#does this need a tw for like funeral and casket mention?

[usermoon]

hey guys i miss you all and i miss simblr but unfortunately my brain sees the sims 4 icon and i malfunction 😭

[bukguhope]

Angrily in Love

two mafia families, two heirs. they should’ve stay away from one another, they usually do. but a new threat forces them to work together. and you know what they say; the line between hate and love can be blurry

enemies to lovers, mafia member!jungkook, mafia tech! reader, bickering, pining, angst, little fluff, strong female lead, SARCASM. light smut. tw: MENTIONS OF death/murder. brief mention of prostitution (no character does this it’s only mentioned)

wc: 20.2k she’s a long one

12 months ago

London, England

You stand deathly still, spine straight and eyes forward. The cold metal of the gun strapped to your thigh makes your skin itch but you don’t move, not one inch. No one can see you, you were certain of that but then again you didn’t dare do anything that could even possibly garner any attention. No, you kept close to the tree who’s shadow was helping keeping you hidden. Not too far in front of you, but far enough to not be seen, a coffin is slowly moved six feet below. There was no sounds of anyone crying, not even a sniffle was made from any of the small group of people attending the funeral. They simply just watched, straight unwavering faves as two men began to shovel dirt on top of the coffin and as soon as the first load of dirt fell upon the casket- everyone in attendance turned and left without looking back. You waited, longer then you needed to, before walking over once the two men had finished their job of burying the coffin. Now you stood at the end of the freshly done grave, staring down at the headstone, blinking a couple times you bent down on your knees. A small smile graced your lips slowly.

“bye father, rot in hell”

Present

New York, United States

Y/N

It was silent, except for the occasional scrapes of metal cutlery against the plates, as you and your Grandfather ate dinner. Although no words were being exchanged, it was comfortable. This man had raised you his entire life and he doted on your every move since the day you were born, he was the reason you carried on in this trauma filled existence. Being involved in the underground dealings of the world should’ve been terrifying, you should’ve screamed and begged to not be inflicted in mafia business. But you didn’t, in fact, you thrived on this lifestyle. You were smart, more so then most men in this type of business and most of them knew that. The things you could find out with a simple laptop could crumble someone’s entire life with one click.

“y/n, dear, i have a job for you” This immediately peaked your interest, dropping your cutlery you looked to your Grandfather at the end of a rather large dining table. Well, it had to be big to fill the space- it was a mansion you were in after all. High ceilings, glamorous decor and extravagant windows.

“what do you need me to do?” There wasn’t a lot you wouldn’t do for him, all he had to do was give you the word and you were on it. He reached into his suit pocket, pulling out a white envelope before standing and walking the distance between the two of you. He placed the envelope in front of you before giving you a pat on the shoulder

“you’re not going to like this love, but it needs to be done” You furrow your eyebrows at this but remain silent and open the envelope

- Codes to a locked spreadsheet your father kept hidden: break into it.

- New group started, your father knew it would happen he has information.

- You’re partner for this: Jeon Jungkook

Your jaw tightens, the last person on this earth you’d want to work with was Jeon Jungkook. The rivals families heir? The cocky, insufferable bastard?

“get it done” Is all your Grandfather says before walking out of the dining room and off onto his wing of the mansion. Letting out a sigh you flip the sheet in front of you. On the back of the paper were several computer codes and you gave a little nod to yourself before sliding the paper back into the envelope and standing before retreating to your wing of the mansion. If this is what needed to be done, then you’d just have to suck it up and do the job.

London, England

Jungkook

He sat with a straight face, looking at the cards between his fingers before casually drifting his gaze to the men sat around the table. Smoke from cigarettes filled the air and the smell mixed with the scent of scotch.

“stop looking so serious Jungkook, this is a friendly game” Taehyung, one of his closest men, smirked as Jungkook’s remained unmoving. He always took poker so seriously, always the competitive type.

“i wouldn’t call ten grand at risk a friendly game” Yoongi quipped before the men around the table chuckled, they knew that amount of money meant nothing to them. It was pocket change if anything. “i fold” He sighed before placing his cards face down and taking a swig of his scotch before rising from the table and walking off.

“what will it be Jungkook?” Namjoon asked from across the table, just the two of them left in the game and it was up to Jungkook whether he folded or risked it and raised. Of course, he raised before showing his deck and leaning back in his chair with a raised eyebrow “you’re such a cocky bastard you know that?” Namjoon let out before showing his cards and standing from the table, leaving Jungkook to collect his winnings. Smirking he left the money on the table, he’d come back for it.

“Jeon, duty calls!” One of his fathers men shouting down into his den got his attention and he sighs before standing

“funs over, don’t take my winnings” He says before going up the stairs to the exit of his sanctuary before heading straight to his fathers office. Not that it was a quick journey, the mansion was not lack in size. The Jeon estate was one to be marvelled at, Jungkook’s wing alone was enough to be classed as a mansion in its own right. But once he did make it, he walked straight in not bothering to knock as he did so. His father didn’t flinch, used to his son barging in as he pleased.

“son, take a seat” He did so, eyeing the two men that stood behind his father, it almost made him chuckle. His own father felt the need to protect himself from him, although he’d be a fool not to. Jungkook had skills that any would dream to have mastered, he was undeniably strong with a quick brain. If he wanted to, he’d have both guards dead aswell as his father within minutes. “we have a problem” Jungkook quirked a brow, not saying anything, so the older man continued “theirs a new alliance brewing, we got wind of it last week but didn’t feel it was that worrying. But it’s important this gets squished now”

“stop talking around the topic and get to the specifics” Jungkook had no time for riddles, if there was a job to be done all information needed to be given to him now so he could do what he needed to

“before you were born there was a family that were said to be the most dangerous in the world. we thought every single one of them were dead, turns out we were wrong. and when i say we son, i don’t mean just our family” Staying quiet, Jungkook eyed his father urging him to continue his little story. “the y/l/n’s” He concluded and Jungkook’s muscles tighten. Their rivals, the bane of his existence and the worst of the lot? You. He met you a handful of times, all memory of them made him uncontrollably angry. You were a sarcastic little woman and every word that came out of your month made him want to cut your tongue off. The worst thing about it was how attractive you were, he always left the small altercations you two had extremely mad and half hard. But no matter what, they’d always be bad blood between the two of you- especially after last year.

“where do i come into this?” His father took a deep breath before leaning back into his chair, fingers interlocking with one another.

“i need you to take out that last family member. we just don’t know where they’re hiding, but someone can find out and they’re grandfather already agreed to a temporary alliance” Anger arose within him, fearing he already knew who exactly his father was talking about “you’re heading to new york”

New York, United States

Y/N

You took a deep breath as you stood at the back exit of the airport, waiting on a secret runway. In a few short minutes your worst nightmare would be landing and coming out of his private jet. Why you had to come and meet him was beyond you, but your Grandfather asked and hell would freeze over before you said no to him. Although, it just might actually freeze over now it’s leader was about to land in front of your very eyes. The devil himself; Jeon Jungkook. You heard the jet above your head, you were quite a distance from the runway of course but it was still deafening. Tilting your head up, you scoffed as you looked at his jet

Jeon Air

It was all back with white writing, making it extremely obvious who owned the jet. Once it finally came to a halt, you didn’t make a move to walk over. choosing to stay by the door that led to the secret tunnels leading out. The door opened and you spot him coming out the entrance, deep black suit covered his muscles and shades hid his eyes. He spots you and you know he did because he tenses, it makes you chuckle. Walking down the steps he stops at the bottom of them as someone comes over with his suitcase, handing it over to him. Taking it, he extends the handle and begins to walk in your direction. Once he’s close, you turn and open the door and begin the walk out not even bothering to greet him. You simply didn’t want to.

“what a lovely warm welcome” He mumbled behind you and you roll your eyes and continued walking ahead, not wanting to get involved in his little game. The noise of his suitcase wheels grinding against the floor was echoing in the long tunnels. You felt him shuffle with something and you just knew exactly what he was doing, how predictable he was. Smoothly, you reach to your thigh pulling the gun from your strap and turning to point it straight between his eyes. You met the sight of the barrel of his own gun, pointing down at you as he stopped walking. Then it was a stare off, you felt ridiculous but he pulled his on you first and he did it while your back was turned- how pathetic.

“you’re not subtle at all, i heard the shuffling. you should work on that” His lip twitched, making your smirk. He was so easy to annoy and it bought you joy to do so.

“you think you’re so smart”

“i don’t think, i know” In one quick motion your leg raise, your ankle hitting his wrist making the gun slip from his grasp and you could see the shock on his face. Keeping your gun pointed at his direction you stepped towards him, hand coming up to grip his tie. “are you sure you’re a mafia bosses son? because disarming you was way too quick” Then you were pushing him, he was strong but you were quick. Now against the wall, he stared down at you breathing hard as your grip tightened upon his tie. “don’t underestimate me Jeon” The pair of you held your eye contact in silence, he could’ve pushed you away, in one quick motion he could’ve had your arms behind your back and face against the wall. But he remained still and you knew you had won this time. Finally, you released his tie and stepped backwards until your feet met his fallen weapon. You kick it and it makes a loud noise as it slides over to him on the concrete floor. Without a word you take off and continue walking, you hear him collect his gun and the noise of wheels on his suitcase fills the silence once again. Once you reach the end you push open the door and the sun beats down onto your skin and makes you squint slightly as you slip your gun back into the strap on your thigh. You were enjoying the warming of your skin from the summer heat before you felt him standing behind you, instantly spoiling the moment.

“if you’ve finished whatever you’re doing, i’d like to leave” Closing your eyes momentarily, you mentally count to five to calm yourself before walking to your car and he followed. It stood out like a sore thumb, a cyan tinted Bugatti Divo, your little baby. You unlock it before popping the boot to let Jungkook put his luggage in.

“put your shit in the boot, then get in and don’t touch a fucking thing inside” You gave your simple instructions before getting into the drivers seat, waiting for him. Looking in the mirror you see him rounding the back and heading for the door so you close the boot with a simple button as he opens the door and slides in. Wincing as he shuts the door a little too hard for your liking you side eye him. “don’t slam my doors you fucking imbecile” He gives you a look before reaching for the door, holding your stare he opens it and proceeds to slam it shut. Your jaw clenches, he smirks. “you’re lucky my grandfather wants you alive Jeon” With that, you turn the engine on and without warning speed out of your parking spot making Jungkook fly back in his seat, the idiot didn’t put his belt on.

The y/l/n Estate

Jungkook

His eyes explored the place as the grand gates opened to your estate, it felt strange. He was basically crossing enemy lines with no protection other then the gun tucked into waist. Flashes of you kicking it from his grip comes to his mind and then to you having him up against the wall. God why didn’t he push you back, teach you a lesson for putting your hands on him? Shaking himself from his thoughts he took note of his surroundings, your land seems to be slightly bigger than his own, a lavish little fountain was placed at the end of the long drive up to the mansion. Of course, the y/l/n family knew how to show off. You parked the car beside the estate, not uttering a word as you open the boot and get out of the car. Rolling his eyes, he opens the door and steps out

“slam that door and i’ll pin you against it” Your voice calls as you walk away, not even turning to his direction but you wait for him to get his stuff as you face the entrance to the home. Taking a breath he closes the door, softly, before grabbing his suitcase from the boot. As soon as it hits the ground you press your button to close the boot before locking the car and walking inside, leaving Jungkook to follow along. He argued about this, staying at your family’s mansion. All he wanted was to stay at a hotel and see you only when necessary but his father declined, stressing that your Grandfather had extended his hospitality and it would be much easier to work together under one roof. Huffing, he enters and takes a look around the place. If he were honest with himself he’d say he preferred this place to his own home, it was more welcoming. Photos of you and your grandfather hung all over the place, just the two of you. Well that was expected, he knew your father was dead and buried back in England.

“Mr Jeon!” A loud, booming voice almost echoed against the walls and his gaze turns away from the pictures to see your grandfather walking towards him from the top of the stairs. He was on edge to say the least, he was the head of his rivals and here he stood watching him come down the stairs, smile on his face until he stood in front of him. His age was evident, the full head of grey hair and greying beard. But you’d think he was your father then grandfather, he still looked young. “welcome to our home Jungkook” He waved a hand in the air and a guy, clearly a worker came over and took his suitcase from his grip and began retreating into the mansion “He’s taking it to y/n’s wing, you’ll stay there” He had to hold in the eye roll he wanted to let out, of course he was being put there. “We have a wing for guests but i think you’ll be more comfortable in her wing and it will be easier to work together” Jungkook gave a nod, not bothering to speak, he didn’t truly trust this man. There was no way he ever would, he knew what he was capable of. “Come, i’ll get you settled in, seems as y/n has disappeared” He begins walking in the same direction as the worker had and Jungkook followed, eyeing his surroundings as he did so. They reached an elevator and it was a huge one, your grandfather pressed the button and the pair entered together. It was silent as the doors closed and the lift began moving.

“i know you’re probably on edge, crossing enemy lines” Your grandfather broke the silence and Jungkook raised an eyebrow, keeping his eyes in front of him “but i promise you, while you’re under my roof no harm will come to you. i admire you actually” This took Jungkook by surprise, not even his own father said any sort of praise to him but here was the head of his rivals doing just that “you’re a strong kid, your head is screwed on right. iam happy to have this alliance, even if it’s temporary” With that the doors opened and your grandfather walked away and left Jungkook a little stunned. He took a moment before exiting the lift, his eyes widen slightly. It was like entering a completely different mansion. The walls were black, halloween-like decor filled the space, strangely close to what his wing looked like back home. “this is your room, y/n’s is down the corridor to the right. kitchen is to the left and there’s a staircase at the back leading to the land out back. there’s also a gym down the corridor opposite y/n’s room, iam sure you’ll want to take advantage of that” The man finishes by giving Jungkook a pat on his bicep, before leaving back in the direction he came from, he could hear the faint ding of the lift. Opening the door he takes it in, large king bed in the middle with black silk sheets. The walls matched while the units were bright white. Damn, he actually liked it better then his own place and he decorated that place himself. His suitcase was left at the end of the bed and he stepped in to unpack before loud music filled the wing. Turning in the direction it came from, his curiosity got the better of it and he followed it. The closer he got to the gym, the louder it got. He stopped outside, the the door made of glass meaning he can see right inside and he noticed you. In your exercise gear, leggings and sports bra, your back faced him as you punched into a bag hung from the ceiling. With music covering his sounds, he opens the door and stalks over to you- it was time to teach you a lesson. It was payback for the airport, he wasn’t just going to let anyone get away with disrespecting him. He wasn’t going to doing anything bad, trip your foot and pin you to the floor just enough to embarrass you. Inching closer, his hand raised you grip the back of your neck but it all happened so fast. Your right hand reaches behind your head, gripping his wrist as you swipe your leg into his while simultaneously pulling his arm forward. He flips over your back, onto the mat in front of you. In an instant your on top of him, blade pinned to his neck making him gasp lightly.

“you’re testing my patience Jeon” He looks up at you, eyes narrowed as you hold the blade flush against his neck. “keep it up Jungkook, see how long you last” With that you stand off him and walk over to smack a button, turning the music off before you stomp out of the gym. His eyes followed you until his head hit the mat, breathing hard as he stares at the ceiling.

The y/l/n’s Estate

Y/n

You sat in the main living room floor, beside your grandfather’s legs as he sits on the sofa behind you. The pair of you working on a puzzle that was scattered on the table. This was an activity the pair of you did often, ever since you were a teenager you’d do puzzles with him. It was nice to do this, it had been a couple days since Jungkook arrived and all you had done was ignore each other.

“i hope you’re making our new house guest feel welcome” Your jaw clenches at the mention of him under your roof, not wanting to be reminded he was now settling into your wing instead of the guest wing.

“sure am” You get out through clenched teeth, not wanting to upset him. He chuckles as he fishes through the pieces trying to find the last corner piece.

“look, you may not like this y/n but this new group are bad news. they’re a great threat to us, it needs to be dealt with and the best way to do so is with this alliance.” Sighing you nod, understanding that he was right. You and Jungkook were the sole heirs to two massive empires, you both have the training and knowledge to deal with this problem. Although you knew this, you certainly wasn’t going to be happy about it.

“sir, Mr Jeon says he has some information he needs to share” A voice makes you look up and it’s Anna, your grandfather’s wing housekeeper. She basically raised you alongside him, been with you for as long as you can remember.

“tell him to meet me in my office please Anna, i’ll wait there” You ask, standing before giving a smile to your grandfather before heading off to your work quarters. It was a floor above your wing, the top floor of the mansion, anything business related got dealt with on that floor. Sitting down at your desk, it was large and deep black, you open your laptop and jump slightly when the door opens harshly.

“it’s polite to knock” You grumble as he swings the door closed and sits nonchalantly in the chair opposite

“it’s also polite to not be a raging bitch maybe you should stop doing that” Glaring at him from across the desk, he simply stares back.

“what’s this important information you’ve found?” Leaning back in your chair he clears his throat lightly before speaking

“my father said he found out a location they could be working from, we need to chase it up” Nodding you begin going through your laptops security camera programme

“address” You state simply and you hear him huff, probably in annoyance at your tone but you couldn’t care less, you had no time to be nice to him neither did you want to.

“here” He mumbles, throwing a piece of paper on the desk, you lean your hand out with even looking up and slide it over to you. Quickly typing the address into your laptop you pull up the information and find six cameras in the area. It only takes you a couple of minutes before you hack into them and pull up the feeds. It was a place holding shipment containers with a few warehouses near by.

“ok got it” Leaning back once again you begin flipping through the different cameras trying to find anything interesting

“got what exactly?” You don’t say anything, just lift you hand telling him to come over before moving you hand back to the laptop. Jungkook huffs again but stands and rounds the desk, leaning down he raises an eyebrow “the security cams for the address?”

“yep” For a moment you think you can see a look cross his face that seems he’s impressed but it disappeared before you could really tell.

“car pulling in, camera four” This has you pulling yourself into further into the desk and double click on said camera. A blacked out van stops just inside the entrance gates, you and Jungkook lean closer to the laptop as you watch in silence. A few moments pass before four guys hope out, all holding familiar looking guns making your eyes widen

“m2 smg’s, only military should be in possession of them” Jungkook’s turns to you at the information, this was a much bigger problem then he originally thought

“how could you tell what guns they were so quickly? the image is so grainy” He sounded genuinely curious, he was quite well educated when it came to guns but even he couldn’t tell that fast. You simply shrug

“found my fathers armoury at twelve, became obsessed with finding out what it all was” At the mention of your father he tenses, so do you. You regret it even coming out of your mouth so you quickly move on “if these guys are getting military grade equipment they must have killer connections”

“yeah, or they’re stealing. both are as bad as each other” He states, leaning away from the table shoving his hands in his suit pockets. You think for a moment, right now there wasn’t much that could be done. Rounding up people and storming down there would just end up in a blood bath, reporting them to police was out of the window- when it came to police that option was always out the window with your families. With a new thought suddenly coming to mind, you move your hands to your laptop and minimise the cameras before moving onto to something else. “what you doing?” Jungkook leans down to get a good look, again he sounds genuinely interested which makes a change for his normal asshole way of speaking

“serial numbers, all of those guns should have serial numbers. if i can track all the shipments the military have been sent of those smg’s, i could see whether they were stolen they have to report that. that should answer our question if they have connections or not”With that, you tapping at your keys while Jungkook watches over your shoulder- did he not know the term personal space? Nonetheless you said nothing, just worked on finding the information you needed. You had to block your IP Address, and make sure you were leaving no trace of you ever entering these programmes. This was going to take some time, so once everything was set and loading you stand making your shoulder brush Jungkook’s arm making him stand with you.

“what can’t do it? not as gifted as you thought?” His head tilts to the side to aide his snarky tone as his hands slide right back into his pockets

“it’s loading, i have to wait. what have no idea how these things work? too stupid?” You match his previous tone, tilting your head to the side aswell. He narrows his eyes at you but you bare it no mind and shoulder check him as you walk past him and out your office. Sure you could’ve walked the other way, but you were too petty for that. You stand in the hallway before turning back to face him “get out” He raises an eyebrow at your demand “like iam gonna trust you in there, you’re a Jeon after all” He lets out a breathy single chuckle before he finally moves his feet and then shoulder checks you at the door, before walking in the direction of the lift

“bitch” You hear him faintly mumble, you run your tongue over your top teeth before you slam the door behind you and let out a smirk when you notice his body jump slightly at the sudden noise.

The y/l/n Estate

Jungkook

He stares at the ceiling, not sure what the time was but he new it was late. or really early. Huffing he tossed and turned, he couldn’t fucking sleep ever since he was jolted awake from the stupid nightmare. The loud bang of the gun, the screaming, the blood- Yeah he definitely wasn’t going back to sleep anytime soon. It was pathetic really, he took many lives and he didn’t have an ounce of shame or regret about any of them. But that first kill- it kept coming back to haunt him. Sighing he flings the covers back, getting on his feet he leaves the room and heads straight to the kitchen. It was eerily quiet and dark, not a single sound was even coming from outside. The perks of living in a mansion in the middle of nowhere, he knew about that too well. He keeps his eyes downwards as he reaches the kitchen, hoping to find some sort of alcohol in there. Strolling in he jumps at the sound of a glass hitting a marble surface. His head jumps up, you’re standing at the marble island- scotch in your grip as you stare at him in the entrance way. It was a kind of scary sight, you standing there in the dark drinking with a gun resting next to the glass. Without any words you turn, grab an empty glass from the cupboard before placing it down and sliding it onto the surface towards him. An invitation to drink he supposed. Walking into the kitchen now he grips the glass as you now slide the bottle of scotch in his direction. He begins to pour himself a healthy amount as you drown the rest of your drink before walking around the island, just sporting a long t-shirt and socks.

“don’t drink all my shit, i will have to kill you in your sleep” With that, you’re gone and he lets out a chuckle with no humour in it. He didn’t doubt you actually would, you’ve been dying to put a bullet in his head for the last year, probably longer then that. Jungkook sipped on his drink as he stared out the window opposite him, the moonlight seeping in making it not total pitch black. He didn’t even know why you didn’t fight against having him here, you couldn’t stand him, you wanted him dead. Yet here you were, letting him sleep under your roof and drink your scotch. It annoyed him, infuriated him that you were showing an ounce of sympathy towards him, he didn’t need you to feel sorry for him. He was already feeling sorry for himself enough for everyone. Sighing, he refilled his glass a little but downed it all straight away. He needed to solve this new crew nonsense as fast as possible, he needed to go home, needed to get away from you.

When the sun rose the next morning the faint sound of music filled his ears. His eyes fluttered open and it took him a second to remember where he was and when he did, he groaned. Stretching, he sat up and focused on the music he could hear slightly. It sounded like jazz, he could hear the occasional trumpet mixed with other instruments. He stands and slips on a plain white shirt before leaving the room, the music gets clearer as he does so. It’s coming from your gym, he furrows his brows as he stands in the hallway. why would you listen to jazz to work out? Moving his feet, he doesn’t know why but he walks to the gym- his curiosity got the better of him. The music gets louder and Jungkook turns the corner and he sees the glass door to your gym, he gets closer and peeks through. His eyes meet you and your Grandfather happily dancing to the music playing through the gym. He thinks it’s the first time he’s seen a genuine smile on your lips as your Grandfathers spins you by your arm making you let out a laugh. A pain struck his heart, so this is what a happy home could look like? He wouldn’t know, his mother left when he was a kid and his dad only wanted him to do work. God he hated this feeling, that empty gnawing pit at his stomach that let him know he was jealous, jealous at the fact you and your Grandfather were so close when the only true meaning of family he knew were his friends. Deciding he had seen enough he spun on his heel and went back to his room, feeling even more sorry for himself. As he was getting his outfit ready the music stopped and it was quiet before he heard steps coming in his direction. He stopped moving and waited before two knocks on the door echoed throughout the room.

“got a new lead Jeon, come to my office” With that, your footsteps retreated back from the door and he heard the faint ding of the lift. Sighing, he got dressed and smoothed down his blazer before doing up the buttons and leaving the room to make his way to your office. It’s silent as he rides the lift to your office and all he can bring himself to feel is annoyed. He hated that he had to be here and he hated having to work with you.

The y/l/n Estate

y/n

You’re tapping on you’re laptop, finally being able to search the military reports you had left loading the previous day. Not only did you have those reports now, you also had the information from beyond the grave. Aka: your father. Of course he withheld important information and kept it all locked up for himself. Sometimes, you felt guilty for being relieved he was dead- then you’d remember who he was and what he did. You don’t feel so bad then. Someone clearing their throat alerts you to their presence and you look up from your screen and see Jungkook standing in the doorway. You left the door open, not wanting him to burst in and have to teach him about basic manners. Lifting your hand you indicate to the chair in front of, telling him to sit and if you weren’t already drained from having him in your space- you would’ve told him to not only sit but to shut the fuck up for good measure. However, you were fed up and tired, so you chose to say nothing.

“what’s the lead?” He breaks the silence, and you look back to your screen momentarily to finish what you were doing before looking back up.

“military reported a shipment of m2 smg’s missing four months ago, i found out that a boat carrying those guns was raided by an unknown group.” Jungkook appears to think about the information, although you don’t care if he has anything to say so you continue “we have a confirmed location that the group likes to frequent” He seems shocked by this, but that expression is wiped away in a second.

“the location we saw them at yesterday?” You shake you head to say no before speaking, you didn’t want to mention that this was your fathers leads so you chose to leave that little bit out

“my grandfather gave me some codes to break into this whole load of information. before you came i started up up the programme and it’s finally done. on the list was a club the head of this group has been confirmed to frequent. we now have a name, face and location.” With that, you open your top desk drawer and pull out a packet you put together of the information you found. You didn’t really want to sit and explain everything to him, so this was the best option “read through that, memorise the leaders face, height, weight, name all of the above. later, we’ll go to the club” He stops flipping through the pages to look up at you as you stand

“we’re going to go? on our own? isn’t that something you should’ve consulted with me on?” Rolling your eyes you close your laptop, the sound echoing in your office

“iam consulting with you now” You pick up your laptop and walk around the desk to leave, he scoffs and stands up to block you from the door

“no, you’ve already decided the plan. we’re meant to work together stop being so fucking bossy and involve me in the decision making!” His voice started to raise, you sigh and sit on the edge of your desk gripping your laptop in front of you

“okay, what time do you want to go to the club ten or eleven?” He glares at you and you shrug “you wanted to be involved, we can go at whichever time you like sweetheart” You stand then, watching as his tongue pokes against his cheek clearly annoyed. God, you hated him but he was hot when he was angry. He steps forward, making your head tilt up slightly to look at him. You could feel his breathe on your face but you weren’t about to back down, he didn’t scare you.

“you’re intolerable” He gets out through gritted teeth and you smile up at him, it wasn’t sincere and you both knew that. Jungkook keeps his eyes on yours and you hold the stare, smile still planted on your lips.

“good, you’re the last person i want to make feel comfortable. i hope you hate every day you’re working with me” His jaw tightens, he leans his head down nose bumping against yours momentarily almost making you falter but you stay put “we leave at ten, be ready” You get out before stepping to the side and leaving your office, you’re about to rush off to your room but turn to stare at him still stood in your office. You’d never leave him in there, not one ounce of trust in your body for him.

“iam leaving, don’t wont to snoop around your office anyway. i have better things to do” He finishes his sentence with his back to you before he turns and begins to walk in your direction. Giving you one final look, he bumps your shoulder and walks away.

Albany, New York

11:24pm

Your heels click on the pavement and a tight red dress clings to your thighs and you walk beside Jungkook in the busy streets on New York. The dress didn’t allow for you to wear your gun on your thigh, it would clearly be seen, you opted for a blade tucked into your bra. You knew Jungkook had a gun tucked in the back on his belt, he always did and in some way that made you feel a little more relaxed. Turning a corner you spot the neon sign you’ve been keeping an eye out for, and stop your movement while placing your hand on Jungkook’s arm to get him to stop walking too.

“we’re here. remember the all information?” He gives you an exasperated look as you keep your eyes on the club and everyone going in and out

“not a rookie” Is all he says making you roll your eyes, he couldn’t just give you a simple yes or no?

“whatever, let’s go through the back entrance. front is too dangerous they could check for weapons” You don’t wait for a reply, just walk towards the alley behind the club and you hear his footsteps following you. The closer you get you notice a worker push open the door, you push yourself against the wall before the alleyway. Jungkook stands directly behind you, you can feel him as he pushes up against you to hide himself. Letting out a breathe you quickly jump into action when the worker goes back through the door. You run up and hold the door open, slipping through it and Jungkook comes right in after you. Silently, you both make your way down an empty hallway towards the music that continues to grow louder. At the end of the hallway was the back of the club, opposite through a small crowd of people was the bar

“ok, let’s head straight for the bar. get a drink and find a good view point” Jungkook simply nods, you knew he hated when you boss him around- so you made sure to always do it. The pair of you give each other a look before turning and entering into the crowd and walking over to the bar. You look around as Jungkook gets the bartenders attention, you were surprised that there wasn’t many people.

“what do you want?” You turn your attention to Jungkook as he waits for your order

“white wine” He nods and turns back to the bar tender, in a couple minutes he hands you your glass and pays for the drinks. Suddenly, the music turns down it doesn’t stop but it was too quiet for a club

“what’s happening?” Jungkook whispers to you and you shrug, maybe it was technical difficulties? You’re about to suggest that when people all around you start kissing, not softly either. Your eyes widen as some people get on floor to make out while some make use of the booths. Both you and Jungkook whip your heads around in shock but then it hits you.

“fucking hell, it’s a sex club!” You get out as you look to Jungkook, his hands in fists as he tries not to look around him. “we look so out of place, come on” You use your free hand to tug him to an empty booth, planting your wine on the table you turn and take his drink from him and putting it next to yours.

“what’s your genius plan now? we’re gonna get fucking caught!” Ignoring him, you’re pushing him down to sit in the booth. His eyes widen as you stand in front of him.

“just shut the fuck up and listen” You pull the hem of your dress up and little before sitting yourself down on his lap. He looks up at you, pupils shaking as you settle yourself onto his lap “keep a look out over my shoulder, try to find our guy. this is the only way we don’t get caught” Taking an inhale you move you lips to his neck, his hand slam onto the seat either side of him. “am only kissing your neck okay? we won’t stick out and you can still see everyone around” You get out your reason, it really was life or death if you were caught out, who knows what could happen? So, you suck up your pride and gently place a kiss beneath his ear. You hear him suck on a breath, most likely surprised but you continue. Placing another kiss in the spot you then move more towards his throat, sucking at a certain spot this time. His hands fly to your waist making you jump but you carry on. You move back up to below his ear, getting a little carried away lick a little strip up his skin ending at his ear. Another sigh escapes his lips and you grip his shoulders as you focus back onto the base of his throat. You can feel him swallow over your lips and you change between gentle kisses and sucking.

“fuck y/n stop” You detach your lips from him but don’t move to lean up

“what did you spot him?” His grip tightens on your waist as he shakes his head no “don’t tell me stop then we’re gonna look suspicious” Most of the club goers were mostly undressed now, if you were just sat here talking you really were about to get caught. You move your head back down but Jungkook moves his head away from your reach making you huff “i know this isn’t ideal but it’s for the mission! do you want us dead? why the fuck-”

“iam fucking hard y/n” He grits out as his head whips back in your direction, his breathing hard as he pushes you tighter against his lap and then you feel it. He is hard. “iam hard okay, that’s why i told you to fucking stop” He whispers under his breath before he leans his head back against the booth. You’re stunned, hands gripping his shoulders tightly. You should’ve probably got off his lap, ended the mission and gone home. But you stayed put, why? It turned you on, it ashamed you to admit it to yourself but god were you so turned on. All you did was suck on his neck and he was hard, were you that touch starved that you’d happily sit here and tease Jungkook- your enemy, rival even? Yes, you were. Slowly, one of your hands moved from his shoulder to his chest. His head flings up from the booth to look up at you on his lap “what are you doing?”

“staying in character” You whisper before sliding your hand from his chest to his stomach. He inhales hard as he watches you, his own hands sliding from your waist to smooth along your exposed thighs. It was like you were in a trance, everything about the man beneath you annoyed every bone in your body. But as he looks up at you, bottom lip caught between his teeth as he grips your thighs? You have no hate, just lust. With your fingers resting above his belt, you lean forward making Jungkook release his bottom lip from his teeth. You edge closer, your bottom lip grazing his top lip

“party’s over!” A loud voice makes the pair of you jump, you stand from his lap breathing heavy as you notice everyone putting their clothing back on in a haste and running out of the club. You hear a distance siren of a cop car making you and Jungkook share a look before he stands and grips your wrist pulling you off towards the back entrance.

The y/l/n Estate

Jungkook

You stand quietly beside him as the pair of you ride the lift to your wing of the mansion. Your red lip stick smudged, most of it over his neck, as you keep your eyes looking in front of you. Jungkook’s head is filled with the feeling of you sucking on his neck, specifically the spot under his ear. He can still feel it making his jaw tighten, the doors of the lift open and you rush out and walk ahead not looking back. He follows shortly after, making his way to his room but he stops at the door and turns his head in your direction. His eyes travel down and stares at your legs as the sound of your heels clicking on the hardwood floor fill his ears. Once you round the corner he finally tears his gaze from your direction and he roughly opens the door and slams it behind him. He leans against, closing his eyes as he sighs. Images of you on his lap, hand moving down his chest flash into his mind and his eyes snap open. Pushing himself of the door, he grips his tie loosening the knot before pulling it off over his head. Undoing the top button of his shirt, he walks into the en-suite and turns the light on. He turns to the mirror, he sees your lipstick smudged on his neck and as he leans forward he spots a more deeper mark below his ear. a hickey. A low chuckle escapes him

“you sure had fun” He mumbles to himself, aimed at you, before turning on the tap and grabbing a wash cloth. Running it under the tap he lifts it to his neck before stopping. His hand hovers over the lipstick marks with the cloth but he just stares at them through the mirror. He dick grows hard underneath his trousers and he scoffs at himself before throwing the cloth into the sink and turning off the tap. Jungkook grips the sides of the marble sink as his head flops and he looks down. Great, the mere sight of your lipstick on him gets him hard and he couldn’t even bring himself to wipe the shit off. Shaking his head he walks off and turns the light off before going back into the bedroom to get changed. Undoing the buttons of his shirt he rips it off his shoulders before throwing it on the floor before undoing his belt and taking off his trousers and chucking the clothing next to his shirt. He slides under the sheets, resting his head against the pillows as he stares at the ceiling. Jungkook couldn’t comprehend the mixed feelings roaming around his body, you’re the heir to his rival family and one of the people he should hate the most but the simple feeling of you sucking on his neck got him the hardest he’s ever been in probably the quickest time too. It was sick really, to feel that way knowing what he’s done- what he did. He shouldn’t feel regret or guilt, he did what he had to for his job. But he did, fuck he really did. As he lay there, under your roof, staring mindlessly at the ceiling he came to terms with it. He didn’t exactly hate you, no he just acted as he should towards the rival families heir. He acted that way because he hated what he did, hated that you could know. You could know exactly what he did but you never tried to get back at him, never tried to get revenge like any other mafia member would after knowing what he did. He’s lived on the edge, waiting for that revenge but you never did anything… So he assumed you didn’t know, but surely you did? It was confusing, no one hid what he did yet you never confronted him. He loathed not knowing. His thoughts halt when he hears feet padding against the floor, right past his door and in the direction of the kitchen. It was you, of course it was this was your wing it was only you and him here. Huffing he rips the covers off himself and before he knows what he’s doing, he’s grabbing a pair of joggers and slipping them on before opening the door and heading in your direction. His expression is fierce as he stalks to the kitchen, the door is open and the lights off but he knows you’re in there, he can hear a drink being poured into a glass. You hear him before you see him, he knows it because your body tenses as he looks at your back. Wordlessly, you slide a glass of scotch from in front of you to your side on the counter before you walk around the counter and grab another glass, pouring another before sipping at it. You still haven’t looked at him, but he keeps his eyes on you as he walks forward and sips from the glass you offered out to him. It takes a couple of minutes before you look up at him, his eyes meet yours and he notices your gaze slip to his neck. Clearing your throat, you turn away and bend to a low cabinet. Jungkook’s jaw locks when the baggy shirt you’re wearing rides up and he notices a lack of shorts underneath the top. You stand, fresh cloth in your hand you run it under the tap quickly before turning back in his direction. Raising your hand over the counter you offer him the cloth but he refused to move, choosing to stand still. Sighing, you move around the counter standing directly in front of him raising the cloth up to his neck you gasp when he catches your wrist in his hand.

“don’t” He mumbles out as he stares down at you, his gaze drifts down to your lips before pulling back up to your eyes. You stay frozen as he silently looks at you, his adams apple bobbling as he swallows nothing. In one swift movement he pulls you into him with the wrist he’s gripping, you stumble forward dropping the cloth. It hits the floor as his other hand lifts your hold the side of your face.

“what the fuck are you doing?” You finally speak, through gritted teeth but he doesn’t move nor does he release his grip on you

“would you have carried on?” He tilts his head, questioning you, he notices your breath catch in your throat “how far would you have gone? if the police didn’t show?” Jungkook adds onto the end, not really expecting you to answer “what did you call it?” He whispers, lowering his head to your ear as his hand on your cheek moves to grip the side of your neck “staying in character?” His breath fans over your ear and he takes not how you shiver slightly “let’s see how good of an actress you really are” With that he pulls back and let’s go of you only to grip the back of your thighs as he lifts you up. Your hands fly to his shoulders to keep balance as he moves you on top of the kitchen top. His lips attaches to your neck, sucking beneath your ear making a gasp leave your lips. Jungkook smiles when he feels your head move to the side, giving him better access to your skin.

“i really fucking hate you” You grumble out making him chuckle against you

“feelings mutual sweetheart” A deep moan escapes him when your fingers attach to the waist of his joggers, pulling him tighter between your legs. His lips go back to attack you neck, sucking little marks wherever he could making you sigh

“you better not be leaving any marks Jeon” He leans away, looking at the trail he’s left from the top of your collarbone to near your ear

“don’t look in any mirrors” You grumble but he doesn’t care, he moves his hands up your thighs and underneath your shirt, playing with the fabric of your underwear

“you really piss me off” He smirks before pulling at the fabric before letting it go to fling back onto your skin making you jolt

“good” Is all he says before sliding his hands into your underwear, his middle finger brushing over your clit making your head lean back as you let out a moan. “got anything else to say?” He offers, running a finger over your entrance before running it back over you clit. “no?” Jungkook asks again but you just whine as he circles his finger over you “didn’t think so” He grumbles before using his middle finger to push into you making you moan and grip onto his shoulders.

He breathes heavily as he pulls out of you, head resting in the crook of your neck as he comes down from his high. Jungkook goes to plant a final kiss on your neck but is stopped when you push yourself of the counter and plant your feet on the floor. He starts redressing himself but as he does so, you take off and rush out of the kitchen. He turns to call for you but he stops himself. Mumbling a fuck under his breath he ties the string on his joggers before leaving the kitchen and stomping back to his room. With the door closed he flops onto the bed, thoughts filled with you. He lost control and that alone feels him with dread. It takes a a good hour of tossing and turning to finally get him to sleep.

He was wide awake as soon as sunlight hit the room in the morning. Groaning, he sat up before his phone ringing made him jump, leaning over he checks the caller id before answering it

“what do you want?” He huffs down the line

“well that isn’t a very nice greeting” Namjoon mumbles down the line, a small smile appearing on Jungkook’s lips. “how’s new york?”

“it’s” He searches for a word “fine” Not exactly an accurate description but he goes with it

“so life across the enemy lines is going good?” Jungkook didn’t necessarily want to be reminded at he was indeed rooming with his enemies, especially after what he did with a certain one of them last night

“it’s bliss namjoon, what do you want me to say?” He hears his friend laughs down the line

“alright snappy. just wanted to know how it was going? found that new group?” Jungkook gets out of the bed, moving over to the window. He peaks from behind the curtain and halts when he spots you “hello? you there?” Namjoon’s voice speaks down the line but Jungkook keeps his eyes trained on you. You’re seemingly doing yoga, in tight shorts and a sports bra

“uh yeah” He clears his throat “we have a confirmed name and some information on him” Jungkook leans closely to the window as you lean forward, your ass in his direction

“great work, shouldn’t be long until you squash this” Jungkook hums in response, not entirely listening as you lay on your stomach. “y/n annoying the shit out of you?” The mention of your name draws his attention back to the conversation as he watches you push against the floor bending your back from your led position

“more than you know” Jungkook grumbles before closing the curtain and moving away from the window. He hears Namjoon chuckle down the phone

“yeah thought so. Look, i’ll pick you up from the airport when you get back. Just let me know when you’re on your way yeah?”

“sure, see you then man” Namjoon mumbles out a goodbye and hang ups. Jungkook throws his phone onto the bed as he gets a suit together to put on.

The y/l/n Estate

Y/n

You were up earlier then normal this morning, thoughts jumbled about having sex with your sole enemy. It kept you up for ages, you should’ve regretted it and never thought of it again. But, stupidly, it was the greatest sex you’d ever had and it was him: Jeon Jungkook. The most annoying, irritating man you ever had the unfortunate opportunity of knowing. For god sake he was the heir to your rival fucking family and all you could think about was the feeling of his hands roaming over you in the darkness of your kitchen. So, with those thoughts still swirling around your mind at the ass cracked of dawn you got out of bed to try and exercise the vivid memory away. It didn’t work. So, you stride back into the mansion- an angry expression painting your face.

“you’re looking more angry then usual this morning” You look over to your Grandfather, walking out of his wing with a smile on his face.

“hm, not angry” He looked to you, not believing a word that came from your lips. Well, he always saw through you he basically raised you how could he not? “just, didn’t sleep well last night” It wasn’t exactly a lie, just wasn’t the whole truth either

“sleep is important darling.” You nod to agree as he indicates for you to follow him as he walks through the mansion “how’s the job going?”

“good. we have a name and some information. but our last mission failed, we didn’t get a confirmed sighting” He nods as the pair of you walk in the main living area, he takes a seat on the cream sofa and you join him

“well, you and Jungkook are the best. you’ll get it done” You smile at his encouragement, for a feared mafia boss he sure was soft. Sighing, you lean down and plant your head on his leg.

“just want to make you proud” Your Grandfather chuckles above you before smoothing his hand over your head.

“you’ve already made me so proud y/n” Your eyes flutter closed, suddenly emotional at the sudden heart to heart. “Mr Jeon” The sudden greeting makes your eyes snap open, you see him stood in the entrance of the living room. His hands tucked into his pockets as he looks over. Sitting up you watch as he walks a little bit closer to the both of you

“sorry to intrude, i just needed a word with y/n” Your Grandfather smiles over at you, you offer a small one back before standing and leaving the main living area. You hear Jungkook’s footsteps behind you and you stop in the foyer of the mansion, turning to his direction.

“what do you need?” He raised an eyebrow at you as he shifts his weight between on his legs

“last night”

“iam on the implant if that’s what you’re worried about” You cut him off, one of the thoughts that kept coming back to your mind was the fact no protection was used. It wasn’t hard to assume that a guy like him would be worrying about the risks

“good to know, that wasn’t what i was about to say. you’d know that if you didn’t interrupt me” You glare at him, staying quiet. Honestly, you didn’t want to talk about last night ever again. “wanna talk about it?”

“no” With that you turn on your heels and begin to walk away, you don’t get very far before you feel his hand grip your upper arm. You huff as he stops your movement and comes to stand in front of you once again.

“you’re testing my patience”

“you’re also testing your luck, get out of my way” You go to move but his grip tightens on your arm

“that smart little mouth of yours is gonna get you in trouble” Letting out a dry chuckle you look up at him

“i know something little of yours too, don’t think it’s gonna get you into much trouble though” You glance downwards to his crotch before looking back up, smirk etched onto your face

“didn’t hear you complaining about size last night” It was quiet then, silence engulfing the pair of you as you stare at each other his grip on your arm tightening a little

“let go of me Jeon” You mumble through your teeth

“stop being a bitch and i will” Huffing you push on his chest, catching him by surprise, you tear your arm from him and stumble back.

“i want to forget it ever happened. let’s get rid of this fucking new group and get back to our lives” Jungkook’s breathing grows heavy as he stares at you, his teeth clenched together.

“fine” He grumbles before pushing past you and heads out of the main doors of the mansion leaving you alone in the foyer. You hand no idea where he was going, you didn’t even know if he knew his way around New York but you refused to have an ounce of care about him. Turning, you’re about to go to the lift to retreat to your room but your feet don’t make it far before they stop. Closing your eyes you take a deep breath before turning on your heels and storming over to the doors. You pull them open and stomp out you see nothing in front of you but spot him leant against the wall of the mansion out the corner of your eye, cigarette hanging from his lips. “awh, caring enough to see where iam sweetheart?” Rolling your eyes your turn to face

“just making sure you don’t get yourself killed, don’t wanna start a war over your stupid ass” He chuckles before taking a long drag and blowing out the smoke. There’s a moment of silence as you move to stand next to him, you’re not sure why you do it but for some reason there’s just a strong pull between you and him. It was unexplainable, at this point you didn’t even try and justify your actions. Jungkook lifts the cigarette in your direction, you glance at him before taking and placing it between your lips to have a drag “my Grandfather might kill me if he sees me smoking” You admit, blowing out the smoke before taking another drag

“hm, doubtful. he adores you” Raising an eyebrow at him, you hand the cigarette back to him. “dont pretend he doesn’t” You look down at your feet, smile on your lips

“yeah, guess he does”

“count yourself lucky” He mutters, taking a final drag before flicking the end away onto the ground. Your curiosity peaks at his words

“you saying your father doesn’t adore you?” An empty laugh makes its way out of his throat, you can’t help it, you feel sorry for him

“don’t feel sorry for me” Your eyes snap to him, his own already looking at you. “i can see it, your sympathy is very evident”

“would never feel sorry for you. i relate to your father” It wasn’t true, which is why he smirked at your comment. Clearly you felt sorry for him, the look of pity so evident on your face. This atmosphere was foreign for you too, it was almost peaceful as the two of you stood in silence gazing out into the long driveway of your estate. It was confusing for you, comfortably stood next the person you supposedly hate the most yet the same person you had sex with last night. Sighing, you push off the wall making Jungkook look at you. He startles you as he lift his hand up to you, brushing your hair over your shoulder before tilting his head. Just the way he did last night before he hoisted you onto your kitchen counter.

“lucky you have long hair sweetheart, wouldn’t want your Grandfather to see what the son of his rival did to you” You furrow your eyebrows in confusion before they widen in realisation. A hand flies up to your own neck, remembering what he left there last night.

“asshole” You mumble before storming back into the mansion, hearing him chuckle behind you. moving your hair over your neck as you rush to the lift and press the button to your wing.

For the entire rest of the day you lock yourself up in your office, furiously tapping on your laptop. The last mission was a failure and you were more determined then ever to put an end to this ‘new group’ that seemed to have your Grandfather and Jungkook’s dad so edge they decided to team up. The more you searched into the name you had, the more confused you grew. There were no confirmed sightings of him for over four months, it was like he completely disappeared. His real name nor aliases weren’t on any rent agreements in the United States or Europe. No bank cards in his name has been used anywhere, neither had any new accounts been set up. Everything you looked into had turned up empty, it was infuriating. A set of knocks on the door draws your attention away and before you can say come in, Jungkook bursts through the door. Crossing your arms you watch as he casually closes the door and strolls in before sitting on the seat opposite you

“why knock if you’re just gonna walk in?” He shrugs, nonchalantly before leaning back in the chair.

“found anything interesting?” You sigh, leaning back in your own chair

“this man is fully incognito, no bank cards being used, no houses under his name.” Jungkook takes a moment to think, it was incredibly unusual.

“what’s the most recent activity from him?”

“a card under his name was used at that sex club four months ago. that’s it” He leans forward, a certain look on his face

“check death records” You narrows your eyes, this man couldn’t possibly be dead. The pair of you have been sent on a mission to find him, your Grandfather and is Father would definitely know if he died. “just check” He seemed to have sensed your confusion, sighing you open your laptop and begin to search. First, you look at New York’s records- setting up a program to automatically scan through each areas records, looking for his name. You wait in silence, not expecting a lot but in a few moments your laptop makes a noise and your eyes widen. “what?” Jungkook rushes out before getting on his feet and hovering behind you to look at your screen

“he’s dead, apparently ” You get out, looking up at him at the same time he looks down at you. This was impossible, did he fake his death? was he really dead and did your Grandfather know already that? “i need a drink” You grumble before standing and immediately walking to the kitchen, not even stopping to tell Jungkook to get out of your office. Not that it mattered, he followed you anyway. You rip the top off your now half empty scotch, getting two glasses out of the cupboard before pouring the drink into both glasses. Jungkook is suddenly beside you and you lift the glass to him, he takes it. Tipping the glass to your mouth, you gulp a generous amount before leaning against the side.

“i think we drink too much” Jungkook suggests making you chuckle a little as he sips on his own drink. “what do you think, fake death or we were sent on a dead mission?” You inhale a deep breath before shrugging

“don’t even want to think about it” He nods and you finish of your glass, in the quiet Jungkook surprises you when he lifts his hand up and moves your hair over your shoulder just as he did earlier. Glancing at him, you watch as he eyes the marks on your neck. “you’re getting a good kick out of these hickeys ain’t you” He smiles, tucking some stray hairs behind your ear. It’s strangely intimate. Without any words his hand fingers smooth over the marks, running down your neck. Placing his glass on the side he moves to stand in front you, hands gripping either side of the counter behind you.

“does this kitchen turn you into a raging sex maniac?” He lightly laughs, leaning into you a bit more.

“it’s not the kitchen, it’s the annoying bitch stood in it” You should’ve been offended, but you were far from it as you meet his dark gaze. This was wrong in so many ways, but right now you didn’t have time to think about it. As you stare up at him, you realise his lips never actually met yours during your escapade the previous night. He seems to be have the same train of thought as his eyes dip to your lips

“no ones ever annoyed me more then you” You let out through a sigh as his lowers his head, his lips just grazing over your own

“good, then iam doing my job” He mumbles, then his lips press into yours groaning as he does so. It’s softer then you thought it was going to be, you expected fast and furious but it was gentle and slow. His hands move from the counter to your waist and pulls you flush against him making you whimper. His tongue moves between your lips, meeting with your own as he deepens the kiss. Your hands fly up to his neck, you feel him sigh against you. This was bad, before now your night could be left at a crazy one time thing but now his lips danced with you’re own, something deeper grew. You’ve never felt like this, heart beat going crazy as he towered over you. Feelings of hatred dissolve into something you couldn’t really pin point. He breaks the kiss and moves down to your neck, planting kisses on the marks he made on you. You moan as he sucks over them, probably deepening them as he does so.

“who knew you were into such childish things like hickeys?” You feel his lips smile against before planting a kiss over his work

“want everyone to know what you’re letting your rival do to you behind closed doors” Rolling your eyes you turn back to look up at him, heavy breaths being exchanged between you both.

“we’re playing a dangerous game” You couldn’t help but mumble out your concerns, if any of your families knew what you were up to it was done for. Jungkook seemed to halt at your words, realising something you couldn’t tell but it was enough to make him pull away.

“you’re right” Your left in shock as he walks backwards before retreating out of the kitchen, you don’t think as you follow him. You finally came to terms with the fact you felt something other then hatred for him, he kissed you and now he was running away.

“what just happened?!” You huff out as you trail behind him down your hallway, he turns to face you and you don’t stop until you’re right in front of him

“i agree, it’s too dangerous” He shrugs and you look at him, confused. You had just opened your eyes to the fact you wanted him, needed to feel him against you again and he runs away over a little comment?

“it was a passing comment!” Jungkook says nothing and you grow frustrated, the look on his face was unreadable. “i don’t just kiss anyone Jeon. you can’t just do what you did and run away from me!”

“well iam!” He’s suddenly shouting and it makes you jump “just forget it y/n, iam not doing this!”

“doing what?!” You raise you’re own voice now, too many emotions build up in you and it’s hard to hold them down

“we hate each other” His voice is now low and calm, almost giving you whiplash “that’s how it stays” He turns then and marches straight into his room, slamming the door behind him. You stare at the door, you were enraged but all you could think about was how- you don’t hate him, not anymore. You really wanted to, wanted to turn back to just a couple of days ago when you didn’t feel this way. But you couldn’t, so you simply walk past the door and straight to your room.

The y/l/n Estate

Jungkook

He hadn’t slept for more then a few hours each day for the past week, his last conversation with you swirled around his mind tormenting him. What made it worse was that he kept thinking about the kiss, that fucking kiss. Your lips moulded against his perfectly, almost like you were made for him. The irony. In reality, you weren’t made for him you were made to be his rival and with everything he’s done he couldn’t bring himself to carry on. Your comment last night clearly wasn’t about anything serious but it made his brain jump into gear. How could he possibly carry on with whatever the two of you were doing? He seemed to have forgotten all the bad blood he created not too long ago. The worst part was he wanted to carry on, it was like you had a magnet inside you personally for him. But he couldn’t suppress his suspicion of you’re motives. Sure, you seemed to want him as much as he did you but why? Did you have ulterior means? Bottom line was that he couldn’t trust you, it was still possible you knew everything he’s done and this was all some ruse to catch him off guard. Then his brain would remind him he actually came onto you first and his whole mental debate would start again. Although now he’s already been with you, it would be hard to let you go now he knew how it felt. He slipped out of the bed, heading to the bathroom to brush his teeth. Silently he cleaned his teeth, brain still filled with the thought of having to work with you, having to see you, talk to you. Finishing up he moves back to his bedroom, jumping in fright when he spots you stood in the room. It was the first time he’s seen you since he ran away, middle of making out

“y/n what the fu-”

“just shut up Jeon” Your tone was ice cold, opposite from the playful one you sported since having that smoke with him last week. “that guy is really dead. gone, buried, six feet under” Clearly you were angry, arms crossed over your chest. He allows himself to glance over your body, you’re wearing your usual large shirt and he found himself wondering if you were wearing shorts this time. He breaks away from that thought

“how are you so sure?” You scoff at this and stomp to his bed, sitting on the edge of it, right leg bounce rapidly

“i saw his fucking autopsy! little picture of the body was attached and all, killed four months ago. wanna know the best part?” He had to admit right now, he was a little scared of you. Your eyes were dark with fury and he worried for anyone who’d step in you way today “he died out at sea, with a shipment of stolen guns. the way he supposedly died? strangulation” The realisation hits him, that was his fathers famous method of killing. He connects the dots quickly, there was a new group rising- four months where his father took care of the problem. Not a threat anymore.

“my father sent me on a dead mission.” He mumbles, rage slowly filling him as thinks about his smug father back at home probably laughing at his son trying to solve an already finished job.

“no, not just your father my grandfather did too. it was his coroner that signed off the autopsy” That shocked him more then his father, your grandfather actually loved you. He couldn’t say the same about his father.

“but you hacked the cams, we saw that group with the smgs?” You shrug at this before flipping back onto his bed, he spotted black fabric. Shorts. Although he was seething, he was revealed you had something on underneath the shirt this time

“it was recorded footage Jeon. Planted in the codes my Grandfather gave me. we’ve been hustled” Sighing he sits next to you on the bed, mainly because he couldn’t stand staring at your bare thighs. At least from beside you his gaze wasn’t naturally towards you.

“but why? what’s the fucking reason for sending us on a pointless job?” You don’t answer, sitting up suddenly. Jungkook stares at you as you abruptly stand, he turns his head upwards trying to ignore your ass that was now eye level with him.

“well, at least you can go home now.” You move to leave but Jungkook’s quicker, he leaps in front of you making you stop

“am not leaving” Giving him a blank stare you try to step around him, but he steps in front of you again.

“get out of my way and go home” You grit out before stepping to the other side but once Jungkook plants himself in front of you. “move” He doesn’t, just looks down at you as you seethe up at him. Jungkook doesn’t know why he’s being stubborn, this was what he wanted right? To leave whatever you two did behind and fly back home as soon as he could? But with that now being an actual option, he didn’t want to. “what the fuck is your problem huh? you don’t have to work with me anymore, don’t have to live with me anymore. can go home knowing you screwed the enemy in her own kitchen, bet that one will get you a couple of pats on the back from your mates!” Hearing enough here bends and quickly lifts you over his shoulders, you gasp and try to wiggle your way out but his grip his tight as he throws you onto the bed. You go to sit up but he pushes you back down, holding your wrists above your head as he hovers over you

“i can assure my mates will never know any details of what we did in that kitchen. that’s only for me to know, i’ll fucking kill anyone who even thinks about you in that way!” He breathes heavily as he stares down at you, the shirt you have on had ridden up your legs making your shorts poke out.

“spoken real possessively for someone who hates me!”

“i don’t hate you!” His grip tightens on your wrist and you stare up at him with wide eyes

“then why did you run?! why did you say you did?!”

“because i killed your fucking father!” Silence. Just the sound of both your breathing filled it. You seemed confused, to say the least.

“i know” You whisper, his stare is intense as he lets go of your wrists hands moving to sit upright on the bed once again. He was surprised, finally he had confirmation that you knew exactly what he did last year. Yet, you did nothing to avenge your father.

“i killed your father and you do nothing? what i did should’ve started another war between our families” He grew quiet, he felt vulnerable but he’s held this in long enough. “why? what are you planning y/n?” Jungkook hated how his voice faltered, the only reason he dreaded the thought of this job was because he assumed as soon as he was here he’d be dead. He killed your father, in cold blood and your family hadn’t even tried to get back at him

“revenge?” You finally get out “i would’ve thanked you if you gave me the chance” Jungkooks pupils shake as he looks down at you, sighing you move to sit up. “my father was an awful, awful man. sure what mafia leader isn’t but, he went above and beyond. he lead prostitution rings, beat anyone who he deemed worthy of it. men, women, children. i hated him, never even spoke to him since the day i turned eighteen, the day he tried to sell me to the ring” He tenses, he would throw his own daughter into a prostitution ring? “my grandfather stopped him, took me and i’ve been with him ever since. we stayed in London because my father would just track us down anyway, the day i found out he was dead? happiest day of my life” Jungkook noticed the small smile on your lips as you speak, you genuinely were glad he was dead. His body felt light, the entire year he waited to see you appear and take him out. Only for you to be happy he killed your father?

“he was my first kill” You seemed shocked at his confession, you’d assume he had killed others being an heir to his fathers business “it’s why my father doesn’t engage with me, probably thinks iam soft. had nightmares for a while afterwards” You place a hand on his back, attempting to comfort him but you remove it too quickly for his liking

“don’t lose anymore sleep over him, not worth it. it’s good he’s gone” Jungkook leans back on his hands as he eyes you

“what the fuck happened to us?” You laugh, a proper genuine laugh and he thinks it’s the first time he’s ever heard it.

“i don’t know but you still piss me off more then anyone” He smirks at this, still eyeing you. “stop looking at me Jeon, giving me the fucking creeps” Barking out a laugh he suddenly grips your leg and hoists you onto his lap. You fumble and grip his shoulders as he looks up at you.

“why don’t you just shut up and use that pretty mouth for something other then shouting profanities at me?”

“profanities? that’s a long word for you Jeon” He grumbles before leaning up to press his lips to yours but you lean away. “don’t” Is all you say before standing off him and he hates the way his body yearns to pull you back “you have sex with me, try to again but run out because you killed my father and thought i might be planning some sort of revenge? you can’t trust me and honestly, i can’t trust you either” His tongue pokes against his cheek, getting annoyed. Sure everything you said was correct, but he couldn’t help himself. It wasn’t going to lie to himself, not anymore, there was a clear attraction. He felt a pull to you like no one else, that much was obvious with how easily you got him hard

“you don’t trust me but you opened your legs for me?” He regretted it as soon as he said it, your face contorted and he felt so fucking stupid for uttering those words “no i-”

“fuck you” You cut him off and storm out the room but he’s quick on his feet to follow you, slipping on the hard floor when he tumbles out the door and rushes to stand in front of you.

“wait”

“no!” He flinches “you need to go back to London and never even think about showing your face in New York again” You side step him but he grips your arms and you start to try and wriggle out of his grip.

“iam not going anywhere y/n!” He gets out while struggling to keep you in his hands “i’ll stay here for forever if i have to!” You stop moving then, looking at him as if he was mad and right now he felt like he was.

“are you crazy?!” Jungkook shrugged, more or less confirming to both you and himself that he probably has gone crazy.

“maybe, but i need you to understand me when i say- i can’t go back like nothings happened” You stumbled back a little bit he kept his hold of your arms. “yeah, maybe i’ve gone mad. but no one makes me feel the way you do. i normally have perfect control of myself but suddenly i don’t have control of shit because of you!” He felt so stupid, you probably more then just hated him right now and he was teetering along the edge of a love confession.

“what the fuck are you on about?!” You get out through gritted teeth and his upper lip twitched in annoyance.

“iam not going anywhere until you get your head out of your ass and realise we have something between us!” Your eyes widen, and mock chuckle escaping your lips

“you’re full of shit Jeon” A low rumble comes out of his throat before his grip on your arm to push your back against the wall beside you.

“i’ve had enough of this y/n” His voice is calm and low “we will find out why we’ve been sent on a dead job and then we will talk like grown ups about what’s going on between us” With that, he drops his grip on your arms and steps back. Giving a final look he turns and begins to retreat to his room, his heart heavy as he does so.

Albany, New York

Y/n

The bartender slid another wine in your direction, you nod your head as a thank you, not really wanting to speak right now. You had left the mansion as soon as you got dressed after the heated conversation with Jungkook. It had been hours since you left, not wanting to be under the same roof as him. Most of the day was spent at the movies, you watched about three movies before the staff began to look at you weird so you retreated off and ate dinner before stalking off to any bar that was open. You were on your third wine, deciding to nurse this one you only take a small sip before placing it back on top the bar. Not only did the whole ordeal with him stick on your mind, you were also thinking about your grandfather and that stupid dead fucking mission he made you attend to. You wanted answers, wanted to storm up to your grandfather demanding answers. But right now, you couldn’t. Jungkook had filled your thoughts, his stupid idea that there was something between you two. No, you were the stupid one because deep down you foolishly agreed. Of course there was, you weren’t blind to your emotions, you happily slept with him as soon as his lips touched your neck. Even before then, during the night of the pointless mission you went to go further after he admitted he was hard. There was something deeply wrong with you, you concluded. You were sat here, sulking over your attraction to your enemy, the very person you hated not that long ago. Sighing, you gulp down the whole glass of wine before shoving some money on the bar and leaving. The cold air of the night bit your skin making you shiver slightly before you walked off. You knew you couldn’t go home, not with Jungkook and your Grandfather there. Both the conversations you needed to have with them could wait, you walked to a nearby hotel glad to have entered and be out of the chilly night. The receptionist smiled when she noticed you coming and you mustered up the best one you could for her

“do you have any rooms? just for tonight” You ask, folding your arms across your chest

“i’ll just double check for you, it might be a bit pricey seems as it’s not pre booked” She warns and you nod, indicating it was okay. You’d pay any price to just be out of the mansion. Your phone vibrates in your pocket, not the first time today, you ignore it knowing who it was. “ok, i have a room available it’s-” You simply hand your card to her, making her stop her sentence. She gives another smile before putting it through the system and handing you it back with a room key “enjoy your stay”

“thank you” Checking the room number you head straight to it, looking around finally you took note that this was quite a fancy place which probably did cost a fortune. But, that was just a plus of being the granddaughter of a mafia boss. Jamming the key in the door it gives a little beep telling you it’s open and you walk in. A nice double bed and pretty view greet you, but you didn’t care about the look of the room. You just wanted to sleep a forget everything so you take of your clothes leaving your underwear and slip under the covers.

It couldn’t have been more then three hours later when a commotion outside your door jolted you awake. Loud voices and a banging against your door made your heart rate pick up, you were still a little drowsy from sleep but you jumped up and yanked the gun from your handbag.

“sir! you can’t go in!” You assumed that voice was a security guard, and you quickly slipped on the complimentary robe keeping your gun tight in your grip. This could be anyone, enemy of your fathers or grandfather and without the protection of your mansion- this could have been their perfect opportunity to pounce. Another bang against your door made you aim your gun directly at the door as your etched closer. “hey! i said you can’t-”

“i don’t give a fuck!” Your head tilted, was that Jungkook? “open this fucking door you imbecile i know her!” Yeah, it was definitely him alright. Sighing you drop the gun onto the bed and stomp over to the door.

“i told you i can’t do that, i’ll call the police!” You gave mental props to the security, Jungkook was a scary guy but he wasn’t letting up

“call them then! but iam not leaving until-” Swinging the door open you’re met with a furious Jungkook who stops arguing when you open the door.

“iam sure the other people staying don’t appreciate the yelling” That only seemed to piss Jungkook off even more as he storms pass you and into the room. The security makes a move to go after him but you raise your hand. “it’s fine thank you for keeping him out but, unfortunately, i know him” You hear him scoff behind you as he paces the room “sorry for the disturbance” The guard looks at Jungkook over your shoulder one more time before looking back and offering a smile before he walks off, you sigh and shut the door. “have you lost your mind?” Your turn and walk over and he stops pacing to look at you

“have you?! you disappear all fucking day without a word and don’t come back! anything could’ve happened, do you remember who you are? who your grandfather is? anyone could be out for your neck and you’re here without protection!” Oh he was seething, you don’t think you’ve ever seen him so angry. He’s visibly shaking, veiny hands waving around with each word he shouts

“well, you couldn’t get in so would say iam relatively safe” That was probably the wrong thing to say, no it definitely was- his jaw locks and he stares at you with an indescribable emotion.

“i’ve been looking for you, all fucking day. at one point me and your grandfather had to discuss the fact that you might be dead!” You say nothing, you couldn’t. “when you are who you are, you don’t disappear without contact y/n!” He flings his hand in the air and you flinch, you weren’t scared of him but the sudden action made you do it. You notice his face soften and be sighs before sitting on the bed, momentarily looking down as your gun slides to his thigh. He chuckles “at least you have some brains on you to bring this”

“i bring it everywhere” You mumble, taking it from him and sliding it back into your purse before turning back to him. There was a moment of silence, you realise your mistake and that he was actually right- which pained you to admit. “iam sorry” You start and he looks up at you “my grandfather properly sent you through hell looking for me”

“you think he sent me? i was searching before he realised you were gone” This took you by surprise, why on earth would he break his neck looking for you if it wasn’t for your grandfather? You must look confused because he sighs and stands up. “i was looking because i was worried you dumbass” His sudden insult made you roll your eyes “i told you this morning that i thought there might be something between us and your first thought was to disappear, iam a bit offended to be honest” You try to suppress a smile that wants to appear, not wanting to find the man in front of you funny when he’s just tracked you down and tried to break into your room.

“stop trying to be funny” You grumble before sitting yourself in the chair in the corner of the room, he sits himself back on the bed “i just needed sometime to myself” You don’t know why you were explaining yourself, normally you wouldn’t but Jungkook did actually seem concerned

“you could’ve told me where you were, or your grandfather. with the lives we have, that’s important” You agree with him, you really do. But you’re human after all and just needed some time away.

“a lot was happening, all i did was go to the movies and then the bar” His head snapped in your direction make your jump a little

“you went to a bar?” You nod, confused “bring a man back here?” There was a beat of silence before you laugh while he glares at you

“you’re ridiculous”

“so you didn’t?”

“no!” He looked relieved and you couldn’t even fathom how you got into this situation with him. “would it matter if i did?” Jungkook’s stare was icy cold as he looked over at you.

“he would’ve been dead by sunrise” He seemed sincere and you didn’t know whether to swoon or be angry

“what’s gotten into you?” Your voice was calm, filled with pure confusion

“you. you have y/n. i realised something while i bent over backwards looking for you, i was scared.” This shocked you, him being so open with his emotions. You’d never seen him like this “look i don’t know what’s happening here, i dont understand myself but there’s something here. i feel something so deep for you and it’s so consuming” His voice is hoarse and your heart thumps against your chest. You understand him, you really do because ever since you slept with him you knew. Knew that even though you thought you still hated him, you don’t. It was different, it was weird and scary. But, nonetheless, it was there- whether it a sick attraction or some sort of love you didn’t know. But it would be stupid to deny it, when you so obviously felt it. You took a deep breath before standing, his eyes followed you. Without another word you untied your robe making Jungkook’s eyes widen slightly. You didn’t take it off, just let it swing open to reveal just your underwear underneath

“fine, there’s something” His teeth enclosed on his lower lip as you step closer, standing between his spread legs “iam done talking, we can finish the conversation in the morning” His hands come up, sliding underneath the fabric of the robe to grip onto your waist 

“that’s fine by me” Jungkook mumbles before his hands smooth over the curve of your ass before pulling you into him. You straddle him, knees digging into the bed either side of him, hands gripping his shoulders. He tilts his head up as you look down “don’t ever fucking disappear again” Is all he says before finally planting his lips against yours.

The sun was bleeding through the curtains as your eyes fluttered open, you didn’t immediately recognise your surroundings but remembered it was the hotel. What you also remembered was what you got up to last night with a certain mafia heir, the tattooed arm draped tightly over your stomach was reminder enough. Jungkook held you firmly against him as his head rested in the crook of your neck. A shiver slipped down your spine as you felt his breath hit your skin. It was still weird territory, the person who usually pisses you off the most, lay cuddled into your back. Surprisingly, you slept extremely well you’d never really shared a bed opting to not bring anyone to the estate. It was dangerous to do that so anyone you saw it stayed outside the mansion and you never stayed overnight. So, you welcomed the feeling of having something keeping you warm. You shift a little, trying to get comfortable enough to fall back asleep. You hear a groan from behind you, worried you woke Jungkook up you stop moving but he doesn’t saying anything so you shift ever so slightly trying to get cozy.

“hm please stop” You freeze when he grumbles out, morning voice deep and croaky.

“sorry i didn’t mean to wake you up” He hums, pulling you tightly against him before he smirks his hand over the top of your thigh

“well you wiggling your ass against me is not gonna keep me asleep” Your lips purse before their slipping upwards into a smile and you stare shifting again but with more of a purpose this time. He grips a handful of you upper thigh making you stop, smile now fully on your lips “you really enjoy pissing me off don’t you?”

“it’s my favourite hobby” He grumbles under his breath before sliding his hands back up to your waist

“and you’re so good at it” You chuckle at this before making a move to sit up but you don’t get very far, Jungkook holds you back down making you huff as your back hits the bed. “this is the nicest you’ve been to be ever, not really ready to put a stop to it yet”

“well, iam not a particularly nice person so get your ass up” Sighing he lets you sit up and he rolls onto his back

“and the dream ends” Rolling your eyes you push the covers off and stand up before you look around for the robe as you stand in your underwear. You whip your head around and spot Jungkook’s eyes staring right at you, raking his eyes up and down your body.

“pig” You mumble as you spot the robe thrown over the chair and you go over to grab it

“didn’t hear you complaining last night” Scoffing, you tie the robe around you before gathering your clothes and throwing them onto the bed. You pick up your top, pause and turn before launching it directly at the man in the beds head. His hands raise instinctively before ripping it off his face and throwing you a glare. “was that necessary?”

“yes, checkouts in half an hour get up”

“bitch” He mumbles and you stare at him, he gives a sarcastic smile before getting out of the bed and stretching.

“carry on calling me names Jeon, remember how easy it is for me to flip you over my shoulder” You know he remembers that day in your gym by the way he gives you a pointed look.

“caught me by surprise” He says under his breath as he begins gathering his own clothes and you chuckle to yourself

“sure, whatever helps you sleep at night” You bend to pick up your jeans from the bed as he circles his arm around your legs. He picks them up making you fall face first onto the bed making you gasp. Then, he flips you onto your back and you meet his smirk as he looks down at you.

“see, easy when you get caught off guard” You tilt your head, moving your hands to hold onto his neck. He seems to falter when you lift your legs to circle around his waist, pulling him tightly against you. Jungkook lowers his head to yours, you fan your lips over his and smile as his eyes flutter closed. Quickly, you twist his body and use your legs to drag in onto the bed next to you. You end up on top of him as his eyes fly open to look up at you.

“yeah you’re right” He huffs as you get up and untie your robe, starting to get dressed.

“show off” You laugh out loud as you slip on your jeans, zipping them up and popping the button closed. The pair of you dress quietly and he waits by the door while you check everything’s in your bag. When you’re happy, he opens the door and lets you walk first and you have to stifle a laugh when you get the the lobby and Jungkook has a stare off with the guard from last night.

“have a good stay?” A new receptionist asks as you hand the key back

“yes thank you” You smile and as you walk past the guard, you slip a couple notes from your bag and offer them to him. Jungkook side eyes you as the guard confusingly takes the money from your hand “a tip, well more of an apology for having to deal with him” The guy lets out a chuckle and Jungkook wraps an arm around your waist as he escorts you out of the hotel

“really?” He mumbles as he holds you close while the pair of you walk away and you simply laugh as a response.

The y/l/n Estate

Jungkook

He lets out a little smile when your grandfather runs up to you as the pair of you enter the foyer. When you had run off yesterday Jungkook was worried after only an hour, he ran around the Estate looking and when that search turned up empty he told your grandfather. Initially, he wasn’t as worried as Jungkook but after a couple hours he was shaken up. So, when Jungkook did find out where you were he told your grandfather and went storming to the hotel

“y/n darling!” He wraps his arms around you and Jungkook steps away momentarily to let him have his moment “where were you?! we were worried sick, you had Jungkook destroying the place!” His eyes widen when you look over at him, embarrassment creeping over his face as you grandfather rambled on. “we’re gonna have to redecorate that spare room because-”

“okay!” Jungkook gets out “iam just gonna freshen up” He lets out before rushing over to the lift and climbing in before he could hear your grandfather expose him further. He’ll admit, he did lose it around the fourth hour you were gone. By then, every scenario had run through his mind- kidnap, death and so on. As the lift made it to your wing, he made his way to his room and opened the door. It was truly wrecked and he grimaced as he looked around. A giant mirror was smashed to pieces, the drawers broken all over the floor. Not to mention the mattress was mostly off the bed from his foot booting it, sighing he tip toed around the mess to get further into the room to grab some fresh clothes.

“what the fuck happened in here?” He jumps, losing his foot and some glass crunches under his boot.

“jesus y/n!” You chuckle as you look around the torn up room and he turns his head away from you and pick up his chosen clothes

“my grandfather said you went on a rampage. miss me that much?” His upper lip twitched as he moved into the bathroom with his clothes, ignoring you. He hears some glass crunch behind him making his whip around as he catches you walking over to the en suite.

“be careful” Jungkook moves to the doorway and offers his hand, you take it as he keeps his eyes on your feet making sure nothing pierces through your trainers. He didn’t know when he started caring so much, but it was hard to stop at this point. Dropping your hand he turns and flips on the shower as you lean against the sink.

“i didn’t know you’d be worried, iam sorry” He was taken back by this, you were always strong willed and he wouldn’t lie and say he didn’t love it- because honestly he absolutely did.

“wasn’t even stressed dont worry about it” Of course he was being sarcastic and it made you laugh, he hated that he instantly smiled at the sound- this was not the usual dynamic but he knew that was long gone. Your head turns back into the destroyed room before turning back to him.

“yeah clearly not” You kicked some glass that was close to the door and it clatters “come to my office after your done, it’s time we find out why were hustled into this pointless job”

“you didn’t ask down there?” Jungkook had no time to even think about asking your grandfather about the dead job yesterday, well he was too busy wrecking the place and tracking you down to care.

“no, we should have this conversation together” And that’s just what they do, about hour later he, you and your grandfather sit in your office. Your grandfather seemed a little confused about why he was asked up here, seems he never really visited your office space.

“we know” Is all she says and Jungkook chooses to stay quiet, he knew he’d have to have this exact conversation with his father and he wasn’t particularly looking forward to it.

“know what darling?” He smiled at the cute nickname, loving how much this man adored you. Jungkook was starting to understand why he did so much.

“the job we’re doing, we know it isn’t real” Her grandfathers face falls and he shifts in his seat as she just looks at him and waits for an answer

“iam sorry sweetheart” He looked down, seemingly ashamed with himself. Jungkook could only wish to have someone who cared that much about his feelings, when he confronted his father he’d probably get a shoulder shrug and sent on his way.

“why?” You didn’t sound angry, just confused.

“me and Jungkook’s father made a deal” Jungkook’s eyes widen as does yours, the two biggest rivals in the mafia empire made a deal?

“you’ve been in contact with the Jeon family?” Jungkook rolls his eyes at your mention of his family, he didn’t think you meant much by it but you sounded a little disgusted.

“yes, iam sick and tired of this bloody rivalry. it was stupidly started by your father and i wanted to end it” Your eyebrow raise in shock as does Jungkook’s, this was a decade long war and your grandfather wanted to end it?

“where does our pointless job come into this?” You asks and your grandfather side eyes Jungkook next to him before looking back to you

“well, we decided that a good way for our families to bury the hatchet was to- join us together.” You blinked rapidly and Jungkook swore steam might’ve came out of your ears “we wanted you two to marry” Your eyes bulge and Jungkook has to stifle a laugh, deeming it not appropriate for this moment. You might have ripped his head clean of his shoulders if he did. “we knew you disliked each other, so we came up with the idea to have you work together. maybe that way you could get closer.” The thought of his father agreeing to this shocked Jungkook, he’d assumed he would just try and force the two of you together. He had no patience for things like this.

“with respect, that is the stupidest thing i’ve ever heard” Her grandfather shrugged at her with a pout

“worked didn’t it?” Jungkook actually did laugh at this, your grandfather was just so funny he couldn’t help it. No one would believe this man was feared by thousands. You whipped your head in his direction, throwing your hands up in exasperation

“oh you find this funny?” Jungkook shrugs, similarly to how your Grandfather did as his laughter dies down. You lean back in your chair, sighing and he could tell you were trying not to smile. “i can’t believe you put a whole scheme together” She says to her grandfather, luckily the plan did actually work otherwise this whole conversation might have involved a lot more shouting

“i know, i truly am sorry. we won’t force a marriage. but with how he reacted to you being gone for a couple hours, i’d say a marriage for you is inevitable” Jungkook frowns in your grandfathers direction, not enjoying being exposed by him.

“honestly i think burying the rival is a good idea, but not with marriage”

“why?” Jungkook surprised himself with his own question, you and your grandfather look over at him in sync making him grow embarrassed

“what you want to get married?” He looks up in thought, the silence making you shake your head “Jeon!” You shout making him jump and your Grandfather laughs at the pair of you “why are you even thinking about it?!”

“you asked me a question! of course iam going to think about the answer!” Your grandfather laughs harder and a smile creeps it’s way to his lips as you glare at them both

“this is ridiculous i hate both of you” He laughs with your Grandfather “grampy can you leave so i can talk to this idiot in private” Still laughing your grandfather stands and exits the room, his laughter can still be heard as he descends the hallway until it faded away. “we are not getting married”

“i know y/n” He pauses “not right now” You close your eyes and exhale

“you sleep with me twice and you’re starting to plan a proposal?” He sends a look you’re way and it makes you chuckle “we just started playing around with the fact that there’s something between us, what if it’s just a simple attraction? this isn’t a relationship Jeon, you’ll be going back to London soon what happens then?” He tenses at this, he’s already come to terms with the fact this isn’t just attraction for him. No way he would’ve tore that bedroom apart and hunted you down if he just wanted to sleep with you. Sure, he knew your weren’t gonna get engaged any time soon but he hated the thought of being far away. He didn’t wanna go anywhere while you two were exploring what you had.

“y/n, this isn’t just sex for me. look at the mess i made of that room for evidence of that. whatever this is, is more then that. i think we both know that” You silently nod, confirming his thoughts “yes i will return to London, after you promise me that you understand right now we belong together” You seem surprised at this, this was his actual first declaration that he wanted to be with you seriously. But he was done playing around, the idea of him going home without knowing for sure you felt the same didn’t sit right with him “y/n?” He questions and grows annoyed when you roll your eyes at him

“fine, i agree”

“could seem a little happier about it?” You stare at him and he stares right back. Some things just don’t change and he thinks your bickering with each other would never end.

“am thrilled” Your monotone makes him scoff and he stands before rounding the desk and and holding your arm, pulling you to stand

“your enthusiasm is blinding” He remarks before lowering his head to plant a kiss onto your lips, he pulls back before planting another one “take me to the airport tomorrow?”

“not if you plan on slamming the doors on my beauty again” Rolling his eyes he plants a hand on your lower back, walking out the room with you

“you treat that car better then me”

“my baby doesn’t annoy the fuck out of me” Jungkook grumbles as he moves his hand to sling his arm over your shoulder as you walk to the lift.

Epilogue

London, England.

Jungkook

“iam sorry son” Jungkook has to fight the surprise on his face, his father sat on his desk chair across from his with a genuine look on his face. He’d expected to leave this conversation severely pissed off, but this was an unexpected twist. “you’re too good to be sent on a dead mission and for that i really do apologise” Jungkook bit onto his lower lip, a raw feeling of emotion erupting. “iam an old guy and i don’t often express much of anything. but iam proud of you” He had to pinch himself at his fathers words, not wanting tears to spill.

“i, appreciate that” His father nods, small smile on his face. It was clear he felt regret, in this type of work emotions are just seen as weakness but his father should’ve been more expressive with his own son.

“i heard the plan seem to work?” Jungkook chuckled, he was missing you right now so he guessed it did work. “i always liked her, she terrifies my men with that little laptop of hers”

“oh yeah, she figured the whole thing out in record time. she’s what quite nifty with that laptop” His father nods, smile on his face

“i knew you liked her, before you even knew it” Jungkook makes a face “you may not have known but it was quiet obvious, after you killed her father you were so guilt striken. you assumed it was because he was your first but, i always thought it was because he was her father.”

“probably. i put it down to worrying about her revenge but i guess, i just admired her and didn’t know it. felt guilt for taken her father away” His dad nodded before leaning back in his chair

“and i assume you found out the truth about him?” Jungkook’s jaw tenses, remembering what you admitted about him but nods “he was a terrible man. his father though, he sure is something” A chuckle leaves his father mouth and Jungkook’s head tilts in curiosity “we’ve been talking back and forth for a while now, god is he amusing”

“found a new friend father?”

“you could say that” Jungkook laughs, not believing that the rivalry finally came to an end and it was all over. This whole conversation was surprising him more and more by the second. “we’re gonna announce the rivalry over officially next week, then” He pauses “we’re moving operations to New York” Jungkook was floored, his shock must have been evident because his father laughed “not only is the rivalry over, but we’re joining forces. easier to do that in the same country”

“that’s, great” His father smiled making Jungkook slightly nervous.

“you’ll be happy to know y/n’s Grandfather said you can stay at his estate full time. i heard about your little meltdown when she ran away” Jungkook’s cheeks heat while his father simply continued to smile

“i doubt y/n will put up with me living there” He mumbles, but deep down he was happy to be going back there knowing he could stay.

“with the way you destroy one of her rooms? probably not” Jungkook groans before standing

“ok conversations over” He grumbles before leaving the office, his fathers laughter loud behind him. After that, he felt a lot lighter. It was like a new chapter in his life, his rival was no longer that and was now his girlfriend. Additionally his father finally opened up, apologised and said he was proud of him. He walks off to his wing and pulls his phone out, calling you. It rings for a while before you finally answer

“yes?”

“what a warm greeting” Jungkook grumbles and you laugh on the other end of the line

“what’s up Jeon?”

“is that how you address your future husband?”

“i don’t know haven’t met him yet” Jungkook rolls his eyes as he enters his room and sits on the bed

“bitch”

“Jeon”

“sorry” He mumbles and you chuckle into his ear and reluctantly he smiles “my father is moving us to New York, he says for business but i think he wants to be closer to his bestie- your grandfather”

“oh i heard, he won’t shut up and your father coming out. says their gonna go for a drink” Jungkook laughs, not being able to imagine his father letting loose at a bar.

“i don’t know how we ended here, but iam not going to complain”

“ew stop being sentimental”

“ok fine i hate your fucking guts” You bark a laugh down the phone

“feelings mutual, you’re not living here by the way. not risking another room in your hands when i leave the house for an hour” He’s had enough reminders of that day for a lifetime

“oh iam sorry for assuming you were dead because your stupid ass couldn’t answer your phone and iam moving in, you can’t stop me”

“i know, iam too irresistible you can’t stay away” He scoffs, moving the phone from one ear to the other

“whatever you say sweetheart, make some room for my stuff in your room”

“who says you’re staying in my room Jeon?” He wants to reach through the phone and throttle you, your sarcasm never ends and although he admires you strong will. He also wants to zip your mouth shut

“i did, now shut up iam flying out today”

“just can’t stay away can you? i’ll make sure to bring my gun in case you want to point yours at me again at the airport” He stands from his bed and opens his cupboard before pulling his cloths out and onto his bed

“keep talking and i will pull it on you again” He knows you’re rolling your eyes, can basically feel it as he gathers all of his things to pack away

“it’s easy to disarm you, am not worried”

“you’re intolerable” He grumbles and he hears some shuffling through the phone, guessing your led down

“good, my job is done” Jungkook smiles without realising it. He knows that you’ve got him wrapped around your finger, he can’t even spend more then day away from you. He’s already packing to run right back to you. It’s funny because beforehand he’d have done anything to stay from you, his enemy, his rival- but now he’s itching to get back. It was a surprising turn of events, but he wasn’t going to overthink it- he’s just going to get back to you as fast as his jet can take him.

[popatochisssp]

Assuming this isn't something all of the boys find weird/creepy, what do they think about humans not dusting after dying and instead leaving their whole body behind? What are their thoughts on the fact that their human s/o is going to one day die and leave their dead body behind?

TW for death mention/discussion below:

I think for most, it’s not something they’d dwell on, filing it under one of those weird things humans just do, like have blood and organs, and use the bathroom.

They don’t do any of that, and it’s a little weird and maybe a little gross that their human s/o does but hey—they’re (literally) only human, and it’s normal for them, so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Plus, not all humans want to just stay as the dead body, a lot do the cremation thing and then they’re ashes, and anything after that would be very similar and very familiar to monster dust and what tends to be done with it. Not so different, at least!

Broadly speaking, it might come up at some point and maybe they’d try to find out if their s/o has any particular preferences for what they want to happen to all the physical stuff they leave behind—body included—when they kick it, if they so happen to kick it before their skeletal beau and leave him in the position of handling that stuff…

But other than that, probably not something to think about overly much. The ideal is not having to worry about any of that for a good long while, after all!

There are maybe a few exceptions, though, who do have some kind of significant, stronger-than-typical opinion about the subject of humans (or their s/o in particular) leaving a corpse behind instead of dust…

Paps (Underswap Papyrus) isn’t a fan of the concept. He’s a little squeamish, generally unnerved by blood and severe injuries, and a lifeless, rotting, empty shell—especially of someone he cared about—is pretty morbid and upsetting. He definitely wants to think about it and deal with it as little as possible, so his s/o better not die too soon! And if they want him to go to a wake or funeral, they better be prepared for him to have to psych himself up to approach the casket of the deceased, or take a moment outside for a breather.

On the other hand, Mal (Swapfell Sans) is explicitly glad for the longevity of the human body. He doesn’t really care one way or the other for any other humans, but if he somehow manages to outlive his human, he thinks he’d very much appreciate that their body stuck around awhile after they left. He loves hard and digs in deep, and whatever extra time he can have for a private goodbye, to look at his s/o’s face and commit everything to memory before letting go…he’ll take it, gladly.

Slate (Horrortale Sans) is liable to dissociate around a dead body and risks the same just talking about it too much. He’s made dealt with plenty of corpses already and doesn’t want to have to deal with any more, it brings back a lot of guilt and bad memories… If—stars forbid—it ever has to be his s/o that he’s confronted with, he would just… try to hold it together and do whatever needed to be done to honor their wishes, on full autopilot if it came to that. He can have whatever breakdown he needs to have after ensuring everything they wanted for their remains has been done, they deserve that.

His brother, Papy (Horrortale Papyrus)…well, he tends to get panic attacks when humans die and their souls leave their bodies as just an empty husk. It’s a distressing concept for him that everything that makes a (human) person themselves can just…go like that, and then all they are is dead meat. …Meat which he has availed himself of in the past, and fed to others, and that was circumstantial and desperate but still very distressing to reconcile with any new occurrences. He’s giving himself a lot of immersion therapy with his choice of career, and maybe by the time his s/o passes on, he’ll be ready to cope with it…but who knows?

Aster (Gastertale Papyrus) may be a bit abashed to admit to it, but he’s not uninterested and finds it (somewhat morbidly) fascinating. The human body itself is fascinating with all its physicality and moving parts that keep everything functioning like an organic machine, and the body remaining behind even after death—for study or investigation or just as an idol of mourning—it’s…kind of cool? In fairness, though, he wouldn’t be able to muster up much of that opinion if it was his s/o’s body no longer occupied by the person he loved. Too personal, very different…

Spectr (Transcendtale Sans) is a soulless machine. He won’t age and may never die, but if he does, he might leave some sort of corpse behind himself…or maybe not, if enough magic has soaked into his metal bones to make them dissipate when the consciousness piloting them leaves. Still, he can’t really be sure, and the way humans die is a less foreign a concept to him since he’s considered that something similar could happen to him eventually. …He would rather it not happen to his s/o, though. (He’d never ask it of them, but he would want them to stay.)

PapAIrus (Transcendtale Papyrus) would have no trouble asking it of his s/o—they should stay! Just don’t die. Or, well, die, obviously, but stay anyway, like he did! He finds the concept of a body in general troublesome and limiting, so he’s pretty cavalier about humans leaving theirs behind when they die—can’t blame them in the slightest!—but he won’t be as cavalier about his human trying to shuffle off their mortal coil without a digital backup first. How are they supposed to be ‘together forever’ if one of them is trying to escape to some kind of unknowable Great Beyond?! Sheesh…

Kohl (Descendtale Sans) is…a bit of an asshole, most of the time but also when talking about human corpses. It’s one of his preferred off-color jokes to say that the dead ones are his favorite kind of humans since they’re quiet and don’t bother him… totally irreverent, but as far as his actions go, he’s actually considerably more respectful. He’s defensive and wary around most live humans because he knows what they’re capable of and the harm they can do, but there’s no danger in the empty shells they leave behind, just signs of personality and the life they once lived—laugh lines, tattoos, scars, painted nails… It cuts his venom a bit to see that, and to have the time he has with peoples’ bodies; to be entrusted (however peripherally) with sending them off to whatever final rest they’d chosen. …If his s/o decides to let him outlive them, he’d like to do the same for their shell.

And lastly, Bram (Descendtale Papyrus) is a slightly odd case. He has a bit of trouble conceptualizing the way non-magical beings die…which isn’t to say he doesn’t understand the concept of death, he’s got that down fine! But to die and not disappear into dust seems to him like something must still be there, some integral part of the being who’d inhabited the body left behind—a human residue, if you will! And as such, even if that person’s soul is gone and they’ll never move or breathe or speak or do anything else ever again, their remains should be treated as if they were still occupied, because a piece of them is still there and probably always will be. So when it’s his s/o’s time to go, he’ll see their body off to its new accommodations—the earth or a nice vase or whatever else they wanted—and then visit often to talk and hang out, like nothing had changed! …Almost.

[nyx-v1]

TWST boys at your funeral Headcannons tw-mentions of deaths and funerals

[Heartslabyul],[Savanaclaw], [Octavinelle]

a/n-might be a little ooc

Riddle

Planned to whole thing, from the flowers, to what kind of clothes you would be wearing.(it’s not weird I promise)

Insists that you are buried on campus.

Stands by the casket the whole time, he also give the eulogy. The eulogy was surprisingly heartfelt.

Riddle also makes a point to not cremate, or anything that  like that. He wants to make sure that if there's a way to send you back home it's in one piece even if you're dead.

takes no disrespect towards you at all, any students who say anything get collared (for like a week before trey tells him it’s been long enough.)

Deals with everything after the funeral too

Riddle personally cleans your grave every week, and if he doesn't have to time he sends other students to do it.

Doesn't know how to grieve so he just takes on a lot of extra work. Basically he spends his life now studying, working, and then sleeping.  

Overall 10/10- he makes sure Crowley doesn’t put you in an unmarked grave.

Bonus: What kind of flower they would leave you+ what they would say

Pink carnation, meaning- I'll never forget you. 

"Please forgive me for not being there perfect, thank you for all you've done."

Trey

Helps Riddle organize everything 

Makes sure all students are well behaved 

The one who says they should have grim in their dorm

Makes sure to regular check up on everyone else in his dorm, especially the Adeuce duo.

Trey makes the food, if there is a need for food.

His way of grieving is by taking care of everyone else, ignoring his own needs.

10/10

Bonus: What kind of flower they would leave you+ what they would say

Rosemary- remembrance

"Sorry, it has to end this way.”

Cater

makes sure to backup all photos of you he has, picks the best photo of you for the funeral.

Surprisingly does not take photo during the funeral at all in fact he's off social media for like 2 weeks, before he decides to look at it

Before he takes the break he makes one last post dedicated to you.

Doesn't talk about what happened, in fact  he goes out of his way avoid the convo about how he feels

during the funeral he makes sure to dress apparently, he is also super quite when talking 

After like a week he's pretending to be over your death

What kind of flower they would give you+ What they would says

A pink rose- thank you

Ace

tbh would probably be in denial for a while, that or he gets extra annoying no in between 

Has to be dragged to the funeral by riddle 

Yells at crowley for your death, then gets lectured by riddle

oddly quite during the whole things

leaves right after the ceremony is done, Ace goes right to ramshackle after he leaves.

Straight up refuses to go to your grave, and to talk about you

Ace does grieve tho he does this by spending all his free time in ramshackle, more specifically your room

5/10

Bonus: What kind of flower they would leave you+ what they would say for a final goodbye 

 dark crimson Rose - mourning

Won't say anything instead he gently place the flower down, before taking once last glance then walking out.

Deuce 

offers his and aces room for grim to stay in

takes 2 hours getting ready. Has also never been to a funeral before

Offers to help with anything, because he's not the best academically he decides to help set the venue up

Deuce is on his BEST behavior during the whole thing, he remains quite and by Grims side

Cries a lot, but denies it

During the whole thing he's super emotional, and when ace goes off he can't help but agree

Wants to fight Crowley but doesn't bc he doesn't want to disrespect you like that

overall 

11/10 give him a hug

Bonus: What kind of flower they would leave you+ what they would say

Statice- I miss you, compassion, remembrance

"I might not be good with words, but thanks [name]."

[ariella-schoenheit]

Bittersweet endings

Inspired by the ending in demon slayer, the one with mitsuri and obanai. Angsty but with a bittersweet ending. Maybe a part two? Reblogs and shares are appreciated!! Not proofread

TW: depictions of blood, mentions of death, all the juicy sad stuff, not proofread (YOLO)

It wasn't supposed to be like this.simon is bleeding out and so are you, the others are too far in the battle to get to you.damn it, maybe if he was quicker you both wouldn't be in the predicament or maybe-

"Simon..." You whimper, as your eyelashes are clumped and wet with tears as you reach out for him.

"There...ugh...c'mere, lovie" he grunts as you shuffle yourself closer into his embrace.the pool of blood surrounding the both of you is horrifying but neither of you care. At this rate, you'll both bleed out before help could arrive.

"Simon.... You know I love you right?" You whisper as he pulls you in his arms holding you close, as you shiver. You slowly wrap your arms around him before you lose control of your body.

"I know lovie me too..I love you too" he whispered back,as he kisses you through his balaclava.

"We were supposed to go on a date after this.we might need to cancel that booking you made" you say, a small smile on your face as he chuckled faintly

You felt yourself getting colder and you tear up, "Simon.. I'm scared.. don't let me go.."

Simon looks at you, meeting your eyes, as your fire starts to fade, and he feels tears himself "you're alright,I'm here" he says, voice breaking slightly

"Simon?if we ever get reborn again, can I be your lover?" you say tears streaming down your face as you squeeze him harder.

With the last bits of his strength, he knows you're fading off,the way your eyes starts to droop and he himself feels like he's about to slip,he holds you tightly to his chest and rest your head on his shoulder.

"Of course.. I'll have you as my bride if you'll allow me to...I'll be there by your side and make sure you have a happy life together, where we can wither together in old age watching our bloodline continue. How does that sound lovie?" He says as he kisses you once more.

"That sounds wonderful,Simon. I would love to be your bride". You sigh happily and rest against his chest, hearing his heartbeat one last time.

"Go and rest now, sweet girl. I'll be right behind you" he whispers as he watches you gracefully descend into the heavens above. If heaven did exist,and maybe if he had a chance to get in.. maybe he could introduce you to his mother and his brother. Joseph would've liked you. His mother would adore you,even, and he would be happy again.he sees your soft smiling face one last time. Even in death,you were still the most beautiful woman he's ever laid eyes on,and he finally closes his eyes with a shaky breath, as he follows you into the afterlife.

When the the team got to the last known location of their last two teammates,their hearts shattered. The pool of blood that surrounded the both of you,but the scene of the two of you, you smiling serenely and Simon holding you close,his eyes finally resting peacefully.the coroner couldn't separate the two of you, Simon's grip was too tight on you as we're yours on his.

They made a special casket to fit the both of you,to be buried together as the remaining team carried the both of you during the funeral. A picture of you smiling brightly and a picture of Simon staring stoically sat side by side. You had smiled in every single moment they met you up until the very end,and Simon finally got his peace he longed for, with the woman he ever loved.

[thatonelesbianfander]

The Ghost and the Reaper Chapter 2

Fandom// Sanders Sides

TW// Panic Attack, Strong Emotions, Crying, Yelling, Screaming, Funeral, Nightmare, Fire, Death mention, Storms, Swearing, Weapon

Word count// 2161

Description// Janus is one of the many grim reapers whose job it is to reap the souls of the dead and help them ascend to the afterlife. After one assignment, the spirit they reaped, a 23-year-old nonbinary person named Remus, refused to ascend. Now, Janus is stuck with them following it around wherever they go.

Characters// Remus Sanders, Janus Sanders, Roman Sanders, C!Thomas Sanders, Logan Sanders, Virgil Sanders

Pairings// None

AUs// Found/chosen family Creativitwins & C!Thomas, human!sides, they/them Remus, it/they Janus, he/she Roman

Masterpost // Previous // Next

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Janus stood alone in their kitchen, drinking their cup of coffee while staring off into the distance. Remus appeared in front of them, looking around.

”Oh, you’re back,” Janus said, putting its coffee mug on the counter.

”Yeah…” Remus said, refusing to make eye contact with Janus.

”What do you have?” Janus asked, noticing the rose in Remus’s hand.

”A fucking nuclear missle. What does it look like, dumbass?” Remus said sarcastically.

“I’m sorry about yesterday, okay?! Is that what you wanted to hear?!” Janus yelled.

”Yes,” Remus said, looking off into the distance.

”Okay, well I have afternoon duty, today. I’m off duty for the morning,” Janus said, pouring more coffee into its mug.

”Hm…” Remus thought. Janus looked over to them.

”So, what do you want to do?” Janus asked.

”Well, there isn’t really anything to do… I was just thinking I would just go fuck around in one of those abandoned places,” Remus said, “You know, a good old classic haunt.”

”What place were you thinking about?” Janus asked, intrigued.

”Well, there’s an old church near the graveyard, but the old school next to that bakery might also be good,” Remus suggested.

”Eh… Those places get boring after a while…” Janus replied.

”Alright, then. You don’t need to join. I’ll just go by myself,” Remus said.

”Alright. Be back by noon,” Janus said, waving Remus off. Remus faded out of view, reappearing in front of the old church. They walked inside, immediately jumping off the ground and hanging upside down on the chandelier. The chandelier rocked back and forth, Remus swaying with it. They fell back down on the floor, walking up the aisle of pews to the front of the church. Visions flashed in their eye as they saw a casket being rolled up the aisle. People sat in the pews, all being dressed in black. Remus looked around, seeing their father and sibling in one of the front pews. Remus stumbled back, lifting the casket lid up to see themself in it. They backed up as the people in the pews stared directly at them. The people in the pews all stood up, walking over to Remus and surrounding them. The sounds of whispers erupted from everyone as they surrounded Remus. Remus couldn’t make out any of the words but they heard one word loud and clear. One word they were terrified of.

”Anti-christ,” the figure of Roman said, pointing at Remus. Remus started to panic. They pushed through the crowd, running to the doors of the church. They banged on the doors, desperately trying to get them open as they were surrounded again. Fire started to build up as they banged on the doors. They turned around, finding their father and sibling right behind them. They clung onto their father’s clothes, falling to their knees.

”PA, HELP ME, PLEASE! I’M NOT THE ANTICHRIST! I DON’T WANT TO BE! PLEASE!” Remus pleaded with their father, their father just standing there with a vacant expression. Remus sobbed as the flames engulfed them, scared and alone.

“Oi! Remus,” Janus said. Remus startled awake, finding themself back in the graveyard. They looked over to Janus.

”Oh, hey there, Jan,” Remus said, putting the rose they had in their hands down.

”Are you good? It’s 10:03, and you were still asleep when I got here,” Janus asked.

”I was?” Remus replied.

”Yeah…?” Janus said.

”Must have overslept by accident. Anyways, what are we doing, today?” Remus asked.

”Well, I already got through a bunch of my tasks before coming here. I just have 2 more spirits to reap, and I also have to have a meeting with my manager so that should be fun…” Janus replied.

”Ugh, do we really have to meet with that guy? He’s a bastard,” Remus said.

”I know you don’t like him, but I don’t really have a choice,” Janus said.

”Then, let’s get that out of the way first. Save the better thing for last,” Remus suggested.

”Alright, then. Also… I’m sorry about last night… I wasn’t thinking and I should have worded what I was saying better…” Janus said.

”Don’t sweat it, man. It’s fine. Come on, let’s go,” Remus said, fading out of sight. Janus followed suit, the two reappearing in an office-like room. A man sat at a desk. His face was darkened with only his mouth visible. He wore an outfit reminiscent of a stereotypical grim reaper with the hooded robe and everything.

”Oh, hello, Janus! And… you…” the manager said, Remus flipping him off.

”You wanted to meet with me, sir?” Janus asked.

”Yes, yes. Sit, I’ll make you something to drink. Tea or coffee?” the manager said, standing up.

”Just black coffee, please,” Janus said, talking a seat. Remus hovered in the corner, leaning back against the wall and grabbing a notepad and pencil from a nearby table.

”So… why did you call me here?” Janus asked.

”Oh, it’s nothing serious! You’re just a little bit behind on your quota for spirits this week and I was wondering what was going on,” the manager said, handing Janus a mug of coffee.

”Shit, I’m sorry, I thought I was ahead on quota this month…” Janus replied.

”It’s fine, it’s no big deal. I’ll just need you to pick up the pace a little. Maybe even take a few nights of work,” the manager said.

”How much am I behind by?” Janus asked.

”Just 10. It’s no big deal. You could probably get it done in a night if you take the whole night,” the manager replied.

”Okay, then I’ll do that,” Janus said, standing up as it finished their coffee, “Have a good day.”

”You too,” the manager said. Janus shook the manager’s hand, turning to Remus.

”Come on, let’s go,” Janus said. Remus ripped the page they had been drawing on out of the notepad, putting the notepad back down on the table. The two faded out of view together, Janus waving goodbye to the manager.

The two reappeared in a room together, Janus walking over to the two bodies that laid together on the ground. It took out its scythe, swiping at the bodies. The two spirits rose up, stumbling back a little before regaining their balance.

”Ugh, what happened…” the one spirit asked.

”You died,” Janus said, pulling up a screen and swiping through it.

”Fuck, we did?” the other spirit asked.

”Yup…” Janus said, pulling up a profile, “Your name is Virgil Blackheart, correct?”

”Yes,” Virgil responded. Janus printed out a little slip, handing it to Virgil.

”You do have one unfinished task before you can ascend, so I would get to it as quickly as possible. And you are Logan Croftberry, correct?” Janus said.

”Yes,” Logan replied. Janus printed out another slip, handing that one to Logan.

”You also have an unfinished task, so I’ll let you get to it. If you need any help, my name is on that slip. Just call it and I’ll be on my way to assist you when I can,” Janus said, putting the screen away.

”Okay…” Virgil said.

”Any questions?” Janus asked.

”Who’s that?” Logan asked, pointing towards Remus who floated behind Janus.

”That’s no one. Just ignore them,” Janus said, pushing Remus away.

”Rude! I have feelings too!” Remus said, dramatically falling back.

”So, who are you?” Logan asked.

”Remus Sanders-Kingstone! Nice to meet you!” Remus said, holding their hand out.

”Logan Croftberry, please to make your acquaintance as well!” Logan said, shaking Remus’s hand.

”Alright, we better get going now,” Janus said, pulling Remus away, “Any important information about afterlife living including rules and stuff can be found on that slip. If you ever need me for whatever reason, call me. Good luck with your ascending,” Janus said, fading out of view while waving. The two reappeared in Janus’s apartment, Remus floating over to the couch.

”Alright, I’m going to go catch up on my quota,” Janus said, grabbing a new scythe.

”Ooo! Can I come?” Remus asked.

”No. You are going to stay here and not get in my way, so I can do my job and not be distracted,” Janus replied.

”Aww, you’re no fun,” Remus responded.

”That doesn’t matter. I need this job,” Janus said.

”Whatever,” Remus said. Janus went into his room, putting his hat away and grabbing a cloak. He put the cloak on, pulling the hood up over his head. Remus looked to Janus, confused.

”What’s with the stereotypical reaper outfit?” Remus asked.

”The night time reapers have a strict uniform to follow. I need to put this on so they know I’m working,” Janus said.

”Alright, then. You go have fun without me,” Remus said, putting a hand to his head and falling back dramatically.

”Don’t be dramatic. I’ll be back in a few hours, don’t go anywhere,” Janus said, fading out of view. Remus looked around the apartment, checking to make sure Janus was gone before fading out of view as well.

Remus reappeared in a living room, finding it empty. They walked around a little, finding someone in the kitchen. They peaked in the kitchen to find their father cleaning the dishes. Music played over a little speaker, playing Remus’s favorite song. They sat on the kitchen counter, watching as Thomas cleaned the dishes.

”I love this song,” Remus said, kicking their feet against the cabinets below. Thomas continued to wash the dishes, oblivious to the fact that someone was there. Roman entered the room, his hair wet and messy from the shower. Thomas looked over to Roman, smiling. He walked over, hugging Roman. Roman hugged back.

”Hey, buddy. Ready for movie night?” Thomas asked, putting a hand on Roman’s shoulder.

”Yeah, I guess…” Roman replied.

”Awesome! Just let me finish these last few dishes and I’ll be out,” Thomas said. Roman nodded, exiting the kitchen and going to the living room. Remus followed, sitting on an empty chair. Roman sat on the couch, turning on his phone and scrolling through photos. Thomas came out of the kitchen.

”I’ll be right back, I just need to put this towel away,” Thomas said. Roman nodded again, Thomas going upstairs and putting the towel into a laundry basket. Thomas put the laundry basket on top of the dryer, going back downstairs and sitting on the couch. He turned on the TV, going to Netflix and clicking through the movies.

”So, what do you want to watch, tonight?” Thomas asked.

”Mulan,” Roman replied. Thomas smiled, turning the movie on and putting the remote down on the table in front of him. Roman leaned his head on Thomas’s shoulder, curling up in a blanket. Thomas put his arms around Roman, holding him close as the movie played. Remus sat on the edge of their seat, enticed by the movie. Roman looked over towards the chair where Remus sat, tears coming to her eyes.

”That was their favorite chair for movie night…” Roman said. Thomas frowned, looking over to Roman. He wiped the tears from Roman’s eyes.

”Buddy…” Thomas said, “You know it’s not your fault.”

”It is though… If I hadn’t said all that horrible stuff to them…” Roman said, starting to cry. Thomas pulled Roman closer, comforting him as she cried. Remus perked up, looking over to the other two. Remus frowned, getting up and walking over to the two. Remus reached their hand out to Roman, about to touch her before remembering what Janus had said yesterday. They pulled their hand back sadly, walking back over to their chair and sitting back down. They watched the movie as Thomas and Roman sat on the couch together. Halfway through the movie, the lights in the house started to flicker as a storm started up. Thomas stood up, locking the door and closing the windows as Roman sat on the couch.

”Welp… So much for a calm night,” Thomas said, coming back to the couch. He grabbed a blanket that was on the arm of the couch, bundling up in the blanket and sitting back down next to Roman. He pulled Roman closer to him, Roman’s eyes darting around anxiously.

”I hate when it storms,” Roman said.

”I know, buddy. I know. It’s okay,” Thomas said. Roman leaned in closer to Thomas, closing his eyes as Thomas held him. Remus got up from their chair, looking at the two. They smiled softly.

”I love you two…” Remus said, to no reply. They faded from view as Roman and Thomas fell asleep on the couch. Remus reappeared in the apartment, laying down on the couch and falling asleep as well.

Masterpost // Previous // Next

[seita]

— reacting to your death.

includes: oikawa, iwaizumi, matsukawa, hanamaki, + kyoutani.

+ this is childhood friend!reader.

tw: major character death, grieving, blood and violence mention.

p a r t o n e ;;

⤿ part two: next (coming soon!)

-ˋˏ seijoh ˎˊ-

— tooru oikawa.

to tooru, the best course of action is to ignore it.

ignore the hurt, ignore the pain.

ignore the news completely.

in his mind, you’re just on vacation. or maybe you’re mad at him and ignoring him. you’ll come back.

he makes up scenarios and reasons in his head for why you’re not around. iwaizumi is angry, always yelling at him for being an idiot when he brings you up. but he doesn’t understand why.

he won’t talk about it. he doesn’t even acknowledge you’re gone until the funeral.

+

his hands are clasped in front of himself. the suit is uncomfortable and he doesn’t want to approach the casket. iwaizumi stands beside him, a sharp scowl plastered on his face.

“are you finally ready to face it?” he asks, keeping his voice quiet so the grieving people around them aren’t disturbed.

oikawa huffs out a laugh but it’s shaky -- watery. he’s trying so hard not to cry that it’s making his throat close up painfully. iwaizumi relaxes beside him with a sigh, his shoulders sagging before placing his hand on the taller’s shoulder.

“she wouldn’t want you to ignore it, shittykawa,” oikawa wants to laugh at his friend using that name even in the current situation.

typical iwaizumi.

always a pillar. always trying to be the strong one.

suddenly, oikawa finds himself wondering what your place in their little dynamic was. it feels like he can’t even remember you properly. it’d only been a few days since they lost you and it already feels like he’s...

“i don’t want to forget her,” oikawa suddenly chokes out, unable to stop his tears from falling finally.

“well then don’t dumbass,” iwaizumi’s voice was breaking, choked as he cried but oikawa didn’t want to look because he didn’t want to see his other friend falling apart as well.

— hajime iwaizumi.

he does not have good coping methods. his first and most immediately reaction is denial. he doesn’t want to believe what he’s hearing, so he just...doesn’t.

he assumes everyone is lying to him. there’s no way he could lose you. you’d been his friend since you were children; it’d always been you, iwa, and oikawa. so how could you possibly just be...gone?

the answer? you couldn’t.

that’s what he chose to believe, anyway.

+

“what are you talking about, shittykawa?” he snaps, refusing to pull his nose from his notes, “i think this has to be your worst joke yet.”

“it’s not a joke,” oikawa sighs, shuffling on his feet as he sniffles. if iwa chanced a look up at him, he’d see his friend had been crying for hours. but he wouldn’t look. because he didn’t want to see it, “her mom tried calling you...couldn’t get a hold of you. so i thought i’d...”

iwa slammed his notebook down, glaring straight ahead, “i told you to stop playing these stupid fucking jokes on me. it’s not funny.”

“iwa-”

“get the fuck out,” iwa jumped to his feet, grabbing the other brunette by the shirt.

the fabric creaked as it stretched. but oikawa didn’t put up a fight, letting iwaizumi toss him out of his bedroom door. he hit the floor with a thud before wincing at the deafening slam of the bedroom door.

iwaizumi sit back down, pulling up your text message. he had never answered your text asking if he would be alright studying on his own today. he had meant to answer but just forgot. his thumbs moved across the keyboard, eyes blurring with tears as he typed.

“come over. we can hang out together, okay?”

— issei matsukawa.

he was the first to admit that he wasn’t the best friend to have. he was sort of ghosty and a bit unreliable. he doesn’t mean to be. you knew that. he knew you did.

so there’s no way you would be upset with him, right? not for what he did.

he lets his own guilt eat him alive. even if everyone on earth told him it wasn’t hit fault -- he still puts every ounce of blame upon himself.

he lets it eat him alive. he thinks he deserves it.

because he let you down.

+

he stared at his phone. sometimes he could clearly see what he was looking at and other times it felt like he blacked out.

it was your text thread.

it wasn’t unusual for him to ghost you. he was never very talkative. you liked to tease him about it from time to time.

still, looking back, he could have at least responded this one time.

he doesn’t even remember what he was doing. probably nothing as important as it felt at the time.

“can you come pick me up?” it was a simple question. he hadn’t even bothered to ask where you were. if he had, he would have known you were only 10 minutes by car. it would have taken no time at all to stop what he was doing and go get you.

he wonders how long you had stared at his read receipt, wondering if he was going to come. he’ll never know.

he’ll never know the answer to why you were out so late. why you needed him to pick you up. how you felt in your last moments. he wondered if you thought of him then. if you blamed him. if you were sad or hurt by his ignoring you.

why didn’t he just go get you? why didn’t he answer you?

if he had, you would still be safe.

he wishes he could talk to you again. tell you that he was sorry. he didn’t know how important it was. he didn’t know you were scared -- that you weren’t safe.

he wanted to apologize, tell you that whatever stupid shit he was doing was nowhere near as important as you were.

he wanted to know if you had thought about him in your last moments -- the one person you had reached out to for help.

only for him to fail you.

he just wishes you knew that he didn’t mean to let you die.

— takahiro hanamaki.

it’s gotta be a joke, right?

ha-ha really funny. come out now.

when you don’t he’s confused. this really isn’t funny.

you can’t be gone. you can’t. because he needs you.

who else is going to help him during exams. or laugh at his terrible jokes. or make him feel better when he has his heart broken. what about when he’s sick? who will make him that amazing soup that always has him better in a day?

he refuses to let you go. he can’t be without you. it’s just not realistic.

so just...come out of wherever you’re hiding now, okay?

+

he tries to force the smile to remain in place as he stares at the unfamiliar faces in front of him.

“what um...what do you mean?” he laughs nervously, placing his hand to rub nervously on the back of his neck.

they repeat the news. it goes in one ear and out the other. he laughs, ignoring the confused look on their faces.

he takes a few steps back, shaking his head.

“that’s a...real funny joke. i’m just gonna...” he feels tears stinging at his eyes but he doesn’t know why. it’s obviously just a joke. he doesn’t want to be that dork who cries over a practical joke, “go call her now.”

they don’t try to call him back, pity on their faces as he slumps away, phone in hand as he dials your number. he’s pretty sure he’s far enough away when he starts crying at the sound of your voicemail.

— kentarou kyotani.

kyoutani copes violently. if there is one thing he doesn’t like, it’s change. and there’s no bigger change than losing someone you’ve known your entire life.

he didn’t have many friends -- really you were the only one he was comfortable actually giving that title. so without you, he had no one. he refused to let you go.

anger builds and builds.

and without you there to mellow him out like you usually do...it explodes.

+

there’s a fist sized dent in the wall. or maybe 4.  his knuckles are busted open and bleeding but he doesn’t feel the pain. his shoulders are heaving but even after lashing out he doesn’t feel better.

what is he supposed to do?

usually he calls you.

usually you come waltzing into his bedroom with a frown, ‘kenta, you can’t do that!’ you’d scold him. but you wouldn’t.

he knew you wouldn’t.

but that didn’t stop him from hoping.

god, he wanted you to walk in so bad. even if you didn’t knock. sometimes he would get so mad at you for that. but right now, he would give anything to hear his bedroom door fly open.

he held his fist close to his chest, squeezing his eyes closed to keep himself from crying. he never cried. he didn’t want to start now. he clenched his jaw together aimed his fist at the wall again, a large cracking noise coming from the plaster as if caved under the pressure.

then, almost as if it were out of his best dreams, the door clicked open. he whirled around with wide eyes, hope sparkling within them.

only to find the troubled face of tsukishima there instead of you.

kyoutani finally allowed himself to cry.

© all content belongs to seita 2020. do not modify or repost.

[imposterogers]

Idk if this is an unpopular opinion but the writers should've left Steve's and Peggy's relationship alone (and her appearances since they had to strip down like 5 different characters to deliver us mcu Peggy but people like to call me a misogynist if I dare to say anything but positive lovely things about her) after the first Cap film. Like seriously they never even dated. I'm pretty sure he would've gotten over her pretty quickly. I hate when people say "he deserves to be happy and she was his home and happiness"(he does deserve happiness to make it clear).WHERE? TELL ME WHERE? Cause from what i saw literally everyone in CW who risked their lives and went to jail to help him save bucky were closer to being his home. Let alone Bucky and Sam who truly did bring him happiness and were his "home" as his best friends. Also a side note Sharon wasn't just a love interest. Yes she definitely deserved more screen time but she was very helpful in both CW and TWS.

I genuinely don’t understand how people don’t see how weird it was to push peggy back into the limelight as a love interest and as steve’s happy ending. like, I would have not been bothered if they left here in 1945 where she belonged and never mentioned her again. in winter soldier it wasn’t bad, bc I feel like she and steve both had closure. peggy saw that steve was alive (and told him he needs to live his life and start over), and steve was able to see that she had a good life. that should have been it

the only mention of her in civil war was her funeral, which should have been the literal nail on the casket for steve. and he DID start over. he put the shield down (for bucky, but also for sam and clint and wanda and all the other individuals effected by sokovia accords) and he became a fugitive and build a tentative new life. with sam. with natasha. with bucky.

bringing peggy back during endgame was so retrogressive for his character. he should have been mourning his new family that he lost in the snap, instead he wouldn’t shut up about peggy who DIED OF OLD AGE!!!!!!! then he chooses to be with her? in an alternate timeline? despite the fact that she told him that she lived a life of her own, and he should start over and learn to live in the present ? not to mention he chooses to go back in 1948, three years after the plane crash, and injects himself into her life.

like they were never meant to be a canon long term ship. I never liked their relationship ever since peggy shot at steve bc she was jealous, and thought she had an claim on him. they put the character to rest six feet under, just to bring her back in the worst possible way. smh.

[imaginethathaikyuu]

dead end 

TRIGGER WARNING / CONTENT WARNING: mentions of non-main character deaths, this entire fic is about depression and existentialism and bad parts of life, an unhappy ending 

-

this is obviously very different than anything i’ve written for my blog and i apologize for that. writing has been extremely hard for me as of late in the wake of losing someone very important to me, who was always supportive and proud of my writing. and, to be completely honest, i’ve found it really hard to write anything knowing that they will never be able to read it. regardless, i’m trying my best, and even though this is nothing more than a journal entry written under the guise of a story about tanaka ryuunosuke, i want to share it. i’m not always happy and i don’t want to come off like i am, and my writing has always reflected my life. unfortunately that means the bad parts too. i hope you like it, and if not, i will have more stories out eventually - i can’t really say when right now. this isn’t a character x reader fic, so i know most of you probably aren’t gonna be into it - that’s okay.

AGAIN, this story touches on extremely sensitive subjects that some people may not feel comfortable reading. it is not happy at all. it has little to no narrative and it is generally upsetting. the only fanfic tag i’m going to put it in is the tag i use for all of my fics, all potential TWs will be tagged, and it will be under the cut for those of you who feel comfortable reading it! 

-

word count: 806 

There was a comfort in being alone. And for Tanaka, his life had to become a single player game in order for him to recognize that. 

He was lost in a maze with no one but himself. It was scary at first, before he knew who, or what, could be lurking around every corner he turned - before he knew how truly alone he was. 

And his entire life, he had been there, stuck in that maze making languid turns, going in circles and not caring about finding his way out because there was so much inside. He didn’t want to find the exit until he realized he was trapped. And he didn’t need to turn around until he ran into his first dead end. 

He was eight years old, only a kid, when he realized this trap he was stuck in. When he hit a wall and lost the biggest piece of himself in the process. And he still hasn’t had a best friend since his mother sat him down at the kitchen table and told him he’d never see his only friend, Mori, again. 

And he feels guilty, now, because fifteen years later he remembers the ache of that impact more than he remembers any precious memories with his first ever friend. He remembers the tears on parents' faces and a casket that shouldn’t be so small and bouquets of white lilies, and he remembers not crying at all. 

He remembers knowing, immediately, that this is what life was. That living was synonymous with losing, and he could either be okay with that or live the rest of his life being shocked by it. 

And he didn’t like surprises. He didn’t like losing. He didn’t like knowing that any day could be the worst of his life. And he couldn’t live happily because he was constantly anticipating the next natural disaster.

Every empty seat in class, every positive test result, every tragic accident were all just symptoms of being alive. People change and dogs die and life stays unfair and Tanaka had given up on trying to outplay it. He’d given up on everything.

He dreamt of a life with control, of an existence he had a say in. He could hardly afford to be alive and he had no right to exist. Every hand he reached out to, thinking it would pull him up, only weighed him down. 

So he stopped reaching out. He stopped letting others guide him down blind alleyways to dead end streets - he stopped pretending that he wasn’t alone in his very existence. 

And he was alone by choice. That would give life less chances to drop down on him, less opportunity to show him that nothing ever ends well. 

There were those rare times, though, when Tanaka could see a beautiful sunrise for what it was worth. He could watch the acceptance of a love letter without thinking about the heartbreak that would chase it; he could acknowledge the success of a peer without a gross envy in the pit of his stomach; he could get close to someone without thinking about what he’d say at their funeral in front of all of the people who didn’t love them enough - and still he is trapped. Still he is angry and lost and dreadful. A golden beam of light isn’t enough. Any amount of time spent with someone he loves would never be enough. Is he selfish to ask for more time? Is it wrong of him to expect life to change its rules for him? 

What were all of these things consequences for, anyway? What terrible thing did he do in a past life that led him to this one? 

He only had one answer for any question he stumbled across: he doesn’t know. He doesn’t know how selfish he is and he isn’t aware of how to change these rules, because he’s only a player in the game. He’s only a pawn to be moved at something else’s will. 

But at least he has some control in solitude. This way, he doesn’t have to worry about turning a corner to find bouquets of lilies left for someone he didn’t love sufficiently. 

And he doesn’t know when he’ll finally draw to the end of these tunnels, but he hopes that when he does it isn’t at the cost of someone else’s wrong turn leading to a dead ending impact. He hopes that it is as silent and cowardly and blameless as he has lived; he wants it to be as lonely as it can be. To look back and see no tears or flowers left. He doesn’t want to be the one to prove to someone who loves him how unfair everyone’s arbitrary time limit is. Most of all, he hopes that when he gets his game over, everyone else can keep playing without pause. 

[writtenonreceipts]

My runaways story continues.  Based on characters from the Throne of Glass series.  90% of this was written tonight.  100% of this is roughly edited.

TW: Depression, mentions of addiction, grief, angst…angst

 when rowan whitethorn meets a girl and memories are cruel twists of fate he slowly slowly slowly come to understand reality. Part One, Part Two, Part Three

the thing about hope

There is a farm where rows of lavender bloom.  All summer long for miles on end.  The purple and blue extend along in near perfect rows.  He’s never understood it.  Flowers.  Plants.  Life in general apparently.  How was anything supposed to grow when it was all such a raging storm of instability and pain?  How was anyone supposed to come out of life functional?  

Rowan didn’t know.

He didn’t know how his mother had managed to keep acres and acres of the lavender alive and blooming.  It was to the point where every summer hundreds of people would come to pick lavender themselves or buy potpourri, lavender jam, lavender honey.  

It was consuming.  Inspiring.

He didn’t know how she managed to keep such beauty alive but not herself.

And lately he didn’t want to.

“Check in on room 220,” someone says.  A clipboard is stuffed in his chest and Rowan grunts a response.

Grateful to be pulled out of the memories, he takes the clipboard and pushes off from the desk he leans against.  He doesn’t look at anything in the file.  As long as it doesn’t take him back to pediatrics he doesn’t care.  There are so many stickers on his scrubs he knows he’s going to have to throw them away.  Dammit.  These were his good ones too.  He was supposed to be on the trauma surgeon’s services but instead was schlepped off to do the grunt work of the hospital.

Sighing, he meanders to the designated room and looks through the open door.

The girl is laying perfectly still.  Her hair in a messy braid flung off to one side.  She’s so pale that Rowan can see her veins even at a distance.  Her eyes are rimmed red and blue.  It seems a miracle that she is even alive.

Rowan wants to roll his eyes.  It doesn’t help that another girl, nearly her same age, is stretched out partially over the foot of the bed.  This one hasn’t taken care to brush her hair out of the way.  A pair of too tall black heels lays on the floor and Rowan can make out a black lacy dress.  Of course, a couple of girls out partying to the point that they drank too much and got alcohol poisoning.  

They should have been kept in the ER and turned out this morning with the regular discharges.

Rowan’s about to walk into the room to start taking her vitals when her eyes pop open.  Hazed with sleep and pain, her eyes take a moment to focus on her friend.  The girl curses.  Several times.  And then she notices Rowan.

“What the hell’d’you want?” Her voice snaps and slurs together in a way he has never heard before.

“Glad to see you’re not dead,” he replies.  He finally glances at her file. “Aelin.”

“Yeah right,” she mutters.  She’s barely awake as she rolls her head from side to side and then kicks lightly at the girl lying at the foot of the bed.  “Wake-up, bitch.”

The brunette gives a muffled reply but doesn’t move.  It doesn’t matter though because Miss Aelin Galathynius is asleep within moments and Rowan is left in a peaceable quiet once more.

#

She is trying to be quiet—Aelin Galathynius.  But if there is one thing Rowan has learned about her in the past twenty-four hours it is that she is incapable of it.  Of being still too.  Once the drugs slowly worked their way out of her system and she’d managed to stand on her own two feet without looking like damn Bambi, she hadn’t stopped.  Stopped talking, stopped cursing, stop, ordering him around.

Until she threw up on his shoes.

His good shoes.

“Buzzard,” she mutters before slumping onto the floor next to her bed.  The hospital gown she wears does little to cover her.  Not that she cares.  She hardly tries to adjust the way it rides up her thighs or dips down from a shoulder.

Rowan wonders if she’s somehow managed to sneak another hit into the hospital.  But he soon realizes that one of the reasons she hasn’t managed to be still is because she is shaking too much.  She is sweating too much.  She’s in a withdrawal that is threatening to kill her.

So when she passes out, again, Rowan stays with the night nurse to get the vomit cleaned up, to get her hospital gown changed, to make sure she’ll make it through the night.

#

He was eight when his mother died.

And eight when the lavender was plowed over to make room for a new hotel.

And eight when his father started drinking.

#

It takes forty-eight hours for one Aelin Galathynius to be discharged from the hospital.

Rowan is once again covered in stickers from the cretin children in the pediatrics wing.  For some reason he doesn’t care though.  Not when one of the girls who needs a heart transplant hands him a sticker.  It’s a daisy with white petals and a happy, smiling face.  She tells him it’ll help him remember to smile more.

He decides he has a love hate relationship with the pediatrics wing.  

While he’s down on the ground floor working on paper work that supposedly will help him find his way into an OR he caught the flurry of blonde hair.  He looks up to see Aelin walking towards him in the clothes she was wearing when she was admitted.  It occurs to him that she was not dressed like the girl who had been visiting her.  No, Aelin Galathynius had not been dressed for a party that night.  Not with the leggings that had holes along the seams, the black tank-top with bleach stains.  Not with the hospital socks to protect her feet.

She’s walking though the hall with wide eyes, beautiful eyes.  Even though they are still rimmed with red, the gold and turquoise is captivating.  If filled with confusion.

And Rowan realizes he knows that look.  He knows that look all too well.

Maybe that’s why he’s taking that silly little sticker and writing on the back of it.  Maybe that’s why he gives it to her.

“Ninety days,” he tells her.

It’s a lie, but sometimes it’s better to have the start of a goal, the start of something too look to, to home for.

She tilts her head as she takes the sticker, her beautiful eyes piercing him.  And then she is gone.

#

He tried to find another lavender farm when he was ten.

Just to be something better than what he had.  Because at ten years old, his mother was dead and his father was absent.  So he would walk for hours around Wendlyn.  It was summer and her had no place better to be, so why not on that desperate hunt?

He never found lavender quite like his mother’s though.  He did find a group of boys playing with water guns.  They still had smiles on their faces.  They still had shoes on their feet.  Even if the shoes had holes and more tape than sole.  But they were smiling and laughing.  And Rowan wanted to remember how to laugh.

#

The girl should not be on his mind.

Aelin Galathynius. 

Beautiful, shameless, powerful.

She should not be on his mind, but how can she not be?  She’s made an extra trip to the hospital on another overdose.  But this time was different.  This time she left with shoes.  With grimace.  With determination burning in her eyes.

She handed him a small watch that day.  Pink, Dora the Explorer.  She winked and told him keep track of the days for her.

And in that moment Rowan knew he was gaining a look into who Aelin Galathynius really was.

Which was highly unfortunately because no he cannot stop thinking about her.

He cannot help but hope she is okay.  

And it is strange to him--to hope. It hasn’t come easily to him.  Not since his mother.  Hope is intangible.  It can’t be measured or felt.  At least he never thought.  Hope is obscure and obsolete.  Something that has barely graced his life.  

But when he thinks of Aelin Galathynius, he feels a bit desperate that one day he’ll turn around and see her out of the corner of his eye.  He doesn’t see her as the girl that vomited all over him or flipped him off while failing to stand up properly.  Rather, he sees her as what he saw in her eyes that last day.  That determination.  That strength.  And he hopes that she will always become that person.

He knows it isn’t his place to think of her like that.  He shouldn’t obsess over a woman he hardly knows.  And not just because it is sad and pathetic, but also because he shouldn’t even know she exists.  She was just a patient in the hospital where he works.  A name on a paper.  A body in a room.  And that should be it.

But hope, he comes to realize, is a bitch.

#

When his father died, Rowan thought that maybe that was how things were supposed to be.  Maybe things would get better.  He had Lyria, he had college coming up, he had his friends.  He could see his life playing out the way it was supposed to.  

It was late in the summer when they had the funeral.  The only thing Rowan could afford to put on the casket was a small bundle of lavender.  And Rowan believed he was betraying his mother for it.

Not long after, Rowan began his senior year of High School.  Lorcan of course had been suspended so much last year that he had to repeat senior year again.  Neither he or Rowan minded.  It made things easier.  Mostly because Fenrys and Connall insisted they could continue their yearly ritual of cleansing the school halls with silly string and glitter bombs.  For one more year at least.

For Rowan, it was all that mattered.  Chasing that high of life with his friends.  Forgetting the man that drank himself to oblivion.  Forgetting that he betrayed his mother by laying his father to rest with that small bloom of lavender.

Maybe that was why Lyria died.  The universe knew that all he was good for was betrayal.  So he betrayed the universe.

#

The first time Rowan realizes he loves Aelin is when it is raining.

Torrents of rain are coming down and he can hardly see in front of him.  As if that’s not the worst thing of the night, Aelin won’t unlock the car.  Probably because she’s mad at him.  Again.  For something he doesn’t even know about.  It shouldn’t matter.  They’re barely friends anymore.

Not after she kissed him.

Not after he left.

Not after he forgot to text.  To call.

She says she doesn’t blame him.  They’ve been busy.  He finally got time in a surgery to hold a scalpel and make a few stitches.  She finally got a pay raise and has a new skirt to prove it.  They’ve been busy and that has been perfectly alright.

Until tonight.  Until he was so close to breaking because damn the fools who can’t drive.  And damn the fools who don’t use their seatbelts.  Who think that one drink never hurt anyone.  Damn the fools who don’t answer their phones.  

“I can’t find the keys!” she yells over the rain.  She’s digging in her purse, her blonde hair utterly soaked.

“Are you serious?” he shouts back.  Unable to help it, he tosses his hands in the air. “Hell Aelin.”

“Screw you,” she says.

He almost doesn’t hear it because the rain is pattering against the car, the sidewalk.  It’s a rush of noise that assaults his ears in a constant whir.  Scowling, Rowan goes to Aelin’s side.  She must be missing something, not seeing properly.  

As soon as his shift ended, he’d come racing to her apartment, praying, hoping, she hadn’t gotten tied up in an accident.  Only to find that she was talking to some guy--a really attractive one with dark hair and golden eyes.  The kind of guy she should be with.  The kind of guy not tatted up with a drunken alcoholic history.  The kind of guy who isn’t him.

Rowan just barely grabs her arm when she yanks out the keys with a triumphant laugh only to have him jostle her enough for the keys to go flying over her head.

“Dammit, Rowan!”

“Dammit, Aelin!”

They are screaming at nothing.  At everything.  To the rain that slips down the planes of their faces and deep into their bones.

And then Aelin is laughing.  She’s tossing her head back and clutching her wet hair and is laughing.  It’s the kind of laugh that can carry over the rain.  It hits Rowan suddenly as he stars at her sopping wet form.  Nothing can affect her anymore.  She is her own.

And he loves her for it.  She got her all on her own, he realizes.  He might have been in the background, but he’s not the one who got her the apartment or the new job.  He’s not the one who drags her out of bed so she can get to work on time or even get in the shower.  No.  She’s done it all herself.  And he loves her for it.

So while she’s laughing like she’ll never stop he’s coming forward.  His hand are cupping her face before he even realizes what he’s doing and he kisses her.  

Mouths slick with rain and bodies chill with it too--they come together slowly at first.  And then all at once Aelin is moving against him, her hands around his neck.  She pulls him tighter against him as though he might disappear.  

Rowan wants to tell her he’s not going anywhere but that would require him taking his lips from hers and that is not going to happen.  Not now.  Not for a long time.

At least he thought so.

Until a clap of thunder echoes overhead.  Until he realizes how cold her fingers are on his skin.  Until the slip of lightning comes and lights up the shock in her eyes.

And he pulls away until he can rest his forehead against hers.  With a sigh, he runs his hands down her cheeks, her neck, until they settle on her waist where he lets his fingers dig into her sides.

“I shouldn’t have done that,” he whispers.  He has to close his eyes from the sight of rain drops falling from his lips and the desire he has to capture them with his own.  Deliberately, he steps away from her and runs a hand over his face.  

She stares at him still, head cocking to one side. “That’s it?”

“That’s all it can ever be, can’t it?” he replies.  

Even though he’s finally begun to hope again.  Even though he’s finally started to see something else in his future.  Even though she is the reason he can roll out of bed in the mornings.  He knows she deserves better than him.

He should have remembered that hope is a bitch.

#

thanks for reading my dears! 

Tags: @tottenhamboys20 @morganofthewildfire  @aelinchocolatelover @cicadabones @esco--s

[hermits-that-craft]

Marionette Roulette - Chapter 3

TW: Teen death mention, crying, signs of abuse

ao3 link in the reblogs

Tommy lies in his bed, sleep gently placing him in his bed. He was with Tubbo, in his dreams. Why couldn’t he stay? He misses his friend.

Tommy hears footsteps around his small cell. They have a strange sound - both heavy and armoured, clinking against the ground, but light as well. As though the person is wearing armour, but hiding it under layers.

Tommy knows, starvation addled mind still functioning enough for fear to recognise that Dream is the visitor. He doesn’t sound like Techno, or Wilbur, or even Phil as he walks. And in any case, Dream is the only one who is allowed to visit him. Who would visit Tommy, the teen who got his best friend killed? The teen who hurt so many people that Techno knew before he left to join Wilbur’s revolution, his older brother trying to keep him from harming more. The teen that Wilbur knew was a monster, Pogtopia helping him see that Tommy is the route of his problems.

Tommy’s head blooms in pain, and Tommy can’t help the whimper that falls from his lips. Dream looks to him, surprised that the teen is awake.

He’s spent a week in the prison without moving or eating, just taking sips of water as Dream forces him. Tommy knows, somehow, that Dream is worried, or even fearful, for what is happening to Tommy.

But it hurts. His head hurts so much - too much. Why does it hurt so much?

“Oh, Tommy.” Dream hums in sympathy, and Tommy feels the bed dip from the weight of the other man. “See - this is what happens if you don’t eat. You get hungry.”

“Head.” Tommy curls into a ball, his hands on the top of his head. He can feel warm, sticky blood in between his fingers. “Bleeding. Hurts.”

“No, don’t be an idiot.” Dream tutts, smacking Tommy’s hands away from his head. “You’re just hungry, because you’re stubborn and you refuse help. That’s why Tubbo died - you refused help.”

Tommy wails at the reminder, the pain in his head spreading to his fingers, feet and tailbone. His whole body feels like it’s on fire - it’s not fair.

“You know, Tubbo’s funeral is tomorrow.” Dream says. “His father even came. Where is your father, Tommy? Picking up better children because you’re a monster who kills everyone he loves?”

Tommy screams again, all anger and grief and acceptance, because deep down, Tommy knows that Dream is right.

Tommy is a monster. He’s the worst of all his brothers, of anyone in his family. 

Of anyone on the server.

---

“Welcome to the server, Captain-”

“Save it Dream.” The man says, walking past the server’s admin to Phil, who avoids looking at the man. Jordan takes his sunglasses off, his eyes filled with tears.

“Jordan-”

“Tell me it was a prank.” Jordan begs his friend, his voice hollow. “Tell me I didn’t outlive Tubbo. Tell me that my son is just around the corner, giggling under his breath. Tell me that this server, that was promised to be safe, is safe! Tell me that Tubbo is still alive!”

“I’m sorry.” the words fall like a guillotine from Phil’s lips, and Jordan falls to his knees, a sob ripping itself out of his throat. “I’m so sorry.”

“Who.” It’s not a question, rather a demand for justice. “Who?”

“Me.” Dream says blankly. “I was aiming for Tommy, your son jumped in front of him.”

“You mother fucker.” Jordan spits, lunging at the admin as though killing him will bring back Tubbo. “Bring him back! Bring my son back! You swore that this SMP would be safe for him - for him to experience SMP’s before he turned 18! How could you!”

“I can’t bring him back.” Dream lies, though the only people who know he’s lying are held on a tight leash. It doesn’t matter though, Phil and Techno escorting Jordan away from Dream, leaving behind the admin, who in turn stalks away from the world spawn.

Sunglasses lie in freshly kicked up mud, their red frames shining in the sunlight. A small hand reaches down, giggling as he picks it up.

He doesn’t know why his Dad is so upset with Dream, but he’s sure that he’ll feel better once he gets his glasses back!

---

The funeral isn’t as long as it could be, but no one knows if they would have stayed stable if it was longer. It rains the entire funeral, appropriately, and although no one lights the meadow where the teens are buried, no mobs enter. Red poppies and blue forget-me-nots grow as though the meadow was destined to be a cemetery. 

The caskets are lowered into the graves silently. Tubbo’s is small - too small, why is it so small - though Tommy’s is the same size as an adults it’s light. Two disks lie in it, along with some polaroids that Ghostbur had donated, of times long since passed. They were not Ghostbur’s in origin, but Tubbo’s and Tommy’s. The thought still counts, as the ghost did not attend the funeral, or say anything to the living.

Niki is the first to speak. Her words don’t flow like poetry, and she stumbles and chokes her way through her sentences, but the emotions are raw and true and they bring the most comfort to the fathers who have lost their sons. 

Quackity speaks next. It’s a short speech, one that he wrote with Karl and Sapnap’s help, the paper tearstained and running. His hands shake while he speaks, talking about the good times he had with the two teens. New L’Manburg, running drugs, even parts of Pogtopia and Manburg are brought up, and by the time he leaves the stand, Quackity is close to collapsing. Karl and Sapnap pull him into a close hug, letting the man cry on their shoulders and silently promising each other that they will not be the next to go - for the fiancee’s sake.

Fundy takes the stand, and though he can’t stand for more than five minutes, his speech brings up memories of before wars and countries and disks - he talks about a meadow so similar to the one that Tubbo and Tommy are being buried in. About playing with his uncle and friend who were just younger than him. He collapses soon after saying that Tubbo and Tommy had asked him to bury them in a meadow like it, hoping that they like the one he chose for them. Eret helps him off the stage, pulling Fundy away from Phil and Techno without Fundy needing to ask him.

Phil takes the stage quietly. He makes it through his entire speech without crying, though he collapses into Techno’s arms the second eyes are off him. His speech was neither short nor long, here nor there. It talked about Tommy, the gremlin who never grew old enough to discover what type of hybrid he is. Was. It spoke about Tubbo, the kind boy who would play with Tommy in the meadow near their home. It never once said anything about power, though it’s clear that Phil wanted to blame power struggles for the deaths.

Jordan speaks, in a wistful tone that tells everyone exactly who gave Sam the black eye. He talks about raising Tubbo, about how when Tommy was over the two boys were a handful but sweet. How the two would insist on helping him make dinner if Tommy was spending the night. He never brought up how he was promised a safe server for his son to play on. It’s clear in the hardness in his eyes that he despises the admin for his sons death.

Ranboo is the last to speak. He waits until Phil and Techno leave before taking the stage, and the silence that falls at the enderman hybrid’s little rebellion tells him that he needs to let everyone know. He reads every memory of the pair in his memory book. From burning Georges house to meeting them on the prime path, thinking that they were going to grind. Ranboo is not a poet, but the venom he spits at Dream is enough to make everyone remember the once living president. Ranboo speaks about hearing of Tubbo’s death. Of Tommy’s exile, and what he witnessed once. Of broken screams that he heard from Logstedshire after Tommy was long asleep. Of wet sobs that he could hear from the presidential office after a meeting with the butcher army.

“Their deaths are on everyones hands.” Ranboo spits, before he walks into the forest. He stalks into the forest, small burns pocketing his face as he refuses to bring an umbrella. 

---

Tommy lies on his bed, blood soaking through the sheets and covers. He doesn’t know how much more pain he can handle, how much more he can take. It hurts so much, bones growing in places no human should be able to grow them. 

Though he is Phil’s son, and none of them were human.

Phil himself is an avian hybrid, Techno being a pig (boar, Techno would say). Wilbur was more difficult to work out, but he was a salmon hybrid, practically a siren with the talents he had.

Tommy is 16 now. Of course his hybrid traits are coming in. 

He remembers when Techno and Wilbur’s came in. The hugs from Phil, the carefully brew potions to help them. The cards and care and love that was given to the twins. Tommy will never get that. He doesn’t get warmth, freshly dried clothes from the drying machine. He gets cold obsidian walls and a wall of lava that he can’t even drag himself towards. 

Dream chained his ankle to the corner, saying something about ‘pets’. Tommy doesn’t know, Tommy could hear him, could hear everything, all at once. It was too much, still is too much. He just wants to burrow under some blankets, under a building. Burrow somewhere safe, preferably with some blankets fresh out of the clothes dryer. And some running water nearby to wash his food with, and a close source of food and-

Tommy whimpers, bringing his hands to his ears. They no longer sit at the side of his head, but on the top of it. They’re soft and round, Tommy spends a lot of time wondering what species he is. What type of hybrid he is.

When he asked Dream, the man just laughed. He said it wasn’t important, he’s a feral animal that needs to be tamed anyways. Tommy is inclined to believe him. He knows he has sharp claws and feet with pads at the bottom of them. And a tail. He doesn’t know what it looks like, just that it’s there and it’s painful and still growing.

He can trust Dream as the man smells safe, Tommy often lies to himself. The man smells of nothing. The scent of blood or dirt should follow the man, but it doesn’t. Dream doesn’t smell of anything, but Tommy can’t afford to be choosy about who is his family.

He misses Tubbo.

----

A child watches from the trees, a black liquid falling from his eyes like ink. Unlike Ghostbur, who looks the same as he did when he was living, just grey; or Glatt, who’s horns are now red in contrast with his blue jumper; the child looks nothing like when he was alive.

His eyes are black, as though they were made from the void. His skin is whiter than paper, and the blood flowing out of the corner of his lips stands out as though nothing else in the world was that saturated. His clothes are torn, green shirt greyed and bloodied from the brutal death he experienced. The grass seems to wilt beneath his feet, and his hair floats as though he was encased in water, rather than floating in air. He simultaneously looks older than he will ever age, and younger than most of the smp knew him. His body is small, shorter than it had been in life, but his face bared the marks of someone who has lived lifetimes.

Ghostbur promised revenge - that he would flood the world to save Tommy. He would rise the sea until Dream brings his little brother home. The, if water is not threat enough, lava would take its place. The young - too young, far too young - ghost can’t believe that the sweet man who held him as he cried would do that to a world.

Didn’t believe it, not until Glatt spoke to him. Told him what Ghostbur had done to worlds as Alivebur. Had raised lava and water and could have been a god, but chose to play war against Dream in this server.

The ghostly boy believes that much. He pretends to only remember good things, but he doesn’t. He remembers what Alivebur did to Tommy. What Technoblade did to him. What Wilbur and Techno would get away with doing to the two boys. What Phil and Dream and Techno did to his country.

He remembers Schlatt. He remembers everything. Every detail, every crime. He forgot what happy memories he made, leaving only despair and anger, and the need to protect Tommy.

He doesn’t remember his father anymore. 

He let himself become hardened.

[yourdeepestfathoms]

Her Monster (part one)

[Wing AU; Tour!verse]

A new and improved rewrite of a very old fic! Hopefully this one will be better than the past one! I’ve cleaned it up a lot because GOD there were so many tense shifts lol

EB belongs to @spooner7308!!

TW: Blood

-------------------------------

Chapter One - Devils Don’t Fly

Sometimes bad things just happened to good people. Sometimes fate just has other plans for someone. In EB’s case, that was very much true.

Elizabeth Barton--or simply EB--had been missing for a year and two months. She was remembered for her biting wit, harsh retorts, and overabundance of sarcasm. It wasn’t easy to get along with her, but there were a select few who were close to her, and that’s why her disappearance hit as hard as it did.

By now, though, mostly everyone had moved on.

The funeral was an open casket with just photos and one of her beanies inside. It was hard to look at, painful even. The idea that she was still alive, since her body was never found, came about, but it had been dropped for awhile.

EB became a mere memory in the back of the cast’s mind.

But Joan was still hanging onto the memories that she was still there.

Jane told her she needed to move on, and she knew she did, but she just couldn’t. She couldn’t accept the fact that her friend was really gone, that there was no one around to affectionately call her a “weird little creature” or beat up the hybrid-hating racists that sometimes loudly complained at stagedoors. No more warm hugs from giant griffon vulture wings that seemed to envelope her entire body, no more late night flies because nobody else would humor her nocturnal nature, no more wordy retorts that always made her giggle no matter how awful she was feeling.

No more best friend.

It was November, now. Fall was coming into full bloom. It was Anne’s idea to go to the park on their day off, and everyone obliged, knowing that the trip would be a good chance to stretch their wings. Joan hadn’t wanted to go, but Kat had sternly said she needed some fresh air, as she became more and more reclusive ever since EB’s death (not death, not death, she’s not dead, she can’t be--) and rarely ever went out. But she branched off from the group to venture further into the forest, wanting to be alone.

It’s funny, she thought. She hated the fact that she was alone that EB was now gone, but she hated the company of other people. There was only one avian she wanted, and everyone was sure she wouldn’t ever be coming back.

Joan spread her wings to the slim slivers of sunlight leaking through the canopy of trees. She used to hate them, but EB said they made her interesting. But now she was back to hating them all over again.

Rustling snapped her out of her trance. Deer jumped out of the underbrush and rushed right past Joan, causing her to leap away and fall on her back. Her wings thrusted outwards in surprise, tail lashing. She rolled over, wincing slightly, then realized the odd behavior of the animals. Deer normally didn’t run towards an avian.

They ran away.

Joan stood up and brushed herself off, ruffling out her feathers to rid them of any dirt. She was still pondering why the deer were acting so weirdly when she heard it.

The squeaking.

Curious and concerned, she tiptoed forward and peeked through the brush. There, only a few feet away, was a doe lying in a pool of its own blood. Its stomach was ripped open, but it was still alive, like whatever had killed it wasn’t interested in eating at the moment. The sight made Joan’s veins turn icy in fear.

What did this?

When she found out, she wished she had just ran off with the rest of the herd.

Growling came to the left. A large, bulky creature emerged from its hiding spot in the trees, perching on a branch with long, curved talons. It had molted green skin and bug-like eyes. Multiple rows of teeth poked out of its maw, dripping with drool. The barb at the end of its tail was just as menacing as its seven-inch claws. When it noticed Joan, it exhaled a low hissing breath and buzzed its four insect wings.

A WingEater.

But that’s impossible! WingEaters shouldn’t exist anymore! Wasn’t the gene to activate the form dead or something?

Joan flung her wings open but it was too late; the monster was upon her. There was a terrible pain- everything went black when she hit that tree.

Joan woke up on the ground.

No-- Wait-- Waking up implied she was in a bed, at home, safe.

Joan came to.

She was lying face-down on the ground, mouth full of dirt. There was a metallic tang on her tongue- she was frothing red at the lips.

Joan lifted her head up and coughed out gritty clots of scarlet. She saw the WingEater hunched over a few feet away, distracted by something. This was her only chance to get away so she crawled. She crawled until she could finally force herself to stand up and run.

She staggered back towards the park. Someone screamed. Multiple people scream. Jane was covering her mouth in shock- but why? Maria was shielding Bessie’s eyes, Aragon had backed herself up into Kat’s arms, Anne looked like she was about to faint…

Joan’s knees were wobbling and her vision kept blurring with a blizzard of black. She couldn’t focus on anything. She attempted to speak, to ask what was wrong, but only blood flooded out. Deliriously, she dabbed her fingertips against her lips and stared in bewilderment when they came back red, like she was just now noticing her body violently ejecting its own fluids. Out of the corner of her eye she noticed Cleves, maybe Maggie, sprint somewhere- where was she going?

Joan couldn’t follow, couldn’t ask what was going on. Her legs gave out. She dropped into a pool of her own blood.

It wasn’t the deer that WingEater was eating.

---

The Flightless. That was what people who have lost their ability to fly were called. Almost as disgraceful as hybrids. That was what Joan was now sorted into.

The doctors spent six hours trying to stabilize Joan. Eventually, they got the bleeding to stop--it was a lot of blood for one body--and stitched up the gash, but nothing could bring back the wing that was ripped off.

Joan would never fly again.

When she woke up, she cried. Joan shivered and sobbed and had bad panic attacks. The anguish was blinding- the pain was worse. Even with the antibiotics, she was overwhelmed by white hot agony that seared up through her back, ripping her apart from the inside out.

Her world was crashing down.

She hadn’t realized the damage at first, apparently. She was in a severe state of shock when she came hobbling into the park, clothing drenched in her own blood. People who had witnessed it said she looked extremely dazed and completely out-of-it, unaware of the gore she was soaked in, unaware that her back was spitting like a spigot. She just kept asking herself why. Why her? Why did this have to happen to her? What did she ever do?

When she was released from the hospital, Joan went home and lay in her bed for six days. For six days she suffered. She didn’t eat, barely drank anything, and just about everything had to be forced down her throat.

Eventually, she recovered, but she didn’t get better. Not psychologically. That was why her new psychiatrist prescribed her antidepressants. She didn’t think they worked.

Still, she eventually forced herself to get up. Even when it felt like someone had just ripped out her spine and proceeded to beat her into a pulp with it, she hauled her body off to work.

Without her other wing, though, her balance was completely thrown off. She stumbled around like a giraffe with broken legs, unable to stay upright. Not to mention all the stares she got.

The one-winged fledgling was a freak.

The others did their best to ward off gawkers, but they couldn’t always be there. Not when kids plucked out her feathers or tried to touch the spot where her other wing used to be when she was at stagedoor or out near fans. Not when adults made snide remarks when they thought she couldn’t hear them. Not when other avians posted on social media about the Flightless hybrid in SIX.

The anger and despair from it all simmered inside of Joan.

After work one day, Joan avoided the other ladies in waiting and the queens. She felt delirious and achy and just wanted to be alone.

Guided by the evening light, Joan stumbled right into predator territory.

The WingEater came out of nowhere, ramming into Joan with the force of a charging bull and sending her sprawling across the ground. She tried to scamper away, but a powerful beak clamped down on her remaining wing and threw her into a tree. 

Joan was roughed up badly, so much so that she thought the WingEater that had taken her wing had come back for revenge. But that one had been a Cimex. This one was a very angry Avem.

It stood at a staggering eight feet tall, with choppy tail feathers and massive wings. Its plumage, sand-colored that faded to dark brown, was now smeared in her blood. Its narrow white head lacked feathers, rather having the fuzz that most vultures had, but that made its enraged expression even more clear to her.

The WingEater soon pinned her to the ground. A massive, bird-like foot that was tipped with razor sharp black talons pressed down on her chest with so much weight that she thought her ribs were cracking beneath the force. The beast opened its hooked beak around her neck, preparing to rip her throat out, and Joan sobbed, “Just do it.”

The beast’s jaws twitched, then it pulled back slightly. It looked down at Joan, bloody and sobbing beneath it.

  “Just kill me already!” Joan cried, tears streaming down her face. “Do it! Please! I-- I don’t even care. I don’t wanna be alive anymore.”

That did it.

Some humanity returned to those pitch black eyes. 

The WingEater dipped its head to Joan and gently began to lick one of her many wounds clean. Joan flinched, trying to squirm away, but the foot on top of her curled its claws around her and dragged her into the fluffy girth of the creature when it laid down. All she could do was look up at the sky and sob, letting the monster clean her of all the blood, though she was sure it was just trying to calm her down so she’ll be easier to eat. 

Goddesses, she wished EB was there.

[pynches]

the five stages of grief

a/n this is a very personal story to me. ive dealt with a lot of grief, way more than i should have, in a short period of time so i figured it would help to write about it. this is a friendship-centric fic so no relationships happening. i hope you still like it.

tw: mention of child abuse but it’s only a sentence mention, loss of a parent

word count: 1927

ao3 link

The biggest misconception about grief is that you feel it right away. That the moment you hear someone  you once loved died, you break down, sobbing on the floor from the pain you cannot hold in. We’ve seen the movies, read the books, watched the tv shows and how grief was portrayed in them.

It’s a lie.

This is how it goes.

The police calls Adam at 5:37 pm, something about an accident his mom got into and his father who cannot be reached. Adam stopped listening after the first words, “I’m sorry to tell you but”. The resignation in the police officer’s voice  was enough.

Dead on impact.

No revival possible.

And that was it.

There were no tears when he told the police that he would be there soon. No tears when he had to identify his mother’s body not even an hour later so he could sign the papers.

“It’s hers,” he told them.

And that was it.

Adam still went to school despite the school counsellor telling him that it wasn’t required. He lost a parent after all. He was tired of the concern thrown around though. The pity in the counsellors eyes, the pity in Gansey’s. Ronan was the only one who treated him semi-normally and even he was more careful with Adam than usual. Adam couldn’t blame him, though, he lost a parent too after all. But Adam did blame him, for not treating him like nothing happened even though something did, for making him feel like there was something different even though there was.

Truth was, Adam didn’t feel like something happened, didn’t feel like his mother was well and truly gone. He pictured himself opening the door of the trailer and seeing her bent  over the stove like she often was, or cleaning up after his father which happened even more often. He felt like he could pick up the phone to call her and hear her familiar voice on the other end.

There is bliss in denial, it makes everything hurt less.

The funeral was his job to organise. His friends had tried to help with sad half-smiles and pats on his arm. Adam didn’t feel anything. No sadness, no anger, but no happiness either. The emptiness inside him was all-consuming and nothing was left behind.

He picked the music and used his mom’s hidden savings to pay for the costs so that his father couldn’t drink it away. His throat tightened when they lowered her casket into the ground and filled the hole with dirt, his eyes full of unshed tears.

Adam swallowed.

And that was it.

Denial was out of the question now. Every time he closed his eyes he saw his mother’s body, one that held so much life before, too much for the small trailer in which it had been contained.

Now it was anger’s turn to rear its ugly head.

This particular emotion was one Adam had tried to avoid his entire life. It just reminded him of bruises and wounds that never truly healed. His father instilled fear upon him when he got lost in his own anger and Adam tried to ensure he would not do the same to anyone else.

Until he did.

Until he saw a woman cross the road from his booth inside Nino’s, her hair the same dirty blonde his mother had passed down to him.

Until he rushed outside because it was his mom and she was there and despite every phone call she didn’t make to the police and despite every time she turned her head when he was lying in a pool of his own blood. Adam wanted to rush into her arms and feel them wrap around him like she had done when he was younger and the world was less cruel.

Until the woman picked up her phone, her voice high and sweet unlike his mom’s, rough from years of chain smoking and yelling at him.

Until Adam stopped in his tracks, watching as the woman walked away, unknowing that she snapped something inside him that had been coiled up since the first ring of his phone.

Until he punched a wall.

Until Blue came rushing out of Nino’s. She kept a safe distance from Adam’s balled fists, probably on Gansey’s orders.

Adam walked away with his knuckles scratched and bruised, disappearing into the evening.

The only thing he left behind was his blood smearing the now stained wall, an almost literal red flag that warned people to stay away from him.

He didn’t stay to wipe the hopelessness from his friends’ faces. He walked away before he did worse.

And that was it.

Adam never visited the church he lived above. He wasn’t religious but sometimes, when people feel the defeat clawing at their throats, they search for miracles everywhere. They look for signs that would indicate their loved ones were still alive, even if it was just the wind that had slammed the door closed. They search for meaning in death, finding solace in the thought that it wasn’t for nothing, even though it was and always will be. They pray to gods they didn’t believe in so that they could fool themselves into thinking someone was listening.

Adam had his hands clasped in front of him awkwardly, not used to the position. He wasn’t sure how to begin a prayer and he wished he had googled it but that somehow seemed insincere. So, he closed his eyes, clenched his hands tighter, and begged.

“I will live at home again if it means you will bring her back.”

He sat on the same pew, every night before he went to bed, when the church was dark and empty, praying to God, to someone that her death could be reversed.

It never happened.

And that was it.

We’ve seen the movies, read the books, watched the tv shows and the way guilt was portrayed in them. Guilt as an instant reaction, guilt as a way of making up for years of neglect, guilt as an excuse for the police. Guilt as something you can live with.

It’s not true.

This is how it feels.

It sneaks up on you quietly. One minute you’re making canned soup on your shitty stove and the next you’re on the floor. Not quite crying. You can’t yet. But you feel the burn in your throat that has now become a constant, the shaking of your hands, the rapid pounding of your heart.

“If you had still lived in that trailer,” the voice in your head tells you. “You could have prevented this.”

That’s how it starts and it never really ends.

Adam puts his books in his locker and exchanges them for the ones he needs for the next two periods.

“It’s your fault she’s dead.”

He drops the book on the floor, not looking at Ronan when he hands them back without a word.

He fist-bumps Gansey when he takes his usual seat next to him but he can’t focus on Gansey’s nervous rambling. It feels like the entire classroom is staring at him, mumbling the thing he had told himself over and over last night before sleep took him.

“It should have been you.”

And that was it.

The emptiness feels deeper this time.

There was no way of explaining this feeling, the world didn’t have the words to describe it and they really shouldn’t.

The days feel longer, seemingly going on forever. Adam feels like he is in a haze, sadness clouding his rational mind.

Adam is independent. Always has been. He learned not to seek comfort from other people because it would just result in disappointment. Instead, he taught himself to hold it in, every emotion that he didn’t want, he would just let go.

It doesn’t work like that.

When he was a kid and his father started to drink more, he would seek the comfort of his mom and she would give it to him. She would hold him close and brush through his hair with her hand. Back then, she always faintly smelled of fresh grass. He cannot even remember what she smells like now and he hates himself for it. But he does remember her gentle touch, her lightly freckled arms closing around him, his face in her neck.

Adam is independent. Learned to be that way. But right now, he needed his mom.

One person cannot bear the constant weight of grief on their shoulders. One day they will succumb under the weight and it will either crush them or they will have people who stop it from happening.

Once the intense sadness hits, people don’t go to a bar and drink until they forget their own name. It’s not like the movies, books, or tv shows.

It’s wrong.

It happens like this.

Gansey persuaded him into coming to Monmouth and help the group with their research. And it’s fine, it’s good. Until it’s not.

Because the word “dead” seems highlighted on every page even though Adam knows it’s not. Because death is his only focus, not Gansey’s voice or Ronan’s grumbles or Noah’s quiet snickers or Blue sighing. Because suddenly his knees buckle and he’s dry heaving on the floor, the pressure in his chest growing, his heart pounding in his ears. He can’t hear Ronan calling his name, he can’t feel Gansey holding him up. The tears are flowing down his cheeks and it will not stop no matter how hard Adam is pressing on his eyes. He can’t breathe and everything feels off and he wants to claw his skin of just so it doesn’t fucking hurt anymore. He can feel himself hiccup, can hear himself gasp but he cannot do anything but curl in on himself and try to stop the sobs from overtaking his body.

And then Ronan cradles his head against his neck like his mom used to.

And Gansey slings an arm over his shoulders, holding him tightly.

And Blue rakes her fingers through his hair in soft motions.

And Noah wipes his tears away.

And he cries.

He lets himself fall apart in the arms of his friends. For the first time since it happened, he feels like it’s okay that he’s not okay. That he can let himself go and feel this in the safety of his friends’ embrace. They take in his heaving sobs and return whispers of encouragement. They make him eat something because he had forgotten and make him drink water when his head is pounding. They stay with him when he eventually falls asleep, in the middle of a pile of his friends, not knowing where his body began and theirs ended.

And that was not it.

Because grief doesn’t go away, ever. Not even with the help of kind friends. There will always be a hole inside of you that the person left behind. Sometimes the anger will return, at them for leaving you, at yourself for letting them go, at the world for being so unfair. And sometimes the guilt will return because there will be moments when you won’t be thinking about them and smiling and laughing instead only to come home and fall apart because you feel guilty for feeling good. And sometimes, during the rare moments that become less rare over time, you will just smile at the memories and accept that even though you will never get over the fact that they are truly gone, this is your life now, and you shouldn’t stop living it.

[sky-scribbles]

I hope someone wants ~1700 words of Ortega angst, because I have it. Nonspecific Ortega and Sidestep, minor Retribution spoilers. Tw: mentions of death and funerals.

‘Herald can handle it. He's stronger than you think.’

You look at your old friend’s face: defensive, defiant, daring you to argue. And you realise that you’re angry.

It’s a small thing. It shouldn’t really be a thing at all, but you’ve heard these words too many times. And shit, here goes your brain, flinging you back in time to a life before Sidestep fell from the tower and you fell apart. Forcing you to remember –

 –  yourself, on the ground. You’ve fallen, and you can’t get up.

Like an idiot, you forgot to lock the wheels of your chair last night. So the damn thing skidded to the side as you tried to get in, and you slipped out. Crashed out, really. Now you’re anchored to the floor by your own legs, a deadweight you can’t shift, and you’re trying to drag yourself into the chair and you can’t.

‘Stop it. Just stop and let me help you.’ There’s an awful, choked note in your mother’s voice, and you look away, so you won’t have to see her cry.

You want to tell her you can manage, because this is beyond embarrassing and it makes you feel beyond helpless.  But you can’t manage. So you stop moving and let her lift you. It’s clumsy, because she’s so small, but after a moment of struggle you’re in the chair at last, and she’s kneeling in front of you. Reaching up to touch your face. Trying to turn it towards her.

You turn further away instead. Because you made her cry. You were careless and stupid, you idiot, and you made her cry.

‘I’m sorry,’ you mumble. And of course she says something about you not needing to apologise, but you do, so you don’t listen. ‘This won’t be happening much longer.’

She sucks in a sharp breath and takes hold of your hands. ‘I know we’ve been over this, but –’

‘Yeah. We have. And I’m sure.’

‘About wanting to walk again. Of course you’re sure about that.’ Her hands close firmer around yours. ‘But once you put your name on that contract, once they mod you… they could ask you to do anything. And you know what kind of people they’ll make you fight, you know what monsters like that can do, you know what happened to your grandpa – ‘

You bite the inside of your mouth. You know what’s coming, and you mustn’t cry.

‘- and after watching you go through this…’ Her voice is cracking into splinters, and you bite down harder. ‘You’ve been so, so brave, but you don’t have to spend the rest of your life fighting the government’s battles. And I – I want to see you walking, I want you to see you happy, but I don’t want to see you – ’

She can’t get the word out, but you know what she would have said. And maybe you will end up dead. But at least you’ll have had a chance to fight, first.

‘Mom. It’s okay.’ It’s not, but you wriggle your fingers around until your hands are holding hers instead, and meet her eyes at last. ‘I know the risks. I’ve made the choice. And I can handle it.’

‘You don’t have to do this,’ Sentinel says.

There’s a hand on your arm, and you suppose it’s his. He’s looking at you with the same gentle, wary look that everyone’s been giving you recently. Since it happened. Since Hood became gone.

Hood. You half expect him to straighten up in the casket, roll his eyes at you before flinging the suit jacket aside. He’d probably tear off the shirt sleeves for good measure. Are his tattoos still just as vibrant, underneath the clothes that smother him? Do tattoos fade after death? Why is this what you’re thinking about at his funeral?

Why are you thinking at all? It hurts. You should stop.

You swallow, and force your focus onto Sentinel. ‘I’m all right. Everything’s ready.'

His lips purse. ‘I wasn’t talking about the speech.’

You’d rather not talk about the speech either. It’s laughable, the idea that you could contain a man like Hood – a man who got drunk with you and who fought alongside you and who made you – in a handful of flashcards and some pretty words.

But you know what’s Sentinel’s worried about. The aftermath. He knows what you’ll do, once all the cameras are on you: declare war.

You shouldn’t step in front of so many flashing lights, and you shouldn’t challenge the person who has the strings of the city in their hands, but Hood is dead. Hood is in a suit he would have hated. Hood is gone and you are burning worse than you ever did when your electricity escaped its emitters. It’s not safe, making an enemy of Hollow Ground, but it doesn’t matter, because Hollow Ground has made an enemy of you.

The city’s kingpin has cracked you open like the earth, and magma is bubbling through the wounds. Nothing can stop that. Sentinel is wrong; there’s no choice. Not for you.

‘I have to do this,’ you say. For Hood, for yourself. Because you’re the Marshal now. ‘Don’t worry. I can handle it.’

Maybe Anathema was right. Maybe you should have brought in the whole team.

But you’re the Marshal; you’re the one who makes these decisions and deals with the consequences. Your eyes flick to Themmy, who can’t be hurt, to Steel, who’s protected, to Sidestep, who knows how to fight this kind of threat. Nothing should happen to them. And if it does, you’ll protect them.

That’s what you do. You will give everything you have for them, and it will have to be enough. You can handle it.

Still, you turn to Sidestep, wishing you could see behind the mask, spot any misgivings or mistrust on the face you’ve come to know so well. ‘Sure you don’t want to sit this one out?’

But you get a firm no in response, and you nod. Breathe in deep. Part of being a leader is believing in your friends and their skills, so you will. It’s okay. Sidestep can handle this.

(You’re wrong.)

Chen comes to find you, after the funeral, after everything, finding his way to your apartment even in the dark and the rain. He doesn’t yell. He doesn’t ask you what you were thinking when you punched that asshole, because he knows the answer is that you couldn’t think, and he doesn’t ask why you did it, because he knows the answer to that, too. He just sighs, sits down beside you, and waits for you to speak.

Which you do, without looking up. ‘I’m done. I’m out. It’s over.’

You wait for the protest, the we can’t afford to lose you too. Instead he says, ‘Are you sure?’

‘You know that I am.’

You should apologise for leaving him without a team. But there’s only room inside you for one apology, and the people you want to give it to are dead.

‘I was wrong,’ you say, because you can at least give him an explanation. ‘I thought I was doing enough. Giving enough. All those operations and press interviews and all the times I nearly died, I thought that was enough, and I thought I was enough. And it wasn’t, and I wasn’t, and I’m not, and –’

Chen says your name, you think, and perhaps he touches your arm to stop you. You don’t stop. ‘I told myself I could handle it, and I told my team I could handle it, and I was lying. I lied to Sidestep and Themmy and now they’re dead. And I’m not going back. I’m not giving another team a Marshal who breaks when it matters most and who lies to them.’

‘You didn’t lie.’ Chen’s voice is gentle, and you’re almost angry. Why is he comforting you? Why isn’t he grabbing you by the shoulders and snarling at you that you failed? Someone should. ‘You tried to make the call that kept your team safe. What else could you have done?’

‘I could have not been Marshal.’ You look him in the face, like you did with your mother all that time ago, because he needs to understand. He needs to see through your lies like she didn’t. ‘I shouldn’t have been the one making that call. I should never have been making any calls. Because I can’t handle it, Wei. I never could –’

 –  and now you need to stop. Stop reliving that. Breathe in, breathe out, and you’re back in the break room with Sidestep, who’s watching you without knowing what just happened in your head.

And you think of Herald. He pushed himself so hard after the gala, even when he couldn’t walk without pain. Kept volunteering for press conference after press conference because he had to do something. ‘I can handle it,’ he told you.

Wei says they’re grooming him to be Marshal one day.

Daniel thinks he’s willing to pay the price of being a hero. And maybe he’ll keep thinking that. Maybe he’ll survive where Hood didn’t, stay whole like you didn’t.

Or maybe he won’t.  And it’ll be your fault again, for not protecting him. You couldn’t even train him right; he had to pull Sidestep in himself. He thinks he can handle it, and Sidestep thinks he can handle it, but you no longer believe that this life can be handled. You think it handles people instead, snatches them up and breaks them limb by limb.

‘You treat him like a baby,’ Sidestep’s saying. ‘I should know, I've been trying to pick up your slack with his training.’ And everything inside you twists into a knot and you’re snapping back before you can stop yourself, because Herald’s not a baby, he’s a man who’s too much like you.

You can’t bear to see him meet your fate. You can’t bear to see him break. You can’t live with it.

You can’t handle it.

[demetyilmcz]

but what a ghostly scene. {au self para}

  ❛  you wear the same jewels that I gave you      as you bury me ❜

tw: death mention, stabbing mention, funeral, general ghost vibes

This is not what she thought death would be. 

Humans have the folklore that souls would hang around the world when they have unfinished business with the living, or if their death was particularly violent and the soul could not find rest. Demet supposes she would fall under both categories. 

The funeral is pretty. She hadn’t thought Harry would be so meticulous with the selection, or that she would even get a headstone at all. He seemed to only see the monster while he held that silver blade, determined that he was making the world a better place by removing her from existence. You’d never guess it now, from the role he plays as a grieving fiancé. Demet has to admit that he does it well, and she wonders how much of everything she ever saw from him was as much of a performance as the show he’s putting on now. Did she even know him at all? The dull ache in her heart wants to scream yes, that it couldn’t have all been a lie, but maybe that’s just phantom pain from the dagger he put there. ( Sometimes when she looks down, she swears she can still see it sticking out from her chest. )

Strange. Esma and Rafael aren’t here. She always thought they would be. Maybe Rafael really has moved on with his life. Maybe she doesn’t matter to him anymore, had stopped mattering a long time ago. He never did respond to any of her letters, anyway. But Esma, that one’s a puzzle, something she doesn’t quite understand as her lifeless eyes scan the crowd of mourners. Friends, coworkers, everyone she’s ever known in London have turned up. But none of her family. Esma should be here, if no one else. Her sister still loves her, doesn’t she? Does Demet’s life really matter so little? The thought is a chill that crawls over her skin. Funny, she was never cold when she was alive. Her fur always kept her warm. Now it’s as if she’s encased in a cage of ice, and she thinks if she had breath, it’d fog up the air around her. She’s forgotten how to breathe. Is that another ghost thing?

Harry sits up front at the service, as the priest reads pretty things from the one book she never got around to reading. May God bless her soul. She didn’t realize Harry was particularly religious, he’s never mentioned it before. Demet floats forward until she’s standing in front of him. She wills him to see her, give her anything, but he only stares through her as if she’s nothing more than a window. Even as she reaches out to touch his cheek, and her hand passes straight through. Is this her new reality? To simply exist? Wander the earth forever, condemned to her loneliness? This isn’t what she wants. Demet wants her father. And her mother. And Burak. She wants to be with her family again. It had been some small relief, a consolation prize as she laid dying on her kitchen floor, that at least she would get to see them again. But it seems as if she’s been cheated out of that as well, now. Is there anything else the universe is capable of taking from her? She’s never been sure she’s believed in the idea of a god, but if any exist, they must take great amusement from her torments. 

Tears stream down Harry’s face as the casket that holds her mortal body is lowered into the ground, and really, he’s wasting his talents as a hunter, it’s clear that he’s made for the stage. He’s wearing the cufflinks and watch that she bought him, Demet notes, as he runs a hand through his disheveled hair. He always did like dressing well. Maybe it makes him feel more powerful. There’s a small satisfaction to seeing him favor one side, the side where her claws had scratched him. She did not go with grace. No soft gasp, no limp body to hold in his arms while she dies and he cries like he’s the victim of the scene — that the woman he loves turned to a monster, so he must act the hero and kill the beast for the good of humanity. He had to earn her death, while she screamed and thrashed and plead and cried and fought back. So many stab wounds. So much blood. Demet wonders how they cleaned her up well enough for the viewing. That’s probably what the modest black dress is for, covered from neck to toe. As if she would ever wear something so restrictive. 

He stands around, accepting sympathies and well wishes and offers of ‘if there’s anything you need’ from everyone they’ve ever known, and a part of Demet wants to scream. To tell them all that it’s his fault, she didn’t have to die, doesn’t have to be here now floating outside of existence. But her mouth opens and no air comes in, no sound goes out. Mute. Might as well be, she always felt mute in her mortal life too. Biting her tongue so much, the first taste of blood she ever had being her own, swallowed to keep her mouth shut. So many things she never said, for the sake of everyone else, and now they never will be. Perhaps she did this to herself, to some degree. If she had not been so ashamed to want things for herself, to not have to always be the dutiful daughter when none of her siblings seemed willing, perhaps she would not have been such easy prey. So effortlessly charmed by his sweet words, and the idea that for what felt like the first time in her life, Demet came first to someone else. Where would she be now if she had simply thrown out the slip of paper he'd left with his number on it?

And yet, there is no use to ponder the ‘what ifs’. None of them will change this plane of existence that she finds herself caught in now. She follows Harry as he leaves with his friends to go drown their sorrows in a pub, not because she feels any particular tether to him, but because she knows little else where to go. Her life in London revolved around him, and neither of her siblings came to her funeral. What else is there for her? So she goes, and watches him pour down drink after drink, bemoaning his poor fiancée to anyone who will listen. The bartender gives him a glass of top shelf whiskey on the house, and Demet thinks she should’ve used this ploy a long time ago. She could’ve played the weeping widow for a free drink. She sticks a finger in his glass, just to see if she can feel it ( the answer is no ), while a man she’s never quite liked claps him on the back and tells him that everything happens for a reason, even if it doesn’t seem like it now. If she were capable, Demet would throw the drink in his face. 

And why can’t she be a vengeful ghost? The kind people always claim are haunting their houses; throwing books off the shelf, turning on stoves and locking the doors. She feels like she deserves at least that much, some kind of recompense for this fate. Instead, all she has is this detached form that doesn’t even feel like a body anymore, but her mind forces into the conforms of one anyways because that’s all it knows. Incapable of anything other than floating around after the living, watching in silence as they get to continue doing everything she had taken for granted once upon a time. Useless.

It’s nearly midnight when Harry leaves the pub, heading back to the little home they used to share. She remembers being so proud when they signed the lease together, a step towards their future. Looking at it now, all she can see is every shattered promise he ever made her. Demet wonders if Harry sees them too. He certainly didn’t waste time having the place cleaned up. You’d never know a murder was committed here only a few days prior, she thinks, as she floats into the living room. She expects Harry to follow, perhaps to sit in the lounger, kick his feet up and congratulate himself on a job well done while he watches television, but he never comes. So she seeks him out instead, finding him in the middle of the entryway, slouched against the wall with his head in his hands. It’s an image that surprises Demet, she’ll admit. She can hear the soft, choked sobs that wrack his chest, loud as the chimes that would ring from the clock on the wall in that quiet hallway. Oh. Maybe it was real, then. At least a little bit of it. 

She slides down, too, propped up on her hands and knees as she watches him with a mild fascination she would not have expected from herself. There is a certain schadenfreude in knowing he does not get to come out of this Scot-free and unaffected. Her name falls from his lips, the ones she used to fantasize about kissing all the time, muttered like a prayer or perhaps a curse, and Demet finds herself leaning in closer. What is she listening for, exactly? An apology? An acknowledgment of what he’s done? But no matter how long she waits, nothing else comes. Nothing except the sniffles of Harry’s tears. And maybe it speaks to how fucked up her mindset has always been, or maybe how much she loved him, but a strange sort of sympathy fills her chest watching him cry. She reaches for him once more, but it only passes straight through again.  If she could speak, if there was one thing Demet could say to him, she would ask, was it all worth it? Is this what you wanted? She cannot believe that it is, seeing him now.

And then she wonders, what if she is meant to forgive him? Perhaps that is the reason why she’s stuck here between a half-existence, when she should be with her family. If she lets go of this anger, and pain, and betrayal that she carries around with her, will that be enough? To give them both peace? It is a bitter thought, that she should have to bring peace to her murderer before she can achieve it for herself. And Demet knows, deep down in whatever is left of her soul, as she sits across from him in this dark hall, that forgiveness is a long ways away. 

It seems that you and I are still tied together forevermore, Harry. Was it always meant to be this way for us?

[iresecho]

FRACTURED

hey! here’s a draft of a story i wrote recently. feel free to give it a read (it’s only a mere 1500 words) and let me know what you think! 

oh, and about that word count? this short was for my class, so please bear with it. i understand it is very minimal for the amount of substance it contains. i hope you enjoy it regardless though! i’ll upload a finished version once i’ve completed it. any and all suggestions/critiques are welcome! pls be nice :)

Genre: Creative Fiction

Word Count: 1520

!TW: MULTIPLE DEATHS, BLOOD!

I sigh as I tap my pencil repeatedly on the table, the rubber nub of what’s left of the eraser pinging the oak beneath it. What’s it missing? There’s gotta be something missing I ponder to myself. I’ve been working on this poem for ages, but I still feel like it isn’t ready for this contest. I switch back to the website and read the headline ‘Do you want to become a new up and coming writer? Enter this contest to win!’ It’s the New York Times contest for a new up-coming author, and the grand prize would be enough to pay off my entire debt, and then some. I’ve had this poem written for awhile now, yet I still don’t think that it’s ready. I’ve read it over a million times, and I can’t seem to find what it’s missing. My mother was never too fond of my writing, but my father always loved it. He loved everything I did. My father’s always been proud of what I’ve done, and what I do. He’s never once shamed me for choosing what I believe in, and what I’m passionate about. I glance down at the gold-crested penguin pendant around my neck, lifting my hand up to grasp the cool metal. I smile as the memory it holds replays through my head. It was a gift from my father for my tenth birthday. He bought our family tickets to Disney World to celebrate, and purchased this necklace for me after I had mentioned several times in the gift shop how much I wanted it. Ever since it’s been my favourite animal. I hold it in my palm tightly, fingers grazing over the smooth, yet rigid surface of the pendant as I reach for my cell phone beside my open laptop. I begin to scroll through the messages between me and my father, a fond smile appearing on my lips as I read through the texts:

--

YESTERDAY

Dad: Hey, honey! How’s the poem coming along for the contest?

Me: it’s okay… I still feel like there’s something that it needs. I just can’t               figure it out

Dad: When is the deadline to submit?

Me: tonight at 6

Dad: I’m sure you will figure it out sweetheart. You’re a great writer. Love                 you kiddo Xoxo.

Me: thanks dad, love you too

--

I smile again as I set down my phone, peering back to the computer screen before me. What seems like minutes go by and I get lost in the words in front of me. I jump as my phone begins to vibrate loudly on the table. I can’t help but shut my eyes for a second to brace myself:

“Hello?” I answer. 

“Hello, what are you doing right now?”

 It’s my mother. Great. She’s probably at work.

“Working on my poem for the contest, why?”

 “....” There’s silence on the other end of the line. I wait a few moments, then,

“Mom?” 

“...Huh? Oh, sorry. What did you say?” 

“Forget it.” 

“....”  More silence. She does this every time. Doesn’t it bother you?

“Are you still at the hospital?” 

“....” I’ve had it. 

“MOM!!” I yell. 

“What? Oh sorry honey, what were you saying?” 

“Why do you do this to me every time? You never listen to me! You’re always on a call or too busy for me anyway!” 

“Look, I’m sorry, okay? It’s just hard for me when I’m at work sometimes honey but I promise I want to hear it.” 

This is always her excuse. It’s always just too ‘hard’ for her to actually have a conversation with her only daughter. It’s always about work for her.

“You know what. Forget it. Call me when you have time for your daughter.” I hang up the phone.

Ugh she makes me so mad! Why does she never listen to me? First it was denying my talent for writing and trying to force me to go down some boring nine-to-five career hole I’d never get out of, now this?

I peer around my dingy, one bedroom apartment. Maybe she’s right. You’ve been living off chickpeas out of a can and barely surviving. I mean, look at you? You have barely any food in your fridge, and your ‘apartment’ is broken down and disgusting! What did you think your BA in English would get you anyway? You’ve been searching for a job in your field for a while, and still no opportunity has come up. Maybe your mother was right. Maybe you should have studied law. Maybe she would have listened to you then. Maybe you should have listened to her—

--

Me: hey dad, can I talk to you?

Dad: Sure honey, is something wrong?

Me: it’s mom, she’s always too busy to listen to what I have to say. it’s like           talking to a brick wall

Dad: I’m sorry honey, but your mom is pretty busy at work. Maybe on her          break?

Me: i’ve tried. she even calls me and then doesn’t listen! I feel like she hates         me...

Dad: No she doesn't sweetheart, she loves you. And so do I. Xoxo.

Me: I love you too, dad        where are you now?        dad?        helloooooo?

--

Ugh, now my own father is too busy for me too? I guess no one has time for me. Or maybe, I’m just not enough for them. Maybe I’m just some big disappointment, maybe—just take a nap, you’re probably stressed from being tired.

I’m abruptly awoken out of my slumber when my phone goes off loudly. I scramble to find it on my bedside table, slamming my hand down repeatedly to try and locate the device. I manage to pinpoint the phone, and hold it up before me. I squint at the screen, scowling at the newfound brightness and see the word “MOM” in bright bold text. I press accept and hold the phone up to my ear: 

“Hello?” 

I can hear her sobbing on the other end of the line. I sit up straight in bed, eyes wide with worry as I stare at the dark matter in front of me. 

“What’s wrong? Are you crying?” 

“Honey, your dad’s been in an accident.” 

“What? What do you mean?” 

I start to shake, eyes brimming with panic, heart banging against my chest as I wait for her response after an ill-conceived sob:

“He was driving on the highway, and um—I found his phone and he was texting you while driving and he swerved into the other lane and he—” 

“What, he what?!” 

“He’s dead.”

I drop the phone to my side as my life starts caving from the exterior in. I lose my breath as the realization sets in. How did you let this happen? How could you? 

“No.” 

A single tear streams from my face.

“NO!” 

I sob as I wail into the darkness of my room, hands covering my flooding sockets as I scream. A steady river forms blurring my vision for what seems like eternity. I stay like this for a while. You did this. You killed him. 

“I’m so sorry”.

I pace back and forth, raking fingers through my hair, tears streaming down my face as I try and accept the truth. How could I have let this happen? I’m the reason he’s gone, if I just would’ve called him instead, maybe things would have been different. I press my spine against the cool tile of the bathroom wall as I stare at my dishevelled reflection. You’re disgusting. I slam my fist against the mirror, shattering the glass littering shards throughout the room. My eyes begin to pour, as does my bleeding hand from the impact. I look below me at my feet, peering at my skewed reflection through the broken, bloody pieces. I’m sorry dad, this is all my fault. I’m so sorry.

--

“Thank you all for coming”. 

I watch my mother from the church pew seven rows back, wiping her tears as she stabilizes herself on the podium. The room is dimly lit, filled with a few dozen family members I haven’t seen since infanthood. The white, flowered casket sits perpendicular to my mother on the stage behind her. 

“She was always so driven” I hear her say. “She was stubborn,” she laughs, “but we all loved her the same.”

She takes a few new tissues from the funeral-gifted box, looking at my graduation picture surrounded with white roses, taking a breath before starting again with a shaky voice:

“It hasn’t been easy, with my husband passing and now my daughter. But um, I’d like us to celebrate her death. She was a brilliant writer, and it certainly showed when she won the contest for the New York Times Best Up-and-Coming Writer. I’m really proud of her, we all are.” 

My eyes well up with tears as her words hit my chest like bombs. She’s proud of me? She thinks I’m a good writer? I smile to myself, 

“I finally did it, dad. I made it.” 

“I know sweetheart, I’m so proud of you.” He smiles as he wraps his arm around my shoulder. 

“C’mon, let’s go home.” 

-- 

Winter eventually fades

Revealing the unknown golden flowers

Blooming just below