging Yori by the feet to straighten her posture. When you risked a glance back, you catch yourself feeling irked by the way Jungkook places her fingers so tenderly on her flattened stomach. Even when he’s wearing gloves, you catch yourself glaring at his touch on her skin, at the way his fingers brush over the ring on her finger. It makes you clench your jaw harder, pour more bleach onto the staircase, and wipe down each step with vigor.

She’s dead, she can’t take him from you.

You spray the bleach onto the top step, scrubbing with the heel of your palm as your shoulder fights through aches and pressure. You can do this. If Jungkook kept his promise, you must too. You will never find another man who will devote his entire life to you and for that you must not be too forgiving to those who don’t deserve your kindness, not this time.

All your life it’s one person after another coming to take what they want and leave. This is your lesson to finally take yourself back from them all, to come to terms with how much you gave and how little you received, see that Jungkook was the catalyst you desperately needed. It was no coincidence that when the elevator doors opened that very night of your wedding, he was the person standing in front of you. He was meant to be there holding your shoes as he rescues you away from those who would eventually suck the life out of you. He’s not someone you should be afraid of – no – because he’s your savior.

When you turn back again, Jungkook is slipping Yori’s legs into a large, black plastic bag identical to the one she’s laying on. He uses the bag beneath her to fight friction as he slides her body forward, careful not to bend her body before the duct tape comes into play.

And suddenly, your shoulder doesn’t ache anymore. Your heartbeat slows as you take another deep breath, this time through your lips, and watch his shoulders hunch over and forearm veins protrude.

“Kookie?”

He looks up, hair damp with sweat as it falls over his eyes. The lights from the front lawn, as it filter through dark maroon curtains, casts a red glow on your lover’s skin. When he meets your eyes he’s filled with glee, seeing that you’re no longer panicking and your eyes are clouded with a kind of protective apathy that lets him know you’ve gotten stronger. You’re dipping a toe into his world.

“Yes, noona?” He huffs, straightening his spine and wiping the sweat from his forehead with the back of his wrist.

“Nothing will happen to us after tonight…right?”

He physically melts at your saccharine voice. You’re worried about him, about whether he’ll still want you after this and if he’ll want you forever. “Of course not, noona. Are you feeling okay? Do you need to rest?” He asks if he hadn’t been the one packing the corpse into a bag.

You shake your head with a sniffle. “…I’m fine.” You’re not sure what to say, so you rub the cleaning cloth between your fingers and shy away from his eyes. “J just wanted to hear you say that.”

A smile spreads across his face, slow but bright as if he had just heard the most amazing thing. You can’t smile back and instead focus back on the floors and the last few inches of the railing.

You make sure to wipe the decorations nearby, in case your mother left any fingerprints on the lacquered surfaces. She can be rather careless in dire situations. You’re lifting yourself off the floor when something catches your eye: a large crib with layers and layers of blankets and fuzzy cloud and star plushies.

“What kind of bedtime stories should we tell our kids?”

Namjoon puts his head on your lap, sighing in relief when his neck is elevated at just the right position to depressurize the knot.

“What about myths? About the constellations and such.”

You giggle, brushing your fingers through his hair. “Isn’t that a little too mature for babies?”

When he doesn’t answer, you wave you hand in front of his eyes. He squints, chuckling. So this is what marriage life is going to be like – he can get used to it. “You’re right, that is a bit too much. Then…hm…they’ll learn about the types of clouds in the sky and we can go from there.”

“Joonie, I love you, but don’t come crying when our kids prefer mama’s stories over papa’s boring myths and random science facts.”

“We’ll see when we get to that point. Either way, you’re stuck with me.”

Asshole.

A fucking good-for-nothing lying asshole.

Gifting the same toys he promised to give to your future children to the same bitch who ruined your life, your family, and your sanity; they deserved each other, you think, and they both deserve to disappear as if they had never existed. The unborn baby inside Yori is innocent but a part of you is elated that he’ll never experience the kind of fatherhood he wanted. You silently wished Namjoon would tumble down the very same staircase you cleaned and joined Yori in a happy couple’s embrace to…

“Kookie?” You call out to your boyfriend who had duct taped the body in a semi-mummified state and used a shibari knot with his jute rope for easy carrying. He’d dragged the body next to the railing and leaned it against one of the stair planks in an upright position so that after he inspects the house for any evidence, he can bring the corpse easily over his shoulder.

“Yes, noona?”

“Where are we going to bury her?”

Jungkook wets his lips. He can’t possibly tell you the process of disposing a body or else you’ll surely fall back into panic so he gives you the simplest answer he can. “I’ll have to keep her body in the freezer in my studio. I’ll look for a place to burn it soon.”

You nod, swallowing as your throat tightens uncomfortably once more. The waves of anxiety come and goes. Jungkook knows how you’re feeling all too well and he wishes he could just hold you in your arms until tomorrow comes. Much to his distain, he knows you’re partly living your fantasy of making Yori pay for her involvement with Namjoon. You no longer love the man but anyone in your shoes wouldn’t deny there is a sense of satisfaction in seeking vengeance after a lifetime of humiliation that dampened your reputation in both your personal and professional sphere. Jungkook prays that getting rid of Yori will eliminate your mind of their presence although he highly doubts it; you’re not always rainbows and flowers. It’s only natural for you to be curious about taking another life when anger consumes logic. Most of these thoughts are fleeting ,which is why you had surprised Jungkook by your composure. He expected screaming at the very least but all you could do was cry.

He understands.

After he watched the life drain out of his parents, Taehyung had watched him cry for the longest time and when the next day came, it was like the world had turned its back while he washed the blood off his hands. The anxiety was terrible – at least for the first month or two – and then it was as if nothing had happened.

Like he learned before and like you’re learning now, it didn’t take much to get rid of a person. Over time, it just became muscle memory, kind of like making your morning coffee half-asleep. Now that you’ve gotten your first taste of the power, he wonders how you’ll cope. Will you fall into despair and regret it all in the morning? Will you be hungry for more? How will you return his most tiresome display of affection? These are questions he can’t answer. But what he does know is that you finally understand what love is in his world.

Love isn’t just about a ring on the finger or a baby in the crib. Love has to hurt. It has to infest your dreams and turn them into nightmares, wreak havoc on your heart, rip off the magnet in your moral compass. It’s why the human heart is caged behind ribs – it can hardly be tamed.

…

As the car lurches behind trees and between unpaved roads, Jungkook notifies your mother about what to do next. It would not raise suspicion for her to leave the country for a few weeks, especially since she had been traveling to speak to investors abroad. It would take some of the burden off his shoulders too; your mother is a cunning woman who fears losing money more than losing you so he had no trouble alluding to her demise if she disobeys. While you look away, he quickly sends a notification to Jimin to make sure the older man will take care of the rest. When he receives an immediate response back, his shoulders slump in relief and he pockets the phone back into his jeans.

When he takes your hand in his again, the other gripping the wheel, you give him the smallest of smiles through the silence.

Three is a crowd. The body folded and hidden in the rear space between his photography equipment makes your head turn every now and then to make sure it doesn’t escape somehow. You’re exhausted beyond belief but Jungkook is here, his palm over your hand on the shifting gear once more, to keep you grounded. The night feels like it might go on forever.

The streets pass by in a blur – nightlife still alive and pulsing with neon signs – and there’s a kind of peace enclosed in the car that you can’t find anywhere else. It’s the comfort in knowing that Jungkook has always been and will always be there for you. Whether to take you from somewhere or bring you to some place, he’s the only person in your life left that you could depend on. As he expertly drives through tight alleyways where gas station surveillance cameras can’t reach him, you’re dozing off with your head against the window.  

“We’re almost there.” He says while running his thumb over your knuckles. There’s blood on his shirt and your neck but you’re too tired to care.

You awaken with a gasp when Jungkook swings the door open; he had been careful not to wake you but you feel enough residual adrenaline to jolt awake at the smallest of sounds. It takes a moment for you to recognize the inside of his garage, the bright LED lightbulb hanging above causing you to squint as your eyes adjust.

Unaware that you’re awake, Jungkook quickly moves to the rear of the car and swing Yori’s body over his shoulders, tightening the ropes around where her neck and feet are to secure his grip. He carries the wrapped body towards the door next to the shelves and kicks it open to reveal several more stocked shelves before coming to a halt at the buzzing freezer. With a free hand, he lifts the lid open and removes several bags of seafood and miscellaneous food items you can’t quite make out before rolling the body inside the interior. He places the bags on top of the body and latches the freezer shut, securing it with a combination lock from one of his bins.

When he steps back and shut the storage door before turning, he’s surprised to see you standing in the doorway, your hair a mess, his coat hanging loose off one shoulder.  

“Do you remember the night after you took my engagement photos? The ones at that same house?”

His brows scrunch slightly in confusion as he nods. There’s a noticeable flush on your cheeks as you breath in and out from your lips, a puff forming in the chill of the garage. You’re half-asleep, the exhaustion resting well deep in your bones but you can’t bring yourself to find your way towards his bed.

“I left my bedroom door open for you. I-I watched you from the balcony and waited for you to come back.”

Jungkook’s lips part, something foreign stirring in his stomach as the coat weighs down your shoulders and you don’t stop it from sliding down your arms, letting it pool around your feet. You don’t know why you wanted to confess but it felt right. It felt right to confess to something that isn’t about being an accessory in a crime.  

“Why didn’t you say anything, noona?”

You close the distance, putting both of your hands on his chest, over the blood stains on the university sweatshirt. He exhales loudly when you bring him down to your level by a tug of his collar, your lips just a mere centimeter apart.

“Because I wanted you then just as much as I want you now.”

Jungkook doesn’t hesitate to close the gap between your lips, slamming your body onto the car behind you as he brings one of your legs over his waist to press himself against your heat. Your fingers curl around the nape of his neck and he listens to your squeal as he lifts you fully off the ground and lets you wrap both your legs around him this time. You break the kiss and pepper sweet kisses over the mole on his neck and the smears of dried blood that caked onto his sweatshirt.

“I love you so much,” you whisper, moving your head to the other side of his neck to suckle on his warm skin and feel his pulse through the jugular.

Jungkook quickly throws open the door to the studio and steps into the darkness, his memory allowing him to lead you towards the bathroom without his eyes adjusting. Your eyes burn once more when he reaches behind you to shut the bathroom door close and turn on the yellowed lights with the back of his elbow. When your face comes into view, he sits you on the counter next to the sink and pushes his tongue back in your mouth, your name leaving his lips with a whimper.

He’s terribly hard against your thighs, his length straining through his jeans. You tug him forward by the belt as you break the kiss once more and let him rip open your blood and bleach-stained blouse.

“God, you’re so beautiful, noona. I can’t believe you’re mine.”

He moans as you press the heel of your feet up his erection, his voice muffled by skin filling his mouth as he takes the top your left breast spilling from the brassiere on his tongue. You arch to chase the heat of his tongue, back of your head leaning on the mirror behind.

“My good boy…such a good boy…”

The effect your praise has on him is immediate. Jungkook reaches behind his neck and pulls the sweatshirt over his head, ruffling his hair in the process. You watch him unbuckle and tug his belt free from the hoops before unclasping the front of his jeans. Impatient, he circles his arms around you to undo the brassiere, leaning down to kiss the indents on your skin as you slip your blouse off your shoulders and pull the straps down your arms. The coolness of the counter causes a hiss to leave your lips and Jungkook drinks in your state of orgasmic delirium like an aphrodisiac.

It’s a blessing for you to have worn a less difficult pair of pants to shimmy out of. With a short tug, Jungkook slides the waistband of your wool slacks and cotton panties down your ankles. When he pauses, chest rising and falling steadily, you follow his gaze to see a streak of blood in the middle of the light pink fabric.

In the time between your mother’s call and your boyfriend dumping your former best friend’s body in a freezer, your period makes an early appearance. The streak of blood is bright and vibrant, unlike Yori’s blood that oxidized into a deep maroon shade on his tanned skin. Jungkook tugs your pants down your ankles but takes your panties into one hand, his doe eyes coming to rest on the blood before something snaps within him.

He throws the fabric on the floor and hooks his arms beneath your shin, prompting you to gasp as he spreads your thighs apart. He stares down at your dark pubic hair before tracing two fingers up your slit and into the curls. His fingers reappear with your blood, seeping underneath his short nails and the crevices of his nailbed.

“Can I taste you, noona?” He breathes, chest rising and falling even faster. His cheeks are flaming red, the flush reaching his earlobes as his lips part for more air. He feels like he can’t breathe, seeing how beautiful, fertile, and red you are for him.

You’re hesitant, the blood reminding you of what you just done – what he just done – yet the burning in your belly proves that you want this just as much as he does. You barely had the chance to nod before Jungkook pushes his face into your pussy, his tongue lapping the blood on your vulva and clit as his nose buries in your trimmed curls. You taste metallic, as if he’s sucking on a penny, but it’s light and the syrupy texture allows him to take all of your juices in his mouth. When his tongue draws circles around your clit and he presses his lips around the nub like a suction, your fingers immediately grasp his hair from the roots, begging his tongue to fuck your weeping pussy.

Jungkook laps your folds like a starving puppy until you’re arching for him once more, thighs trapping his head where it belongs as your cum gushes out of you with traces with red. Between your blood and your juices, he can’t decide which one tastes better. The metallic tang disappears, leaving a fragrant aftertaste that he can only indulge when he inhales through his nose after swallowing what remains on his teeth. When your knees twitch, Jungkook pulls back to come up for air, watching your expression as your eyes fall to his wet crimson lips, the mess reaching his chin and jaw.

It takes a minute for you to gather yourself together and in your exhaustion a slow but soft smile reaches your lips.

“Does it taste good, baby?”

“Heavenly,” he whispers as he traps your body between his arms and gives you a taste, twisting his tongue deep inside your warm mouth. Your hands stroke the contours of his biceps and triceps, core aching as he groans when you lick your remainings from his chin.

You can tell he’s tired, having to do most of the manual labor. He winces as you knead his shoulders and it makes your chest ache. Even when he’s hurting, he takes care of you first. Your precious boy.

“Turn on the shower for me.”

Jungkook is aching to be inside you but he obeys, turning away to step inside the shower and twist the silver handle lodged into the tile. You stand behind him, moving away just slightly when the water – steadily turning hot – sprays over his hair and onto your breasts. Just as he’s about to turn around you circle your arms around his waist and reach into his jeans, palming his throbbing cock before pulling his jeans and briefs down his ankles. He steps out of the tight fabric, watching the remnants of Yori’s blood spiral down the drain as you kick the fabric in front of his toes.

The shower hose is harsh on his head but he can’t seem to pull away, one arm holding onto the wall for purchase, when you cushion your knees with his wet, blood-stained jeans. He can’t get any harder watching water drip from the ends of his hair down to your erect nipples, sliding down between the valley of your breasts and onto your soft stomach.

You’re delighted to see his cock twitch, taking your bottom lip under your teeth as you look up at him.

“You want mommy to take care of you, Kookie?”

He nods, exhaling as his abdomen clenches.

“You want to cum all over mommy’s tits, yeah? Make me proud?”

“Unng…” He moans in response, hips bucking forward to slide his leaking tip across your lips. He whimpers when you pull away, your smile twisting when his stomach clenches again.

You massage his firm thighs, gliding over every ripple of his muscles and over to the patch of pubic hair above his cock. When you pass your hands over his belly button, you stretch a palm up towards his face.

“Spit.”

The mole beneath his lips appear as he gathers as much saliva as he can produce on his tongue and spits into your palm. There are some traces of blood in your palm but you pay no attention to it as you place your saliva-coated palm over his cock and make a fist around the length.

“Mo-mmy,” he throws his head back, the shower head coming down his flushed pecs. Your fist begins to move slow but tight around his hardness. “It feels so good. Fuck…unng, mommy…please…”

Jungkook can cum just from your warm breath hitting his leaking tip but he doesn’t. When you lean forward and take his entire length in your mouth, tongue stretched as far as you can as you press your nose against his pubes, his jaw drops. You’re warm, wet, and fuck, so tight.

His other hand combs through your hair, reaching underneath the nape to pull your head back until your half-lidded eyes can watch his skin glisten.

With your hands back on his thighs, Jungkook expects you to move. What he doesn’t expect was you to tighten your throat before swallowing with his entire length in your mouth.

“Fuck!”

You gag around him but repeats, breathing through your nose before letting your whimpers and cries vibrate his cock. He’s about to lose it, his tightening grip causing your scalp to burn.

“You’re so pretty, mommy,” he pulls his length back just slightly to let you suction him back inside. When his entire length is warm and pulsing in the back of your throat, you swallow once more and begin moving up and down, your eyes closing as Jungkook backs your head to the tile and fucks your mouth at a steady pace.

“Wanna cum in your throat, all over you, inside you. God, you’re so perfect.” He chants, abdomen clenching when your throat tightens just right over his pink tip.

You hum, hands trailing behind his thighs and up to his firm cheeks to push him forward. His grip tightens once more when he whimpers your name, over and over again, his cock driving into your mouth with a vigor that’s bound to leave your throat sore in the morning.

The first spurt of his warm cum hits your uvula and you cough just as he slides out of your mouth and pumps himself into his fist. Watching his creamy cum dripping down the corner of his mouth intensifies his high, prompting him to burst onto your shoulder blades and over your wet breasts. He doesn’t wait for you to catch your breath before he pushes you down onto the tile, moving away the wet jeans to a corner before finding safety between your legs. His arms, on either side of your head, allows him to prop himself up to lead his tip towards your entrance.

He’d forgotten all about cleaning the blood on your neck when you’re spread for him, your hands cupping his face in admiration. Your eyes and nose are still puffy and red, but he knows the blush on your cheeks come from your need to have him deep inside until you can feel him against your cervix.

“I love you, noona. So, so much.”

You hiss slightly when he pushes inside, your snug velvet walls engulfing his cock and keeping him where he belongs. His body bows in servitude to the goddess that is you.

“I love you too,” you huff, brushing your fingers over his sculped cheekbones and mandible. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

You let him take you there despite how painful it was to bear him pounding into your walls with the intent to ruin. You’re not sure how long you lay on the tile, how many times he came inside, how sore and painful your insides will be when he’s done. It was never-ending – how Jungkook muffles your wails and whines, how he pumps his cocks while pressing your shoulders down to bury himself deep, how exhausted you are by the time he’s pushing his cum back into your swollen hole. The last orgasm triggers tears to seep from the corner of his eyes which Jungkook kisses away as he reaches up to the shower cloth and waits for you to fall limp before running the soapy cloth along your body.

You’re freezing cold despite the hot water still coming down onto your boyfriend’s body and, from there, onto you. He’s quick to clean you up and wrap you in the same towel he had laid over you the first time you used his studio shower. You can barely move as he carries you to the bed and lays your damp body on the fresh linen. You can hear the sound of him ripping open a thin menstrual pad and placing it in a pair of fresh panties he fished from the shared armoire closet. He slips the panties up your legs, lifting your hips to pull the fabric over your buttocks, flashing his usual charming grin when you murmur a thank you.

He pulls the towel from your body and squeeze out as much water as he can from your long tresses, careful not to tug. It wasn’t ideal to him that you’ll be sleeping with wet hair but you’re beyond exhausted and, to be frank, he is as well. At least he’s heading to bed satiated.

Jungkook slides under the blankets and brings your body closer by your waist. He groans into your neck, his body immediately softening as the warmth of your skin and the blanket brings him the peace and comfort he craved.

“Kookie?”

“Hm?”

It takes a heartbeat for him to sense your sudden anxiety. “…I’m scared.”

“Why are you scared?” He manages to ask although sleep is weighing heavy on his eyelids.

“I don’t know.” You murmur.

Jungkook is too tired to remember if you said anything afterwards for he falls deep into slumber. As for you, your head won’t let you sleep despite your body pleading for rest. Every part of you can feel Yori’s heavy body in the freezer just several feet away. You’re not sure how you’re supposed to feel about tonight or if tonight should have happened in the first place but in Jungkook’s arms, you can’t find the smallest ounce of pity for the woman.

You close your eyes, snuggle closer into his firm chest, and try your best to pretend nothing will change. You try to forget the flash drive sitting in your bag, the possible evidence your mother may have left behind in the villa, the corpse in the garage. Most of all, you try to forget how Jungkook looked at the bottom of the staircase, slipping the corpse inside the black plastic trash bag with such ease that makes you wonder if he had done this before. He surely must have, that voice inside of your head says but you wave it away.

I don’t know.

You lied to him. For the first time in your relationship, you lied without guilt. You do know why you’re scared and it’s not because after tonight every knock on the door will cause your heart to pound.

No. It’s because you know your boyfriend – your sweet, loving boyfriend who cries watching romantic comedies on Sundays – is truly capable of murder.

[ajaviary]

Shatter Me

Summary: One misstep and your carefully crafted world will shatter and reveal the truth you’ve worked so hard to hide. The ugly, shame filled void that you haven't been able to drag yourself out of. You never expect to be on his radar, a string of circumstances bring you two closer and unfortunately he’s drawn into your world.

Some Dark Content with mentions of physical & emotional abuse. Hints at self harm in later chapters.

Rating: M (Explicit) - 18+

Chapters: 1

Word count: 4168

A/N: Thanks for reading and feedback is appreciated. I decided to expand on my Vulnerable Piece, this is the first chapter of that expansion.

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You felt your phone vibrate in the pocket of your leather jacket, but you ignored it as you leapt back out of the way of a fist that smashed against the street. You frown, doing a quick glance at the civilians in the area, too many were still lingering at the intersection, all the cars stopped, but that wasn’t before some of them had swerved to avoid hitting you as you’d suddenly appeared in their way. Your litheal body tucked itself, the palm of your hand glowed for a moment before you were able to attach the small gemstone to the car in a form of a really strong molding and pulled yourself in a twist onto the hood effectively avoiding the prospect of being roadkill.

You were a little too pretty to wind up the bug on someone's windshield today.

The radio in your ear clicked on effectively telling you the eta of your team. Kamui Woods was on his way, he’d gotten held up about three blocks away and that was still long enough for the guy you were facing to cause problems if you didn’t hold his attention. You hoped down off the hood of the car, your boots walking over the torn up roadway. “Throwing a tantrum now, what are you two years old?” you wonder with a tease as you grin. You’re not just the Pro Hero Gemini for shits and giggles, no you had earned the name and it was rising in popularity and your recent joining of The Lurkers.

You were rising in popularity. It was through your hard work. Everything you did was because of your dream to help people, but you weren’t delusional in assuming it wasn’t going to be hard fought to claw your way to the top, you weren’t aiming to be number one, but you were going to do your best.

“All that effort to rob that bank and to think you almost got away with it too, if only it wasn't for that meddling little Gemini.” Your grin was wide as you watched the large man sneer at you, his body glowing a brilliant blue at the center of chest and the color expanded outward along hands and down his legs before he was suddenly rushing you.

So predictable, but then again this is hired muscle for you.

You darted to the left avoiding his swing as you cupped your hand along his ear with a hard slap of sound. The blow left him staggering to the side, but blood oozed out his ear down his cheek. You’d blown out his ear drum.

This sort of thing affects things like balance and depth perception. Not to mention regular things like one's perceptions of sound.

“Oh look at you, all weak in the knees.” Your laughter is enough that even if he can only hear it out of one ear, he’s raising his venomous gaze to you and throwing out a large hand to smack you down.

The crowd expected you dodge and weave out of the way, but their cheers erupt as the smoke clears and your standing there having taken the blow, unmovable as you’d anchored your feet, and your legs are reinforced with the gemstones that gave you your Pro Hero name, your arms raised to block the swing as you hold him back.

The crowd cheering for Gemini shouldn’t have been such a booster to your confidence, you shouldn’t be looking for recognition in the public, when you should get that in your private life too, but you didn’t. When you took off the mask, took off your hero costume you were left with a shattered, broken (Y/N). Your freedom fell away and with it your confidence.

You break in thought, in focus is what left you realizing too late that he’d only hit you as test, but he’d been charing his attack for something else as his wide mouth opened and blue energy swirled inside his mouth, your eyes widened and you knew you couldn’t block that move, couldn’t move out of the way either, not with the civilians clustered behind you.

Shinji Nishiya (Kamui Woods) showed up just in the nick of time, shouting out his special move. “Lacquered Chain Prison!” He throws out his arm as wood from his left arm and entangled the bad guy, his branches curling tightly over his mouth and noise and along his body forcing his hands to his sides and his body back away from you. The crowd was stunned for a moment in silence before their was the clicking of cameras and the sounds of cheers. You should have been upset by your mistake, you were and yet in that moment, as you had stared your death in the face, you were disappointed he hadn’t fired. It was that dark though that left you shaken to your core for more reasons than you wanted to look at right now. Instead you plaster a smile on your face and pull all the emotion you needed too into playing your role for just a little longer. Hoping Kamui hadn’t noticed anything that might give you away.

“I hope you have a good reason for being late,” you joke, poking him in the chest and he only stammers out an apology. He was a little too easy to tease.

“There was a- “ he paused, looking away. “There was a what?” You pressed, sly grin widening. “A cat, ” he mumbled, embarrassed. “that almost got run over in all the confusion,” he defended.

“I always knew you were a softy Kamui-Ichi,” You teased good-naturedly.

You squeeze his shoulder and the ribbing stops as the two of you were just discussing what you were going to do about the muscle head whose part of the crew in charge of a string of robberies lately.

The rest had slipped away in the chaos.

“We keep being a step behind, we have to do better,” your words are low and spoken so only he can hear you. It’s been no secret that this crew has been making a fool out of the heroes who wind up chasing them. They’ve been dubbed Resurgence, but it's their leader the mastermind behind each and every successful hit.

It didn't help that every time their scapegoat was caught he was effectively let go, with the team escorting him to Tartarus unable to provide any details on how it happened, their memories seemed to be altered and in some cases, completely wiped.

“Report Gemini, ” Edgeshot had arrived on the scene, you frown slightly surprised and yet not that your boss had shown up, it wasn't just your reputation on the line after all. He’d become increasingly frustrated that this group kept slipping through their fingers making quite the mockery of all involved.

You efficiently relayed everything that happened to the current moment. How you’d been patrolling and had stumbled upon them as they had fled. You gave chase, but in the confusion, you were left chasing Mr. Humanoid Godzilla over there. You should have been able to do more, you knew this was your fault, but if you were honest you couldn't be too upset. You were alive and that sentiment couldn't be shared with the others who faced them and were left in far worse shape than a scrap or two. You got lucky and you tighten your fist all, too conscious of that fact.

“Let’s double back to the bank,” Edgeshot advises and as a team you head that way it was only a few blocks and traffic wasn’t permitted to pass around the area. Mt. Lady was currently guarding Mr. Godzilla, you hadn’t bothered to remember his real name, it had been in the file this morning, but well you had paid more attention to his looks and his quirk than feeling it necessary to remember his name. It will come back to you eventually.

The bank doesn’t seem very special and you head for the door first as the others are talking a few paces behind you discussing possible scenarios. Your hand curls around the door and pulls it open just as the door opens fully there is a rush of heat and explosion as you’re thrown back.

Edgeshot had reacted by pulling you from the explosion, before you could get hurt by any of the buildings as it exploded outward. You react on instinct, even as you're pulled back into the air your body hardening, golden gemstones extruding from every visible area of your body, even as your fingers curl into the fabric of his shirt, as he pulls you closer. “Careful, you’re bleeding,” his voice was hard to hear around the ringing in your ears, but you nodded after a moment as he set you down in the middle of the street and the three of you were left to stare at the rubble of the bank as several other Heroes arrived on the scene to put out the fire, and help with clean up miraculously no one had been hurt.

Your phone buzzed again in your pocket and you swallowed as it vibrated again signifying a call coming in, your hands were clammy as you stepped away from your boss and put a little more distance between you. Your face grim as you were all too aware of the camera’s recording every second of your life. Your heart was pounding in your chest, he knew and he wasn’t happy.

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It was a few days later before you could convince Eizan to agree to let you go out with Nemuri at a bar she regularly frequented, you hadn’t been expecting any visitors, it was just supposed to be you and her and then you wouldn’t be lying. He always knew when you lied to him. Luck wasn’t on your side, not when two other Pro Heroes showed up, not when he'd shown up with Hizashi. The meeting hadn’t been planned, but they had been invited to join all the same, Nemuir didn’t realize the predicament she was putting you in, the danger. Nemuri knew so many heroes sometimes you were still left with your head spinning trying to keep up with them all.

Eraser overheard what you had said about your boyfriend, his most recent show up at your interview, how he’d been possessive, harboring a quiet anger over the fact that your interview had been a surprise appearance with you boss Edgeshot, you were there to dispel the rumors of any sort of romantic relationship, a picture that the was running had been of the two of you just a tad too close to each other, but there hadn’t been anything to it, but it hadn’t looked great either way, not when his arm had been around your waist as he’d used his quirk to swiftly curl around you and pull you out of harm's way, only to reform with his hand along your hip and your fingers carefully pressed against his chest, bleeding from a blow to the head. Shinya Kamihara had handled the situation well, and you had too, you knew what to do in these situations, but that didn’t mean the internet wasn’t blowing up either way.

After the interview you’d stepped off stage and Eizan had been there, chatting with your coworkers like it was the most casual thing in the world. Shinya had given him an accessing stare and looked to you, you gave a subtle shake of your head and he didn’t comment, but he wasn’t happy and you could have sworn you saw concern in his gaze when he’d left the station, but he hadn’t made a comment or a scene and instead let you handle it.

Aizawa had shared a quiet look with you before he left to get a drink at the bar before he and Hizashi would join you at the table. Leaving you to finish your conversation with Nemuri in private. She’d placed her hand gently over yours and softly told you that you needed to drop him, that he wasn’t safe for you to be around.

“He was just in the area, ” You grin widely as though to help ease her misgivings, hoped that your smile would be bright enough, convincing enough to hide the truth. You knew she had a right to be worried about you. It hadn’t been a secret that Nemuri wasn't his biggest fan when you guys had started dating. You had been too blinded by love to see him the truth and now you were in far too deep to get out.

You knew that, deep down you knew and the reason you hadn’t left yet was because you were in denial, and then deeper than that was the fear and then shame that you were in this situation in the first place.

It kept you up at night as you wondered what signs you had missed, this sort of thing happened to others, you saved people from abusive relationships and yet here you were in the exact same situation and it was suffocating. It felt like you were walking on a tightrope and it would snap at any moment if any more weight was put on your shoulders.

The conversation didn’t go much further into the subject once the boys came back. The night wore on and eventually you were the only one still sober, nursing a coke with some ice. Your limit was one drink, and that was it, you knew your limit and you had to protect the pretty glass house you had built. If you had a little too much, you would spill your guts to anyone who would listen. You dirty little secret exposed to the world.

Aizawa had stayed with you at the table and sipped his whiskey occasionally, his muscular arms exposed at the forearms as his dark grey long sleeved shirt was pulled up and he leaned his cheek against his fist. You hadn’t expected him to stay there once Nemuri and Hizashi went to play a game of darts as drunk as they were.

Instead you two had talked quietly about life, UA, the hero world and eventually movies and books. He’d warmed up to you after your animated telling of how Kamui had rescued a cat today and how you two had gone back and dripped the little guy off at a no-kill shelter after your patrol was over.

It was crazy for you to get along so well with anyone, most of all a guy who you’d just met, who didn't shut you up or seem like he wanted you to talk about something else. He listened to you, really listened.

You always had to be on, to say the right thing, to have your hero persona on.

This, this was just you, just (Y/N). No special title, just a young woman in way over her head.

“You should be respected and trusted,” the words were soft and you glanced at him, seeing the way he nursed his whisky, but wasn’t nearly as intoxicated as Nemuri and Hizashi as the two played darts in the back. “No man should own you.”

His words wouldn’t normally have caused tears to fill your eyes. You knew that, you knew that, but it was sort of like a wake up call. You blinked and a tear trailed down your cheek. You hastily reached up to wipe it away, an apology on your lips, but he beat you to it. His thumb brushed gently over your cheek as he wiped it away, you shouldn’t have leaned into his hand. It was just so nice, so warm. It wasn’t laced with possessive rage.

“Don’t apologize, ” he cut it, a soft smile curving up his lips.

You stare wondering if he can read your mind and he only slowly draws back and gives you a soft smile before taking a sip of his whisky.

The sounds from Nemuri as she lets out a screech of trumpet has you twisting on reflex toward the noise that he had ignored, but glanced toward once the laughter at Hizashi’s groan. You were just about to thank him for the advice; when fingers curl around your wrist and jerk you from your seat, you stumble in your strappy heels. Only barely managing to catch your feet.

Your mouth is shooting off before you can formulate or stop your words. “Who do you-” the words die in your throat as you take in the form of someone who has their fingers tight along your wrist and they only seem to tighten as he glares at the dark haired man with his hair pulled back into a low ponytail and tipped up, exposing his sharp features.

‘What is he doing here?’ You can’t help but wonder.

Aizawa who had set his glass down and was watching the scene with displeasure in his dark eyes and barely banked anger. He had been taught to respect women, he may have been brash, and inconsiderate sometimes, but he knew what not to do. He didn’t like what he saw, but he was giving you a chance to handle it. He didn’t want to step on your toes, but his hand tightened into a fist under the table, as the other was relaxed and curled carefully around the glass.

“Baby, I thought you said you were getting drinks with Nemuri, you didn’t mention anyone else would be there,” he pulled you closer to him, his grip bruising your slim wrist with the mark of his fingers. You wince, unable to help the movement...to hide it. This side of the abuse is what you desperately tried to hide from the world, you were (Y/N) (Y/LN)...the slightest negative news about Gemini could topple everything you’d been working so hard for. Everything you built and he knew that.

“These are friends of Nemuri, Eizan...her coworkers from UA High. Don’t embarrass me, please. People are starting to stare,” she dropped her voice at the last part, but it wasn’t low enough that Aizawa couldn’t hear every word. He’d also noticed that Nemuri and Hizashi were coming back to the table, Nemuri looked furious like she was ready to go to war for you.

“Embarrass you?!” he suddenly exclaimed loudly, as he jerked you closer forcing you on the tips of your toes, any higher and he’d have you off the ground as he stared with angry eyes down into your own. “Fucking seriously (Y/N)?” he sneers. “You’re embarrassing yourself out here dressed like that for all the men to see. Just trying to get a quick fuck, is my cock not good enough for you, now that you’ve gotten a taste of fame Gemini?”

For a moment you are stunned into silence, unable to formulate a set of words to go with what you had just heard and been accused of. You’d never cheat on him...that was then’t who you were. Guilt courses through you though anyway, as you wonder if you had done something wrong and then you were angry, angry because you hadn’t done anything!

‘You should be respected and trusted,’

Those words from earlier give you an unexpected rush of conviction in your next action, a rush of resolve. You dropped your weight and tried to gain back your footing. “Let go Eizan, just let me go! I’m out with my friends, you don’t get to act like an obsessive jerk!” Her gaze slid to the people who were starting to notice, and someone had their phone out. “Just go home, we’ll -” you fumble here, finally telling him completely what you wanted. “We’ll talk tomorrow.”

‘No man should own you.’

You can tell by the way his eyes widen he’d never expected you to attempt to turn this around on him, to make it out like he was the bad guy here, no he expected you to apologize like you always did. He was so hyper focused on you that he almost didn’t notice that Nemuri had come up on your left, her bare hand flush against his chest as she waited to shove him back or activate her quirk and put him to sleep and gladly watch him clumple to the ground. Hizashi was next to her, his hand on her shoulder, his eyes hard behind his glasses and Shota was on your right, his hand curling and tightening on his wrist, his grip was heavy, hard and held no remorse.

Eizan balled his hand and shot a nasty glare toward the man with long black hair. He was stronger than he looked, but now that he gave him another closer look, he recognized him. He was Eraserhead. Did everyone just think you were going to spread those pretty little thighs for them if they came to your rescue?

“You heard the lady, I suggest you take a walk before we get the authorities involved,” It wasn’t a threat exactly, there were plenty of other things he’d like to do, but Aizawa didn’t want to cause anymore of a scene, too many people were paying attention to them and some had heard your name dropped.

Eizan was livid and the look he shot Nemuri was murderous, it was clear who he blamed for this level of defiance. He smiled slowly and released your wrist and somehow that made your heart pound in your chest with a rapid cadence, so loudly it was all you could hear. It left you with such a stark fear, that you were sure something gave you away, because he slowly raised his hands, palms out in front of him. “We wouldn’t want any trouble, of course not,” he said passively, he gave up too easily but it was clear to you as he widened his smile in your direction for a moment before he turned and headed for the door he’d come in...this wasn't over.

“(Y/N)” Nemuri’s touch was gentle on her hand as she raised your wrist that had dropped to your side, the skin already darkening with a heavy bruise, one you knew you’d have to hide tomorrow. Her touch was so feather light you hadn’t felt it, still struggling to try and hear more than the pounding of your heart.

You didn’t wait to watch him leave, you were suddenly in a twist of limbs and legs as you blindly got some space as quickly as possible darting between your little group and shot for the restroom in the back, you didn’t run, but you moved with a stumble that was clear of the alcohol in your system. The shaking started the moment you shoved the door open, your arms curled around your shoulders as you shoved your fist against your mouth to silence the broken sob that tore from your lips.

No. No. No!!!

This isn’t over. You saw him, you saw him, you saw him!

Those were the only words your mind wanted to shout in your head as you flashed back to the look on his face, the dangerous glint in his eyes.

You were in trouble, you knew that, something bad was going to happen, something was going to happen, he was going to get even with you, he was going to hurt you.

“(Y/N)” the sound of your name spoken softly had you tensing, but you knew who it was, you knew the sound of her voice and somehow, somehow it made everything so much worse. You couldn't hide it now, everyone knew, everyone had seen.

It was another crack against your armor, another break in your chain, it exposed who you wanted so desperately to hide from the world.

Her arms were thrown around you as she drew you against her. “It’s going to be ok,” her words were soft and low in your ear.

Someone telling you everything was going to be ok, holding you with such care...it broke what tiny shred of your self control remained, your knees buckled and heavy soul wrenching sobs were expelled from your body as your fingers curled into the back of her shirt.

Nemuri sank to her knees when your legs gave out, she held you as you cried.

Outside Hizashi and Aizawa lingered outside the bathroom door, they had seen just a glimpse inside, but even the closed door couldn’t stop the sounds from escaping. Hizashi shoved his hands in the pocket of his jeans and looked up at the ceiling as he leaned his head against the wall. “What a night,” he muttered as he pressed his shoulder against his friends. Aizawa was silent for a long while, his gaze on the door, he was going over the night in his head looking for anything he might have missed. He knew leaving either of them alone wasn’t a good idea, not tonight...not for a while. Guys like that didn’t just give up. He sighed softly in the dimly light hallway. “Yeah,” he agreed as he let his gaze drift to the hand that he’d wiped your tears away with.

He knew he wouldn't be able to let this go.

[highways-are-liminal-spaces]

Wolf Harbor, part 2:

Hi, you’ve reached (360) 898-4243. I can’t come to the phone right now, but if you leave me a message after the tone, I’ll get back to you as soon as I possibly can.

Beep.

So Darren came into the Driftwood today. It’s the first time I’ve seen him since she went missing. I saw his picture in the Bugle last week, next to the police report, but they just used an old one. He’s gotten grayer since she disappeared, I think. You’d have thought it was funny, seeing Darren Brady unshaven and wearing what looked like yesterday’s shirt. It had a coffee stain on it and everything.

You’d say he’s still just upset about the police, or the scandal of it all. I don’t believe you. It couldn’t have been too hard for him—the police asked the questions they needed to ask, but Darren’s rich enough to fly in a lawyer the second things look dicey, and besides, the waves were treacherous the night she went missing. Do you really think fucking Lloyd is gonna keep that file open? No reason to look further. A nice midnight beach walk on a stormy night, it must have been. Case closed, statement given to the local paper. Funeral announced. I saw you buying up copies of the Bugle, the day her obituary was at the top of page 5. I was so sad for you, but I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t even call. That’s why I packed you a free muffin, if you noticed, with the rest of your breakfast order. You never said anything, but I think you must have smiled. I made sure it was one of the orange cardamom ones. I saved the last one, even after Mrs. Felton bought a baker’s dozen for her class.

That’s not what I called about. I just wanted to tell you about Darren. It was so weird, seeing him in one of my booths again. He’s never been a regular at here—I’m still pissed at him, honestly. Remember that TripAdvisor review he left, about how our burgers are too charred and the only wine we have “would be better poured straight into the trash”? I almost banned him for life after that, but everyone shows back up sooner or later, and I guess even Darren isn’t too good for the occasional charred burgers. He’s doing badly, I’ve heard, spending every night over in Troy until the bars closed and then stumbling back to his car. Sometimes he’ll make it up the pass, swerving around Verne or Lloyd or whoever else is out at that hour, and passing out somewhere in his monstrosity of a house. A few times, he’s just passed out in the back of his Range and then drove the pass hungover the next morning. He’s on family leave from the firm, Cindy said last week, but she doesn’t think his job will be waiting when he gets back. I wonder if he’ll move back in with his parents, if he’ll sell the house and start a fresh life away from everything that reminds him of her.

He looks bad. I think I said that before, that he looks bad and you’d laugh about it. His eyes are weirdly flat, and he’s got circles under them worse than I’ve ever seen. He didn’t even snap at me or Jeanie when he came in, just sat patiently waiting for someone to take his order. He said he was okay, when I asked, but we both knew he isn’t.

He ordered a steak sandwich, in case you’re wondering. He didn’t say please or thank you, but he didn’t ask for the steak to be rare either, and he didn’t complain about the coffee. He didn’t seem hungover or drunk at the time, but his jacket stunk of alcohol and cigarettes like that one shitty bar up the pass. The one with all the bikers or whatever. I don’t think he’d been home all night.

He had his phone out the whole time, sitting on the counter next to him. That’s really why I called you about it. I think he thought it was going to ring if he stared at it hard enough. You think he doesn’t love her, I know, but you’re wrong. I’ve never seen anyone so desperately in love. In grief. Just because he loves differently than you… you never had a chance to love her, anyway. All those grand romantic dreams you had were only ever in your head. You would have seen it at their wedding, if you’d been there for their first dance instead of locking yourself in the bathroom.

Anyway. Sorry. I shouldn’t blame you for that, not now especially. You loved her too, I know you did, you loved her so much it hurt and when it hurts that much, you can’t believe something soft and joyful could ever be as strong.

I’m just waiting for the beep now. I’m going to delete this message, like I always do, because I can’t ever fucking stop myself from going off, and I never want you to hear me say any of it. I have notes, you know? I literally wrote myself fucking notes to prepare for this phone call, because you never pick up and I always leave a message and I always say too damn much of what’s on my mind. It’s like this has become my confessional. You’ll never hear any of it, though, so don’t worry. I’m not dumb enough to think you could ever be my absolution.

…

I really want to rerecord this. I think there’s a button I can push, before the end of the message, but I never remember what it is and I’m always scared I’ll save it instead.

...

Come on, beep please.

My next message is gonna be so short. It’s funny, that I said all this, when my notes just say “Darren was here.” I even underlined the period to remind myself to shut up, but nope, there I went ram—

To replay your message, press 1. To continue recording press 2. To delete and rerecord your message, press 3. For—

3

Your message has been deleted. Please rerecord your message at the tone.

Beep.

Hey, it’s me. Guess who showed up in the Driftwood today? Anyway, call me back for your up to the hour Darren Brady gossip. Or you can just stop by for dinner. I’ll save you a muffin.

…

Anyway. Yeah. See you around, I guess.

[ejzah]

Can you do a fanfic of Kensi and Deeks facing their worst nightmare when during a case one of the bad guys kidnaps their newborn baby.

A/N: So I decided to modify this a bit because I feel like Kensi and Deeks have been through enough when it comes to children. Even so, there’s a fair amount of drama and such and a wee bit of hurt-comfort. Oh yes, and David Kessler makes another appearance.

***

Finish What You Start

Deeks muttered to himself as he typed up a report. The bullpen was empty beside himself; Sam and Callen were attending bomb disposal recertification class and Kensi was at home with their three month old, Caleb. Fatima and Rountree were somewhere around the place, likely trying to on up the other.

He had a picture of Kensi and Caleb on his phone, which was the only thing that got him through the long hours some days.

“Deeks, a call just came through OPS. It’s David Kessler,” Eric announced suddenly, appearing at the top of the stairs, and breaking the the peaceful silence.

“What? How the hell did he get this number?” Deeks demanded. After nearly a year and a half, Kessler had been once again relegated to the back of his mind. They hadn’t heard or seen anything of him since escaping from prison.

“No idea, but he’s asking for you. I told him you weren’t available and he said you’d want to speak with him.” Eric’s voice was terse, to the point as it only was in the most serious of situations. “He says he won’t speak to anyone else.”

At that, something twisted inside Deeks and he stood abruptly, jogging up the steps. Eric followed beside him, matching him step for step. When they entered OPS, Deeks gestured for Eric to put the call through to his cell

“Are you tracing him?”

“Of course.” Deeks nodded at Eric’s confirmation and then placed the phone to his ear.

“This is Agent Martin Deeks,” he said. From the little he’d seen and heard of David Kessler, he enjoyed being in control, and Deeks wasn’t about to give it to him.

“Congratulations,” Kessler responded, sounding amused. “I heard you got a promotion. Kensi must be so proud.”

Clenching his fist around the phone, resisting the urge to react to Kessler’s goading. The sound of him saying Kensi’s name made Deeks stomach turn.

“You said you wanted to speak to me.”

“Oh, that’s no fun Marty. Is it ok if I call you Marty, or would you prefer Deeks? Or maybe “baby”. Kensi calls you that a lot.”

So he’d been watching them, or at the very least had a source who new enough about them to feed Kessler information. He glanced at Eric, who shook his head and held up three fingers. The needed to keep him on for at least 30 more seconds.

“Kessler, you have exactly 10 seconds to tell me what you want or I’m hanging up,” Deeks warned him.

“You know, Kensi has always been very strong-willed,” Kessler responded, competing ignoring Deeks’ threat. “A strong man would know how control his wife.”

“Oh my god, you are so delusional.”

Kessler made a unintelligible noise and when he spoke again, his voice was low, on the edge of anger. It was clear he was trying to maintain his control.

“You have a nice little family, Deeks. Cute kid, pretty wife. It would be a shame if something happened to them while you were off playing hero.”

Eric swore loudly and when Deeks turned towards him, he saw him staring at his computer screen with a mixture of horror and anger.

“Deeks, he’s right outside your house,” he hissed. Deeks froze for a moment and then was filled with an overwhelming wave of anger. By the time he was at the sliding doors, his hands were shaking a little. Eric didn’t ask where he was going or what he planned to do.

“Personally I’ve never found men who think they have to control anybody particularly impressive,” Deeks said.

Somehow he managed to keep his voice steady as he ran down the stairs, and tucked his gun into the back of his jeans. Time seemed to be moving in uneven spurts; one second he was by his desk and the next, he was by his truck. He muted his phone briefly as he turned the key in the ignition, hoping to keep Kessler talking for as long as possible.

He revved the engine, climbing to 75 miles before he flicked the sound back on.

“What, no comment? I didn’t think you’d give up that easily.”

“No, not giving up. I was just thinking, imagining, what I’ll do to Kensi,” Kessler said a little dreamily. “All the unexplored things you’re clearly to afraid to do. I think she’ll be easy to subdue.”

“If you truly believe that, then you don’t know Kensi at all. She can take your sorry ass out quicker than you can say “mommy issues”.

His phone beeped and he lowered it, glancing at the text Eric had sent.

“I tried calling Kensi, but her phone is going straight to voicemail. Rountree, Fatima, and LAPD are all on their way.”

Deeks’ stomach dipped again. Kessler must have some kind of signal blocker. He was about ten minutes out from their house now.

“Yes, but children make women weak, soft. Kensi’s a mother now, not a federal agent. I give her two minutes.” As Kessler spoke, Deeks heard the sound of a car door slamming. “You know, I’ve always wanted to have a child to mold and make my own.”

Deeks slammed the gas pedal to the ground, blasting through a red light, just narrowly missing a blue sedan.

“Kessler,” he growled, voice shaking with rage and fear. The thought of him near Kensi and the baby terrified him. Kensi was strong, but he knew she would do anything to keep Caleb safe.

“See you soon, Agent Deeks,” Kessler said and then the phone clicked loudly in Deeks’ ear.

“Son-of-a-!” Deeks shouted, slamming the phone against the dashboard as a half-sob tightened his throat. Even though he knew she wouldn’t pick up, he dialed Kensi’s number, swiping under his nose while he sped through busy intersections and swerved around slower vehicles.

It took seven minutes to reach their. Seven minutes too long. He swerved into the driveway, leaving his truck idling as he raced to the front door, slipping his gun from his waistband.

He turned the doorknob, finding it unlocked and his broke out in goosebumps as he walked in. Quickly glancing around, he noticed a table was overturned in the living room and several glasses and what looked like a platter were scattered across the floor.

There was a loud banging noise from above, like someone had knocked into a wall or thrown something, followed by a shout that he distinctly recognized as Kensi’s voice.

“Kensi!” Deeks called out without thinking as he raced for the stairs. He made it to the top landing when he heard a single gunshot coming from their bedroom. He jerked as though the bullet had pierced his body and he rocked back on his feet slightly.

Deeks stumbled to the door and yanked it open, desperately scanning the room. David Kessler lay in a crumpled heap a few feet from their bed. He was face down and blood was beginning to seep from beneath his body. Based on the hold in the middle of his back, he was almost certainly dead.

“Kensi,” he repeated more quietly, desperately.

“I’m over here,” she answered quietly. He found her on the other side of the bed, wedges against the crib, with Caleb cradled in her arms, head bent over him. Caleb was sleeping peacefully, his mouth slightly rounded as he breathed deeply.

“Are you ok? Is Caleb ok?” He kneeled in front of them, reaching out, but hesitating to touch them at the last second. Kensi nodded slowly, finally looking up.

“I made sure he didn’t lay a finger on Caleb,” she said hoarsely.

“Oh my god, Kens,” he whispered. Her lip was split and there was a nasty gash along her temple, blood trickling into her hair. Deeks noticed the beginnings of what looked like several bruises too and saw that her the collar of her shirt was torn.

“I’m fine.” She shook her head jerkily, her fingers closing around his chest. He grasped her forearms, gently tugging her into his arms as he squeezed his eyes shut for a moment.

When he opened them again, he pressed his lips to Kensi’s forehead and then carefully bent forward to brush the lightest of kisses to Caleb’s cheek. His upper lip twitched, but otherwise he didn’t move.

“He’s finally gone,” Kensi whispered, her fingers grasping at his hand. They held each other, clinging to one another as the distant sound of sirens filled the air.

***

A/N: After talking it through with @mashmaiden, I decided that Kensi and Deeks live about 15 minutes from the mission and the streets were magically clear on this particular day.

[omsrandom]

Love is A G̴̢̈́̿L̴̥̋͑Ȋ̶̥͈̥͋̉T̶̢͎̀ͅČ̸̪͍̏H̷̰͚̳͒ Chapter Preview: Speed Metal

for the lovely @insanely-creative-things! Happy birthday! The alternative title for this chapter is: Local Wine Uncle Takes Child to Illegal Street Races

“You know Soundwave is going to offline you if I get caught,” she hummed as she sat in the driver seat. Knockout’s laugh echoed through the speakers.

“If you get caught,” he reminded her. “You can’t stay in the ship all the time Shockie. Even hatchlings got to leave their nest more than you.”

She didn’t have a good rebuttal against that, instead just sitting back as they pulled up into the line. Almost immediately, the person to the right rolled down his window and keyed KO’s arm, making her cringe. “Just don’t kill him while I’m here,” she just asked. “I still have nightmares from when I broke my arm.”

The mech just let out a growl, and they shot forward, leaving her to sigh in resignation.

He was quick, she wouldn’t argue against that, but if she wasn’t bracing herself for every turn, no doubt she’d be slamming her head against the window at every bump. As they came up to the black car, she just turned her head away, hearing the tires squealing and the metal-on-metal crash as the human was sent soaring off a cliff edge.

“He’ll live,” the mech murmured, and she felt tension bleed out of her, replaced with a giddy sense of excitement.

“Then let’s finish this!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next day, she couldn’t stop her fifth yawn as she walked down the sidewalk towards where Bulkhead was supposed to pick her up. It would be her first time actually seeing where the physical Autobot Base entrance was going to be, and she messed it up by going out last night.

“You ok?” she jumped as Jack pulled up beside her.

“I didn’t think humans could yawn that much,” Arcee agreed quietly, making her snort.

“Just wait until finals come up,” she murmured. “If they’re anything like what I did online, all of us are going to be pulling 24 hours or more.”

“Ratchet won’t like that,” Jack agreed. “You did online classes? I thought you were homeschooled.”

“Uh, yeah, Up until, maybe, like, I was 12 or 13? Then S-my dad enrolled me online because his job was getting more and more difficult to do at home.” Jack just nodded, not looking too deeply into her answer. “Anyways, gotta go to, uh, Bulkhead? I think?”

“Good luck with Miko,” he chuckled, letting Arcee drive off. She’d deny it to this day that her little huff of laugh was anything more than slight fondness.

Things were… tense, later on. Miko had been blasting loud music through her phone, which helped keep Ashi awake, but… the Autobot base entrance wasn’t what she was expecting. It was a literal mesa base. No wonder they could never find it.

But that wasn’t a real concern. Jack was late.

Arcee made sure he was never late, so why, after two hours of being out of school, was he not at the base yet?

He wasn’t there when she went to the Nemesis portal spot, but no, she wasn’t concerned, ok?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ashie yelped as someone picked her up, holding her in their hands. “We’re going out again Shockie,”

The redhead groaned at Knockout’s words. “I need to get this report done,” she argued. “While I still remember where the base entrance is!”

“One little race isn’t going to hurt hatchling,” Breakdown called from the next room, where he had a buff kit ready to go. “We both know Commanders Starscream and Soundwave will be the first ones to forgive you if a report is late.”

“But it’s still the principle!” she tried to argue.

“Ah ah! We’re going out, and nothing you can do or say will stop it,” the red mech’s words sounded as final as a nail in a coffin (whatever that meant) so she put on a long-suffering face and looked at Breakdown.

“How do you deal with him?”

“I don’t.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Are you getting enough sleep?” Jack asked quietly as they walked down the steps, and she just grimaced.

“Yeah, my brothers are just assholes,” she shrugged. “They like playing pranks on each other and shooting nerf guns in the middle of the night, and Dad put me between their rooms to try and stop it. I just got caught in the crossfire.”

“Ouch,” Jack hissed. “You should tell them to knock it off, at least until Mr. Gregory’s test is done.”

“I’ll think about it,” she hummed.

“Hey, I’ve been looking for you!” Both her and Jack turned around to see Sierra exiting the school. “The race, how great was that? I was like, yeah, go Jack!”

“Race?” she murmured, and Jack’s eyes widened.

“You can’t tell O-,” he cut himself off.

“Jack totally blew Vince out of the water with that sweet bike of his,” Sierra told her. “He promised to take me on a ride.” Something made her blood both boil and freeze.

“Oh?” she just choked out instead, hating how small it sounded.

“Before we met!” he tacked on. “Sierra, this is Ashi, my girlfriend. And Ashi, the race was no big deal,”

“You got that right,” Vince snarled, pushing between her and Jack, forcing her to take some steps back. “If you think you can run with the big boys: the circuit, tonight, 11 pm.” She glanced at Sierra, whose eyes were flickering between her and Jack before the teen’s voice caught her off guard.

“Deal,”

Oh, Primus, she was going to kill him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

She didn’t go to the Autobot base that day, instead going directly to the ship, to the medbay where Knockout was checking Megatron’s vitals.

“Shockie, what a wonderful surprise! Anything you need dear?”

“There’s a race circuit going on tonight at 11,” she said, getting straight to the point. “I need to be there.”

Knockout frowned. “Even I wasn’t going to have you go out three days in a row. What’s so special about this?”

She swallowed, knowing full well what was about to happen. He was the only one aside from Breakdown and Megatron who knew what the power of the words she was about to say was. “My soulmate will be racing in it.”

Knockout froze before turning to her in an accusing way. “You were supposed to keep us updated if you met them,” he reminded her quietly, too quietly for the mech. “Why didn’t you?” She shifted her gaze to her feet and murmured her response. “That was too quiet for my audio receptors to pick up. Louder now.”

“He’s…” her voice was nothing more than a whisper, but it seemed to echo through the room. “He knows the Autobots… he’s my key to getting behind their defenses.”

“Slag,” Knockout said, and she felt it. “Slaggit, hatchling, you can’t have anything normal happen to you, can you?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When Knockout pulled up to the line, she was expecting Jack and Arcee, but definitely not Bumblebee, and the red mech seemed to feel the same as her if the quiet curses seem to say anything about it. “I’ll be quick,” she promised, exiting the passenger door and quickly weaving her way through the crowd to Jack and Bee. “Jack,”

“Ashi!” he snapped around, staring at her in surprise. “What’re you doing here?”

“One of my Uncles is racing tonight,” she stressed, shifting her gaze to Bee rapidly, hoping he’d get the hint. Judging by how pale he turned, he seemed to get it. “I just came to wish you luck, and there won’t be any hard feelings, right? Uncle K can be a bit mean in these things.”

“No hard feelings,” he echoed back. “You’ll be safe?”

“Only if you are,” she sighed, quickly going back to Knockout. “He knows you’re here, but not you exactly.”

“He knows you’re a Decepticon?” Ok, so maybe Knockout was still a bit pissed off at her.

“He accidentally got warped into our ship, and our first words were said while I was in uniform. And then we met out of uniform and it only took a day for him to realize who I was.” she still felt bitter over it, but just shrugged instead.

Somehow, Vince ended up between Knockout and Bumblebee, and she was very grateful for the blackout windows and the redhead teen tried to glance her way. “Creep,” she grumbled, bracing as the countdown started.

In a second, they were off, Bee and Vince instantly duking it out for first and second while Knockout stayed back in a casual third. “He’s not really trying to struggle, is he?” Knockout mused aloud, making her laugh. She did notice he was driving a bit more carefully, and she was thankful for that, even if he was watching Bee’s movements to do it.

Then, Knockout gained on Vince and spun him out, making her laugh. He continued driving forward, obviously trying to get first in what would possibly be the only friendly Autobot-Decepticon interaction for a while, when the yellow bot began to swerve, signaling that he had realized who was behind him. Knockout moved to follow him, and she realized in abject horror he had pulled his ion guns out.

“Knockout,” she warned.

“Relax. I don’t plan on hitting them. Fear is a good motivator.” he fired, and true to his word, every shot missed, and the two Autobot allied quickly left the drainage ditch in favor of an actual road with Knockout still following. Bee was suddenly trailing something, and it took her a moment to realize what it was.

“Oil!” She yelled, but she was a moment too late as Knockout spun, and by the time she was finished, she was feeling sick and seeing stars.

“Primus, Sparkie, you ok?”

She let out a wheeze and held a thumbs up. “Fucking shoot him for me,” she choked out. “I’m going to throw up in the ditch.” Immediately, the door opened, and she launched herself out of his alt-mode and onto the road.

As he started to drive away, she stumbled to the side, where she hung over the rails and…

Oh god, were they really hiding under a bridge?

Jack at least had the decency to look ashamed as he caught sight of her, but it quickly turned to disgust as Vince pulled up and got out of his car. Knockout screeched to a halt, backing up to her.

“It’s the school bully,” she murmured. “He’s an ass and a creep who can’t take no.” Knockout silently transformed, and her phone vibrated from her jean pocket. Taking a glance at it, she read:

Want me to teach a skeeze a lesson then?

Maybe her grin was a bit too feral as she nodded. The mech immediately reached down, pulling him up and tossing him into the air as he transformed. The teen was bound to the passenger seat, and without a thought, she hopped into the driver's seat with a grin. “Let’s go, Uncle K,” she giggled, and Vince’s eyes went wide as he realized who she was. He was knocked out not even a second later, so it was ok.

“What’re we gonna do with him?” she asked. “He’s only a year older than me, so he’s still technically a kid, not an adult.”

“So major body harm is out of the question then.” Knockout mused. “Psychological isn’t though. You said he couldn’t take no for an answer?”

“He’s made me his main target, but there’s probably a dozen other girls he’s tried this with before and it worked, otherwise he wouldn’t be so insistent.”

She finished up the final note just in time to hear cars circling the building, making her sigh. “Fun’s over,” she said.

“At least we got some enjoyment tonight,” Knockout sounded just as disappointed as she felt. She finished folding the papers up as much as she could while they were on the move, and as she finished stuffing them in Vince’s pockets, the sound of a semi-horn made her freeze.

Oh, Primus, they called in Prime??

The large mech immediately slammed them off the road, and it was only Knockout’s quick thinking of tying her down with straps that she hadn’t immediately been ejected as he slammed into a ditch. It left her in a daze, and all she could really do was just lay there, slumped over as Knockout frantically tried to get his back wheels on the ground.

“Stay online Shockie!” he called, thunderous footsteps getting closer and closer. As Prime easily picked Knockout up, she realized how much deep slag she was about to get into when she got back to Nemesis.

The passenger door was ripped off, and Vince was removed, and she could all but feel the disgust from Optimus as he grabbed her as well, throwing Knockout to the side. The mech transformed an angry, desperate look on his facial plates.

“Give her back,” he snarled, but he faltered as Arcee, Bumblebee, and Bulkhead all pulled up. “Slag you! Slag you all to the pits!” He drove off, leaving her alone, injured, and surrounded by enemies.

“Are you alright, Miss Lawrence?” Prime asked.

“Think you broke my ribs,” she murmured. “When you slammed into him.” he might’ve had a mask over his face, but just through his optics alone, she could tell how much that sentence hurt, and she planned on weaponizing it.

“Let us get you to Ratchet then,” he murmured. Bumblebee rolled a window down, showing Jack with a pained face of his own. A morbid part of her wondered if he had felt her pain whenever one of the ‘bots had shot her or not.

“This was my fault,” Jack’s voice was distant as if he was getting farther away.

“We must get these two to medical immediately,” Prime cut him off, and she noted in a sense of vindication that he was jostling Vince around while keeping her perfectly still. “Explanations can come later.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

She hadn’t even realized she had passed out until she woke up, once again in the comically large medical berth, IVs carefully hooked up to her. A glance at the clock told her that calling Soundwave would definitely result in death, so she just carefully turned it off and slipped it under her pillow. He knew how to remotely turn it off if he needed to talk to her.

“Should you not be contacting your parental unit?” Ratchet asked, making her grimace.

“I should’ve done it the second I realized something was off with the race,” she admitted. “Calling this late in the morning would just result in him getting angry at me.”

“Is he not usually angry?” Ratchet’s voice held confusion, so she just tilted her head. “The bruises and cuts across your body indicate you were attacked.”

“Are you trying to ask if my father…?” she trailed off, just staring blankly at him. “I don’t know if you’ve ever noticed when I’m in the base, Ratchet, but I trip over everything. I fell down the stairs a few days ago here and you didn’t react, so I just thought you knew not to get too worked up.”

“I-” the mech sputtered, turning away. “Your ribs are wrapped, no running or exercise for the next two months. Optimus would like to talk to you before you leave about what happened.”

“I got kidnapped, not much more I can say,” she shrugged.

The look he gave her told her she hadn’t been convincing enough.

[firefly-in-darkness]

Galaxy Princess - 1/3

Characters → Y/N & Peter Quill, Mentions of other Marvel characters.

Summary → After the birth of superheroes, several alien attacks and the blip, you were pretty much ready for anything. That was until you met Peter Quill. He burst into your life at lightning speed and nothing could have prepared you for the way he turned your world upside down.

Word Count → 3k

Warnings → Swearing, later warnings; 18+ Smut, Fluff.

Series Taglist → OPEN - send an ask.

Beta → @princessmisery666 // all mistakes are my own.

A/N → Should have posted this at half 7 but everything seemed to go wrong BUT it’s here now... This is for @crushedbyhyperbole - I am so sorry that this is months late to your challenge! [Prompt: To the moon and back - in Part 3]. And I actually have a schedule for the release for this 3-parter… This is GOTG Vol1&2 Peter Quill set in a post-Endgame world.

Return to: Series List // Marvel List

That Friday feeling was in the spring of Y/N’s step, and how she threw off her stuffy office clothes and traded them for baggy top and sweatpants. It was in the way she put on her favourite playlist, shimmied a pizza in the oven and how she shut the fridge with a pop of her hip. She twirled around the kitchen in between sips of beer, lifting her spirits higher and higher. 

At the sound of the oven alarm beeping, she plated up the pizza, walked through her apartment, and flopped a blanket over her shoulder in preparation for her Friday night tradition. It had been a hard week at work, and she couldn’t wait to unwind in one of her favourite spots.  

She climbed out of the lounge window onto the fire escape, ascending the steps carefully as to not drop her pizza and beer. 

“Careful out there, Y/N,” Stan, her neighbour, said. 

She paused at the window ledge and grinned back at the elderly gentleman sitting in his armchair. He looked over the top of his glasses with a fond smile. 

“I’m always careful Stan,” She winked and carried on with her climb. 

On the rooftop, overlooking the countryside in the distance, Y/N could relax and get away from work. She’d been a temporary administrator at a financial company for six months, but she didn’t seem to fit in with any of her colleagues. She soon discovered that she was often talked about because she was different. ‘Different’ meant Y/N didn't join them for the weekly drinks at the local bar or partake in office gossip. None of it was her thing and, to them, that made her ‘weird.’  

On many occasions, Y/N had overheard them guessing about her private life and it took its toll after hearing the same repetitive comments; she never talks about her family. Or friends for that matter. She needs to get laid. She's a bit of a freak. Too wrapped up in all that alien abduction and sci-fi nonsense.  

And that’s how being on the rooftop, with pizza and a couple of beers, became a weekly tradition and a place of solitude. Unwinding with music and the starry sky above, Y/N could pretend the world below didn’t exist. 

The mellow music drowned out the noise from the street below as she stretched out on the sun lounger. A contented sigh left her mouth as the blanket enveloped her in comfort and the warmth seeped into her bones.  

The sun setting over the woodland in the distance was the perfect backdrop for her to relax as she munched on the pizza. Y/N adored the way the peach glow filled the skyline and silhouetted the trees against the horizon. 

The greasy delight helped to soothe her but couldn’t quiet all the gossip she’d heard about herself that week. Especially the remarks about her sex life. They had no idea if there was any truth to their assumptions, but no amount of beer or delicious food could drown the thought completely. 

Over the last couple of years, Y/N had pretended that she was happy. That she was content with being on her own but deep down she had given up. Her inability to navigate the dating scene successfully was not something she was proud of but then again, she’d had too many awful and lame experiences to count. 

She was a moon without an orbit, drifting in an endlessly dark sky. It was as if everyone else had been given access to this world of love and relationships and she was left alone. She couldn’t recall the last time she felt wanted or needed and it tugged at her chest. 

Her wall of denial had crumbled, and the hot tears slid down her cheeks. She’d been lonely, had been for a while, but when other people noticed, it stung more than she liked. 

The bright sky faded to navy, the stars flickering on in anticipation of lighting the night sky. Y/N longed for whatever was beyond the Earth’s atmosphere, up where those stars sparkled even brighter.  

Y/N had always dreamed of being somewhere else. She felt as if she didn’t belong here that she was destined for more than a mundane office job and daydreaming of the world beyond the solar system. One day, somehow, she knew she’d fly away from this place and find somewhere that she belonged. 

A bright flash streaked across the sky, a shooting star. Y/N grinned, shuffling to the edge of her seat, ready to make her wish. Until she realised the light was getting bigger. Her eyes widened as she watched the flaming ball crash into the woodland in the distance.  

Y/N scrambled to her feet; the blanket was forgotten until she fell to the ground. Knees scraping against the concrete. The tangled fabric was pushed away, and she gingerly rolled up her sweatpants; luckily, it was only a scrape, nothing to worry about. 

She jumped up, grabbed her phone, and rushed down the fire escape. Once inside, she slid on her fluffy socks along the hardwood floor then hopped around to put her sneakers on while trying to grab her backpack. Luckily, she made it out without an accident. 

Minutes later she was navigating the roads to the woodlands, her body hummed with adrenaline and her mind raced with wonder; what was it? A meteor? A spaceship? Aliens? Oh shit. What if it weren’t friendly? What if the Avengers showed up? She wasn’t sure she cared as she swerved the car off the road and into the empty parking lot, kicking up gravel and dust. This was an opportunity she wouldn’t let pass her by.  

Y/N eagerly dived out of the car, made sure her sneakers were laced and her phone was in her pocket and jogged up the main path to the woodland. Before long, her clammy skin began sticking to her cardigan. She pulled it off and wrapped it around her waist. Her eagerness to get to the crash site and all the possibilities of what it could be, she hadn’t realised how far off the beaten path she was. 

The moon was her only source of light, but the towering trees made it seem as if it were playing hide and seek on the ground. She put on her phone’s flashlight, her heart racing as she stumbled along the less maintained route. 

Her eyes slowly adjusted to the darkness as the flashlight remained trained on the ground. Nerves bubbled in her stomach and her legs began to shake as she neared the potential landing site.  

A faint orange glow flickered against the tree trunks, the air thick and sticky with fumes. Y/N picked up her pace, approaching the smoke that billowed from the wreckage and the flames licking at the grass. Light and ash that spit out from the chewed-up metal.  

She raised her arm, shielding her eyes from the bright glare so she could access the wreckage. It wasn’t any kind of spaceship she’d seen before. It didn’t look like the ones from the attack on New York or reported after The Blip. It was small, could fit one adult at most. 

A groan rang out nearby and she whipped around to see a man, a human man, fall to the floor a few meters away. In a flash, she landed on her knees, pain shooting through the already damaged skin, and rolled the person over, pulling at the red leather jacket.  

Y/N placed her cheek near their face and relaxed when she felt their light breath caressing her skin. Her fear subsided, and she was finally able to look at the man, her heart fluttered at his rugged look; the stubble scattered across his jawline, a gash across his cheek and his fluffy dirty blond hair.  

The crackle of the flames and the metal whining behind caught her attention again. She hauled him away from the ship, afraid they were in danger of being burnt. After a few tugs, she fell backwards onto her bottom. Another groan came from the man below her and she hoped she hadn’t hurt him. She looked down at the handsome spaceman, his head rising from her lap with a deep frown and eyes scrunching with confusion. 

“Hi,” Y/N spoke softly, hoping not to alarm him. 

He shuffled slightly, trying to turn and brace his hand on the ground but gripped her thigh. She watched the realisation dawn on his face, he looked up at her and back down between her legs, a huge grin across his face, “Well this isn’t a first.” 

Y/N shoved him backwards and scrambled away. 

He planted his arms to avoid face planting the ground and turned to the wreckage. “What the hell- Oh man, look at this,” He jumped to his feet and began inspecting and discarding chunks of metal and wires. “No, no, no!” 

Y/N was frozen to the spot, her thoughts blank as she watched the man dash around the wreckage, throwing items over his shoulder in obvious frustration.  

After a moment, she stood up and raised her arms in defence. “Maybe you should sit down, you did just crash landed.” 

“I need to get back to my ship.”  

He may have looked human, but if he had a spaceship, he clearly wasn’t. Oh shit, I’m talking to an alien.  

“I can help,” she stuttered before clearing her throat, willing herself to not sound so defenceless or unsure. “But please don’t hurt me,” She pleaded. 

He stopped mid-throw, the mangled metal hovering over his shoulder, and twisted on the balls of his feet to look at her. His piercing blue eyes alert, an exaggerated gape in his mouth before he spoke, “I’m not going to hurt you, you turd blossom.” 

Y/N blinked at his insult, uncertain how to process being called a turd blossom. He walked towards her and she stepped backwards as he grew closer until her back was against a tree. He rested his arm above her head, leaning against the trunk, a cheeky grin forming on his face. 

“So, I’m a little stuck and need a little help with contacting my ship.” 

Y/N shoved him away, “Your smoldering isn’t going to work on me.” 

“Smoldering?! I was not smoldering.” He stuttered and held up a mangled item that looked like a walkie talkie. “Do you have anything that can help fix this or a way I can contact my ship so I can get off this crappy planet?” 

Y/N paced back and forth, she wasn’t sure what to say or do, her mouth opened and closed. Of course, she had a radio back at her apartment, but she wasn't going to let a stranger into her home. Y/N knew it was crazy, but she had to help him. She spun around and pointed at him, he looked from side to side as if looking for someone else. 

“Yes, you! I will take you somewhere that has a radio. But no funny business.”  

He crossed his heart, dramatically and she rolled her eyes. “Follow me.” She spun on her heels, “Are you coming or - what’s your name?” 

He jogged up to Y/N’s side and matched her speed, “Starlord.” 

She paused, mid-step, chuckling, “Is that your name?” 

“Yes! I’m a famous outlaw.” His brows furrowed and his jaw set. 

“A famous outlaw that calls people turd blossoms,” she chuckled, “what are you wanted for, crappy insults?” 

He scoffed and from the corner of her eye she noticed him smirk though he sounded offended, “a whole list of things that if you knew about, you’d be shocked.” 

“Got it, you're a real bad guy, Starlord.” 

This time he really was offended, “do you have a better name?”   

She snickered and couldn’t help herself, “Galaxy Princess.”  

He laughed loudly up at the sky, “I like you Galaxy Princess,” he admitted.  

She dropped her head to watch her feet and tried to stifle the happy grin that wanted to break out on her face. 

One short car journey filled with awkward silence later, they were in Y/N’s apartment, and inside the box room. A desk and computer on one side, the opposite wall filled with pictures, newspaper clippings and maps of Earth and the solar system. Embarrassment tingled on Y/N’s cheeks as she began to clear the mess of takeout containers and used coffee cups that were on her desk. 

The radio unit was pulled forward and she passed the mouthpiece to him. Noting how dazed he was by all the assorted items in the room, picking them up and inspecting them as he’d never seen a tablet or Bluetooth speaker before. Then she remembered, alien. His technology was far more advanced. 

“Here, if your spaceship is in our atmosphere it should pick up this signal.” Y/N flicked at the switches and turned the dials; white noise unleashed into the room until it went almost silent apart from a faint buzz. 

Starlord stared at the equipment and muttered under his breath, “I can’t believe that I actually wish Rocket was here.” 

Y/N ignored the comment, he hadn’t wanted her to hear what he’d said, “Do you know what frequency your ship uses or anything that would help connect to the comms unit?” 

“Of course, I know what frequency my ship uses.” He stepped around her and started to fiddle with the dials, white noise filling the room once more. He winked and gave her a lopsided grin, like the one earlier when his face was in her lap. “It’s my ship. I know the frequency. Yep.” 

To save Starlord the embarrassment of having no clue, Y/N turned her focus to the broken device he had brought with him. Metal scratched, wires exposed and broken. With enough technical knowledge, she realised it was more of a transmitter than a radio. 

“I think I might be able to fix this, but I don’t have anything that resembles these parts.” Y/N didn’t realise he was right behind her and bumped into him with a surprised yelp. 

“Woah there!” He steadied her with his hands on her arms, “Didn’t mean to make you jump,” he said as she turned to face him. She felt the blush spread over her cheeks and he smiled, “Unless you did that on purpose. Considering you like my smoldering,” he winked.  

“I didn’t say I liked your smoldering, I said it wouldn’t work on me.”   

Y/N hoped that he didn’t have superpowers otherwise he’d hear the pounding of her heart but what unnerved her more than his proximity, was that she couldn’t work out if she was scared or captivated. It was definitely the latter. His thumbs rubbed softly and sparked a shiver. Her thoughts caught back up to her and she led them into the kitchen and grabbed the first aid kit off the shelf. 

“So how did you end up in an escape pod?” She asked, moving into the lounge. 

“Ha. I don’t think you’ve got time for the long story,” he said as she perched on the couch. “So, I’ll give you the short version.” He joined her and reclined back into the cushions. 

“I’m happy with either,” Y/N offered, turning to face him, with an acute awareness of her knee brushing against his thigh. “May I?” 

Starlord glanced down, noticing their closeness and her fiddling with the box. His chest inflated, proud and a smug smile; he was eager to let her tend to his wounds and talk of his heroism and escape from evil.  

He cleared his throat before sinking further into the couch, “I’m more than willing to oblige a beautiful woman with my stories, sweetheart.”  

Y/N snorted and began to clean the gash on his cheek while he explained how his crew’s mission hadn’t gone to plan. It was supposed to be simple; get on the spaceship and pick up the wanted person then to collect the bounty. Y/N watched him tell the story in between winces of the antiseptic wipe; the way his eyes lit up as he retold the plan and mentioned his companions; Rocket and Groot.  

She wanted to know more but she was distracted by his animated expressions. Gosh, he’s handsome, Y/N blushed at her thoughts, “will you stop moving. I can’t fix this if you don’t hold still.” 

Y/N was grateful for him not seeing the embarrassment and refrained from moving erratically so she could apply the butterfly stitches. He continued with how he hadn’t expected the spaceship to have a bunch of Kree and Sakaarans on board. She bounced in her seat, the excitement taking over at the mention of the alien races. 

Starlord chuckled at her enthusiasm, “I’ll tell you more about them bastards later. The escape pod was my only option, but it malfunctioned after it took several hits from the attack shuttles.” 

Y/N clamped a hand over her mouth, in fear and amazement that he’d managed to land it somewhat safely and without extensive injury. She felt shy under Starlord’s scrutiny and the way he was likely to judge the brightness in her eyes, the intrigue she had for life beyond earth. 

“Now I’m stranded on Earth and have no way of communicating with my crew back on the Milano.” He shrugged his shoulders, “Luckily I had a beautiful woman come to my rescue.” 

Y/N pretended not to hear those words as the weight of the night’s events hit her suddenly and she tried to stifle the yawn, “Sorry, can we have a look at this in the morning?” 

“Sure.” His bright smile dropped a fraction, he recovered it but not in time for her to miss. 

Spare bedding was placed on the sofa and Y/N directed him around the apartment, “The shower is just down the hall. If you can’t sleep, here’s the tv remote and help yourself to food.” 

“Thank you, Princess.” 

“Goodnight, Starlord.” 

“It’s Peter.” His cheeky smile had faded to something softer. 

“Y/N. Goodnight Peter.”  

“Sweet dreams, Y/N.” He laid down and continued to wave until she shut the bedroom door. 

Y/N was too tired to process that she was leaving a stranger on his own, in her home. There was an odd comfort from his determination to get back to his ship and crew; the place he belonged.

To Be Continued...

Everything Taglist:  @reann-loves-sebstan / @aroyaldarknessblr / @thefridgeismybestie / @kitkatd7

Marvel Taglist:  @natasha-danvers / @musesforart​

Series Taglist: @justagirlinafandomworld

[rileychaser]

Yesterday I had one of the strangest days of my life, and not in the normal way. I'm writing it out in order to release it into the world and get it away from me.

Let's start with some context. Saturday was my wife's birthday, we went out and had a great time just us. Sunday we were supposed to go over a friend's house to help set up some DnD stuff, but we were socially exhausted from the day before. And yes, we were alone on Saturday, but still we put in a lot of mental effort in stores and restaurants. Anyway so we texted and said my wife was hungover and we weren't going to make it. Acceptable exaggeration of the truth. We did drink, but we were fine. It's a case of too polite and too anxious to say "we don't want to hang out today." (working on it) Then we did things around the house, like putting up boxes and unpacking. Nice night, we had a good day.

Cut to Monday. In the morning, I'm driving to work and some guy in this big truck is tailgating me. We are in two-lane traffic in a little town with turn offs on each side for each lane. I'm in the left lane. I'm going five over the speed limit, as fast as the car in front and the car beside me. This guy starts flashing his lights at me. I don't think anything of it, but he does it again. I can't switch lanes, there are cars beside me and I can't speed up, there are cars in front of me. I have no idea what this guy wants me to do. He cuts into the other lane and proceeds to do the same to the car beside me. I can't see in the truck because it's jacked up and I'm in a little car. He's swerving in traffic, I guess trying to get around people. This goes on for about a mile, then he makes a right turn and that's it. Why tailgate in the left lane if you're making a right turn? Whatever.

Next I'm at PT (Physical Training, or Mandatory workout for the military) we are running a 5k. I chose to do my 5k on the track. This track is 3/4 of a mile. 2 laps is 1.5 mi, which is the run we do for our yearly test. So I run my first two laps as fast as I can to see my run time. A little over 14min, I'm getting better, still need more training. The next two laps I do poorly because I gased myself, but I finish them. After I am talking to my friend Pete, who's house I was supposed to go to yesterday. He asks me about my wife's birthday and what kind of drinks we had, just being a friendly guy. For some reasons my lie is horrible, I'm stumbling over my words, can't get my story straight, just bad lying. I'm normally a great liar when it comes to harmless lies to spare people's feelings or curving my own anxiety. That lie, total crap. Then we all talk about the air quality on base and how we need to not run when it's at a certain level. PT over.

I go to work and eat breakfast, watch some TikTok videos the go to take a shower. I work at a firestation so I'm in their women's bathroom. The intercoms goes off, the one they use to announce emergencies, only this time it's a jumbled gargled mess. Weird. I don't think anything of it. The it dings again and I think their going to announce trouble with the intercoms. Nope. It's a jumbled gargled mess again. Weird. I finish showering and I go to the mechanics bay and start my day. My Airmen is practically coughing up a lung so I send him to medical. (he's fine btw, it was the 5k in bad air, not COVID) Hes gone for the day. I spend my morning figuring out a problem with a truck, normal. However I call about a test I need to take at another building, the lady that gives the test, Ms. V isn't their, the guy Mr. L tells me come in at 1010, she will be back around then.

Context. When you in-process a base you see the security person, Ms. V is the security person. When I got here, six months ago, it was Ms. S, who was talking about training Ms C to be the new security person. Ms S has long black hair. Two weeks ago I go up to the office for a different reason, I'm talking to a different person and I swear I see Ms. S at her desk. Doesn't matter, I wasn't there to see her, but I think about how I thought she was moving. Passing thought that doesn't really register.

This Monday I go up to the office Mr L tells me to take a seat Ms. V will be here soon. I sit, I take out my phone, I start scrolling. 15min later a women with died blonde hair comes hobbling in, I say hobbling because she has one of those boots you wear when you break your foot but you can still walk on it. She comes in, she looks at me and I look at her. Never seen this lady. She says, "you looking for me" in my head I'm like no, but Mr. L looks at me like that's the one, so I say "yes". I follow her into the office. This is a completely new person then who I in-processed with and a completely new person from two weeks ago. But the office is covered in personal items so she has to have been there for a while. I ignore it. My brain probably filled in Ms S in her seat two weeks ago because that's what I remember seeing. I take the test and move on.

Lunch is normal, Tiktok and chicken sandwiches. After I start working on the truck problem. The intercoms goes off and it reminds me of this morning so I ask my coworker if he heard that weird sound this morning. He says he didn't hear it. I insist that it happen twice and he says he didn't hear it. He's the only on there so he's the only one to ask and he didn't hear it.

Then I need to take the trash out so I load it all in the truck. We don't have the proper recycling bins at our shop so we bring it to the main shop to dispose of properly. Also, I need to pick up a part. I go into material control and I start talking with TSgt T about performance reports. They are due in 45 days and neither of us has really started. So we talk about SSgt A who has all EPRs and can help us out on how to write ours. (each base has a different writing style. It's real dumb) so I say I'll ask SSgt A for help.

Back at the shop. I strat an email, but I use an old email and hit reply deleting all the old stuff and what I think is all other recipients. I type out. "hey can you send me some old FARM EPRs so I can figure out how they want it written here) then I but send. Then the email comes to my inbox. Strange. My coworker says, Why'd you send this to me. What? Turns out I buy reply to everyone I work with. Shitty. I recall the email. It's really no big deal and I know it. But what a huge embarrassment. And I feel the anxiety creep up. We joke about it. No one even calls or ask about it, so its a stupid private mistakes that anyone who saw the email will know it was a mistake. It was a legitimate email with a real work question so it's no big deal. No one even cares but me. I spend the rest of my day as an anxious mess because it who I am.

I get home. Have a good laugh and talk it through with my wife and it's over. We order Tai and watch a show. We go to bed.

But I'm still awake. So I start talking to her about my strange day. And I tell her that I haven't felt myself all day, like I was off and maybe wasn't me somehow. This is called disassociation and I know this. Then she tells me a freaky story of some girl with a weird experience and how people think she may have went to another dimension. And that's why I feel like now I may have been in another dimension yesterday and that's why weird shit was happening and I didn't return until i got home. Or maybe I never returned.

That's all.

[cthruthestars]

compañera (a Javier Peña x Reader fic)

Summary: A series of snapshots of Javier Peña and the Reader's relationship and his fixation with calling you "compañera". Rating: M Words: 7922 Warnings: canon-typical violence, swearing, use of alcohol, mentions of sex

(Y/N - your name, Y/L/N - your last name)

Cross-posted on Ao3, if you’d like to read there or leave a review: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22268422

This is a fucking nightmare.

The words on the page in front of you started blurring together no matter how hard you tried to squeeze your eyes or rub your temples in a pitiful effort to force them to make sense again. Soon, your vision was filled with smudged black ink in the vague shape of letters and you couldn’t stand it anymore. A deep sigh escaped your lips and you allowed your head to fall limp onto your forearms.

The DEA’s task force (consisting of you, Murphy and Peña) had gotten a gift, of sorts, from the local police: reports from around the time when Pablo Escobar had been arrested briefly. The only problem was that the files spanned years and even though you knew the exact year you needed, the reports weren’t organized even remotely and you had to comb through hundreds of papers for only one small but highly significant folder, which contained evidence that Escobar was linked to the drug trade in Colombia and Miami. You knew you had to be thankful to even have this stack of files – it was more than you’ve had for weeks on Pablo – and the snitch had been rightly terrified shitless to even give you those in fear of the kingpin finding out and taking care of him. But right at that second?

You couldn’t give a rat’s ass about gratitude. All you knew was that you were exhausted and you wanted to catch some shut-eye in your own, albeit shitty, bed.

Murphy was at the desk on your left, steadily and surely going through each report he had in his stack. He had taken some smoke breaks and a couple of calls from his wife, but he didn’t look nearly as desperate as you felt. You weren’t sure if you envied him or pitied him. Peña had disappeared some time ago, presumably to smoke outside, but you weren’t sure. A small part of you was annoyed that he was enjoying cool and fresh air while you and Murphy were holed up in the small, smoke and file-filled office, drowning in despair and delirium. As soon as that train of thought finished, you realized you were being unnecessarily dramatic and you slightly hit your head onto your forearms.

“You okay there, Y/L/N?”

“Yep,” you answered, voice muffled. It was a miracle Murphy even understood what you said.

“Sure?” he pressed.

You hummed in affirmation, hoping Steve would drop it before you snapped in frustration. You knew he was just being a good partner but common sense and manners had flown out the window hours ago, when you had first sat in your god-awful chair.

“I’ve got the answer to her problem, Murphy, don’t worry.”

At the sound of Peña’s voice, you raised your head eagerly, causing a bit of vertigo to invade your senses but you ignored it.

“The report?”

“I wish,” he replied, coming over to your desk. He looked way better than when you last saw him, the familiar mischievous glint in his eye and his lips curved in a smirk. “I mean coffee, compañera.”

Amidst the disappointment that you were likely to spend the night at the office, your face lit up as Peña handed you a cup, filled to the brim with black coffee. The smell wafting from the warm mug alone gave you a small burst of energy, so you eagerly took a generous gulp. Immediately, the fog clouding your mind cleared and you looked up at your second partner with a look you hoped showed sincere gratitude.

“Thank you, Javi.”

He smiled and mock-saluted in response, heading to the desk on your right, leaving you in the middle, always in the middle between Murphy and Peña.

You were assigned to Medellín shortly after Steve Murphy, headquarters deeming it necessary to embed as many agents as possible without it becoming too worrisome for the local government. The partnership had started out rocky and unsure, mistakes were made because of unwillingness to trust and that had quickly sobered up all parties involved. Right now, you considered you had a good working relationship with both Peña and Murphy – you knew they had your back and they knew you had theirs. Work flowed smoothly after that but it sadly didn’t help much – Escobar was gaining more strength and more support by the hour. It seemed hopeless but well, that had never stopped you three.

Sipping your coffee slowly, trying to draw out the pleasant feeling of caffeine flowing through you, your gaze flitted about the office, occasionally landing on your partners, both immersed in police reports. It finally landed on the one on your right – Peña – and you wondered…

What did compañera mean? 

~~~

“Vamos, compañera!” (Come on, partner!)

You were sprinting through the streets of Medellín, bulletproof vest on and gun out, chasing La Quica, one of Escobar’s top sicarios, and another one of the drug trafficker’s men, who wasn’t as important but still probably knew valuable information. Javier was running about 10 meters ahead of you.

“Right behind you!” you shouted back at him, willing yourself to go faster up the hill.

Suddenly La Quica swerved to the left into a narrow alleyway and the other goon went the opposite direction, climbing onto a rooftop. Peña immediately followed the sicario which meant you were climbing rooftops.

Fucking great.

For a chubby guy, the motherfucker sure climbed fast. Even though you didn’t hesitate, you stumbled a couple of times due to the structures being unstable and littered with trash. You sneaked a peek at the rooftops ahead and there was one that was on a taller building but there was a ladder down to a secluded alleyway you suspected led out of the block. The goon didn’t strike you as the smartest and you prayed to God he would be as idiotic as you hoped.

You stopped running and pulled out your gun, aiming at the man, when he turned his head around briefly and saw that you had halted. He laughed and shouted something in Spanish.

“Yeah, keep laughing, motherfucker,” you murmured under your breath. You saw that he was going to turn around again and you pretended to be tired and put your hands on your knees, while still keeping an eye on him. As soon as he saw that, he started climbing the wall you had predicted he would go for. You rose quickly and aimed your gun.

Son of a bitch went down like a bird.

You ran quickly to the place he fell and thankfully, he was still on the ground, clutching his bleeding knee. He was going to be fine, the wound wasn’t fatal, but he was screaming as if his leg was torn off. You unhooked your handcuffs from your belt and pulled him up with great effort while he still whined like he was dying.

“Shut the fuck up, culo (ass)!” you barked at him and shoved him forward.

Murphy was waiting for you back at the busted lab, his hands on his hips. You could see yourself leading Escobar’s man reflected in his sunglasses. You couldn’t lie to yourself – you liked the sight.

Steve nodded at you respectfully. Looking around, he asked, “Where’s Peña?”

“I don’t know, we got separated. He went after La Quica.”

As if summoned, the man in question slowly walked down the hill.

Alone.

You sighed in disappointment, yet again having come this close at catching one of Pablo Escobar’s top men. One of Carrillo’s officers passed by and you handed your prisoner off to him and gave him orders what to do. Peña had reached Murphy in the meantime and the two were talking, the former clearly frustrated, annoyed and disappointed at the same time. You quickly sent the officer off, not wanting to miss any kind of debrief.

When you came close to them, Javier turned towards you, his eyes filled with exhaustion. You were overcome with the need to comfort him somehow but you kept your hands to yourself, knowing that it wouldn’t really help. Once you got in your head about guilt, there was no getting out, no matter what anyone said.

“You got Alvarez?” he asked.

You simply nodded in reply.

The corners of his lips quirked and if you hadn't already been gazing at his mouth, you wouldn't have noticed it.

(Javier Peña was a damn handsome man and you were still a woman who had eyes, for pity's sake.)

He squeezed your arm and murmured tiredly, but sincerely: "Good work, compañera."

You turned around to watch him walk away and you couldn't figure out whether to feel proud, compassionate or disappointed.

~~~

Compañera had become a regular culprit in Javier Peña's day-to-day vernacular when it came to you.

Your Spanish had improved a bit, enough to say some simple sentences but not enough to be comfortable in a conversation with fluent speakers. You had noticed your partner's increased use of the word when referring to you, but you figured it meant something like partner or friend, supposing it was similar to the English word "companion", so you didn't really think about it much.

But then there were smirks. And winks. And it wasn't so difficult to pretend your partner wasn't using his wily charms on you to get you in bed for a night like his informants.

Now, you had the dignity to admit to yourself that yes, you may have had some inappropriate and very unprofessional dreams about said partner and perhaps sometimes your mind would wander off during meetings when he wore a shirt with a very deep neckline and maybe from time to time your gaze would accidentally land on his ass, but you were partners and Javier had a certain reputation with women you didn't exactly want to experience first-hand.

Damned if it wasn't difficult to keep your hands off him, though.

"Morning coffee, compañera."

Speak of the devil.

You lifted your head from the report you were typing just in time to see Javier place a steaming mug of coffee on your desk and hit you with the signature smirk and wink before he went over to the map of Medellín on the wall. You didn't even have time to react or say anything before you heard the Colombian officers nearby snickering. You glared at them and they quickly shut their mouths and went back to work. They were smart enough not to say anything in front of you since the time they saw you take down a guy twice your size with your bare hands, but apparently not smart enough to know when to keep their mouths shut.

Still, it could’ve been much worse.

You returned to typing up your report, pausing for a moment to gather your thoughts. In your concentration, you didn't notice Javier looking over at you and then the Colombian cops. He said something to Murphy who was also observing what was happening, and then slowly walked to the center of the room and put his hands on his hips. Peña made sure he caught the eye of every officer who laughed.

"Oh, this is gonna be good," Murphy murmured to himself.

"Escuchen," Javier began with a low voice, laced with a dangerous undertone, "Si a ustedes, hijos de puta, les gusta reírse tanto, ¿por qué no le dicen a Carrillo que no pudieron encontrar una mierda durante semanas hasta que Y/L/N nos consiguió información?" (Listen up. If you motherfuckers like to laugh so much, why don’t you tell Carrillo you couldn’t find shit for weeks until Y/L/N got us information?)

You looked up at the sound of Javier's voice, understanding almost nothing of what he said but perfectly knowing what his tone meant.

"¿Claro?" (Clear?)

The cops all replied in unison, "Claro."

Javier waited for them to go back to what they were doing before and then his gaze shifted to you, checking to see if you were alright. You smiled at him softly and mouthed Thank you to which he nodded and smiled in return. He walked back to Murphy who had an unreadable expression on his face but the humorous glint in his eyes was unmistakable. You shook your head at him and Steve put his hands up in mock surrender before continuing his conversation with Javier.

Sighing, you went back to work, resigned to the fact that Javier Peña was making it very difficult for you to resist him.

~~~

Time passed, Escobar was still being a pain in the ass and the DEA had gotten almost nowhere with the investigation. Carrillo and his men were a great help but you couldn’t always agree with his methods, even though your partners and you had agreed: all in.

Lately, you, Murphy and Peña were spending more and more time at the office than out in the field, doing surveillance and analyzing potential leads and tips. The situation was too quiet and you didn’t like it; you had the gut feeling that something big was about to go down. The work at the office was slow and tedious, so often there would be tension arising due to agents and cops getting restless, but you were handling it well without complaint, even though your fingers were itching to go out and nail one of Escobar’s guys.

You were in the middle of transcribing a phone call between two of Pablo’s watchers when Steve perched on your desk and folded his hands in his lap.

“So what’s the deal with you and Peña?”

You looked up, confused, “What?”

“You and Peña,” he continued, “The whole compañera thing, you two ogling each other, that kinda shit.”

It was true that things had been getting a bit more… flirty between you and Javier. He was relentless with his teasing and you started teasing back, thinking it was harmless and just banter; a small reprieve from the heavy work you were doing every day. You didn’t think people really paid attention to it but apparently you were wrong.

“What the fuck are you talking about, Murphy? There’s nothing going on between me and him. And what do you mean ‘the whole compañera thing’?”

Steve chuckled. “You don’t know what that means?”

“I thought it meant ‘partner’.”

“Well, it can mean that but it can also mean ‘girlfriend’. And Peña’s been using it a lot when talkin’ to you, which people have noticed. And he hasn’t exactly done anything to shut down the rumors whenever someone makes a comment in front of him.”

You sighed and rolled your eyes. “All of you are being idiotic. I’m sure he means it like ‘partner’ and if he doesn’t, that doesn’t matter. You can calm down.”

“I’m calm, I’m calm,” Steve replied humorously, “I’m sure his informants are jealous, though. Be careful not to steal their thunder.”

You chuckled in spite of yourself and flipped Murphy off which made him laugh in return. He hit your arm lightly as a goodbye and went back to his own desk and you put your headphones back on to continue transcribing.

Javier was watching the whole display with curiosity, unable to really hear what the two of you talked about but he thought he heard his name a couple of times. He found himself smiling when you laughed but quickly sobered when Murphy turned around and pretended to think before writing something down in his notes.

~~~

When you and Javier shared your first kiss, it really wasn’t a good occasion.

The DEA had gotten a telephone tip about one of Escobar’s labs that was soon to be dismantled. The coordinates given were deep in the jungle and you had to leave quickly unless you wanted the trail to go cold. Carrillo had quickly assembled a hundred of his men and a convoy, while you and your partners suited up and got last-minute orders from your superiors. The raid was successful: you had managed to catch the workers still in the lab and there were minimal casualties on your side. The same couldn’t be said about Escobar’s men, but you did capture a few prisoners alive, which relieved you since you desperately needed inside information about the leader of the Medellín Cartel.

You really wanted to nail that son of a bitch.

The prisoners were lined up in front of the lab, their hands intertwined on their heads on the order of Colonel Carrillo. He was pacing back and forth in front of them, while you, Javier and Steve were in the back, observing.

“Caballeros,” Carrillo began, “Tienen que darse cuenta de la gravedad de la situación en la que se encuentran. Su patrón no se preocupa por ustedes. Si lo hiciera, estaría aquí y moriría con usted. Así que, será mejor que piense cuidadosamente lo que va a hacer a continuación.” (Gentlemen, you need to realize the gravity of the situation you're in. Your boss doesn't care about you. If he did, he'd be here and he'd die with you. So, you better think carefully what you're going to do next.)

“Si alguien me dice dónde se esconde Pablo Escobar como una rata, puedo facilitarte la vida en la cárcel. Tú me ayudas, yo te ayudo.” (If someone tells me where Pablo Escobar is hiding like a rat, I can make your life easier in jail. You help me, I help you.)

Javier was quietly translating to you and Murphy what the Colonel was saying, for which you were grateful since you understood about half of the words and couldn’t really get the whole picture. There was a moment of silence once Carrillo stopped speaking, some of the men looking at each other, unsure of what to do and say. You saw a lot of terrified faces but also ones that didn’t give a shit. One of latter ones, by far the youngest, a kid that probably wasn’t even 18 years old, spoke up.

“Come mierda, hijo de puta.” (Eat shit, you son of a bitch.)

That you understood perfectly without the help of Javier.

Carrillo went to stand in front of the young boy and leveled him with a cold stare. He nodded at the kid, who didn’t back down.

The Colonel crouched in front of him. “¿Es así como va a ser?” (Is that how it’s going to be?)

The boy spit in his face in reply and your stomach churned. You had a bad feeling about this.

“Muy bien.” (Very well.)

It all happened so quickly that if you had blinked, you would’ve spared yourself the sight.

Carrillo wiped the spit from his cheek and quickly stood up before putting a bullet right in-between the kid’s eyes. You looked away and clenched your jaw so tightly, you thought you’d break a tooth. Javier was looking at the ground, his hands gripping his hips so hard, his knuckles were white, while Steve looked everywhere but at the boy’s corpse on the ground, surrounded by an expanding pool of blood, and breathed heavily

.“¡Esto es lo que pasa cuando proteges a tu querido patrón! Mejor repensar tu estrategia en el viaje a la base o terminarás como él,” (This is what happens when you protect your dear boss! You better rethink your strategy on the way to the base or you'll end up just like him.) Carrillo shouted at the prisoners before ordering his second-in-command to load them up in the trucks.

You didn’t look at the Colonel when he passed by the three of you and urged you to get a move on. The bile in your throat rose when you glanced at the kid on the ground who was probably either going to get left behind there as a warning to Escobar, or they were going to bury him somewhere no one would find for years and his family would be none the wiser. You managed to keep your lunch down but only barely, before you quickly made your way to Javier’s truck, unable to stay in that place any longer. Peña and Murphy followed closely behind and none of you said a word aloud on the way back to base.

After a seemingly endless string of meetings, it was decided that the prisoners would be left to stew for a night in the cells of the police station under heavy guard before taking off for interrogation the next day at an undisclosed location which was going to be personally conducted by Colonel Carrillo. You had a pretty good idea what that interrogation would be like, so you volunteered to stay behind and take care of the paperwork for the raid. You knew you had agreed to being all in but this was another level of insanity you weren’t sure you signed up for. Yes, in your short time in Colombia, you had done many things you weren’t proud of, things that can never be on paper and that superiors would close their eyes to or just pretend they never happened. Many times they wouldn’t even know about them. But killing kids in cold blood? You couldn’t stomach that or justify it. All of you had one goal but this was going too far.

Still, it wasn’t your place to say anything and you knew that there was a war brewing and that the ‘good guys’ had to play by the ‘bad guys’’ rules if they wanted to win.

It was well after midnight and the office was empty which you were immensely grateful for, because that meant you could take out the hidden bottle of whiskey out of your drawer and pour yourself generous amounts multiple times. If you smoked, you would’ve gone through a packet of cigarettes already, but you didn’t really pick up the habit, even though everyone around you smoked practically every minute of the day.

The young boy’s face wouldn’t leave your mind. You had seen it on officers during meetings and debriefs after the raid and had to shake yourself out of it before you did something stupid. But now, you were alone, just you and your bottle of whiskey, and you let the silent tears, threatening to spill for hours, stream down your face. You felt dirty and guilty, and you wanted to scream and break things, and cry until your voice was hoarse. You couldn’t do any of those things, of course, you still had a job to finish, but you desperately needed to forget what happened somehow and the whiskey wasn’t working as well as you’d hoped.

“Still here, compañera?”

You quickly wiped the tears off your cheeks, fully knowing it wouldn’t hide the fact that you were crying, before turning around in your seat. Javier was leaning against the doorway, his hair mussed and his eyes exhausted and drooping. His gaze flitted across your face and body, taking in your disheveled state. Pity was clearly written all over his face, but there was an understanding there that somehow made you feel a bit better that you weren't alone in how you felt.

"Yeah," you answered quietly, your voice hoarse from the alcohol and being silent for hours.

Your partner nodded and started walking towards you, dragging one of the chairs with him on the way. He placed it next to you and pulled up his pants before sitting down.

"Got a glass for me?"

You were silent and unmoving for a moment, trying to appraise him. You didn't find anything you didn't like – his face was as open and as vulnerable as yours, so you reached into your bottom cabinet and pulled out your spare glass. You poured him the same amount of whiskey you had and handed it to him. He clinked his glass to yours and both of you downed the alcohol in one gulp. It seemed that you weren't the only one who was trying to forget.

"Can I ask you something, Javi?"

"Of course."

"Does it get easier? At all? Or do you get used to it?"

You couldn't keep the tremor off your voice no matter how hard you tried to appear strong in front of him. You hated showing weakness; those moments were usually reserved for when you were alone at home where you could privately process all your feelings and then move on the next day as if nothing had happened. You didn't plan for Javier seeing you like this, ever, but this man always found a way to somehow fuck up your plans.

The strangest part was that you didn't mind.

Javier sighed. He leaned his elbows on his knees and looked at the ground for a couple of moments, as if he was contemplating whether to lie to you and comfort you or tell you the truth. You waited patiently until he looked up at you with glossy eyes.

"If I ever find out the answer to these questions, you'll be the first to know," your partner finally said, his voice cracking at the end. You nodded slowly; you figured you weren't going to be happy with his answer but you found comfort in the fact that he had basically told you that he struggled every time, same as you. Javier seemed to gouge something in your expression - his larger hand suddenly closed tentatively around yours, the warmth seeping from his skin travelling all the way from your fingers to your heart. You fixed him with an intense gaze and saw it mirrored in his own dark eyes. A sort of unspoken understanding and agreement passed between the two of you: there were a lot of ways to forget and the two of you could help each other.

You surged forward simultaneously. You tasted whiskey and nicotine on his lush lips and it was as intoxicating as you had imagined. You rose from your seat and settled yourself in his lap, his arms immediately snaking around your waist while yours tangled in his hair. You ground your hips down, which made Javier tighten his grip and lower his hands towards your ass, making you moan into his mouth and offering his tongue a perfect entrance. You forced yourself to pull away but not completely; just enough to lean your forehead against his and your lips to brush tantalizingly while you spoke.

"My place is closer," you whispered.

Javier looked up at you, "You sure?"

You simply kissed him in reply before standing up and grabbing his hand to lead him out of the base and into your home. 

~~~

Needless to say, your night with Javier had been unforgettable.

The despair and intense desire to forget the harrowing events of that day in both of you had made the sex intense and exactly what you both needed at that moment. You worked off your frustrations, letting yourselves express your feelings physically and the payoff was worth it.

It seemed that Peña’s reputation with the fairer sex was well-deserved.

It had been an unspoken agreement that this was just to forget, just to deal with all the jumbled thoughts and complicated feelings that came with the job and it was that at first but then afterwards Javier had become oh so gentle, his touches feather-light and his kisses soft and sweet and you had completely melted in his arms. You couldn’t help yourself – you felt safe and more dangerous than that – loved, which was something that you were careful not to feel for months while working with him, careful not to fall for his charm, not to become another one of his conquests, just another woman in the list.

But then he nuzzled your neck and wrapped his arms around you protectively and you found yourself too tired to continue that train of thought, so you put your hands on top of his and closed your eyes.

You hadn’t expected him to stay – you fully expected for him to be gone in the morning, no trace left of him even being there – but he did. You woke up in his arms by his kisses and with an intensity that could break your heart, you realized you hadn’t felt this happy in a long time.

You didn’t get up right away, instead shifting your position so you were half-laying on him, your head on his shoulder and him on his back with his arm around your waist.

“Javi?”

“Mm?” he murmured in your hair, stroking your bare waist gently.

You stayed silent for a minute to fully absorb the moment, appreciate his warmth and his breath softly blowing on top of your head and you willed the uneasy feeling in your stomach to go away, because this was good.

“Why do you always call me compañera?”

He chuckled and you found you liked feeling the vibrations of his chest when he did.

“Because you are that to me, compañera.”

“In what sense?”

You felt him pull away from your hair and you looked up at him, resting your chin on his shoulder. He was smiling but there was a confused expression on his face.

“What I want to know is…” you began, “What do you mean when you call me that?”

His eyebrows rose in surprise before he quickly covered it up with a smirk and you knew immediately that he was going to dodge the question.

“It can mean whatever you want it to mean.”

“Not what I asked, Peña,” you quickly countered. He smiled approvingly at that and you were slightly surprised to see he had a proud glint in his eyes. “I’m serious, now, c’mon.”

“And I meant what I said,” he replied with that low voice he used the night before and shifted, so he was on top of you, kissing you passionately and you completely forgot about talking.

Then you’d made breakfast, eaten with him, joked with him; it was as if this was the way your relationship had always been, like he belonged in your home and in your arms. It was bittersweet – you still waited for the other penny to drop. It was too easy and in your experience, nothing was ever that easy. Still, you kissed him goodbye and smiled at him, see you Mondays were exchanged and that was that.

The other penny dropped when said Monday came.

You knew you had to be careful at work – no one could know what you and Javier had gotten up to; fraternizing between agents was frowned upon, especially in such a high-profile and very dangerous operation as yours. It was clear to you that you were going to act as always and you had to watch your attitude towards Javier. Therefore, you went about your usual routine: you checked with security, showed them your badge, greeted the Colombian officers you knew and walked into the office with a small smile, where you found both of you partners already sitting at their desks, told them Good morning and you waited for Murphy to lift up his hand and say Morning, Y/L/N and Javier to look up at you with a grin and reply with the usual Buenos días, compañera. Sure enough, Steve did exactly as you predicted.

Except… Javier didn’t even look up from the files he was reading.

You walked over to your desk, sneaking a glance at him, but still, he didn’t even move a muscle and that uneasiness in your stomach from the night you were together was back with a vengeance. He’s probably just trying to be conspicuous or he’s just very concentrated, you thought to yourself and set your things on your desk, trying to keep a poker face. That was probably the case, so you focused on your tasks.

But then he didn’t even glance at you the whole day.

It was another day of work, consisting of surveillance and typing up reports, so you were trapped in your small office together and Javier’s interactions with you were strictly limited to him passing you documents wordlessly and discussing intel in a very professional manner. No jokes, no smirks, no compañera, no winks, nothing.

If he was trying not to raise suspicions about the two of you fucking, he was doing a piss-poor job.

You got increasingly frustrated with the hours passing by but you followed his lead and said nothing. If he was going to be like that, then two could play that game. You were too annoyed at him to stop and think that this childish behavior was even more telling that something happened between you to your other colleagues, since everyone had gotten used to the banter that you two frequently engaged in. Around 5 in the evening he got a call, looked at his watch and said Estaré allí en 20 minutos (I’ll be there in 20 minutes.) and you understood enough Spanish by now to know that he was most definitely going to go visit one of his favorite “informants”, which made your blood boil. The pressure you were applying with your pen on the report you were writing, while you watched Peña put on his jacket and put his gun in his pants, became so high that you almost made a hole in the paper.

“Where’re you goin’?” Murphy asked, “El burdel?” (The brothel?)

Your lips thinned in anger but you willed yourself to keep writing and not show any reaction.

“Fuck off, Murphy,” Javier replied, annoyance clear in his voice. “I’m done for the day. Goodnight.”

As soon as he walked out and you were sure Steve had gone back to work, you let out the breath you didn’t realize you were holding as quietly as possible and tried to hold back the tears of anger burning behind your eyes. 

~~~

This bullshit continued for two weeks.

Javier kept on ignoring you as best as he could and you did the same: angry at him that he was behaving this way after being the complete opposite when you were together in your home, but even angrier at yourself for breaking your vow not to fall for his wiles. He never cared about you – you were just another woman in his bed for a night, just another conquest he used to get over his own feelings and then thrown away and forgotten about.

It was your own damn fault and that was the worst thing about the whole fiasco.

“Y/L/N, do you have a minute?”

You were sipping your morning coffee (that you had gotten for yourself) when Steve approached your desk. His hands were on his hips and his expression was serious, so you quickly put down your cup of coffee and wiped your hands on your pants.

“Sure,” you replied and followed Murphy out of the office.

He led you to the evidence room, which was too small of a space to house the thousands of police reports, evidence, photos and whatnot, which made the air inside stale and difficult to breathe, so it wasn’t advised for any living thing to remain there for long. You thought you were going to help your partner search for something, but then he closed the door behind you and fixed you with an unimpressed look. You waited for him to say something, his gaze unnerving you, until you got frustrated and spoke first.

“What do you want, Murphy?”

He sighed and shook his head before crossing his arms and coming closer to you, so he could speak more quietly.

“Look, I don’t know what happened between you and Peña and frankly, I don’t wanna know. It ain’t my business to pry into your personal lives but it is my business when it affects our work.”

You opened your mouth to say something rude to him, already annoyed by the direction the conversation was going, but he quickly cut you off.

“You know damn well what I’m talkin’ about, so don’t give me any bullshit. You’re not fucking teenagers to act like this. This whole silent treatment is making us lose valuable time we could use to catch Escobar and people are starting to notice, which I’m sure neither you nor Peña want that. So you two better kiss and make up fast or this task force is going to shit.”

You didn’t say anything; you knew he was right and you felt ashamed that you were acting so childishly and possibly endangering the operation. Your personal problems couldn’t affect the trust you needed out in the field and you needed to resolve this as quickly as possible, for the good of everyone.

You stayed silent but nodded at Steve, who squeezed your shoulder before leaving the room. Sighing, you leaned your back on one of the shelves with evidence. You resolved to corner Javier after work so you could talk in private and fix this one way or another, so you could avoid any one of you going back to the US.

Later, when the sun had long gone down, you glanced at your watch impatiently. You had done your tasks for the day and you were free to go but you were trying to gauge when Javier would decide to go home, so you could pull him aside to talk. Steve had left a while ago, having promised his wife a long-awaited date night, but not without shooting you a warning look and subtly tilting his head towards Peña. You had simply waved your hand in reply and said goodbye.

Finally, Javier started gathering his things, so you took your cue to put your jacket on and lean against your desk. You waited for him to be done before you spoke.

“Javi, we need to talk.”

He quickly looked up at you at the sound of finality in your tone. You met his gaze and hoped he saw that there was no getting out of this because you weren’t backing down this time.

“Okay,” he replied, folding his arms across his chest, “what’s up?”

“Not here. Come on, I’ll make you some coffee at home.”

Javier hesitated at the mention of your apartment, this whole situation reminding him too much of the last time he was there. You rolled your eyes.

“Don’t worry, I’m not gonna seduce you or anything. We really need to talk.”

He nodded at that and followed you wordlessly.

The drive to your apartment was as quiet as you expected, Javier focused on the road and you looking out the window. There were still kids playing in the streets, their mothers calling them to go back home but they pretended not to hear them. Some shady characters also hung around but it wasn’t your job to assess them, so you let yourself take in Medellín during the night just as a spectator.

The car stopped, so you took your bag and went out to go unlock the front door, while Javier put the handbrake on and turned off the ignition. You walked in and hung your jacket on the hanger near the door before tossing your purse on the floor. You waited for Javier to come in, who walked slowly and unsurely, his hands in his pockets – a sign that he was nervous.

He sat silently at the kitchen island while you made two cups of coffee, yours with a little bit of sugar and milk, while leaving his black, just the way he liked it. You handed him his mug, to which he murmured a quiet thanks.

“So…” you began unsurely.

“So…” he mimicked, keeping his hands wrapped around the hot cup.

You sighed in resignation; it was clear that you had to lead this difficult conversation, seeing as how Javier was closed off even now.

“This silence isn’t helping anyone, Javier. Not you, not me, not Steve or any of our colleagues for that matter. We can’t work together like this.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” he nodded. You waited for him to continue but he stayed silent. He was still going to be like this? Even now, when you were trying to resolve this?

The familiar anger that had become associated especially with one Javier Peña bubbled up and this time, you didn’t hold back.

“That’s it? ‘You’re right’? That’s all you have to say to me? After all we’ve been through together and a one night stand makes you pretend none of it happened?” Your voice rose in octaves with each sentence, all of your bottled up feelings for the past few weeks coming to the surface.

“What do you want me to say, Y/N?”

The annoyance in his voice was the last straw.

“Anything! Anything at all! I deserve at least that little respect from you as your partner. The least you could do is tell me that it was a one-time thing; that I was just one of the many putas you slept with, so we could move on with our lives. At least like that I’d have closure and we wouldn’t be in this mess!”

“You’re not like that, Y/N.” Javier now had stood up and you realized that in your anger you had circled the kitchen island and you were standing in front of him, crowding his personal space.

“Aren’t I that, huh? Didn’t you go and fuck another one two days after me?”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“The Monday after we had sex. You took a call and immediately left, not even bothering to deny it to Murphy.”

“I was going to meet with an informant, I wasn’t going to the fucking brothel!”

You chuckled humorlessly, “Yeah, we all know about your ‘informants’.”

“It wasn’t like that, Y/N!” Javier was properly rivaling the intensity of your anger now, his voice matching your volume. “I got a tip from one of Escobar’s watchers, the kid was afraid someone would find out and get killed, especially after Carrillo—“

He stopped himself suddenly, not wanting to bring up the very thing that the two of you wanted desperately to forget and that led to this whole mess. You stepped back, the dead kid’s face immediately clouding your vision, but you shook your head and didn’t let yourself get sidetracked. You knew he wasn’t lying but that didn’t mean it made things okay.

“Fine then, why didn’t you say anything? Why did you pretend you didn’t even know me after that?”

“Because I was fucking terrified!” Javier shouted. Both of you breathed heavily, the air in the room charged with electricity.

You crossed your arms over your chest. “Terrified of what?”

Javier rubbed his eyes in frustration before putting his hands on his hips and looking at you dead in the eye, his gaze wet.

“I didn’t plan on you, compañera,” he began but you cut him off quietly.

“Don’t… don’t call me that.”

Gulping, he continued, “It was harmless at first. I was joking around and you seemed like you didn’t mind and the job got a bit easier. But then… Then you had to go and be the kindest, smartest and most beautiful woman I’ve ever met and it wasn’t so harmless anymore. And after we—we were together, I panicked. I haven’t fallen for someone in years and I promised myself never to do that to a woman I cared about again. I haven’t slept with anyone after you. And I realized that I was way in too deep with you and I thought it’d be better if I just made you hate me, so we could spare ourselves the pain.”

Holy fuck.

Fuck.

Javier Peña had feelings for you.

You gulped and shook your head.

“That’s not your decision to make, Javi,” you said softly, your anger dissipating to a small simmer.

“I know, I realize that now and I’m sorry for doing that to you.”

Your eyes flooded with tears and you looked towards the ceiling in an effort to will them away. When you looked back down, Javier had stepped closer to you, his eyes just as tearful as yours. He extended his arms towards you hesitantly and you readily stepped into his embrace, hugging him tightly. He buried his face in your neck and placed a kiss on your pulse.

“I’m so sorry,” he repeated in a whisper.

“You can’t do that to me again. I won’t—I won’t be able to handle that.”

“I won’t, I promise.”

You pulled back and put your hands on his cheeks, thumbs stroking gently his skin.

“What are we gonna do?” you whispered.

“I… Maybe we can see where this goes. If you’re willing to try again with me?”

God, his warm brown eyes were so vulnerable and he was so nervous that you’d say no that you swear your heart broke for him then and there. You took a deep breath.

“We’ll have to keep it quiet. Otherwise, I’m probably gonna get shipped back on the next plane back to D.C. And no more shutting me out, Javi. This won’t work if you’re not willing to talk to me.”

“You’re right. I swear I’ll try for you, compañera.”

Your breath escaped your lips in a small chuckle and you shook your head before pressing your lips gently to his. He held you like a man lost in a desert, just discovering an oasis and you clutched his shoulders, as if afraid that he was going to disappear.

You tasted salt on his lips but you didn’t know if it was from your tears or his.

~~~

“So what did you mean when you first started calling me compañera?”

Javi chuckled and put his beer down on the table. He tightened his grip on you and placed a kiss on your shoulder.

You were sitting in Javier’s lap at the balcony of your apartment, enjoying one of your days off. The weather was absolutely perfect, the Medellín sun warming your face and the slight breeze providing a much needed cool-down from time to time.

You looked back at him with a grin, “You never did answer me.”

“Well,” he began, “It was partner at first. You had definitely proven yourself in my eyes and had an impressive record so I had respect for you. Then, I guess it kinda morphed into friend. You were always there when I needed you and you had my back when I was in a tight spot. Then, one day, you came to work with your hair down and I had an ‘oh shit’ moment.”

You laughed out loud. “Really? Me with my hair down made you realize you had feelings for me?”

“Shh, don’t interrupt me now, mi amor. So, yeah, at that point the rumors started that I was using compañera in its meaning for girlfriend and was deliberately doing that like a code or something, so people would get confused.”

“And yet you didn’t deny any of it.”

He smirked. “No, I guess I didn’t.”

You shook your head at his antics and turned around in his lap, now fully facing him.

“Eres un idiota,” (You’re an idiot.) you whispered against his lips before kissing him. You felt him smile and couldn’t help but smile, too, effectively ruining your kiss.

“Pero soy tu idiota,” (I’m your idiot, though.) Javi said, pecking your nose. You gazed at the man you loved so much, you’d lay down your life for him, admiring the way his disheveled hair tousled in the wind and the way his eyes shone in the sun. You found that there was no better sight in the world and you smiled softly.

“Yeah, I guess you are.”

[nasrinahmadi]

nasrin ahmadi. the wildcard. page 93.

name: nasrin aafreen ahmadi

age: twenty-three

education: nasrin studied abroad in the united kingdom for her undergraduate career and now has returned back to the states, studying at her father's alma mater. nasrin is doing her graduate studies in anthropology and music, conducting research work on ethnomusicology in the mughal empire.

part one

Born in the peak of monsoon season to an ambassador and an English professor, Nasrin Ahmadi was already gasping for air. Her parents consulted doctors through embassies and backchannels in Delhi, searching for a solution. Within a few weeks, the hole in her heart was remedied, and she had secured her position as the youngest sibling—the one who has to be protected.

In the beginning, Nasrin was happy, a gleeful young girl who swerved through crowds of people with a mischievous smile. Her days were filled with love and affection from her parents and the ever so common idea that blood meant loyalty—and that Nasrin owed her loyalty to no one else but her family. That is, until one sunset in the courtyard right outside the ambassadors house, in the middle of a diplomatic event with other United States prominent figures—six year old Nasrin was snatched.

She was missing for six days, twenty two hours, and seventeen minutes. Nasrin’s mother would remind her of this every time she tried to leave the house the next two years. The worst days of her life. Nasrin’s father, on the other hand, went on a tirade and fired his entire security staff for gross incompetence. The only daughter of a United States diplomat stationed in India, taken right from under their noses.

Nasrin remembers very little about her kidnapping. The years of sanctioned therapy had determined it to be a consequence of trauma. Nasrin, on the other hand, believes it was because whoever kidnapped her was alarmingly gentle and sedated her into a sleeping beauty slumber until they got what they wanted. Call it Stockholm syndrome, or call it childhood naivety, but she always had a sinking suspicion of knowing her kidnapper. The cold case was drawn to a close after two years of searching for the culprit, who demanded a few documents from her father, then dropped her in the middle of the crowded city to fend for herself.

When her father’s term as ambassador came to a close, Nasrin and her family shipped back to a small town in New England, covered with tall trees and the sound of silence, a sharp contrast from the life she had lived thus far in Delhi. She and her brother, Amal, five years apart, were enrolled into a prestigious boarding school and shipped off with high hopes and dreams. At eight years old, Nasrin remembers pressing her face against the window of the chauffeured car, calling after her parents and begging them to reconsider. You’ll be safer there, I promise, her mother said, cupping her face and wiping away her tears.

part two

The last four years, the doe eyed girl still had a knack for misadventure, but she kept her head down and did her work, eager to please her mother and father as Amal began to struggle with his coursework. Nasrin fueled her feelings into the piano, if only to be fawned over the three times she went home when there would inevitably be a party of alcoholic lawyers, stoned diplomats, and coked up politicians. Classical music provided balance in an otherwise unbalanced life with no home base.

At twelve years old, Nasrin began to watch her loved ones fall apart, screaming to have them hold on, only to see them let go. Her father’s temper had taken a turn for the worse, and in a fit of drunken rage, her mother was pushed down the stairs and suffered two broken legs. Still, adamant to go home, Nasrin’s mother cooed over her on the phone, you’ll be safer there. When she returned for the summer, her mother was gone—without a trace. Once a professor at a prestigious liberal arts college in the area, now no one. Nasrin and Amal screamed at their father for an explanation, to which he only shook his head and sipped on his whiskey: you can’t find someone who no longer wants to be found.

When Amal and Nasrin returned back to boarding school for the fall, Amal entered his senior year and applied to the slew of colleges his father required of him in order to become the next Ahmadi ambassador, but something had shifted for both of the Ahmadi siblings. Nasrin began to act out in uncharacteristic ways—her progress reports noted in a cautious manner: straight A student, but seldom shows up to class, only to cause chaos when she does. Nasrin forged her father’s diplomatic signature countless times, and Amal her accomplice, pretending to answer as him when the school called in concern. Despite never being close, Amal had taken his sister under his wing, and vowed to protect her from whatever force followed their father, that took their mother from them.

That is, until that night. When Nasrin turned fifteen, she started dating far out of her age range to be comfortable (call it her daddy issues), and found a new sense of reckless abandon in the extravagant parties of the rich and famous at the school. She was now someone rising—someone to be feared. Her brother had returned to campus for his winter break at Harvard, and the two had somehow come across the same party. Nasrin’s personality increased ten fold at these gatherings, not aided by any substance, sworn off of those given her fathers addictive personality. She hooked up with boys who were taken, just to relish in the distress of their girlfriends when they discovered. And now, many justified her behavior through assuming she was under the influence—troubled, in a way. But Nasrin was sober, she was addicted to wrecking havoc and destroying lives.

But that night, Amal stumbled right into Nasrin. She stared into his eyes and saw something familiar—the look in her fathers whenever he drank. Except, by the time Nasrin had found him, he was too far gone. Amal had fallen victim to the opioid epidemic, the one that did not discriminate by age, race, or class. But she still tried to fight for him—protect him, as he had once her. But her father’s words echoed in her mind: you can’t find someone who no longer wants to be found. Amal dropped out of Harvard his third year after years of partying with rich socialites and blocked Nasrin on every conceivable platform. His last message was a handwritten letter, delivered to the door of her boarding room–I’m sorry.

part three

It was at sixteen years old that Nasrin understood the meaning of you come into this world alone, you go out of this world alone. And when she fully embraced this sentiment, she became numb to the pain she caused others. She learned to rely on herself as the greatest defense. Her smiles no longer reached her eyes in a way both unnerving and charming.

The last few years, Nasrin has been hellbent on finding her mother and her brother, refusing to acknowledge that they had dropped off the face of the planet with no explanation. As she had been told many times about her own kidnapping, they were both cold cases—it’s better to assume, no matter how hard it is, that they’re dead. But something in her trusty, reliable gut, was convinced both circumstances were due to her father. Knowing his only claim to fame now was gaining empathy from his supporters as he ran for senate, Nasrin kept him on a tight leash—having one more member of his family go missing went from tragic to suspicious. She stole from him whenever she could, inserted chaos with a sense of elegance, but followed his dreams on face value. Now, by attending Harcourt Institute, his alma mater. It’s here she comes across the Harcourt Literary Society, and Nasrin believes it may be the key to truly putting an end to her father, once and for all.

the moment on the page

Nasrin is gasping for air. She’s small—weak, frail, a child. In an unfamiliar home, lying on a worn down couch. She lifts herself around and tries to observe as much as she can, though her head continues to pound. An elegant clock, tall ceilings, a plate of her favorite cookies in front of her.

The six year old reaches for the cookies, unassuming, and scarfs one down. Once she swallows, she feels the figure behind her before she sees them. Her head snaps around just as her right arm is injected gently once again. The hands guide her back to lying down on the couch, and right before her eyes close, her senses are heightened.

The man was tall, with large shoulders and kind eyes. Her hand was on his in an attempt to stop him from injecting her. It was rough and smooth at the same time, as if one part was sandpaper, and the other was silk. And the smell, it was overwhelming, a cologne, an aftershave, something she knew, someone she knew—and then darkness.

[writemywaytoyourheart]

Onsra- Chapter 1: Late Days and Awkward Encounters

vampire!jungkook x female reader

warnings for this chapter: pure awkwardness 

If you haven’t read the prologue, do that first!! PROLOGUE

word count: 1.5k

Onsra Masterlist ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

3 months earlier…(before the prologue)

“Y/N! Get out of bed right now! You are not leaving me to endure mathematics by myself today!” Your best friend yanks the covers off your head in an unforgiving manner, throwing them to the floor and pouncing on top of you. You shriek when her skinny fingers dig into your sides and start tickling mercilessly.

“Get off! I’m up, I’m up! Stop it!”

Ga-In laughs and rolls away from you, squealing when you shove her off the bed. She hits the floor with a loud thunk and pouts when you smirk at her while looking off the edge of your bed. “I told you to stop, don’t give me that look.” You stick your tongue out at her and she chuckles, lifting herself off the ground and pretending to smack you, “get up, lazy butt. We’re already going to have to run to catch the bus.” You sigh and force yourself to stand up, despite your sore muscles screaming at you to get back in bed.

A quick look in the closet shows that you’re going to need to do laundry, but you make the best of it for the moment by grabbing the cleanest looking pair of jeans off the floor and spritzing them with perfume. 

You pull them on and scavenge the room for a decent shirt.

Because frick doing the wash. 

Ga-In is huffing and puffing next to you while the two of you practically sprint for the bus stop. Her asthma is probably kicking in, but your guessing her panting is also partly out of the rage she has for a certain someone making you both late again today. 

You start to laugh at the ridiculous situation while you truck along, backpacks flopping wildly and Ga-In clutching her skirt for dear life against the wind. People stare at the pair of you as you streak past them, apologizing if you knock into anyone. You’re starting to choke because you can’t breathe and run and laugh all at the same time, and Ga-In hears your giggles.

“Shut the heck up, y/n. I could literally kill you right now if I wasn’t so focused on not dying." 

That sends you into another fit of hysteria and you trip on a crack in the sidewalk, slamming to the ground with enough force to make pain go shooting through your wrist. Ga-In almost trips herself when she stops abruptly to see if you’re okay. She bends down and shakes her head when she sees you laughing and crying at the same time, "are you okay? Clumsy. Here, give me your hand.” You reach out and take her outstretched hand, letting her pull you to your feet.

You can’t decide if crying or laughing is the better way to go, so you just stick with alternating between both. The fall was painful, especially on your wrist, but the whole situation and the way you must’ve looked when you tripped makes you unable to stop laughing at yourself.

You look around, up, down and anywhere but your best friend while you try to blink the tears away and swallow the remaining painful giggles. Ga-In chuckles next to you, shaking her head, “really, y/n? A tiny crack in the sidewalk?” You glare at her as you wipe your eyes and shoulder your bag back into position.

“Well, we can’t all be as perfect as you, Ga-In. After you.” You sweep your arms out in front of you dramatically to tell her to keep walking. Ga-In bows and proceeds to skip ahead, “you know I love you, stinker.”

“Well, I hate you so.”

“y/n! Shut up and hurry.”

“I’m coming, geez.”

~

Needless to say; you miss the bus. It’s only a minute until your math class starts and your professor is always strict about students being tardy, so you run with all the strength left in you as you two dodge around people crowding the college campus. You’re only a few paces behind Ga-In, who’s reached the door, curse her long legs, and is holding it open for you; when you run right smack into someone who was crossing your path. 

Your momentum and how hard you hit them sends your body flying backwards and crashing to the ground. You barely register that the boy who accidently cut your b-line to the door hasn’t even fallen and he’s apologizing quietly, before you leap to your feet and dart past him; not sparing him a single glance but gracing him with a quick ‘I’m so sorry!’ as you sprint for the open door. 

You don’t dare stay behind and risk the wrath of Mr. Sung today.

The young man looks after you and bites back a shy smile, shoving his friends off him when they start to tease, “ohhh, someone’s got a crush.” He groans and pushes the other boy away from him, “get off. We’re late for class.”

~

Your eyes scan the cafeteria when you walk in; girls and guys alike either walk aimlessly picking a random table, or shoulder past people to sit with their groups. Ga-In waves at you from across the room and you smile and wave back, pointing at the lunch line and mouthing 'I need food’.

She nods and sends you a thumbs up; assuring you she’s got a seat saved. You scoot into the line and grab a tray, scanning the options to pick from quickly before your stomach implodes with hunger, when you overhear a girl whisper to her friend next to you.

“Did you hear about it?”

“About what?” Her friend whispers a little louder and the first girl shushes her before continuing, “-the police found a body yesterday. Someone was murdered.” Your eyes widen a tad, but you smile at the lady behind the counter and point to a sandwich, “that one please.” You keep pretending like you aren’t listening in on the girls’ conversation.

No. You’re not listening in. You just happened to hear a little something. A little something about a body. A supposed murder. Wait, what else was she saying now?

Against your better judgement; you lean a little closer to them and almost choke on your own breath when they suddenly walk away, whispering and sharing secrets without including you, who obviously just wanted to know a little info. What harm could that bring? 

What really startled you though, was how abruptly they get out of line, which sends you stumbling a little. You accidently step on the foot of the person that was behind them and apologize profusely, “oh gosh, I’m sorry. I- I’m a little out of it today.” You haven’t met his eyes. 

Yes, it’s a he and you can tell from his black combat boots. Which is actually why you’re so nervous.

You know those boots.

The same boy that you ran into before math today. 

He most likely hates you now for running away so quick after that incident. He must think you’re so rude, but you didn’t see him fall so you thought he was fine! 

You just stare at the lace on his boots, noticing that he tied them on the second to last line of lace holes. That’s kind of annoying, but whatever. 

It’s silent for a minute so you start to turn to walk away before he mentions anything from earlier, but then you hear his quiet and low voice mumble almost incoherently, “uh no, no it’s okay.” You smile and bow, but still refuse to look at his face, because if he’s cute then you’ll just have to chuck yourself out the window. You can see he bows as well as you turn to scurry to safety.

Shaking your head in disbelief at your rotten luck today, you swerve around the other students and head straight for Ga-In, who’s eating silently in the corner. As you pass a table of boys you hear one speak lowly to his friend, “dude, did you see the news?” That sparks your interest and you try to slow down subtly, listening intently to what they’re talking about. Maybe you’ll get a little more detail than those girls cared to give. The second boy appears to shake his head and the first scoots closer holding his phone out to show him a picture.

“They found a body yesterday and the police think the killer is going to strike again.” His friend just laughs and shakes his head, “how can they know that?” Boy number one scoffs and taps away on his phone.

“You seriously need to pay better attention to the news, dude. There have been four murders in the past week before this one, and it’s all the same guy.”

“Oh yeah? How do they know that for sure?" 

You’re probably looking like a creeper right now because you’ve come to a full stop behind them, clutching your tray and trying to get a glimpse of the picture on his phone. 

"Because they were all done the same way and all of them were in Seoul, idiot. It’s definitely a serial killer." 

Your breath catches in your throat at his next words, ”-the police found the same marks on every body they found. Two puncture wounds on them, nothing else. The report says it seems like they bled to death…but, there wasn’t much blood at the crime scene.“

Well….that’s absolutely horrifying.

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a/n: I hope you guys like this one, dw it’ll start getting good soon ;) thanks for reading! Let me know what you think :)