#i think pen could give you the money herself

[childofsquidward]

I don't blame cressida at all, fuck shit up girl

[luvyeni]

HE'S THE BOSS ,, 钟辰乐

⸃ ⸰ ⌁ chenle wants you and no one is gonna stop him ... not even his wife ヾ

CEO!钟辰乐・ FEM!reader ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ g ・ smut ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ wc ・ ‎1.7k ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎| ‎ ‎click to library

𓂃 🎞️content warning... infidelity, oral sex ( M ), unprotected sex, public, everyone cheating

「 ୨୧ authors note 」 another ceo chenle fic im sorry im addicted😔

“she's here.”

chenle could hear the disdain in your voice as it came through the phone. “let her in.” he responded, you hung up the phone — soon the door open, his wife walking into his office. “is that her?” he rolled his eyes. “she's young , what 23?”

“if you come here to start, you can leave.” the man spat; the woman taking a seat. “i told you to come so we can settle this like adults.” the door opened. “sir.” you knocked on the door even though you'd already opened it — you did that on purpose. “what is it?” he said, the woman in front of him folding her arms. “or must you interrupt me and my husbands conversation?”

you turn to chenle who just holds his hand up telling you to keep quiet; which pissed you off. “just reminding you we have a meeting in an hour.” chenle nodded. “thank you yn.” you nodded, turning to the lady with a fake smile. “i like your shoes.” you closed the door. “bitch.” you walked back to your seat.

“she's made herself comfortable here, much like she did at our home.” the woman started. “haewon , this marriage isn't going anywhere, we both know it.” he said. “no you ended it when you fucked that slut in our bed.” she scoffed, he sat up in his seat. “yeah i did , when you were away i fucked her.” he confessed. “and what were you doing?” he asked, she sat up straight nervously. “h-huh?”

stoically he reached into his desk pulling out the folder, throwing it across the desk. “fucking your long time boyfriend according to this report that's soon to be released.” he said, watching her open the folder. “seems like you've been at this longer than i have , with many many men.”

“che-chenle i…” the woman was shocked to see the paper. “so yeah, let's end this.” he said, pulling out the papers. “lets get a divorce.” he said , the woman eyes teary now. “yo-you can't leave me.” she sobbed out. “what am i supposed to do?” he folded his arms. “you have a nice selection of men don't you?” he chuckled in the face of the woman he once loved. “or are you asking what are you gonna do without all my money?” he slammed the pen on the paper sitting on the desk. “the papers are in there as well.”

“she's the reason? we've been together for 8 years and now you want to end it? all because of that young whore out there.” the woman blew up. “you think she's not gonna use you for your money and then leave you for the next ceo who looks her way?” she picked up the papers. “im not fucking signing these.” he watched her rip them up. “im gonna take everything you have and then expose you.” she screamed , the entire office now listening in; including you.

“don't embarrass yourself.” he said coolly, taking out another copy. “sign the papers , i'll give you a million dollars as a gift and we go on about our lives.” his eyes no longer on her, but on you — his tongue poking the inside of his cheek as he watched you flirt with an intern. “sign them now.” he said, getting annoyed and the conversation getting repetitive. “or you get nothing, and those photos go up tomorrow.” he said , picking up the phone, dialing your desk , watching you turn around , the intern eyeing your ass which made him angrier. “yes sir.”

“get in here now,” he said , hanging up, snatching up the divorce papers as soon as his ex-wife put the pen down. “time to go.” the door opened , you walked in. “yes sir?” you knew he saw you flirting with the intern; and you heard the conversation so you knew he was pissed. “the money will be put into your account , you can keep the house and the car , the other finances such as alimony will be handled through my lawyers.” you sat down on the couch watching it unfold. “you're really giving this up?”

chenle was silent; she turned to you. “happy you broke up a happy home?” you scoffed. “seems like it was already broken.” you waved as she stomped out screaming for everyone to get out of the way. “i thought i told you not to say anything?” you scoffed. “half the office just heard your bitch wife call me everything but my name and you wanted me to be quiet?”

“what the fuck was that about?” he said. “flirting with that kid out there.” he came from out his desk. “cute isn't he?” you smirked. “little dumb but im not looking for smarts.” he took his jacket off , sitting down in his chair. “get over here now.” he said , you stood up; making your way over to him. “get on your knees.” you sunk down to your knees, your face meeting the tent in his pants. “did arguing with your wife make you hard?” that made him snap , his hands coming up to your hair , yanking your head up. “you really are a bitch sometimes you know that?”

he let your head go, your hands came up to his thighs , rubbing them slightly grazing his cock. “am i?” you said. “yeah, a fucking slut too.” he groaned. “the whole office is out there , they saw everything and yet you're still here on your knees ready to suck my dick.” you unbuckled his pants, he lifted his hips allowing you to pull them down — pooling at his ankles, your freshly painted nails coming to his waistband of his boxers pulling them down , letting his cock free , he hissed as the air hit his length. “so hard.” you smiled , grabbing the base of his cock, stroking him slowly.

“don't fucking tease me.” he cursed. “suck me off before i fuck your face.” he groaned as your mouth closed around his cock, working your way down , fully taking him into your mouth. “fuck yes , suck my dick.” your head bobbing up and down , spit covering his cock as you gagged around him. “fuck speed up.” he groaned, you moaned around his length , defying his command. “you don't want to listen slut.” he grabbed the back of your head. “fine by me.”

he pushed your head down, holding it there. “gonna use this slutty throat.” he bucked his hips up. “oh fuck!” he cursed , your throat tightening around his tip. “fucking slutty mouth, never know when to listen but you surely know how to choke on a cock.” he grunted. “fuck im gonna cum, gonna fill your mouth with my seed.”

you moaned around his length; hand coming up under your chin to squeeze his balls , he let out a loud moan before pushing your head all the way down, his cum filling your mouth , some of his seed dripping from the corners of your mouth. “fuck!” he pulled you off him , sitting back coughing trying to recover from his attack on your throat. “show me.”

you smiled , lolling your tongue out showing that you swallowed. “good slut , now get up , gonna fuck you.” he pulled you up , basically ripping your shirt open. “asshole.” he slapped your tits , making you moan. “shut up and bend over.” he basically swiped the things on to the floor, forcing you to bend over , pulling your bra down. “look at you.” he lifted your skirt. “so ready for me to fuck you.” he slapped your ass hard , you yelped. “shut the fuck up.” he pulled your panties down to your ankles. “so wet , sucking my dick made you this wet? you're making a mess on the floor.”

pushing your legs apart; grinding his cock along your ass. “fu-fucks sake chenle put it in already.” he pushed your head down on the desk , pushing his cock into your hole , both of you moaning. “ti-tight whore, pussy already sucking me in.” he groaned , pulling out , just to slam back into you. “sh-shit chen.” he pounded into you, your ass jiggled at the force; your nipples brushing against the desk. “fuck fuck fuck!” you screamed , not caring about the employees , his cock felt so good dragging along your walls.

the man grabbed your ass , fucking himself deeper inside you. “scream louder , let them know who's fucking you , you think that intern can fuck you like this?” he gritted. “treat you like the slut you are?” your head felt dizzy, he was using you and your coworkers outside could hear. “you're mine and no intern or ex wife can say otherwise.” he pulled you against him. “chen-chenle im gonna cum.” the plap plap plap sound filling the room as his pelvis slapped against your ass. “cum , cum for me.” he commanded , feeling orgasm approaching as well. “cum so i can fill you with my seed.”

you finally let go, legs shaking as you came; he held your body up, rutting into you as he came with a loud groan , he cum leaking from inside you. “shit.” he bit your shoulder. “mine.”

he let you lay out on the couch since you couldn't leave. “i can't believe you ripped my shirt it was expensive.” you pouted now covered by his jacket. “i know i bought it.” he said. “i’ll get you a new one.” he kissed your lips. “and what about your wife.” you picked at your nails. “you sure she won't go to the media?” he nodded. “unless she wants to be exposed to and have everything taken from her.” he said. “don't worry she won't bother you.”

“now you stay here and be good while I go to this meeting and basically bribe the employees to not let this get out , the things i do to satisfy you.” you rolled your eyes. “you called me in here.” you pouted. “being jealous.”

“be lucky there's no probable cause for me to fire that intern.” you gasped. “you wouldn't.” he lifted his eyebrow smugly. “you don't know what i would do for you baby.” he said. “take a couple days off and regroup , do some shopping.” you smiled. “isn't that against the rules sir.”

“i can do what i want… im the boss.”

©️LUVYENI

[i-am-baechu]

ᡣ𐭩Summary: Yoongi is asked by his father to visit his grandmother. The only problem is, it's in the countryside. Going to the countryside is dreadful, doesn't matter if his grandmother's helper is cute.

ᡣ𐭩 Pairing: Party Boy! Yoongi x Small Town Girl! Reader 

ᡣ𐭩 Rating: Explicit (18+) 

ᡣ𐭩 Genre: Fluff, romance, angst, smut, slow burn, enemies to lovers (one side), hopeless romantic reader Sunshine reader and grumpy Yoongi and big city boy and small town girl

ᡣ𐭩 Part of The Legendary Seven

ᡣ𐭩 Warning: Alcoholism and a couple of mentions of a death in a family

ᡣ𐭩Playlist - All The Stars; Kendrick Lamar & SZA 

ᡣ𐭩 Authors Note: worked late but this is the longest story in the series! I really like this story and I worked really hard on it. I hope you guys like it just as much as I do :). One of the characters in this story plays a big part in the next story! 

The last time I saw you...you were crying because you tripped in mud. I rushed towards you and I grabbed the towel around my neck to help you. You stared at me and I stared right back at you. The bright brown eyes stared right into my soul and I couldn’t help but feel frozen and warm at the same time. Frozen because I never had this feeling before and warm because your eyes told me stories that only I could see. You went back to your mom after I helped you and I couldn’t help but stare at you...

L/N Y/N sat at the end of her patio and stared at the dark sky with a frown. Her fingernails etched away in the dark wood as her feet touched the grass underneath her. Every night she would stare up at the sky because it made her think of him. The way the stars twinkled away in darkness made her remember his dark brown eyes. She smiled when she saw a shooting star. She slowly closed her eyes and whispered her wish. Hoping someone heard it. 

“Y/N!? It’s time for dinner!”Y/N glanced at the glass door with a frown, “Coming mama!” She looked back at the sky and put her hand out towards it, “One day...” 

Min Yoongi leaned back on the couch and took another sip of his whiskey. Tonight he wanted to go to the club alone. He needed time to himself and this was the way to do it. His father lectured him about going out to a party recently and spending too much money on alcohol. It was tiresome. He was in college, college was meant to have fun. He had straight A’s so, his parents couldn’t really yell at him for that. He just wanted to have fun like everyone else. He saw nothing wrong with that. 

He stared at everyone dancing but he felt nothing. The neon lights bounced off his pale skin as he lay there, soulless almost. 

.*･｡ﾟ☆ﾟ.*･｡

“Three of the legendary seven are taken. I was correct, the world is ending. I’m not shocked that Kim Namjoon captured someone’s attention. He’s the most sensible one out of the group. The talented violinist and class president, now that’s something I didn’t see coming or maybe I did... I saw them dancing away in the garden and it’s clear they are in love. Out of the couples, this is the only couple I’m rooting for. The shy violinist who gives her one hundred percent to her partner is a story that Jane Austen would write herself. The couple is more private, unlike his friends. I’ve only sighted them once recently when Namjoon was getting a book for her from the top shelf in the Library. I suppose this is what a relationship is supposed to be...boring. Until then, Pen.” 

Yoongi rolled his eyes at the article and put his phone back in his pocket. He walked through the loud crowd and played his music as loud as he could. Another Pen story out and it was annoying. It’s amazing how people waste their time to bring down others. Get a hobby. He cracked his neck as he made his way to the lunch court. He knew this was going to affect Jisoo and knowing Namjoon...he was probably using his power to find out who wrote the story. 

Yoongi saw Bora and Lin comforting Jisoo at the table, making him frown. He walked towards the table and sat next to Hoseok, “I’m guessing she read the article.”

Hoseok nodded his head and leaned towards him, “Jungkook tried making her feel better by saying at least the article isn’t that bad.”

Yoongi rolled his eyes and shook his head, “Of course he did...”

Jisoo looked up and gave Yoongi a small smile, “Go-Good morning Yoongi.” 

“Jisoo, are you alright?”

Jisoo sighed and shook her head, “I’m mad at myself more. I saw Pen at the party...when we were dancing in the garden. I saw her and I didn’t do anything about it. I feel so...helpless.”

Jin shook his head and placed his hand on top of hers, “It’s not your fault. It’s the person that is doing this.”

She sighed and looked at Bora and Lin, “I’m sorry for making you worry.”

Bora shook her head and rubbed her shoulder gently, “Nonsense, we’re always here for you.”

Lin nodded her head and smiled, “We’ll get through it together.” 

Yoongi looked up to see a stressed Namjoon. He sat next to him and sighed, “The principal said there’s nothing he can really do. “Freedom of speech”.” 

Jimin rolled his eyes at this and crossed his arms over his chest, “Freedom of speech my ass.” 

Hoseok clapped his hands and gave everyone his signature smile, “Let’s talk about something else.” 

Jisoo nodded her head and glanced down at her violin, “I-I have another concert...I-I was wondering-”

“We would love to come, Jisoo.”

Jisoo looked up and locked eyes with Namjoon with a frown, “You have your debate though. I don’t want you to miss it.”

Namjoon rolled his eyes and gave her a soft smile, “I can miss one. I don’t care, I’m going to support you.” 

Yoongi rolled his eyes at the scene and went to stand up but was stopped. There was a group of girls in front of him with hopeful eyes, eyes that annoyed him, “Oppa-”

“The answer is no. Have a good day.” 

The girls frowned at this and walked away from him. Yoongi rubbed the back of his neck with annoyance. He looked back to see Bora shaking her head at him, “What? They do this to me every day.” 

“Yoongi, have you ever tried giving someone a chance?” 

“Dating isn’t necessary. I don’t need a person in my life right now.” 

Lin let out a small laugh and leaned her head against Taehyung who smiled at her, “That’s what Tae said and now look at us. We're happier than ever.” 

“And I’m very happy for you guys. I just don’t want that. A relationship especially with the girls here on campus would be a waste of time. They only want me for my money, that’s it. It’s a waste of time to try to understand them when they don’t want to do the same with me.”

Hoseok sighed and shook his head, “My best friend is going to be single for the rest of his life.” 

Jin let out a small chuckle, “Good luck at finding a girl that doesn’t care about that here.” 

Bora gave a quick glare to Jin and a comforting smile to Yoongi, “There’s a girl out there for you, Yoongi. They will love you for you, nothing more and nothing less.” 

“We’ll see if that happens any time soon.” 

“Y/N, are you alright dear?”

Y/N wiped her nose and nodded her head, “Sorry, I just had to sneeze all of a sudden.” 

Min Alda let out a small laugh and handed her a tissue, “You know when people sneeze that means someone is talking about you.” 

Y/N blew her nose and tilted her head at Alda, “Who would talk about me?”

“You never know dear.” 

Y/N let out a small laugh and collected the bowls from Alda's kitchen table. She went towards the sink and stared outside with a peaceful look. The day was sunny and everything was lush green from the rain last week. It was a beautiful day. She turned towards Alda and smiled, “How about we have a small walk around the neighborhood? Get you some fresh air.” 

Alda smiled at this and slowly stood up with her cane, “You just want to see that Yunho boy.”

Y/N gave her a confused look and tilted her head, “Yunho? He’s my friend.”

Alda raised her eyebrow and let out a small laugh, “Does he know that?” 

Y/N rolled her eyes and helped Alda put on her shoes, “Of course he does. Why wouldn’t he?”

“Dear, you have so much to learn.” 

“Mama said the same thing...even Jiwon said that.” 

Alda patted her back and shook her head, “Let’s take that walk.”

Y/N quickly put her shoes on and smiled, “Let’s go. I want to show you our garden, papa just put down roses for Mama.”

Alda smiled at this, “Your father truly loves your mother.”

Y/N smiled at this and opened the door for Alda, “He does...it makes me want someone to love me like that. Someone who would put down a bed of roses during the rain because he knows it’s her favorite flower. One day I’ll get that I’m sure of it.” 

Y/N locked the door as Alda watched her with a small smile, “You will get that one day. You're a sweet girl, who wouldn’t fall for you.” 

Y/N let out a nervous laugh and scratched her cheek, “I feel like a lot of people wouldn’t like me.”

“Nonsense, you sound like my grandson.” 

Y/N placed her hand behind her back and raised her eyebrow, “What’s his name?”

“Yoongi! Did you hear me?” 

Yoongi took off his headphones and stared at Jungkook, “What?”

“I was talking to you for five minutes and you didn’t notice?”

Yoongi shook his head and shrugged his shoulders, “I was thinking about something. What do you want?” 

“Jimin is throwing a party and he wants to know if you would go.”

Yoongi raised his eyebrow at this, “Why is Jimin throwing a party?”

“He wants to see her.”

Yoongi sighed and shook his head, “He needs to stop. She’s never going back to him.”

“Don’t let him hear that or he will get more heartbroken.”

Yoongi ran his fingers through his hair and nodded his head, “I’ll go.” 

Yoongi got up and left the lunch table to make his way to the theater room. During this time there was no one in there and that’s what he needed right now. Peace and quiet. He opened the doors and his eyes landed on the piano. He tossed his backpack in the front row and he let his fingers tell the empty room his feelings. 

Y/N woke up the next morning to the birds chirping away by the window. She groaned at the sound and pulled her pillow to cover her face. It was one of those days that she didn’t want to get up and do something but life is never that easy. She got up from her bed and headed towards the kitchen with a tired look. Her mother and father were sitting at the table with their morning coffees. Talking away with the sunshine blazing their backs. She leaned against the doorframe and smiled at the scene before her. Her parents loved each other so much and she was so grateful that she had a childhood with a healthy home. 

“Good morning, Y/N.”

She waved at her dad and went towards the table with her messy hair, “Are you going to help the Jeongs?”

Her dad wiped off his mouth and nodded his head, “Their cow is about to give birth. They were worried about her health.”

Y/N’s mom nodded her head at this, “We’re going to be spending more time over there. Are you going to be okay by yourself more?”

Y/N took a sip of her orange juice and she nodded her head, “I’ll be okay. What’s the worst thing that can happen?” 

Her dad shook her head and took a sip of his coffee, “Y/N don’t say that.” 

Y/N let out a laugh and took a bit of her eggs, “Is Yunho coming over?”

“Yeah, he’s bringing more eggs for us.” 

Y/N smiled at this, “Can I walk him back to his farm? I want to see Daisy.”

Y/N’s mother smiled at her and nodded her head, “I know that cow means a lot to you.”

“Of course it does, I named it.” 

Just then the door knocked and she looked up to see Yunho holding a basket of eggs. Y/N got up and quickly made her way to him, “You're early.”

Yunho smiled at her and shrugged his shoulders, “Wanted to surprise you. I also brought butter, my mom wanted to say thank you for taking care of the hens.” 

Y/N shrugged her shoulders and gladly accepted the butter, “I will always take care of Helen.”

Yunho smiled at her and glanced at her hair, “Did you just wake up?”

Y/N rolled her eyes and walked away leaving an amused Yunho, “You already know the answer to that, don’t tease me.”

Yunho placed the eggs on the counter and watched Y/N putting the butter in the fridge. He smiled to himself, “It’s my job to tease you.” 

“I have to get ready to take care of Alda but Mama said I can walk you back. I want to see Daisy.”

Yunho nodded his head and turned towards her parents, “Good morning, Mr and Mrs L/N.”

“Good morning Yunho. How’s Daisy?”

“Uncomfortable.” 

Y/N frowned at this, “I have to see her before birth.”

“Y/N, honey, you should change before you go to the farm.” 

Y/N glanced down at her pink pajamas and nodded her head, “Riigghhtt. I’ll be back.” 

Yunho watched Y/N run up the stairs and he couldn’t help but laugh at her. He leaned against the counter as her parents smiled to themselves. Y/N’s mom leaned towards her husband in a hushed tone, “He’s in love with her.”

“I see that dear. Don’t spoil my breakfast please.” 

“Dear, you have to grow up.” 

“No...I don’t want to.”

Y/N came back downstairs in jeans and a simple t-shirt. She finished her outfit with a high ponytail and smiled at everyone, “I’m ready to see Daisy.” 

Yunho nodded his head and headed towards the back door, “Let’s go before she falls asleep.” 

The two walked down the dirt path talking about Yunho’s farm. Y/N’s played a big part at their farm. As the only Veterinarians in town, they take care of all the animals. Yunho’s family gets a special discount because of how close the two families are. Y/N knew Yunho since she was in diapers (well she was older than him by two months). They were always close but she was closer to Kim Jiwon. 

Y/N entered the barn and her eyes landed on Daisy. She ran towards the white cow and smiled at her, “Daisy, my baby.” 

The cow looked up at her and Y/N petted her head, “She looks so tired.”

Yunho frowned and nodded his head, “She does. I’m doing everything in my power to make sure she’s comfortable but it's hard when she's ready to pop.” 

“I know. I hope she gets back to normal life soon.”

Yunho placed his hand on top of Y/N’s and gave her a smile, “She’ll be okay. Especially in your parents' care.”

“They do work hard.” Y/N glanced at her watch and smiled at Yunho, “I should get going. I have to help wash Alda’s hair. I’ll see you later.”

Yunho nodded his head and he watched her leave. He glanced down to see Daisy staring at him causing him to huff, “Don’t look at me like that.” 

Y/N opened Alda’s door and smiled when she saw the older woman knitting on her couch. She took off her shoes and quickly slipped on the slippers that Alda bought her years ago, “Alda, what are you knitting there?” 

Alda looked up and gave her a soft smile, “I’m knitting a blanket for my grandson.”

“For Yoongi?”

“Yes, I’m sure he’ll visit me soon.”

“I hope he visits soon...” 

Yoongi walked into his house to be met with his father’s eyes. Yoongi sighed and tossed his bag on the couch with annoyance, “What?”

“Yoongi, why did you go to another party after your mother told you not to?” 

Yoongi sighed and went towards the kitchen to get a water bottle, “I still showed up to class the next day. I also got the highest grade, why does it matter?” 

Mr. Min sighed and shook his head as he made his way to the kitchen, “That doesn’t matter. We're worried about you, is something happening? You can tell us anything even if it’s hurtful towards us.” 

“Nothing is wrong. I just want to go out and have fun, that’s it. It’s not affecting me-”

“But son it is. You go out to party every day and you drink every day. We want you to be happy in your life without relying on that dangerous liquid.” 

Yoongi took a sip of his water and leaned against the fridge, “I’m fine...” Yoongi walked past his father and went straight to his bedroom. He locked his door and walked to his balcony. He leaned against the railings and looked up at the dark sky. He smiled to himself when he saw the star twinkle away in the darkness. He took another sip of water but this time he closed his eyes and made a silent wish. When he opened them he saw the same star twinkling away, as if it winked at him, “One day...”

Yoongi was in the bar all alone. It was another day that girls would throw themselves against him and all the guys asking him advice about their futures. No one wanted to talk to him about his day or how classes were. No one gave a fuck about him. Sure his parents care for him but that wasn’t something he craved for. He wanted something deeper, something real. He took a sip of his whiskey and looked up at the TV. The alcohol made him feel seen. He made him feel warmth and that’s all he wanted. Nothing more and nothing less. Just to feel something. 

The bartender poured him another drink and he slouched back in his chair, his friends wouldn’t understand. They just saw him as someone that has a problem. They were right but fuck he just wanted someone to hear him say it. He was so tired of feeling lonely. Especially when he was in a room filled with people. His friends loved him but even with them he felt lonely... Maybe one day this feeling can escape. He tipped the bartender and he walked outside into the cold hair. He let the cold winds push his hair away from his face. He looked up to the night sky and he smiled when he saw the stars again. 

He shook his head and made his way back to his house. He already made a wish last night, he can’t make the same wish again. He stopped walking and looked up at the sky, it was as if it was calling out for him. He looked up and his eyes landed on a star that was twinkling away. He let out a small huff and nodded his head. He closed his eyes and made a wish, the same wish he made last night. Let me feel warmth again. 

.*･｡ﾟ☆ﾟ.*･

Yoongi was walking with Hoseok when he was stopped by Lin. He glanced at Hoseok who just shrugged his shoulders. He looked back at Lin with a raised eyebrow, “Yes?”

“My mom wanted to make sure you were okay today. She said something is going to happen to you but she doesn’t know when.”

Yoongi rolled his eyes, “You believe in your mom’s fortune now?” 

Lin shook her head and crossed her arms over her chest with a worried look, “No but if it involves someone’s safety I become cautious.”

“Lin, I’m fine. What did she say?”

“She said the stars will always give you the answer...oh also something about a cow.” 

Yoongi scoffed at this and walked past Lin, “I would never be near a cow.” 

Y/N petted Daisy and smiled to herself, “Yunho, are you joining me and Jiwon today?”

Yunho stopped raking through the hay and let out a sad sigh, “Sadly, I won’t. Mom and Dad want me to help with the hen house.” 

“What’s wrong with the hen house?”

Yunho put the rake back and looked at Y/N with a sad look, “It's coyote season. We have to make sure the house is secured.” 

Y/N stood up from Daisy and pointed at Yunho, “You have to make sure Helen is safe.”

“What about Hector?”

“All the hens but...Helen is more important to me.”

Yunho rolled his eyes and shook his head, “Y/N it's just hens. You go have fun with Jiwon. I know it’s been a while since you had girl time.” 

Y/N nodded her head and gave Daisy a kiss on the top of her head, “I’ll talk to you later!~”

Y/N walked down to the only cafe in town. It was small but it was perfect on any occasion. Blue Blood was owned by Jiwon’s family and it was very homely. It also helped that Y/N got a family discount whenever she went there. She opened the door and she waved to Jiwon who was already waiting for her. Jiwon lived in the city for half of her life but one day her parents suddenly wanted a change. Y/N was the first person to welcome her in the small town and Jiwon was so glad that her family moved here. 

“Y/N, were you with Yunho?”

Y/N slid the chair out and sat down with a confused face, “Yeah? I already told you I was visiting Daisy.” 

“Are you sure it was just because of Daisy?”

“Oh, I saw Helen too.” 

Jiwon shook her head and took a sip of her tea, “Well, I wanted to ask you if you wanted to come with me to visit my friend?”

Y/N tilted her head at this, “Oh? Where?”

“Seoul University”

“Seoul University? Isn’t that a rich school?”

Jiwon laughed at this and nodded her head, “Yes it is, do you want to come?”

Y/N shook her head, “No, I don’t want to be singled out. They can smell the poor.” 

Jiwon shook her head, “You could meet Mr. right there, you know.” 

Y/N leaned against the table and pouted, “No, there’s only one person I want.”

“Yes I know, Mr. Brown eyes. Do you even know his name?” 

Y/N shook her head and stared at the ceiling with a dreamy look, “He had the darkest brown eyes I have ever seen. There was this sparkle in them that called out to me. When I see those brown eyes again, I’ll be the luckiest girl in the world.” 

Yoongi walked across campus after getting an urgent message from Hoseok. Usually, Hoseok is confident about his dancing but for some reason today was different. Yoongi knew that Hoseok could do anything but he wished Hoseok’s mind could see him the way he saw Hoseok. Talented and amazing. Yoongi opened the door to see Hoseok sitting on the floor. Yoongi frowned at this and closed the door, “What’s wrong?”

Hoseok looked up and sighed, “I saw this girl...”

Yoongi nodded his head and walked towards him. He tossed his bag to the corner and sat next to Hoseok, “What happened when you saw the girl?”

“I froze. She was doing ballet at the dance studio near my house. I didn’t really see her face but her dancing made me feel frozen. It made me feel something.”

“Like what?”

“It made me want to dance with her and understand her but...I don’t think I can.”

Yoongi shook his head at this, “You're an amazing dancer. You can do anything.”

“Yoongi, you didn’t see how she was dancing. It was like a movie.”

“You dance like a movie too, Step up 2.” 

Hoseok chuckled at this and shook his head, “You're stupid...” 

“I cheered you up and this is how you treat me?”

Hoseok let out a laugh and got up from the floor, “You want to get dinner?” 

Yoongi nodded his head and grabbed his bag, “You paying?” 

Hoseok shook his head, “Jin is. He wants to talk about Jimin’s party with us.”

“I forgot about that. Are you going?” 

“Not sure but knowing Jimin, he’s going to invite her.” 

Yoongi closed the door and rolled his eyes, “I keep telling him to let her go. It’s not healthy.” They walked down the empty dance building and Yoongi couldn’t help but scoff at the idea of trying to get attention from someone who clearly wanted nothing to do with you. Yoongi opened the door and they walked into the parking lot as he stopped himself from rolling his eyes at Hoseok.

“He loves her Yoongi, he can’t let her go that easily.” 

“Hoseok, it's been a year.”

Hoseok opened his car door and gave him a pointed look, “Don’t make Jimin feel bad for being in love.”

“I won’t make him feel bad for being in love. He just needs to let her go, it’s not healthy.”

Hoseok climbed into his car as Yoongi did the same, “You're just saying that because you've never been in a relationship before.”

“I was with Hanni for two years, remember.” 

“You were in middle school, that doesn’t count. That only happened because you didn’t want to say no to her.”

Yoongi shrugged his shoulders, “It counts as a relationship still.” 

They walked into the restaurant and their eyes landed on Jin who was looking at the menu. They made their way to the table and sat down. Yoongi hated eating here, he always felt like he was never good enough to sit there (even though his father helped fund the place), it felt unwelcoming. Yoongi picked up the menu and glanced at Jin, “Why-”

“I don’t think Jimin should have this party.”

Yoongi glanced at Hoseok and then back at Jin, “Why?” 

Jin put down the menu and sighed, “For starters, it’s not healthy for him and Yoongi, you should stop going to parties. Your dad called my dad and I got yelled at for something I didn’t do.” 

Yoongi groaned at this and leaned back in his chair, “Sorry that you got yelled at. Stupid old man.” 

Jin frowned at this and shook his head, “Yoongi, he just cares for you.” 

“I know he does but I’m not doing anything wrong.” 

Hoseok took a sip of his water and sighed at his friend, “They’re just worried. You can’t blame them for being worried about their son who drinks every day.” 

“Why am I getting a lecture? We were talking about Jimin.” 

Jin rolled his eyes at this, “I think we should tell Jimin no more parties.” 

“Let him have this one and then we’ll talk to him. You know why he’s doing it on that day.”

“I know it’s their anniversary but we can’t let him do this to himself. Were his brothers.” 

Yoongi nodded his head and glanced at Hoseok, “You talk to him. You live with him, he’ll listen to you.”

“Hopefully he does. Fine, this is the last party.”

Jin nodded his head and turned towards Yoongi, “This should be the last party for you too Yoongi.” 

“Why?”

“Just do it before something bad happens.” 

“Nothing bad will happen.”

The waiter came to the table and smiled at them, “Drinks?” 

“I’ll take the whiskey.” 

Jin and Hoseok glanced at each other with worried eyes but Yoongi ignored it. He just wanted to feel the warmth before going home. Now with Jimin’s party being his last party for a while, he needed the warmth. What’s the problem with that? 

“Yoongi, how could you land in the hospital?” 

Scratch that there is a problem with that. Yoongi groaned in bed as his mother stared at him with shocked eyes, “Mom, I don’t need a lecture right now. Please.” 

She shook her head and turned towards her husband, “I can’t believe this.” 

If Yoongi was being honest, he doesn’t remember much at Jimin’s party. This was the first time he got drunk like this. Sure he’s been drunk before but nothing like this. He never had to go to the hospital to get his stomach pump but here he is. Of course, Jin called his parents as soon as he was admitted. Yoongi had twenty minutes of peace until the door opened to angry faces, great. 

“Yoongi, I told you no more, why did you do it?”

“You wouldn’t understand....no one does.” 

Yoongi’s father sighed at this and shook his head, “Son, why can’t you see that we’re worried about you.”

“Dad, this was the first time that it happened. It’s not going to happen again.” 

His father sighed and he glanced at his mother before meeting Yoongi’s eyes once more, “Son, I want you to do something for me.”

Yoongi raised his eyebrow and looked at his father, “What? I’m kind of in a hospital bed.” 

“I want you to visit your grandmother for the rest of the month.”

Yoongi's mouth dropped at this, “Wh-What all of a sudden? It’s in the countryside away from-”

Yoongi’s mother grabbed his hand and gave him a desperate look, “We just want you to be better. Please go to her and stop drinking for the rest of the month, please.” 

Yoongi's eyes widened and when he saw his mother crying he knew what he had to do, “I’ll go.” 

Y/N walked to her patio and sat at the end with her feet touching the grass. It was the same routine she did every night. Looking up at the sky to make a wish for him to come back to her. Her mother joked with her saying she was Snow White singing Someday My Prince Will Come every time she looked at the dark sky. She couldn’t help but agree. She knows one day her wish will be heard and when it happens, her world will be complete. 

She closed her eyes and then made the simple wish, Let me see him, please. She opened her eyes again and she let the chill air engulf her in a hug as she sat there. She knows it’s silly but she knew it was going to happen to her. He was going to come back to her and everything will make sense, she just knows it. That’s how things were supposed to be. 

.*･｡ﾟ☆ﾟ.*･｡

Yoongi doesn’t remember the last time he was in this neighborhood. It’s probably been about fourteen years (maybe more) since he stepped foot in the small town. It’s hard to imagine that his father grew up here, especially now since he has multiple penthouses under his belt. Yoongi leaned his against the bus window as he stared at the fog with an emotionless look. He hasn’t seen his grandma in years, he still talks to her through letters but that's about it. He loves his grandmother but he is much closer to his grandfather. When he passed away, Yoongi couldn’t spend time in the neighborhood anymore. It was hard for him to understand what happened but he’s older now and it was different. 

The bus stopped and Yoongi got off with a small thank you to the driver. He was expecting to be alone but he was met with warm smiles. There was a girl standing next to his grandmother and he glared at how close she was with her, “Oi, who are you and why are you holding my grandmother?”

Y/N tilted her head at him and let out a small laugh, “I’m her helper. I’m not grandmanapper.”

Yoongi's eyes twitched at the gentle tone but his eyes landed on his grandmother. She looked good for her age if he was being honest. Even though she had a cane and a helper, considering she was going to turn one hundred this year, she looked young. Alda smiled at Yoongi and the smile made Yoongi’s heart melt, “My grandson, I missed you so much.” 

Y/N helped Alda walk closer to Yoongi and Yoongi couldn’t help but feel jealous. They were really close and he knew he had no right to feel this way but he couldn’t help it. He glared at the girl and let out a small scoff, “What’s your name?”

“My name is L/N Y/N. No need to be hostile.”

Yoongi really hated how kind her voice was because it was making him feel like a dick at the moment. Yoongi nodded his head and then back at his grandmother, “You look really good, gran.”

Alda smiled at this and glanced at Y/N, “It’s all thanks to my Y/N. She takes good care of me.” 

Y/N felt her face flush and pushed some of her hair back from Alda’s forehead, “Thank you, Alda.” 

“How much is my father paying you?” 

“I don’t get paid to do this...I just naturally became Alda’s helper. I have a degree if you're worried about my qualifications.” 

Yoongi raised his eyebrow at this and crossed his arms over his chest, “You do this for free? Why?”

“I love your grandmother, that’s why.” 

Alda glanced at Y/N and smiled, “You can go to Jiwon. I’ll be fine with my grandson. Don’t worry.”

“Are you sure-”

“You don’t think I can take care of her?”

Y/N glanced at Yoongi and swallowed her spit in pure nervousness. She shook her head as she felt a drop of sweat going down her back, “N-No that’s not what I meant. I just want Alda-”

“Y/N, don’t explain yourself to him. He’s just being annoying. Go to Jiwon and have fun.”

Y/N sighed and nodded her head. She leaned down and kissed the top of Alda’s head, “I’ll see you for dinner.” She turned towards Yoongi and gave him a nervous smile, “It was nice meeting you.” Y/N walked away and tried to ignore the stare on her back. She felt the burning sensation of his stare and it was actually making her feel like she was going to die from embarrassment. 

Alda smacked Yoongi with her cane and he rubbed his knee, “Don’t make her feel uncomfortable. Also, I know that look.”

“What look?”

“You think my Y/N is cute.” 

Yoongi looked up at his grandma and rolled his eyes, “Let’s go have lunch.”

“You didn’t deny that.” 

Y/N walked to Jiwon’s house and she smiled when she saw her in the driveway. She ran towards her and hugged her from behind. Jiwon let out a laugh and shook her head, “You're here early. I thought you were meeting Alda’s grandson.” 

Y/N huffed at this as she let go of Jiwon, “I did meet him. He’s intense.” 

“Was he cute?”

Y/N shrugged her shoulders and leaned against Jiwon’s car, “He was handsome but not-”

“Not for me because brown eyes will come to me.” 

Y/N happily smiled at this and nodded her head, “See, you knew.” 

“What happened with Yoongi?”

“I don’t think he likes me. I get it, if I saw someone that close with my grandmother...I would feel jealous.” 

Jiwon laid down on her hood and stared up at the grayish sky, “I guess that’s wholesome. If you think about it.”

“It is...I’m not going to hold it against him. I hope he doesn’t act the same when we meet again.” 

Oh, Y/N hates being wrong. She sat at Alda’s dinner table with Yoongi ignoring her completely. She sighed and glanced at the window, what was she supposed to do? It was clear Yoongi didn’t like her and she barely even talked to him. She turned back and ate some of Alda’s famous kimchi as she ignored the eyes. 

“Y/N, how was Jiwon?”

She sat up straight and turned her whole attention to Alda with a soft smile. Yoongi saw how she reacted to his grandmother and he couldn’t help but smile to himself. It was clear Y/N cared deeply for her but he was still wary of her. 

“I was helping her pack for a small vacation. She’s excited to go to Seoul.” 

Alda turned towards Yoongi and smiled at him, “Jiwon is going to Seoul university. Isn’t that the school you go to?”

“Yes it is.” 

Alda turned towards Y/N and her smile became wider, “Yoongi is doing a dual degree.”

Y/N’s eyes widened and she looked at Yoongi, “What are you studying?”

“Law and music.” 

Y/N placed her chopsticks down and turned her body towards Yoongi. Yoongi felt his body get warm at the attention but he shook it off, “Music? Do you play? I assume you do but...”

“I play piano and violin.” 

“Wow! My mom tried having me play Violin but I kept failing. I can play the triangle well.” 

Yoongi snickered at this, “You can play the triangle? That's it?” 

Y/N nodded her head, “If you ever need a triangle for your song, call me. I’ll play my heart out~.” 

Yoongi rolled his eyes and took a sip of his water, “Are you going to school?”

Y/N shook her head and put another piece of kimchi into her mouth, “No, I graduated last year. I did a simple program to become a caregiver.” 

“Why don't you go to a senior citizen's home then?”

Y/N raised her eyebrow at this and shook her head, “Because I’m happy here. Who wouldn’t be happy here? Ohh, I have to introduce you to Daisy. I have to ask Yunho but you have to meet her. She’s going to have a baby.” 

Yoongi went to glance at his grandma but he didn’t even realize that she got up from the table to do the dishes. How could he not notice her move? He sighed and looked at Y/N, “I have to unpack.” 

“Please, I'll make it fun. I promise.” 

He saw her pleading eyes and he sighed, don’t look at me like that fucking hell, “I’ll go. Stop looking at me like that.”

Y/N's face turned to confusion and she pouted at this, “Like what?”

Yoongi felt his face turn red at her look and he looked away from her, “I-I’m going to the bathroom.” 

Y/N watched him leave and she turned towards Alda, who was making her way back to the table, “Did I do something?”

Alda let out a small laugh as she sat down, “Nothing dear. Nothing at all.”

“Why are we on a farm?” 

Y/N hummed to herself as she opened Yunho’s gate. She turned towards Yoongi and put her index finger to her lips, “It’s a surprise. Don’t ruin my surprise for you.” 

Yoongi sighed and nodded his head, “Fine.” 

They walked deeper on the farm and Y/N stopped, “Yoongi, this is Daisy!” 

Yoongi glanced down at the cow and then back at her, “Daisy is a cow?”

Y/N  nodded her head and sat down to hug Daisy, “Isn’t she cute.” 

“I’m meeting a cow?”

“I thought I already established that. Don’t be rude and say hello.” 

“oh also something about a cow.” No fucking way was Lin’s mom right about this. Yoongi got down on his knees and the cow turned towards him. He felt her hot breath against his skin. He glanced at Y/N who was encouraging him to say his hello. He sighed and waved at the animal, “Hi Daisy, I’m Yoongi. Pleasure to meet you.” 

“You sound sarcastic.” 

Yoongi turned towards Y/N with an annoyed look, “I’m talking to a fucking cow. How else should I sound?” 

Y/N pouted at this and shook her head, “Be nicer to her. She has feelings too.” 

Yoongi ran his fingers through his hair, “Hi Daisy, my name is Yoongi.”

Y/N nodded her head with approval, “That’s better. Was that so hard?”

“Apparently...” 

“Y/N, you're here early.”

Y/N stood up and wiped off the hay off her knees. She turned around and waved at Yunho, “You're here late.”

Yunho scoffed at her and let out a small yawn, “Mom let me sleep in.”

“Oh? That’s rare for you.” 

“I know I was surprised when I woke up. It’s weird to be up with the sun and not when the sun is rising.” 

Y/N turned towards Yoongi who was getting cuddled by Daisy, “Yunho this is Alda’s grandson, Yoongi.” 

Yoongi stopped trying to push Daisy away and accepted his fate. He turned towards Yunho and nodded his head, “Hey.” 

Yunho raised his eyebrow and looked back at Y/N, “The rich boy?”

Y/N shook her head and sigh, “No, he’s Alda’s grandson.”

“He’s still a rich boy.”

“You will refer him to Alda’s grandson. Regardless of his fortune, he’s her family.” 

Yoongi felt warmth again but he shook it off. He let out a small cough and he glared at Yunho, “You do know I can hear you.”

Yunho smirked at him and put his hands in his pocket, “Mmm? I didn’t mean for that to happen. Sorry.”

Yoongi could tell by the look that he didn’t give a shit what Yoongi had to say. He didn’t want to add fuel to the fire so he played along, “It’s fine.”

Y/N could feel the tension building and she didn’t know why there was tension to begin with. She put her hand out towards Yoongi, “Let me introduce you to Helen.”

Yoongi raised his eyebrow at her hand and then his eyes moved to her face. Her face was always so warm to look at. It was as if she was the sun and it made everyone around warm. It made him sick to meet someone who was more positive than Hoseok. He didn’t think it was possible but here he was. On a farm. Min Yoongi on a damn farm, who would’ve thought.

Yoongi fought back, his eyes being rolled into the back of his head. This was the fourth time Y/N was going over his grandma’s nighttime routine. He put his hand up and Y/N glanced at it and then at him, “Yes?”

“Y/N, I can take care of it. Don’t worry.”

“I just want to make things easier for you.” 

“It’s getting late. Go home.”

She pouted and nodded her head, “You can call me, Alda has my phone number.”

His eye twitched at this but he nodded his head, “I got it.” 

Y/N waved at Alda and bowed, “Have a good night, Alda. I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

“I’ll see you dear. Be careful.”

“I will. No worries. Goodnight.” 

When the door closed, Alda sighed. She turned towards Yoongi with a frown, “Stop giving her a hard time.” 

“She thinks I can’t take care of you.”

Alda shook her head and rubbed his arm gently, “She doesn’t think that. Haven’t you been noticing that she’s been stepping back and letting you help me more?”

Yoongi thought to himself and looked towards his grandma, “Has she?”

Alda nodded her head and ran her fingers through his hair, “She knows how much I missed you. She wants to give me all the time in the world to be with you.” 

Yoongi glanced outside the window and saw Y/N talking to the neighbors. He smiled to himself, maybe he was being too hard on her. 

.*･｡ﾟ☆ﾟ.*･

It’s been two weeks and Yoongi has finally become used to Y/N. He accepted that she was going to be around because his grandma might as well be friendly. She was always so kind to him and it made him wonder why she was so kind. It brought up more questions. Questions that Yoongi wasn’t going to ask. There was no way he was getting this friendly with her. It was too soon.

“Yoongi, did you hear me?”

He shook his head and looked at Y/N, “What?”

She sighed and she pointed to her car, “I said get in. I have a surprise for you.” 

“Another one? Is it another chicken?” 

Y/N let out a laugh and shook her head, “No, I think you’ll like this one.”

“Do I have a choice?”

Y/N frowned at this, “You do...you don’t have to come with me. I’m sorry if I made you feel like you had to come with me.” 

There's that look. The look that made him feel so weak. It was like a kicked puppy, how could you say no? He shook his head at her and opened the car door, “You didn’t make me feel like that. Don’t worry. Let’s go before Alda wakes up from her nap.”

Y/N’s smile came back and nodded her head, “Okay.” 

The drive was peaceful. He didn’t even realize until last night that it’s been two weeks since he had a drink. He was so focused on his grandma and Y/N that he didn’t want a drink. He never felt that before, it was weird. He couldn’t explain it. He put his hand out of the window and felt the wind going through his fingers. He smiled to himself and he closed his eyes as he felt at peace. Y/N glanced at him and she couldn’t help but smile to herself at his peaceful look. 

Yoongi looked at the building with a confused look, “Is this the hall?”

Y/N shut off her engine and nodded her head, “The surprise is in there.” 

“Is it an election?” 

Y/N let out a laugh and shook her head, “Just come with me.” 

They walked through the empty halls but even if they were full, he knew everyone would say hi to Y/N. In the past two weeks, he learned that everyone loved Y/N. She helped everyone and it didn’t matter who they were, she would always help. She opened the door and she turned towards him, “I hope you like it. I tried my best.”

He raised his eyebrow and walked into the small auditorium. His eyes widened at the wooden piano that was polished to perfection. He turned towards Y/N who was shyly kicking her foot, “You-”

“I tried to fix it. I noticed that you’ve been tapping away with your pen and I thought you needed an outlet for music.”

“You fixed this for me?” 

Y/N nodded her head, “I know you're going to be here for a while, I thought I would make it easier for you.” 

Yoongi glanced at the piano and then back at her. He let out a small laugh, “You're full of surprises. Aren't you?” 

“Do you like it? I never restored a piano but-”

“Y/N, it’s perfect.” 

She smiled to herself and she looked away from his intense eyes. She couldn’t look into them because she would feel nervous. She couldn’t feel that way, “Will you play?” 

“Right now?”

She looked back at him and nodded his head, “If you want...I don’t want to force you.” 

He walked up to the piano and she watched with total focus. He glanced at her and the way her eyes were looking at him was making him want to throw up. It made him nervous to play even though he played it for his whole life. Right now at this moment, he was nervous. She walked towards the front and sat down at him. He looked away from her when he saw that permanent smile. He closed his eyes and instead of feeling alone in a room, he felt at home. He glanced at her mid-song and he saw how enchanted she looked. He wasn’t afraid to say it but at this moment, Y/N looked beautiful. 

“Welcome to the annual winter’s dinner!” 

Yoongi zipped up his jacket and watched everyone around act normal. He forgot how cold it got in the countryside. Hoseok finally texted him back last night and he was the whole lecture. Hoseok didn’t talk to him because he was disappointed in him. He honestly couldn’t blame him. Apparently all his friends are on strike towards him. They wanted him to learn his lesson but honestly not talking to them made him focus more on his grandma and someone else...

He felt someone poke at his back and he turned around to see Y/N looking at him with a smile, “You look bundled up.” 

“Of course I am. It’s cold.” 

She shrugged her shoulders at this, “I think it feels nice.”

“Of course you do. You're weird that’s why.” 

“I think being weird is good. Yunho saved us seats, Alda is already there.” 

Yoongi frowned at hearing that name. Yunho made it clear that he didn’t like Yoongi. Everytime he tried helping Y/N at the farm, Yunho would appear to do it. It was pissing Yoongi off because he wanted to help her...that’s the only reason he told himself. He also didn’t like how Yunho always gravitated towards her. It didn’t matter who was in the room, Yunho would always find himself next to her. He didn’t like that. 

Yunho went to pull out the chair for Y/N but Yoongi beat him to it. Yoongi sent him a smirk as Y/N sat in the chair. Alda smiled to herself as she watched her plan unfold right before her. Y/N pushed some hair back and she turned towards Yoongi with a small smile, “Thank you.”

“Anytime.” 

The mayor smiled at everyone and he let out a small cough. He gathered everyone’s attention and he clapped his hands, “Thank you for making this dinner successful once again. I want to say thank you to our community for setting this up every year. Let’s celebrate the year's harvest with a feast.”

Y/N stood up and walked to the other side of the table to help Alda with her plate. Yoongi watched and glanced at her empty plate. It was like second nature to him to fill up her plate. Y/N looked up from Alda’s plate and saw Yoongi filling her plate. She felt warmth go through her body and she never felt so cared for. Sure her parents would’ve done the same but this was different. It was Yoongi caring for her and it made her feel something that she has never felt before. 

Yunho bought a whiskey bottle out of his jacket and poured some into his cup. He glanced at Yoongi and let out a small cough, “Do you want some?”

Yoongi looked at the bottle and shook his head, “No, I don’t want any.”

“Suit yourself.”

He glanced at YN and for once, he wanted to remember everything. He didn’t need whiskey to feel warmth because everytime he looked at Y/N, he felt that missing warmth. 

“What do you mean Helen got out?”

Y/N was at Alda’s helping her cook dinner as Yoongi set the table. There was a knock at the door and Y/N rushed to get it. She was surprised to see Yunho standing there in his thick jacket and sad eyes. She felt a wave of sadness after he told her Helen got out. 

Yunho sighed, “Don’t give me that look Y/N. I’m looking for her.” 

“How long has she been missing?”

“Thirty mins.” 

She turned towards Alda and then back at Yunho, “We have to find her.”

“I’m trying to find her but if I can’t then I can’t Y/N.”

“Don’t say that about her. We’ll find her.” 

Yoongi placed his hand on Y/N’s shoulder causing her to look up at him, “I’ll go look for her.” 

“But we need to help-”

“Y/N, dear, go help find Helen. I’ll be waiting for you guys here, okay.”

She glanced at Alda and then back at Yoongi. She gave him a shy smile and nodded her head, “Let’s go find Helen.” 

It was really cold outside on this day, it was so cold that Y/N put a jacket on. This made her more worried for Helen. Yoongi glanced at her face and was determined to find the hen. He hated seeing her Y/N being sad, she didn’t deserve to be sad and Yunho was making it sound like it wasn’t a big deal. If it made Y/N sad then it was a big deal. 

Yoongi continued to look but then he saw something in the distance. He didn’t know how Helen did it but she was stuck in a small hole in the ground. Yoongi moved fast and grabbed the Hen. Once Helen got situated in his arms he went to get out of the hole but he was having a hard time. 

“Yoongi, are you okay?”

“Y/N, I’m stuck. I have Helen but I need you to pull me.”

“Yoongi, you should’ve asked me to do it.”

“There was no time! Pull!”

She pulled his leg and used all her strength to get him out. She pulled him out but she lost her footing and landed next to him. She opened her eyes and turned towards Yoongi to let out a small laugh, “Yoongi, your face is covered in mud.” She wiped the mud off with her jacket and her eyes widened. It was the same brown eyes that she remembered when she was younger. The dark brown eyes with the sparkle were looking into hers. 

“Thanks, Helen feel’s cold.”

She quickly shook herself out of her daydream and nodded her head. She opened her jacket and Helen jumped right into it. She zipped it up and smiled at Yoongi, “You could’ve asked for help...”

“I wanted to act fast because I knew how devastated you would be if something bad happened to Helen.” 

Her heart started beating faster and she looked at the ground, “You could’ve gotten hurt, Yoongi.”

“If it makes you happy then I’m okay with that.” 

She looked up and saw the seriousness in his eyes, “Do you mean that?”

He smiled and nodded his head. He pushed some loose hair behind her ear and memorized her face, “Of course I do. I just want you to be happy.” 

Someday my prince will come...I think that’s today. 

.*･｡ﾟ☆ﾟ.*･｡

It was Yoongi’s last week and he didn’t want to go back home. Everything felt normal here, nothing forced. Just normal.  He also didn’t tell Y/N that he was leaving soon. He knew he had to tell her but today wasn’t the day. 

“Y/N, you don’t have to do this.” 

Y/N rolled her eyes and continued to sew his pants. Yoongi was helping her feed the chickens when he slipped on the wet grass. He didn’t hurt himself (just his ego) but he ripped his pants. Y/N gladly told him she would sew it for him. Which led them back to her house. Thank god he wore an extra set of pants or this would be more humiliating. 

“Yoongi, it wasn’t even that bad. Just a small tear.”

I tripped in front of you, that’s what makes this worse. “The chickens laughed at me.”

“Yoongi, their chickens, they can’t laugh. At least I don’t think so.” 

“I don’t know, I feel like Helen was laughing.”

Y/N let out a small laugh and she looked at Yoongi to see him looking at her. She shyly glanced down when she saw those brown eyes, “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Like what?”

“Like I’ll disappear.”

Yoongi leaned towards her and she looked up at the sudden movement. The tip of his nose was touching hers and he gave her a smile, “I can’t look at you?”

She felt her face get warm and she shook her head, “You can look at me…” 

“Does it make you uncomfortable?”

“No…I like it.”

Yoongi went to lean in closer but a knock at the door made him fly back, “Y/N Jiwon is back!”

Y/N eyes widen at this, “She’s back early.”

“And have horrible timing.”

“What did you say?”

“Nothing.” 

Y/N got up and pulled Yoongi with her, “I don’t think you ever met Jiwon. She left as soon as you came.” 

“Oh, was she the one that went to Seoul?”

Y/N nodded and went downstairs as Yoongi followed, “She texted me last night but I thought she was coming back next week.” 

When they reached the kitchen, Yoongi felt frozen. He knew Jiwon, she was Jimin’s ex-girlfriend best friend. He met her a couple of times but not enough to say that he knew the girl. It was clear that she knew him because of the glare that she sent his way. Y/N waved at her and hugged her, “Jiwon, I missed you.”

“I missed you more. Who is this?” 

Yoongi glanced at Y/N and then back at Jiwon, he knew she knew who he was. He rubbed the back of his neck and gave her the best fake family he could make, “I’m Min Yoongi. Alda is my grandmother.” 

Jiwon nodded her head and patted Y/N’s back, “Y/N, I want to get to know Yoongi. Is that okay?”

Y/N glanced between Jiwon and Yoongi with a confused look. She slowly nodded her head and looked at her who was in the kitchen, “I’ll go help mama with dinner.” 

Jiwon smiled at Y/N and once she was fully gone, she turned back to Yoongi. With a hard glare, “I didn’t think you would be Alda’s grandson.”

“Well...I am.”

Jiwon glanced at Y/N and then back at Yoongi, “What are you doing with her?”

Yoongi shrugged his shoulders and put his hands in his pockets, “I don’t think that’s your business.” 

“It is my business when I know you told Jimin to break up with her. You don’t care about love so, why are you messing with Y/N.”

Yoongi scoffed at this, “I didn’t tell him to break up with her. I had nothing to do with that. If I’m being honest, I have no idea why they broke up. It wasn’t my business.” 

“I know it's a fact that you kept telling Jimin that love goes away. You do know they loved each other and you could be the reason why they broke up.”

“Listen, I told Jimin that after he broke up with her. He was drinking away and I was trying to make him feel better. That’s what friends do.”

Jiwon scoffed at this and crossed her arms over her chest, “Is that why you used a lot of girls when you went out with Jimin? Because apparently that’s what friends are for.” 

Yoongi ran his fingers through his hair out of frustration. He looked back at Jiwon with a hard stare, “What’s the point of this conversation?” 

“I want you to stay away from Y/N. She doesn’t deserve to get hurt by you.”

“I’m not listening to you.” 

“It doesn’t matter, you're leaving after this week.” 

Yoongi’s eyebrows furrowed at this, “How do you know all of this?” 

“It doesn’t matter how I know it-”

“No, how do you know?”

“Yunho told me everything.”

Yoongi ran his tongue against his cheek and took off. How the fuck does Yunho know so much about him? He slammed open the gate and made his way to Yunho unaware of Y/N running towards him with a worried look. Yoongi spotted Yunho feeding Daisy and he pushed him, “Why the fuck are you telling lies?” 

Yunho looked Yoongi up and down and scoffed, “Lies? It seems to be the truth.” 

“All that “factual” information was written by a gossiper on campus. None of that shit is true.”

“Oh so you visiting your grandma wasn’t because you're just a alcoholic and daddy wanted you to be taught a lesson.” 

Yoongi threw a punch and Yunho held his check, “Don’t you fucking call me that.” 

“You mess with girl’s hearts just because. You're not a man. Stay away from Y/N.”

“I don’t mess with girls' hearts, if anything I turn them down because I know they just want me for my money. That’s not messing with their hearts that's being truthful.” 

Yunho spit out some blood and glared at him, “You just want to fuck a country girl and tell your-”

Yoongi tackled Yunho to the ground and he started throwing punches at him. Who was he to talk about Y/N like she was nothing. Y/N wasn’t any girl, she deserved respect. He kept punching Yunho until he felt a hand on his back. He slowly turned his head and saw Y/N looking at him with a sad look, “Y-Y/N.” 

Yoongi got off of Yunho and grabbed Y/N’s hands. She looked away from his stare, “Jiwon told me-”

“Y/N it’s all lies.”

“I know some of it was lies...are you really leaving after this week? I thought you were staying for the season.”

Yoongi sighed and nodded his head, “My dad just wanted me here for the rest of the month.” 

“So...you're going to be gone. I won’t see you anymore?” 

“No, I'll come and visit. I’ll do anything to see you.” 

She glanced down at Yunho and shook her head at him, “Yunho, you deserved to get punched.” 

“Y/N, I didn’t mean to-”

“You should be saying sorry to Yoongi. You called him an alcoholic and even if he was, you shouldn’t bring people’s trouble in fights. If you have to do that then you already lost. Now say sorry to Yoongi.” 

“Sorry Yoongi.”

Yoongi rolled his eyes and grabbed Y/N’s hand. He quickly made his way back to his grandmother’s house but instead of going in, he went through the garden. Y/N looked at his back with a confused look, “Where are we going?” 

“I used to go here with my grandpa...it’s a secret place.” 

They were by a cliff and Y/N eyes widened at the sight. It was so close to the night sky and she looked up at the stars. They sat on the grass and she stared up at the sky with a smile, “I made countless wishes to them...” 

Yoongi slowly turned his head towards her and rubbed her knuckles with his thumb, “What did you wish for?”

“For my prince charming...”

He glanced down at her lips and then back to her eyes, “Did you get your wish?”

“I did.” 

“You know I made wishes too.” 

“You did?” 

Yoongi pushed some hair behind her ears and nodded his head, “I wish to feel warmth in my life.” 

“Did you get your wish?”

Yoongi didn’t say anything and leaned forward giving her a quick kiss. When they pulled apart, Yoongi nodded his head, “I did...Y/N...my dad sent me here because I had a drinking problem back at home.” 

“What were you going through?” 

Yoongi trached her jawline with his fingers and frowned, “No one cared about me...well my friends cared about me but everyone else saw me for my money. No one saw me as Yoongi. I started drinking because it made me feel warm. I was so desperate to feel something that wasn’t loneliness-”

“So you turned to alcohol...alcohol doesn’t have feelings and won’t judge you. I understand.”

“Y/N, I never messed with girl’s hearts or used them. I would never hurt you.”

Y/N glanced down at his fingers and a soft smile appeared, “I know...that’s not part of your character.”

“If I’m being honest, I never had a relationship before. I never felt this feeling...this warmth in my stomach when I saw your smile for the first time made me scared. The day I met you is when the whole world came alive. I felt alive for once.” 

“I never had a relationship either...I was waiting for you.” 

The next morning, Yoongi rushed to Y/N’s house with roses in his hands. She opened the door and she raised her eyebrow, “Yoongi? It’s nine in the morning.” 

“That won’t stop me.”

Y/N glanced at the roses and she took them out of his hands. She brought them to her nose and looked up at him through the red petals, “How did you know?”

“Grandma told me. I would plant all the flowers in the world to make you smile.” 

Y/N felt her face get hot and she let out a small laugh, “Yoongi, you should come in. Mama is making breakfast.” 

This is how things were supposed to be. Life is full of laughter and warmth, no more questions that make you feel so small. Y/N grabbed his hand and brought him into the house. Y/N’s parents smiled at him and her dad was actually glad that Y/N picked Yoongi over Yunho. He sat at the dinner table and everything felt at peace. No more soul searching. 

“Yoongi, dear, do you have everything?” 

“Yes grandma.” 

Yoongi had a few more bags because his grandmother packed him kimchi to bring home. He couldn’t say no to the kimchi. Alda smiled at her grandson but then it quickly turned into a frown, “When will you visit me again?”

“Next month.”

Alda’s eyes widened at this, “Really?

Yoongi nodded his head, “I need more kimchi and you make the best kimchi in Korea.”

Alda let out a small laugh and shook her head, “You just want to see Y/N.” 

“Grandma.” 

There was a knock on the door and Yoongi opened it. His smile appeared and he couldn’t help it, Y/N was wearing that smile that he became accustomed to, “Yoongi, I have a final surprise for you.” 

“Oh?”

Y/N nodded her head and grabbed his hand, “Alda, we’ll be back!” 

“Be safe!” 

Y/N took Yoongi’s hand and he couldn’t help but laugh. They ran on the dirt path and everyone greeted them with a smile. Just a couple of weeks ago, no one smiled at him but now everyone knows him. It made him feel warm, “Close your eyes.” 

He nodded his head and did what he was told to do. Y/N guided him through grass and he was really confused at where he was. He stopped and she rubbed his knuckles, “Open.” He opened his eyes and saw his grandfather's grave. The grave was all cleaned and it looked like a new gravestone. There were flowers all around and it was actually a beautiful sight. He turned towards Y/N who was looking at the grave, “I didn’t want you to forget to say goodbye to your grandfather.” 

“Did you do this?”

“Yeah...I decorated it with his favorite flower-” 

“You knew my grandpa?” 

Y/N nodded her head and looked back at him, “You tripped in mud when I was helping him with his chickens back then...that was the first time I met you. I fell in love with you the moment I met you all those years ago. Your grandpa saw this and told me stories about you but he never told me your name. Your grandma talked about you but never said your name. I wasn’t sure when you came that you were the same boy back then but when I looked into your eyes...I knew. I saw the stars that I fell in love with...I guess your grandparents really wanted us to be together.” 

“Y/N can I ask you something?”

“Yeah?”

“Can I kiss you?”

“Yes...you can kiss me.” 

.*･｡ﾟ☆ﾟ.*･

It’s been a couple of hours since he came back and he sat in his house alone. His parents had a meeting and they would have a big breakfast to celebrate him coming back home. It was the first time he was actually by himself and usually he would just drink to fill in the void. If anything, he just missed Y/N. There was a knock on the door and he raised his eyebrow. He glanced at the window to see it pouring rain. Who the hell is here?

He walked towards the door and his eyes widened, “Y/N?”

She soaking wet and she looked up at him with a dazed look, “You can’t just leave me without my answer.”

Yoongi let out a small laugh and shook his head, “You could’ve texted me-”

“I wanted to see your face...I would love to be with you, Yoongi.” Y/N jumped into him with her arms around his neck and her giving him a passionate kiss. His eyes widened at the touch but he welcomed it. He wrapped his arms around her waist and brought her closer into his body. Yoongi always took pride in his composure but at this moment, he didn’t give a fuck. 

He pulled her away and she was met with a shy and nervous Yoongi. His eyes told her what his heart wanted to say but his mouth just couldn’t move to tell her. He was so in love with her, it was crazy. Only knowing her for a couple of weeks but he was already on his knees for this woman. He would do anything for her. If she wanted the whole countryside to be filled with roses, he would do just that. Anything to keep that smile on her face. 

He took her inside and locked the door before taking her into his room. He made sure that door was locked and he turned back to her. His fingertips went down her arm as they stared into each other's eyes. She cupped his cheek softly and her thumb gently his pale skin. He leaned his head against her hand and she couldn’t help but feel warm, “Yoongi, I’m all yours.”

“Don’t say that or I can’t control myself.”

“I want you.” 

“God I love you...”

Her eyes widened at the confession, “You said it...”

“I’ll say it everyday, every minute of the day to you. I will always show you how devoted I am to you.” 

She giggled softly and tugged him closer, her lips brushing against his, “I’ll do the same.” Y/N whispered back as her hands slid up to his hair pulling him into another kiss. She melted into his arms and he couldn’t help but feel the same. It was the type of kiss that made you fall to your knees because of how intense it was. 

“You make me feel everything I was missing.” 

“Yoongi, I'll always be here for you. No matter what.” 

He didn’t even realize it but clothing was making its way to the ground. The rain against the window was the instruments that made the moment feel surreal. It was as if the rain was happy that he found his sunshine. His hands gripped at her waist a little tighter and lowered his head to her neck. He pressed a soft kiss along her neck until he hit her collarbone. He took a quick nip and looked up at her flushed face, “Y/N...”

His hands slid down to her sides and he couldn’t believe she was in his arms. He gently picked her up and laid her down into his bed. The only light he had was the light outside his window but it was enough to show him all the details of her body. The small mole on her knee and the stretch marks was the reason why people paint. It was beautiful. His kisses trailed down until his lips brushed against her sensitive nipples as his hand squeezed the other one. 

“Yo-Yoongi~.” 

He released her breast and made his way to her clit with his fingers touching her skin like he was playing the piano. She arched her back into him and he continued to kiss her neck. It wasn’t until she brought him back up to kiss her lips. He sat up and looked down at her, “Y-Y/N this is my first time. Are you sure you want this?”

“Yoongi, it’s my first time too. I wouldn’t want anyone else.” Yoongi leaned down and kissed her again. She couldn’t help but let out a small laugh against his lips, “You're the only person for me.”

“You’re my person too.” 

He finally pushed into her and he felt so nervous. What if he hurt her? His breath caught in his throat as he watched her eyes flutter closed. He bit his lip and gently touched her jawline, “Are you okay?” His hands found hers and they laced them together as if they were going to be ripped apart from something. She nodded her head and with the way she tighten around him, he couldn’t help but let out a small groan. 

“Yoongi, you can move. I’ll be okay.”

“Are you sure?”

She tightened her hand into his and nodded her head, “I trust you.” 

He lowered his forehead to hers and he gave her a quick kiss before thrusting. Each movement was like a song, a song that only they could hear. His hand tightened around her as his hips rolled slowly, making her moan at the feeling. Her free hand made its way to Yoongi’s hair and brought him into a passionate kiss. 

“You're everything to me, Y/N.”

She felt his body tremble and his hips stuttering. She looked up to see the wall behind his eyes, it was as if he was scared to give himself to her. Her heart knew why he felt like this and kissed the side of his face, “I’ll always be here for you, Yoongi.” 

His breath catches his through and he lets out a groan. His hips moved a little faster and he couldn’t help but be in awe of the pleasure on her face. His body pressed close against her and his forehead touched hers, “I’ll never let you go.”

“Then don’t.” 

They were so focused on each other that they didn’t even notice the stars twinkling away. They finally got their wishes.

.*･｡ﾟ☆ﾟ.*･

Yoongi sat at the lunch table as everyone around him talked about stuff. He pulled out his phone when he felt it vibrate in his pocket. He smiled at the lock screen, it was a picture of Y/N with Daisy. He clicked on the notification and his eyes widen, “Wow.” 

Hoseok leaned towards him to see a picture of a baby calf, “Daisy finally gave birth?” 

Yoongi nodded his head and smiled when he saw the name, “Y/N named her Byeol.” 

Bora smiled at this and took a bite of her lunch, “You're very smitten by her. When will we meet her?” 

“When she’s officially my girlfriend.” 

Namjoon raised his eyebrow at this, “I thought you asked her to be yours.” 

Yoongi put his phone back in his pocket and shrugged his shoulders,  “I did but I want to court her. I want her to know that I’m being serious about her.” 

Taehyung smirked at him and let out a small laugh, “Awww, Yoongi is being a simp.”

“Shut the fuck up before I shove my foot up your ass.” 

Lin pinched Taehyung’s thigh and smiled at Yoongi, “I guess my mom’s fortune was right.”

Yoongi rolled his eyes and took a sip of water, “If that makes you sleep at night. I have to go.” 

It’s been two months since everything and Yoongi has never felt better. In all, it's been three months since he touched alcohol and been to a party. He doesn’t even go to Jimin’s parties anymore, he didn’t have a reason to be there anymore. After that night with Y/N, he promised her that he would court her before they became a couple and she agreed. Every week he would send flowers to her and they would talk every night. They weren’t together but they were together. 

He gathered his things and headed out of the lunch court. He was as if he was running towards something. He ignored all the eyes on him and made it to his destination. He opened the theater door and saw Y/N sitting on stage with her triangle. She looked up with a smile and hit her triangle, “I told you I would bring it.”

He let out a small laugh and shook his head. He walked up towards her until he was between her legs. She let out a small laugh and she wrapped her arms around his neck, “Are you going to show me how good you are at the triangle?” 

“Don’t make fun of me.” 

He kissed her cheek and traced her jawline with his fingers, “It’s my job to make fun of you.”

“Did you see Byeol? Sorry I sent it this morning and I was on the road.”

“I did...Byeol?” 

Y/N nodded her head, “The stars brought you to me...it was the perfect name.”

“I love the name, Byeol. You're my favorite star though.” 

“Don’t let Byeol hear that.” 

.*･｡ﾟ☆ﾟ.*･

Taglist:

@jalexad @lemonadecandy51

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

See No Evil

Pairing: John Price x F!reader

Synopsis: The flowers came every week -- Tuesday, two O’clock, two minutes after your break. The only problem was that you knew they weren’t coming from John.

Word Count: 17.5k

Warnings: Stalking, violence, intense gore, blood, abduction, angst, fluff, protective!John, not quite smut, swearing, stereotypical ‘Bad Guy’ character who gets his ass beat, minor character death

A/N: Finished this at 3am so forgive the absolute deterioration of the plot near the end.

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

The flowers came once a week – Tuesday, two o’clock, two minutes after your scheduled break. The Triple Twos your coworkers would joke, slapping you on the shoulder with wide smiles and questioning eyes as they continued by asking if John had done something to piss you off. That was the only excuse to spend so much money on flowers every single week; the man had to have done something absolutely unforgivable. 

You always found yourself fake chuckling at the accusations with a tense jaw and flickering eyes, looking to the empty corners and the glass front doors as the delivery man exits the building; whistling a tune. Choking down the bile in your throat.

The problem was that John hadn’t done anything wrong, and the tightening in your chest had told you that something more sinister was going on even if you didn’t know exactly what. Another part of you, the common civilian voice in the front of your mind, hissed that you were just being paranoid. 

But something was just off.

There was always a note that came with the gift, and it was always stuck on a cardholder; the metal shimmering in the white light. It was a stark contrast to the black paper trapped in it, keeping your eyes transfixed like a void in the earth. You could feel your heart drop every time your gaze locked onto it and the blood-red lettering, like the fibers were bleeding with every stab of a long-gone fountain pen. 

The flowers themselves made you pause the first time you had gotten them. Jess, the kind old woman who works the front desk, had come and gotten you herself, and that alone was unusual. Like a man wearing shorts during winter – not entirely uncommon, but still surprising when you saw it happen to say the least.

“Why,” Jess had muttered to you as you gave her a confused look as to why she was in your department in the middle of the day, “That John of yours is just the sweetest. The hydrangeas are the prettiest shade of blue, Dear. The man of yours was an absolute God-send. A pity I’m married – I would have tried to snatch him up!” 

“Flowers?” You frowned, running over thoughts about presentations and powerpoints you still had to get done by the end of the day. Already you were at the edge of your rope, “What are you talking about, Jess, I don’t think that John…”

Jess had already bounced ahead, quite limber for her old age, you had thought before you followed after; sucking in a deep sigh. Turning a corner with the clack of your work shoes, you saw a flash of color in the otherwise dull gray of the lobby, kissing the sides of your vision. 

“Woah,” Your eyes widened, taking in the sight in front of you as a hand lifted to your lips in shock. 

The arrangement was massive – bigger than any you had seen except for one other place.

The first official date you and John had gone on was at a fancy restaurant downtown with similar gargantuan bouquets – a really nice place with candles and red tablecloths.

Throughout the course of the night, both of you had gotten to know each other exceptionally well, but it wasn’t like the two of you were unfamiliar in the first place. If anyone would have asked, many of your coworkers would have told about how, months ago, you had first started gushing about the most handsome man you had ever seen leaving the local library once more. Through many fake threats and warnings that if you didn’t snag the brown-haired Brit soon, they would steal him from you, you shoved down the nervousness in your throat and went to the library on your days off.

It was a week before you gained the courage to even look in his direction, and when you did, you had already found him sneaking glances back. You had offered a friendly smile, albeit a nervous one, and had flushed when he had given you a twitch of his lips and a tilt of his head back.

For six weeks you had gone back, borrowing books you had no intention of reading just to have a chance to speak to him – and when you did, you had both become infatuated with each other. John had asked you about any history book recommendations and you had laughed and said you only read fiction; the man had looked offended, but slyly commented that he would have to change your opinion over dinner.

It was easy to admit that you had agreed right away, body fuzzy and warm.

But on that first official date, you had told him something that you never imagined would come up again when the waiter had put the first-course dish in front of you. Blue Hydrangeas and pure white Orchids. Your favorite flowers. 

“John sent these?” You had wondered aloud at the first vase of flora on the granite desk-top, blue and white immediately catching your eyes. Your chest had lightened with love. This was so kind of him. 

“Look,” Jess had squealed, placing her withered hands on her cheeks. It was almost like she was getting the gift instead of you. Your lips had quirked in amusement, “There’s a note too. Quick, read it to me! I want all the juicy details.”

That was when you realized something was wrong. 

Note? You had raised a brow, John left a note? 

Your boyfriend was many things – loyal, brave, an absolutely lovely person to hug because of those muscled bear arms, and hard-headed when it came to you walking nowhere near the edge of the road – but a note writer? No. 

If John wanted to tell you something he would tell you – whisper it into your skin as he leaves gentle kisses behind, mutter it into your hair as he brings you into a slow dance in his house’s living room. Smugly grunt it into the hot air as he leaves you sobbing from pleasure, his fingers curling inside of your heat. 

Your nose had twitched at the smell of the flowers, but your digits had gravitated to the black note card and its red writing. 

‘Thinking of you now, 

Long to be with you always,

Morning, noon, and night.’

The paper crinkled as you held the edge slightly tighter, but other than that no outward expression told anyone how confused you were. This wasn’t like John at all and your feet fidget a bit as you try and think if you had missed a massive date on the calendar to elicit such a break in character. But no, you tilted your head, there was nothing going on today.

How did John even order these? You had raised your free hand and brushed one of the white Orchid pedals, He’s out on deployment, not down the street standing in the floral shop.

Jess was gushing at your side, and a few other coworkers come by and say how happy they are for you. 

Maybe I’m just overthinking this – John can send flowers and notes whenever he wants. He’s my boyfriend. 

Looking over to your coworkers you agree to a comment about how attentive John is, “Yeah,” You force a laugh and shove down the swirling in your gut, “He’s really great – you have no idea…Did you know he makes the best waffles I’ve ever had? He even brings them to me in bed when he’s home!”

Then the whistling delivery man, named Don as you had found out the second week deep into this strange event, had become just as familiar as your coworkers. 

Which leaves us in the present. 

Tuesday, Two O’clock, two minutes into your scheduled break. The Triple Twos. 

You’re already waiting by the front desk, leaning back into it with the granite top digging into your back like a heavy hand. You try to stop the way your stomach twists when you hear Don whistling – Jess laughs to your left. 

“Like clockwork, Dear.”

You don’t answer, only tighten your lips into a line; tap your foot on the floor. Your arms crossed.

If you had the option to contact John this would have been easier – ask if he was responsible and finally put this to rest. But your Lover had told you right before the relationship was made official that his job was demanding and that it could even put you in situations that would be less than enjoyable. John had long hours, few breaks with stretches far in between where he would be able to see you. No contact when he was away overseas unless you were in a life-or-death situation – too many possible variables of who could be listening over the line if you called.

“It’d make me feel better if I know there’s no chance of anyone coming back to London to mess with my girl, eh?” He had said, pressing a scratchy kiss to your forehead as he was about to leave your apartment to gather his gear at his home. John would be away for months this time, you knew, “Put my mind at ease about it. But don’t you worry, Love. I’ll be back soon, yeah? We’ll watch that movie you wanted to see when I’m home.” 

Don opens the door, holding another damned vase with blue Hydrangeas and white Orchids sticking out of the top. Your eyes find the note all too quickly and your fingers tighten over your biceps.

“Hell,” The delivery man snorts at you, “I’m starting to think this guy is going to buy up all the Florists’ stock at this rate! The hell did he do? Cheat on you?” 

You roll your eyes, not replying to the comment and never doubting John’s loyalty to you in the slightest. Muttering a soulless ‘thanks’ before moving to help Don, you take the object from him with a grimace. The vase is like iron in your hand – heavy and cold to the touch akin to a corpse. Like death gripping at the slim vines of life, petals blooming through its fingers. 

“I still wish you’d tell me the name of the person who ordered them,” You utter, moving to drop the vase with a plunk on the front desk. It was like you were repulsed by even touching them.

Jess narrows her eyes, “What?” She comments, tone exasperated that you were bringing this up again, “Do you think someone else is going through all this effort? Come on, Dear, no one but John would send these. They’re your favorites!”

“See you next week!” Don calls behind his back, already sneaking out the door to continue his work. 

“I don’t know, Jess,” You run your hands over your face, pushing back the hair over your forehead with a groan, “Something just seems off about it. This isn’t like John – if it was I wouldn’t be making a big deal over it, I mean, why would I? I like flowers as much as the next person, but really? This is a bit much.” 

“So what I’m hearing in the man never gets you gifts?”

“No!” You snag the black paper note with your fingers, huffing, “The flowers aren’t the problem – It’s the damn note that throws me for a loop.”

“The note?”

“It’s a fucking Haiku – since when have I ever mentioned John writing poetry?” Your voice turns into a gruff imitation of what it once was, “The man is romantic, sure, but he definitely doesn’t take his time to write out poems. He writes so many reports he barely picks the pen back up after he throws it down.”

Jess hums. 

“Oh, maybe he’s just trying out a new pass time – perhaps he’ll come back to London as the next William Blake, hm?” The older woman waves her hands around, creating grand gestures as you watch with a blank face and a raised brow.

“Now that’s funny.”

John had hobbies – reading and cooking being two of them. The only time he wrote was when he was working on reports from an Op. and locked away in his office to make sure you never saw what he was getting red, tired, eyes over.

“There are some things that I never want you to see,” He had told you when you had asked what he was working on once. You had come to his house to visit, and he promised to go out with you when he was finished with a report to Laswell, “Images that have no right living in that beautiful brain of yours.” 

“Why should you have to see them, then?” You muttered, gazing into his eyes with concern. He put so much on himself, “Don’t they make you sick?”

“Yeah, lie of the century, that is,” He had smiled stiffly, dragging you into his arms as you melt. Your hands wrap around his tapered waist, sighing, “But it’s the mission. Someone has to get their hands dirty. And I’d rather it always be me than anyone else – least of all you, Love. I’ll be ready to go in half an hour, copy?”

“Well,” Jess sighs, typing something on her computer, “Is the note the same as the last four times?”

You blink, and look down at the tiny paper you had been strangling in your grip. Black and red – just as always. Freezing you look at the letters and numbers written in that fountain-pen script. It takes you a moment of realization before it feels like a knife hits you in the heart, breaking open your ribcage and splaying the bones into the light. 

Your lungs chill over, air stagnant and unmoving so that your breaths are reduced to gasps. The pulse inside of you increases so suddenly that your feet stumble and your skin vibrates as your veins work overtime. 

The red script burns the exact address of your apartment building into your retina. 

“Call the police.” 

—

“Hello, this is Kate Laswell,” The voice over your phone wafts into the lifeless air of John’s home, and your skin crawls as it bounces off the walls. It felt wrong to you – taking refuge in John’s place without telling him first. But going back to your apartment wasn’t an option, “...Hello?”

With a start, you realized you had forgotten to reply. Placing a finger on the drawn curtains to the front window, you peak outside with tense shoulders, eyes roving the empty street.

“H-hi, Kate, I know this is probably stepping over a line, a big one, but I found your office number in John’s house,” You give your name tersely and clear your throat before stating you were the man’s girlfriend. Laswell stays silent, letting you explain yourself even if she was overwhelmingly confused. You appreciated that immensely. If she were to start asking you questions you might start crying, “but I would be really appreciative if you could tell him – if John’s even working with you on this deployment, that is, that I have to stay in his home for a few days… o-or a week…possibly.” 

It didn’t take an expert to know that you were shaken, your voice cutting out at the wrong times as the phone picks up the static of your constant movement and fidgeting. Your eyes follow a white car as it drives down the street outside, pupils small and eyebrows drawn in. You drop the fabric and take a step back, sucking in a deep breath. 

Focus.

A pause over the line makes your heart beat faster as you begin to go and pace the front hallway. There’s a paranoia in your blood that oozes out into the lines of the hardwood and around your socked feet as you zip back and forth. 

Kate utters your name over the phone slowly. She doesn't ask why you’re in John’s house or why you're staying there, just gets to the root of the problem, “...Are you alright? Do you want me to mention anything else to-”

“No!” You gasp out, waving your free hand in front of you, “No, I don’t want to make him distracted. I just…” Your voice trails off, air getting harder to suck into your lungs.

A gentle sigh flows out over the call, and the sound of a body shuffling closer to the landline. Feet sliding over the floor.

“What’s going on, Dear?” 

You stop pacing. 

Laswell was a good deal older than you, you knew, and the tone she was taking reminded you of a mother who was trying to console a child; particularly one who had just hit their head after falling to the ground. Smooth, calm, and with a kind insistence. It made your chest tighten as you swallowed down saliva in your closed throat. Your eyes sting.

“I-” You rub a hand up to your cheeks, feeling the heat enter your clammy palms as a glassiness coats the back of your eyelids. Before you knew it, everything comes spilling out in a spew of hiccupped breaths and tears, “Something’s been happening at work for a while and the police are involved,” You try to steady your voice, “But…but they can’t do much because there’s no imminent threat to my safety. Yeah, well, the problem is that this fucking freak knows my address and I didn’t know where else to go.” 

Your story jumps around, telling of the flowers and the notes. You take no linear path and instead you have to go back steps and explain that you didn’t even know who was doing this. By the time you had finished, you were sitting on the floor, knees drawn to your chest and sniffling. Your clothes were ruffled from you constantly flattening them down, wrinkles like veins visible in the fabric.

Kate coughs over the line as you come to a sobbing stop, trying to muffle your panic with a hand to your mouth as you tilt the phone down parallel to your chin. Tears drip from your face one by one.

“I’m sure John won’t mind you staying in his house,” Laswell speaks slowly, trying to ease your nerves and stop the panicked breathing over the call, “I’ll call my contacts in your local police force, alright? We’ll get someone on this; just take a breath for me, okay?” 

“Please, don’t tell John,” You gasp, wiping away the waterworks with your hand, “It’ll make him worry too much.”

“I think it’s a little too late for that.” 

—

John had gotten a text from Laswell just as he had finished taking off his gear, the small bleep from his phone distracting him from the straps of his leg holsters. He blinks, furrowing his dark brows and looking at the black device as it sits on the bench. The changing room lights fizzle for a moment, and the bear of a man spares them a grunt. 

The Captain’s athletic shirt is neatly folded under the phone, the fabric creased and drowned with sweat and dirt. He walks over with only his cargo pants on, liking the way the chilled air felt on his flushed skin as the adrenaline from the latest step in the mission wore off. 

AC, he decided, was one of man's greatest inventions. His dog tags clink over each other around his neck as a trail of sweat dripped down his abs.

John’s fingers snatch the phone, one hand going to unbuckle his belt so he can take a shower and wash all the grime from his body. The lights bounce off his physique, biceps becoming more prominent as he brings the phone up, but before he looks at the screen the back of his hand travels to his forehead. He takes a moment to wipe at his slick skin before sighing and itching at his hairline. Bringing the phone down, John looks at the screen absentmindedly, preoccupied with the thoughts of warm water to ease his aches and the forming bruises over his skin. 

Laswell: “Get to my office. ASAP. It’s about your girl.”

John stops, his pants only held up by his tense hips; his free hand at the front zipper about to send the slider down the tiny metal teeth. He utters your name with a grunt of breath, eyebrows furrowing as a concerned frown overtakes his face. 

It takes half a moment for him to shuck his pants back up and grab his nasty shirt from the bench. John shoves his feet into his mud-slick boots without a second thought; he doesn't tie the laces, instead, he shoves them into the sides. Sending a reply with one hand, he’s rushing out the door in under fifteen seconds, heart taking off like a plane and pulse being re-set alight. His jaw clenches and his tags bounce as he thunders onwards. 

Price: “On my way.” 

His feet hammer the floor, sending small shockwaves over the ground as the man rampages on. John sprints past room after room and runs down multiple hallways before finally getting to where he needs to be with stiff limbs. He grasps the side of the open doorway with a heavy hand and all but swings himself into the next hallway before he skids to a stop at the first door on the right. An all-encompassing grip is slammed onto the metal handle, and he mercilessly twists before opening it with his other hand on the woodgrain; his shoulder ready to ram the barrier open if it happened to be locked. 

It wouldn’t have been, but John’s mind isn’t thinking straight. In his head, all he can do is come up with the worst possibilities. You, dead back in London, or severely injured due to a freak accident, maybe on life support with no hope of waking back up. There were too many options – John had simply seen too much, he knows that if the worst could happen, it will. But fuck nothing was ever meant to happen to you. Not you. Anyone but you.

You were supposed to be safe – always.

The Captain doesn’t bother to knock before the door is swung to the side. Your voice is the first thing that John hears, high-pitched and strained as you sob into the landline on Kate’s desk. Papers had once scattered the woman’s workspace, but all are pushed to the side as Laswell’s hands are clenched on the metal top; full attention on the hysterical lady a world away. 

Kate snaps her hardened eyes up to John watching as his chest heaves before bringing a finger to her lips. Her expression twists into a frown. 

Clenching his jaw, John feels his heart sputter at the sounds from the landline – what were you saying? His ears strain as he pushes the door closed with a muffled click, feet unconsciously carrying him to your voice like you were in the room with him. He wishes you were. John stops by the edge of the desk, hands clenching and unclenching at his sides before he crosses them over his chest; fingers digging into the meat of his arms. 

His feet shuffle and he picks up the sniffled words of ‘don’t know him’ and ‘figured out where I live.’ 

Laswell sends him a glance as John’s eyes widen, beginning to paint a picture for himself of what was going on. A heated rage flies through his bloodstream, lips pulling back in a snarl, but he stayed silent so he could let you speak.

Has her address? Where is she now?! 

“I’m sure John won’t mind you staying at his house,” Kate mutters calmly, slowly, and John is thankful that the woman was who you had decided to call – even if he felt bad that you didn’t think you could get in contact with him directly for something like this. 

I told her not to, He lays his hands on the table, leaning closer to the landline, and takes a deep calming breath to help his head from exploding, Bloody hell, I made her feel like she shouldn’t. 

John’s face steadily gains a red sheen of self-hatred under his beard and over his cheeks. He would have made time for you – found a secure line and waited for you to call. So why hadn’t he done that yet? He should have checked in.

The man brings a hand to his face, running it over his beard and pulling at the strands. There was just so much going on with the Task Force that it must have slipped his mind. Laswell continues from her seat at the desk chair, not oblivious to John’s state.

“I’ll call my contacts in your local police force, alright? We’ll get someone on this; just take a breath for me, okay?” John hears your static-filled voice let out a muffled whimper and he suppresses a flinch, breath getting caught in his throat. He never wants you to make a fearful noise like that again.

“Please, don’t tell John,” You gasp out and the two in the office pause – John becomes as still as a statue, his face pained and eyes widening – they hear you wiping away tears with a ruffle of fabric, “It’ll make him worry too much.”

Against his better judgment, the man lets a small, emotionless, quirk of his lips grace the tense atmosphere. 

She’s the one being stalked and she’s concerned about me worrying about her? Damn this woman. If only she knew how much I actually think about her when I’m away, regardless. I couldn’t not think about her well-being if I tried – halfway around the world and I can’t get it together.

“I think it’s a little too late for that,” Laswell speaks after a moment. John hears you suck in a quick breath and he takes a deep intake of air in turn, filling his chest and trying to ignore the scent of his own stench. God, he really needed a shower, but warm water was nowhere in the vicinity of what he was thinking about right now. Not anymore. 

You took precedent. Always.

“...John?” Your voice wavers out, thin and cautious. 

“I’m right here, Doll,” The Captain utters, speaking softly as Laswell grabs her personal phone from the top drawer of the desk and slinks away – going to make that call to her contact no doubt. She sends him a close-lipped smile, nods to the exit, and walks out of the room. John tilts his head in her direction as the door closes, “I heard the last half, alright? Don’t you worry about a thing, it’ll all be sorted. Stay at my place long as you need and don’t worry ‘bout making a mess,” He nods his head even if you can’t see him, body wanting to hold you to his chest, “Even have your favorite snacks in the pantry for you, Love. Stocked up a few months ago just in case you ended up staying over…lucky guess on my part, yeah?”

“The chocolate ones?” You snort wetly, and John smiles in contentment at the noise of your slowing breath. Hearing you calm down was making his own pulse return to normal. You were okay – for now at least – and that was enough to make the tension in the man’s shoulders subside; the clenching of his fists on the table loosen. But there was a special section of his heart that held the knowledge that someone had made you fearful for your life – left you crying and desperate to have protection from the unknown. And here John was, not able to even press a kiss to your head. He can’t help the sliver of self-resentment at the thought, “But I…I thought you hated those?”

“Hm,” John grunts, conceding just for you. He tries to push his anger aside and force out his teasing comment, just focus on her, “The bloody things grew on me. How can I hate something you love so much? Especially when you’re making fun of me for not liken’ ‘em.”

A content silence falls, with your body shuffling occasionally as your try and find your bearings again. The man knows your mind will come back to you if you just focus on him; just like his own would. John’s lips fall into a line. 

“Darling,” He whispers, but knows you can hear him by how you make a small noise in the back of your throat, “I need to ask you, how long has this been going on?”

John's ears pick up a sigh, “A little more than a month,” The Captain’s eyes close, head slightly turning down into his chest as his fingers drum the desktop, “I just…I thought it was you at first - even if It felt a little off, you understand? Then the most recent note had my apartment address on it and I-I panicked. I didn’t know where else to go except to your house. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize for that,” John firmly states, eyes flaring as he moves to sit in Laswell’s chair. A slight creak echoed out as he puts his weight on it, leaning forward intently, “Never apologize – this is some pathetic Muppet’s fault and will never, for one moment, be yours…Now, you stay at my home and lay low for a while. Did they give you time off from work? If not, I’ll send a call to your boss and–”

“You can’t just do that!” Your voice is coated with amusement, light laughter playing off your lips as you interrupt his methodical and soldier-like rant. John stifles a deep chuckle, closing his eyes and listening, “I already took a week off, I promise. I was just planning on staying here and letting things cool down...Just wanted to let you know first.” 

 John’s lips release a hum before he runs a hand over his beard and scratches the skin under the bristles. Dirt and flecks of ash fall to the floor, but he doesn’t notice.

“I’ll see if I can’t finish up here within the next few weeks. Come back to London early and help you figure all of this out. Look into it myself if I have to.” 

“You don’t have to do that, John. I know your work is important.” 

“You’re important, Love,” The man teases, “The Op. over here has run dry, the leads have gone for the moment and there’s no reason for Laswell to keep us here cleaning the empty rooms; I know for a fact I’m able to make sure you’re safe far better than anyone else back home. I can be back soon,” He growls, and his accent becomes thicker as he continues on in the ‘Captain Voice’ you had grown to love, “I’ll bloody make sure of it.” 

“How have things been, by the way?” You ask, steering the conversation away from you, worried about how his efforts had affected him. He sounded tired, “Everyone’s alright? No new injuries, I hope. I don’t know if I can deal with you coming back and having another gunshot wound right now – you know how I get when I’m doting over you.” 

“Hm,” John huffs, amused. He remembers how, when he had come back once with a shot to the thigh, you had practically restrained him to the bed as you ran around like a chicken with its head cut off. You had cooked, cleaned, and even helped him into the bath as his humongous body had towered over you. But it wasn’t like he was complaining about the last one, “Nothing to twist your hair over.”

“Promise?”

“I promise. Only scrapes and bruises on my part. Should’ve seen the other guy.” 

Laswell enters the room silently as you giggle, heels not making a sound as she lowers her personal phone from her ear and closes the door behind her, “My contact is en route to your house, John. He’s going to check in and get a statement. With any luck, she’ll get a security detail to bring her to and from wherever she needs to go.” 

“You hear that, Love?” John shifts his narrowed eyes to the landline after nodding. 

“Yup,” You muttered, spirits now higher and the waver in your voice noticeably gone. There was no doubt that over the line you were calmer than you had been in probably over a month. John just had that effect on you, “I really can’t thank you enough, Laswell. And I’m so sorry for invading your privacy by calling you like that.”

“There’s no need to apologize. Anyone important to John is just as important to everyone over here. We take care of our own…The man that’s going to be coming to your door is named Mahdi Karim – black hair, tanned skin, and a cut just above his right eyebrow. Should be in a police uniform.” 

“I’ll be on the lookout. Thank you, Kate. Truly. If you ever find yourself in London, I make a great casserole – just ask John. My door’ll be open.”

Laswell smiles softly, wrinkles disappearing for a brief second, and John can’t stop the wave of love that sweeps his gaze. He stops a lovesick sigh just before it enters the air. 

“Be safe,” Kate tells you, “I’m sure John will be in touch with you soon and I’ll be sure to have a secure line ready to go.” Laswell nods before turning to John, “You were needed in building five for a debrief fifteen minutes ago. Gaz has been asking around for you…sorry, but you’ll have to make the goodbye quick.” 

John looks away, jerking his head into a firm nod and groaning out, “Affirm. Tell the Sergeant that I’ll be there in a minute for me, yeah?” 

“On it.”

“I’m sure Gaz is ripping the place apart for you, Love,” You laugh, and John’s eyes snap to the landline to give his attention back to you. Like a wave in an ocean, “Don’t keep him waiting. From what you tell me the boy can get into a startling degree of trouble when you’re not with him…something about falling out of a helicopter?” 

John feels his chest jerk with chuckles. What did he do to deserve you? Someone who could make him forget about the aches in his shoulder muscles from the stock of his M13 – forget about the layers of sweat, blood, and dirt seeping into his pores; death lives on him like a second skin. But, strangely, you either didn’t notice or didn’t care. That was the part that struck John every time you barreled into his chest when he came home – you stayed by his side so adamantly; waited every time he left and was over the moon when he returned. 

You love him, and he doesn’t think he deserves it. But like the selfish man he is, he’ll keep you at his side as long as he’s able, and love you back just the same. You were one in a million. And the thought of someone reducing you to something other than a god-send – to a mere object someone could prey on was enough to reduce the Captain to a feral rage. 

If I ever get my hands on the prick that made her feel like this, he’s as good as dead. Mark my fucken’ words – he’s dead.

“I’ll call you tonight, Love, you alright with that?” John clears his throat, grunting as he stands from the desk chair, “Around 0900 your time?”

“That’s nine O’clock, yeah?” You continue not waiting for him to answer, “...How late is that for you?”

“Doesn’t matter. I’m still ‘gonna call.” 

You seemed to know that trying to sway him on this was pointless by the way you muffled an exasperated laugh, “Alright. Nine O’clock. I’ll answer.”

“You better,” John huffs, “Goodbye, Love. Talk to you soon.”

“Bye, John. Be safe – Love you.”

“Love you, too. Be safe for me.” He whispers, letting you hang up the phone instead of him. Kate and he stand in silence for a moment before John growls, eyes suddenly burning. It was like his only tie to being civil was severed after your presence – even as limited as it was through a call – disappeared, “I want whoever’s doing this put in cuffs before I’m back in London, Laswell, yeah? Otherwise, it’ll be someone else's bloody problem to pick up the pieces I leave behind of whatever bastard is responsible for this.”

—

Mahdi Karim was perhaps the only person in London that listened to you. He had told you in a soft tone as the both of you sat in John’s dark living room that he would work on the case you had brought forward personally – with the influence of Kate Laswell giving him all the jurisdiction he needed. 

You had briefly wondered how far Laswell’s hand reached into the inner working of the city’s police force but had decided it was probably better if you never figured that out. For just one American CIA agent – she sure knew how to play the game to her favor. 

“I’ll make sure to have another officer with you when you need to leave the house – Mrs. Talley – whenever you need to go somewhere she’ll be just a call away.” Mr. Karim had told you as you fiddled with your fingers in your lap, “And I’ll be at the station working on leads. Kate told me that you had handwritten notes?”

“Yeah,” You cleared your throat, nodding as you stare out the window; the street lights come on outside with an automatic timer. Your lips flattened, whispering out, “They’re all in my work bag.” 

God, you wished John was here. He would have held you to his chest with a firm hand on the back of your head; all-encompassing and steady as his heart beat directly over your ear with a steady thum-thump, thum-thump. John’s heart was always something of a comfort to you. When he was with you, staying the night, you wanted to keep your head on his chest and feel the melody of his pulse lull you into a slumber – like your own personal lullaby. 

It reminded you he was here; alive, and in turn, it kept you steady. His gentle kisses to your hairline were just another perk along with his fingers carding through your locks. Whenever he did that you swore you turned to mush, just like a cat letting out vibrating purrs. There were so many things that John Price did that could calm you down without even trying – the way he slow danced with you when you put his vinyl records on, his fascination with old movies to the point his eyes would light up when he explained them to you, and the press of his gargantuan body laying on top of you. 

That last thought brought a smile to your lips. He was always worried he would crush you.

“You sure, Love?” He would ask when you smiled smugly from your position lying on the couch, “I’d hate to have my girl suffocate because she asked me to lay on top of her. You trying to get me arrested?”

“John,” You had laughed, “I’ll tell you if I can’t breathe. I just want to feel you. It’s like a weighted blanket – just more you shaped! Come on,” You whine playfully, arms outstretched and making grabby hands, “Please?”

The man huffed, smirking before shaking his head and sending you a warm glance. He stalks over to come and lay on top of you, his thin shirt letting you memorize the press of his abs and pecks sliding over your body; the dig of his biceps over the small of your back as they circle behind you. John lay in between your legs, forcing them open and around his fitted thighs before your limbs slip down his legs. Your hand had gravitated to his soft brown locks, messing them up lovingly with a chuckle and a soft smile. The Captain’s head was tilted up, beard itching your neck as his grip over your waist lightly squeezed over your shirt. You stared down at him with that look on your face – the one you reserved only for John. 

Against better judgment, you feel a heat enter your body at the heavy press of his pelvis slotted perfectly into you. And the way he was staring up at you, his large nose just by your chin…

A cheeky smile filters over your boyfriend’s bearded face as you caress his forehead with your thumb. John’s eyes crinkle. 

“This what you had in mind, Doll?”

“Oh, don’t tell me you don’t enjoy this, Captain.” His eyes had sparked, narrowing as he paused a moment. 

A deep chuckle rattled against your body, and John tried to press you tighter into him; leaving you softly yelping in surprise, eyes widening, even though the glee stayed. The action was incredibly soft and left a deep yearning in your compressed lungs. As you sucked in small breaths, you found John’s dilated eyes watching you closely; like a deep blue river around a circular black rock. The gaze left a heat flowing to your face and neck – a pulsing in your lower body. You resisted the urge to roll your hips as your legs tighten around his own.

“Hm,” The man grunted, making your breath stutter for a moment. He felt it and smirked.

“Hm, what?” You ask breathlessly, John’s nose moving up your neck and tilting your head back. 

You open the skin to him readily; your skull falling back to the arm of the couch. Gasping, John’s lips pull apart, teeth grazing your pulse point before finding the one spot that makes you whimper. He lays open mouth kisses and swift nips, leaving the area red and pulsing causing your eyelids to flutter shut with pleasure. The heavy set of your boyfriend’s build makes the sparks that he leaves behind with his mouth increase tenfold. The man’s fingers dig into your waist, kneading the flesh.

You let out a breathless whimper as your hand trailed through his hair, pulling at the roots and leaving John grunting as they get messed up. Suddenly, with a sharp and confident bite to that perfect spot behind your ear, his hips lightly jump up into you; pelvis bones digging into the skin of your inner thighs as the fabric of your shorts hitch up. 

A breathly keen escapes your lips before you can bite onto your lips to stop it. Burning, your face moves closer to John’s as he licks the hickey he made and blows on it. You shiver as his lips pull in a smirk against your skin.

“This your plan all along, Pet? Get me to give you a good fuck?” John clicks his tongue, “Naughty girl. You know what you do to me – just had to bloody ask if you wanted me stretching you open.” 

His accent always became more pronounced when you both were horny; rutting against each other like animals. John sends another thrust up into you and your eyes roll back, eyelids snapping shut at the steadily growing feeling of wetness staining your panties. Fuck, you needed him – now.

“Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you. If you like me pressing into you so much, maybe I’ll take that cunt of yours right here, yeah? You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Fucken’ hell I think I enjoy this just as much as you do.”

“Please…” You sigh, gasping as John grabs your hips and starts to force you to move in tandem with him; fingers digging into your bare flesh. Fuck that felt good – all his weight on you as your breath was forced to puff out when his chest bore down on you with every orchestrated pump of his pelvis.

“Please, what? Use your words now…Hm,” He angles deeper, and your nails dig into his back, sliding under his shirt and attacking his skin, “Such a needy little thing, aren’t you? You’re trying so hard to get me in that cunt of yours, might have to hurry this up.”

“Please, C-captain.” Your face burns, words coming out muffled as his lips smash to yours and forces his tongue down your throat.

“...There’s a good fucken’ girl.” One of his large hands moves to your abdomen, just about big enough to span the entire area of your skin before traveling down slowly to enter your shorts. His callouses burn so perfectly.

Shaking your head, you realize Mr. Karim was waiting for you to give him the notes. Startling, you stand and send him an apologetic glance before rushing to the kitchen and grabbing your bag off the counter, rifling through it with a quick hand. 

Pulling out all of the black paper notes, you turn back to Karim and shuffle up to him, “Here.” 

Holding out the notes and trying not to look at them, the man takes them from you with a gentle pull. Mahdi gave you a pitying look.

“I’ll get these dusted for prints and try and see if we have any records of the handwriting in our database.” 

“Okay,” You mutter, nodding, “Do…you need me to come with?”

Mahdi shakes his head, hair moving around his head, “No. You’re free to stay here and get your bearings.” The man stands, his officer uniform’s badge glinting in the light from outside, “How about you order out? Get some food and take a nap, yeah? Leave the rest to me, Ma’am.” 

He makes his way over to the front door and you trail behind, flicking on the outside house light for him but leaving the interiors pointedly off.

“Stay safe. Lock the door after me, okay?” 

“Yeah,” You lock your fingers together in front of your stomach, “No problem. Drive carefully, Mr. Karim, and thank you for coming by.”

“Anytime you need something done and no one’s listening – come directly to me. Sleep tight.” With that, the officer opens the door and disappears, going to his car in the driveway. Closing the door immediately after his departure, you watch his vehicle take off into the dark night with a tight chest. 

Clicking the double locks and turning off the outside light, you suck in a deep breath before turning around and falling back to place your spine on the woodgrain. You slide to the floor, eyes turning glassy. 

Mahdi said to order out – not strain yourself. But you had no appetite, even if you hadn’t eaten lunch today. Your stomach was in twists, intestines clogged with bad thoughts and concern. Closing your eyes, you waited for John’s call tonight at nine, tension living like a weight over your shoulders and neck. 

You would have much preferred your boyfriend’s mass holding you down instead of this, but no matter how much you wished you knew he wasn’t coming back to you for a while. But you’re patient. You can wait. 

—

You still hadn’t gone back to work even after Jess had told you the flowers had stopped – about two and a half weeks later. The older woman had said over the phone that Don had come by the building to explain that no more requests for delivery were coming in, either. That had made you breathe a sigh of relief. 

Maybe this is coming to an end, You had thought while pulling John’s green comforter closer to your chin, fixing the position of the phone over your ear as Jess comments on the handsome officer that had come in and asked about you. 

You blinked, cocking a brow.

“I told him you were staying at your boyfriend's house – had to give him the street too – though I don’t know why he had to ask me, Dear. He seemed quite pushy too. Such a dreadful boy. It’s a good thing you found that John of yours, I–”

Your ears started ringing halfway through the word vomit, eyes stuck onto the ceiling as the whites show like snow in the corners of your orbs. The quivering of your lip was the only part of you that moved – frozen over with frost and piloting stiff limbs. The comforter was suddenly suffocating you. 

“Jess,” You calmly spit out, breath hitching as you interrupt. The woman pauses over the line, and she asks if you were alright. Ignoring her, your fingers turn numb, “Did he show you a badge?” 

“Why, yes, of course, he did – it was a silver…oh…oh my…”

Silence falls, a tense rope being tightened over your throat as you sit up slowly, pushing the covers off of you with a shaking hand.

“Police badges are gold.” Dropping the phone from your vibrating fingers onto the bed, you rush to the dresser, pulling on John’s gray sweatpants over your underwear and grabbing a stray t-shirt to sit on top of your thin tank top. Nearly tripping over your feet, you huff out uneven breaths as you hang up on a blabbering Jess, quickly finding Mahdi Karim’s contact information and slamming a finger onto the green call icon. 

It takes three rings before the man picks up, and hot adrenaline is lighting your nerves; telling you to run and hide. John’s scent – gunpowder, pine needles, and smoke – is ingrained in the clothes you wear and yet you can’t bring any comfort from it. Your bones weigh more than lead, one hand going to cover your mouth to stifle a ragged inhalation as Karim’s confused voice comes through the receiver. You jump into an explanation with a waving hand, and the man says he’ll be over himself in just fifteen minutes while another officer goes to your work to get a statement from Jess. 

He hangs up first.

Fifteen minutes, You think about calling John but don’t want to phone him on his flight. He had said he should be back today or tomorrow the last time you both had spoken – when he was boarding the C-17, the whirling of the large plane’s engines blocking out everything else besides his voice. Carrying yourself into the living room, you reach up and close all the curtains; double-check the door locks, and clutch your phone in your hand with white knuckles near your hip, I don’t even know how long this guy has had his head start on me. What if he’s already outside the door?

Licking your lips, your mind runs with scenarios – what if this deranged person broke down the door? Ripped the window off its frame and jumped in? Your eyes snapped to and fro as your feet shuffled back over the hardwood; trying to figure out if you should go wait for Mahdi somewhere not near the front of the house or stay to make sure no one suspicious was walking outside. 

You chose a middle ground, moving into the kitchen and pacing with your bare feet as the morning light streamed in from under the fabric barrier over the window. Fifteen minutes passed far too slowly. 

A knock sounded on the door, and you rushed to the entrance to sneak a look out the sidelight. Mahdi stood shuffling in his uniform, peering behind him and speaking into a radio on his vest with tight features. You open the door with a shaking grip and usher the man inside with fearful glances behind him. 

Mahdi takes a few steps inside, keeping the door open behind him and frantically grabbing you by the arm. His eyes are wild.

You yelp.

“We have to get you to a secure area – quickly.”

“B-but I–” You send a glance behind you, not entirely willing to leave John’s house and the familiar solace it brings. You only utter half a sentence, not even able to explain your hesitance, before a sound like a great boom echoes into the morning air. Some type of liquid splatters the side of your face, dripping down your forehead before falling off your chin and your eyes snap shut instinctually.

Only able to flinch with a slight yell, you turn back just in time to lock onto Mr. Karim’s face. Or lack thereof. 

Half of the man’s visage was gone – white skull visible to the naked eye as the eviscerated tendons of his jaw leave the orientation off; hanging off his face and only on the unmarred side. Mahdi’s brain matter was splattered over your face, and your eyes widen in horror at the realization that you can see what remains of the officer’s cerebrum in the now half-circle of his skull. His remaining eye was bulging like an egg – nearly popping out and bouncing on the floor.

All of this happened in only half a second – the gunshot, you getting bathed in perhaps more blood than you initially realized, and then the limp body of kind Mahdi Karim falling into you; dead. His weight hits your numb body, your eyes wide, and your mind a thousand miles away as your arms snap to steady him. Your phone falls to the floor, with a deep thump, and at this point, you don’t register the fact that the man’s dead in your arms until it’s too late.

His head hits your shoulder, and your ears twitch at the sound of a wet splat – something mushy hits the floor before you stumble a few steps backward. Baptized in blood. It coats you like a second skin. How could a human body hold so much blood?

“...Mahdi?” You whimper, ears ringing and body shaking so badly you feel the man slide off you. The corpse slams to the floor, vibrating the hardwood. 

Your hands are held outstretched, fingers clenching and unclenching in shock. You don’t notice the shadow running up to you before the man has you by the wrist. The phantom utters your name into the air just as you notice the neighbor across the street rush to her front window.

“I’ve got you. Don’t worry – I’ve got you.” 

Reality comes to you in the thin moments between the realization that Karim’s body was bleeding all over John’s foyer and the knowledge that you were being dragged outside. For everything that was going on, you can’t help that your first coherent thought is ‘John’s going to have to replace the hardwood. That’s so expensive…I’ll have to pitch in.’

When your heels get skinned on the hard concrete is the exact moment you felt a shred of sanity come back and weave its way into your brain. 

“What the fuck?!” Screaming, your arm jerks back, eyes borderline feral as the adrenaline finally prompted you to consciousness. Looking up as the stranger's grip only tightens to a painful degree you stifle an enraged wail.

The man was familiar to you – not in a ‘this is my friend I've known for years’ type of way but more of a ‘this is a man I’ve seen in passing’ you think to yourself. 

It was the waiter. 

The fucking waiter from the restaurant you and John had gone to for your first official date. He had heard you talking about your favorite flowers while he poured you wine…

But that was upwards of a year and a half ago. Your skin crawled, feeling violated in such a way you had never experienced before.

As you feel your heart bursting through your chest, you bring your opposite hand up and clench it; trying to land a sucker punch to the bastard's smug face as he stares at you with dark eyes. Your fist grazes his cheek, bearly causing a reaction. 

His other hand holds a revolver, glinting in the light.

Before your shock-filled brain can attempt to understand what's exactly going on, the Waiter’s gun raises as your nails scratch at his face, peeling back skin and leaving red lines behind. As the butt of the weapon slams into your temple, the last words you hear are uttered right next to your ear – foreign lips whispering the sentences and making you want to throw up. Maybe you do, but you can’t be sure at that moment.

“I’ll take care of you, Orchid. Better than John Price ever could. Steady now. I’ve got you.”

Hands drag you by the arms, and you hear the opening of a rusty car door before you’re thrown into the back seat. Images swirl in your vision, and blood makes your skin taunt with gore. 

Your last thoughts are of John’s blue eyes.

—

The first sensation you feel is the tight bindings over your wrists and ankles. They weren't rough – and you instantly knew the restrictions didn’t have the fibers belonging to hard rope. Keeping your eyes closed as the pulse in your head pounds to a degree that leaves your hands shaking, you strain your ears. The wooden chair keeping you up leaves your neck limp; chin compressed into your collarbone.

To your left, your ears twitch at a noise. Classical music wafts like wind off walls you choose not to open your eyes and see. But based on the echos the room is small – not large enough to allow the tune to carry far. Your feet shuffle, and in the process your knee slams into a hard object that leaves you clenching your jaw to stop a yelp of pain. 

The jolt causes a reverb of wood sliding over the floor. Lightly peaking an eye open your blurry vision lands on the tall table in front of you – the stain is patchy, with paint flecks living on the legs as you look down. A morbid curiosity flows through you, and your horrified gaze jumps from one object to another; your chest palpitating. 

Everything in this room was worn down, old, and ancient. A radio sits to your left on a nightstand with one duck-taped leg; the momentary static that overtakes the eerily playing tune shows that the device was having trouble receiving the channel. 

Where am I? You ask yourself, looking at the table with a set of dust-layered plates and utensils. Two wine glasses glint in a single overhead light attached to a roof that comes to a sloping stop. This looked like a dingy attic room – the type where the Christmas decorations were shoved away to rot for a whole year and where young children were terrified to enter. Sniffing as your hands experimentally clench, you catch the scent of rotting wood and water damage. 

“...What the…?” Your lips grunt out, shaking your head to dispel the fog as you notice the blue silk bindings keeping you tied to a white-painted wooden chair. No one else was in here except for you, “What is this?”

Jerking your arms, your mind runs over the obscure facts that John would drop – either calling attention to the true crime shows you would watch in your free time or simply because of his extensive service career. 

Most people who are abducted are killed within a short amount of time from when they’re taken…three out of five women who are in this situation are sexually assaulted, abused, or exploited, You pull more heavily at your binds, feeling one on your left leg loosen as you let out a wavering sigh of achievement, Only 0.1% of people are abducted by strangers.

“Fucking hell,” You whimper as a pulse from your blood-stained temple leaves you light-headed, “Add me into that percentage, I guess.” Your thoughts border on hysterical, sweat coating your hands as a humorless chuckle shakes from your throat. You have to bite your lip to shut yourself up from divulging into loud barks of laughter.

The silk digging into your skin holds, and you don’t dare make any more noise than you already are. Looking around frantically, your flickering eyes land on the twin forks on the table; tantalizingly out of reach and mocking you. 

“Oh, screw you,” Growling, you throw your head back and try and look behind you, straining your neck to a point you start restricting your airways – maybe there was something of use? 

Nothing. Just a window covered in newspaper and the faint glow of a setting sun. You hadn’t even thought of the time. How long had you been unconscious? The blood staining you from head to toe was all dried and made your clothes hard and stiff; the wound at your temple had stopped bleeding. You licked your lips and couldn’t stop the sting in your eyes. 

Hours had passed. Precious hours. 

John has to be back in London by now, You reason, hoping against hope, He knows I’m gone and’ll be on it in no time. I have to hold out until then. 

Gasping at your lack of air, you turn your head back around and cough into your shoulder raggedly; sucking down breaths. Black dots fly over your vision in squiggly patterns. 

In that moment of trying to get your lungs to understand you weren't dying, a sound had started up from below your feet in this decrepit house. At first, you hadn’t noticed it – the thumps so muffled your mind had mistaken them for your own skipping heartbeat, but then there was muttering. 

Someone was speaking to themselves downstairs. Your body froze; becoming so still that not even your hair moved with the shallow puffs from your nostrils. It was like your nerves had turned to stone, and your ears strained to hear. 

“...hope she likes it…worked so hard to make it perfect…” Footsteps bounce off the wood as your eyes stay locked onto the door directly across the room. It wasn’t long before the handle started to jiggle. 

Keeping a scream locked in your throat, John’s voice comes to you from between the racing of your mind. 

He had been telling you about how he was captured by Russian Special Forces on one of his Black Ops. – totally alone and unable to contact his team.

“But I had to play their game,” John had muttered into your hairline; laying gentle kisses as you caressed a long scar up his abdomen and right peck. He grumbled his appreciation, shivering as your nails raked through his chest hair, “Make them think I was giving them what they wanted until I could loosen the rope.”

“That sounds stressful,” You had murmured, pressing your lips to his raised skin and feeling his mustache nuzzle your forehead with a delicate scrape, “How did you manage it, Love?”

“Well, I had years of practice under my belt.” John’s eyebrow rose with a smirk, “But they also knew what to expect from me right off the bloody bat – I just had to surprise ‘em; to keep them on their high horse. A little white lie is better than a punch to the gut, eh?”

The door opens, and a plan already starts to form before it closes with the click of a lock.

“Orchid!” You flinch, your body throwing itself back into the chair as your head snaps to face the entrance. The Waiter’s head of blonde hair was greasy with a product – slicked back and trimmed. Red marks are traveling down his face from your nails.

He was handsome, tall in a lanky sort of way, and in a suit; holding a handful of blue Hydrangeas and white Orchids. Even looking at the flowers causes your stomach to roll; bile to fill the base of your throat and burn to be expelled. 

You decided at that instant that you never wanted to see any type of flower again for the rest of your life. 

“You look stunning, My Love!” The man exclaims, rushing into the small space; placing the flowers down on the table delicately, and grabbing you by the cheeks. 

You let a small sob, trying to move farther back but his fingers only dig deeper and threaten to break skin. Something flashes over his dark gaze, irritating perhaps, or pleasure from seeing you finally in front of him? You don’t like either option.

Play the game; buy time.

But could you play it correctly with all the raging blood pumping through your veins? Hot sweat slithering down your spine like a snake? Would John find you before something horrible happened? 

“What’s the matter?” The Waiter asks you, caressing your cheek with one of his thumbs, “I’m sure I didn’t hit you so hard you forgot me? Right?” 

“O-of course not.” You choke out, voice hoarse. If your chest was any tighter it would implode on itself. 

The Waiters eyes brighten. 

“But,” The light overhead sways, and a slight pattering over the window hints at a coming rainstorm, “I think I must have forgotten your name – my head hurts really bad.” Stifling a yell, the man’s head rears back in surprise.

“I’m so sorry,” He gasps, removing his hands and shuffling back a few steps. You move your wrists experimentally, but the silk was still tight over you, “I was just so concerned you might start screaming,” The bastard dares to laugh, a sultry bark of a sound – nothing like John’s deep grumble, “I’m Colby, there, now you must remember me.” 

Colby was speaking so normally it made you even more afraid of him, but you still made a smile flicker over your quivering lips.

“That’s right,” You say, “Colby. I remember.” 

He smiles with all teeth, but his eyes hold nothing inside of them; his dress shoes click over the floor as he shuffles to the opposite end of the table to the empty chair. Colby moves the plates and utensils. One is placed carefully in front of you and after a moment the position is fixed by his slender fingers like he had envisioned this moment millions of times over. 

“I’m making dinner downstairs – Honey Roasted Duck. One of your favorites. You told,” Colby grumbles, venom leaking into his tone. His digits tighten before they slam a fork down on your plate. Your legs jerk, knee once more slamming into the table leg and making you hiss in pain. Colby doesn’t notice, thankfully, “John Price when we met for the first time, but I always listened better than him. He’s never made you Honey Roasted Duck before.” 

“Yeah, I know.” You try and reason, body shaking violently; your leg starts to struggle as you attempt to loosen the already slack silk of your left leg, “But, uhm, how am I going to eat my favorite food if my hands are tied?” 

“I’m going to feed you myself. Don’t worry, my Love.” Colby looks up and shakes his head, locks flying. He sets the glasses down and takes a step back, looking at the scene with roving eyes. 

“Oh,” You swallow the saliva in your throat, “But I don’t want to be a burden. I just want to–”

“No!” Colby suddenly yells, eyes flashing and making you release a yelp in fear, “I’m going to help you – what don’t you understand about that?!” 

“Okay!” You appease, waving your hands up as far as their able. A panicked look crosses your face and your eyebrows draw in, “Okay, but c-could you at least loosen them a small bit, please – I promise you I want to stay with you but my arms are losing circulation. It’s hurting me, Colby.” 

Colby’s expression is hesitant, lips taking a downturn as the storm outside starts to pick up, the wind hitting the house and shaking the walls. Rain slaps the window like tiny bullets. 

You try not to think about Mahdi Karim – about his body laying in John’s foyer. But he had been so nice to you. Your head starts running, running over possibilities about the officer's life. What if he had a family? A spouse? Kids?

Fuck, Your throat tightens, and your nose scrunches right after. Tears burn the side of your vision and a slight sniffle enters the stale air. Everything becomes blurry in a vile vale of waterworks. The agony at your temple increases as you tilt your head up to the ceiling, don’t cry. 

“No, no, no, Orchid,” Colby pleads, “Don’t cry! I’m sorry it hurts but It’s for your own safety.” He rushes over grabbing onto your shoulders, digging his fingers into the meat of our skin over John’s bloodied shirt.

“Get the fuck off of me!” You scream, your voice echoing off the walls as you begin to struggle. You weren’t John. You couldn’t play this game, “You goddamn freak! You killed Mahdi! I’m-I’m covered in his blood!” 

A clammy hand snaps over your neck, restricting your airways. 

Your eyes bulge; body stiffening as your mouth gasps open like a fish. The grip is hard – firm – and you already mark the way your legs try and break out of the silk from under you in desperation. Your mid-section dances around, arms bounce, and hands splay.

Colby only stops when you feel your own saliva drip down the side of your mouth, and the struggle has left your body until dark dots nearly swallow you whole. 

His hands fall, and your head does as well. Wheezing and feeling the burning in your throat, above the ringing in your ears, you make out the man’s sobbing snarl.

“Why would you make me do that?! God, can’t you see I’m trying to make things work?! God this is all that John’s fault. He’s the one that got in the way!” He stomps out of the door, slamming it so loud that everything on the table either falls to its side or hits the floor. The click of a lock is heard a second later as you try and will away the burning in your lungs as lightning cracks outside.

Gasping and feeling your tears slap your sweatpants like a river, you whimper under your breath but find that speaking only makes your neck hurt ten times worse, “John.” 

You stay in that room for two days. No food. No water. Colby had all but disappeared except for his muttering from downstairs and his shuffling; the occasional shadow would stand in the hallway just behind your door. In all that time the storm hadn’t let up and from what you could tell there was a leak in the attic ceiling because the constant drip of water was sounding off from behind you.

Drip-drop, drip-drop, drip-drop. 

You don’t know when the idea first pops into your head – maybe it’s when Colby finally peaks inside on that second day near suppertime – but since seeing the broken pieces of the plate on the floor a grim silence had settled in your bones. 

Colby doesn’t linger and with a promise of coming to check in on you later and ‘make up’ the deep swelling bruises along your neck pulse. It felt like your entire throat was held under a knife that was slowly being rocked back and forth like a seesaw, peeling back the blackened skin until your tendons and nerves were open to the air. 

Swallowing a thick glob of saliva and mucus down your dry throat, your foot catches on one of the longer plate fragments which ends with a razor-sharp tip. You know the sharp edge bites into your flesh, piercing it as your toes angle it just right but silk was an easy fabric to rip if you got the right angle, and pain had now become secondary. 

Survival was all that mattered – not how, just that you made it out of this with your head screwed on. 

What would John think about all of this? You numbly wondered, hunger and thirst working their way through you as your foot tilts up, heel hitting the floor. With a tooth biting into your lip, you drag the fragment back and begin pinching it into the flesh of the front of your upper ankle – right where the top edge of the silk skins you. Struggling the last two days had given you nothing but weeping wrists and ankles; blisters that leak puss and stain the blue fabric a nasty yellow.

Sucking in a quick breath that leaves more tears gathering in your eye sockets, your lashes flutter over your cheeks just as you hear a small tear. You jerk your leg up, and the silk completely falls from you, ripped with the sound of a zipper playing like a melody in your ear.  

The plate piece clinks to the floor nearly soundlessly and the storm covers for you as a bewildered smile cracks your lips open. 

I did it! 

You look down, and with your free limb, you go to pull the knot on your other ankle, eventually just getting to a point where you pull so hard one of your toenails completely rips off. Not even noticing, your continue until the floor is pooling with your blood, nails having completely torn into the flesh of your restrained leg until, once more, the silk tears with a blue glint. 

Yes! 

Pushing yourself up, you stop yourself from passing out by focusing on the broken wine glass on the table, stumbling forward, and nearly falling right into the table in the process. A moment later your fingers are all cut to hell, having grasped the glass and moving the pieces in your hand until one the right size cuts your palm open. Panting like a dog and whimpering, you tilt your mangled hand and use the piece to cut away half of your remaining restraints. 

Just like that, You tell yourself, just like that. 

The chair clatters to the floor just as you free your last hand. 

Remaining frozen, stilled into shock, the house goes silent in an instant. No shuffling. No muttering. Stale air and a storm that rages outside. 

You take a breath…then two. 

Maybe he didn’t hear–!

Running footsteps are coming up the stairs. They slam into the wood, and an enraged shout spurs your leaking body into action. There was only one way out of the house from this level – one exit that Colby wouldn’t take even if you were stupid enough to. But what choice did you have? By the time the door was blasted off its hinges by a rampaging man with a revolver, your body was disappearing from the attic window – the one once covered by newspapers that you had spied the first time you woke up. The storm pounded, and for a moment you imagined you were a raindrop, falling from the clouds to hit the earth and shatter into a million invisible pieces. 

In essence that’s exactly what you did. You fell. You hit. You broke. 

But adrenaline is a powerful drug. 

As Colby stands awe-stricken in what remains of the window, not even able to aim his revolver. Your body jolts up from a three-story drop into a dead bush and peels out over the abandoned neighborhood; old houses falling apart and more broken down than the last. 

You pant and sob, knowing that many of your ribs were broken even if you had never experienced the sensation before, and push on with failing legs. Glass sticks from our skin like porcupine quills, leaving stains of gore behind you as our blood footprints are washed away by the rain. 

It’s completely dark out – not a single street light on or able to illuminate your flooded concrete path.

Slamming into the side of a house, you scream, knowing your arm shouldn't be hanging like that by your side but not there enough to care. Rain pelts your head, cleansing you of the blood and puss and everything else. 

Taking a confusing path through the alleyways and open backyards, your feet dig into the mushy grass until you zip around a corner. Running so fast and banking so suddenly you don’t have time to stop yourself before you’re slamming into a wall. The solid mass causes your body to reel back, a wet, strangled, gasp ripping from you. Your clothes only add to the weight of your limbs as you fall a weak outcry meeting the air. 

But before your body can slam into the ground a weight snaps to your wrist and a frantic voice meets the air. Not a wall, then.

“Holy fucken’ shit!” The masculine voice coated in surprise meets your ringing ears above the downpour, British in accent, “Ma’am?!” 

The world is blurry, but with your flickering eyes you can make out a dark face, a ball cap with the British flag embroidered on the front, and wide brown eyes set into a visage with light stubble. He wears gear that you had become familiar with – John wore something similar; a beige vest with packs and straps down his arms and legs. An M13 hangs over his chest, his other hand holding it steady by the side.

“Ma’am?! Are you alright?” The world snaps back into focus, a great snarl of wind ripping down the alleyway and ruffling your frame, “Can you tell me your name?”

Wait, You blinked sluggishly, Didn’t John show me a picture of his teammates? Why does this guy look familiar?

Your boyfriend had a single picture of him and all of his Task Force buddies put in his living room above the fireplace – when you had asked about who he worked with he had grabbed it and told you. It put you at ease to know that in the field he was surrounded by the impressive caliber that the sill image had shown. John had been all too happy to tell funny stories about incidents in the field; careful to leave all the bits that he didn’t want you to hear, out. 

“Kyle Garrick?” The words sound like nails on a chalkboard; eyes narrow on both sides, yours in fatigue and his in confusion. You shiver and shake before weakly trying to pull your hand away from him. His grip remains firm, but not enough to hurt. The soldier moves his gaze down your body, eyelids lifting. 

“Fuck.” After the exclamation, Kyle brings you into him, just as you feel your legs tremble and buckle. Collapsing into his chest and feeling your body press uncomfortably into his pouches as you let out a bleat in genuine agony that most would only hear in a movie. 

The man utters your name breathlessly into that air and you resist a sob that bubbles in your chest.

“Bloody hell, Sweetheart, you’re coming with me. I’ll get you out of here, just keep your eyes open a little longer.” Kyle’s arms travel down wrapping around the backs of your knees and lifting. You yell, eyes scrunching, as waves of heat travel down your spine, “I’ve got you.”

The sentiment was nice, and the man that John calls ‘Gaz’ is incredibly kind, but you don’t want his arms around you – you want your boyfriend’s. 

Where’s John?

Gaz huffs as he stares down at you, cataloging the bruises and cuts – the dislocated arm that hangs uselessly out of his hold. Your head is pressed into his neck, the Sergeant’s reliable body suddenly taking off at a quick pace through the alleyway, boots rushing over puddles and garbage with surety. 

Off farther down the street, enraged screaming echoes out and you force yourself deeper into Gaz’s grip. The man curses under his breath, taking a turn out into the road and booking it with his long legs. Over the pounding of his heart in your ear Kyle’s fingers dig into your clothes, keeping you tight against him. After a minute of jerkily bouncing in his hold, Gaz’s feet stomp up a set of old wooden stairs, causing your body to flinch up and down. He utters a soft apology and shoulders his way into an abandoned house.

The decaying door smacks the far wall as the man drags rainwater all the way into the front hallway.

“Ghost! We have a problem - A big one – where have the other two gone?” 

A voice wavers in from upstairs as Gaz sets you on your feet, guiding you by your shoulders to lean against the wall as he takes frantic glances outside. He shuts the door quickly; letting darkness once more descend in the sheltered area.

“What you mean ‘we have a problem?’” Gaz brings a flashlight from his front pouch, coming up to you and grabbing you lightly by the chin. 

“Careful, Love,” He mutters, clicking the light on, “I just need to shine this in your eyes, yeah? Won’t take more than a second.”

You swallow and send a small twitch of your lips in approval but even that hurts. Your eyes squint when the man finally angles the flashlight right in front of his face, moving it back and forth from one of your orbs to another. It makes your eyes water, but you can’t tell if that’s from the heavy realization of what’s happened to you or if the light only agitates the sensitive makeup of your optics. 

“Sergeant?” That same voice flows from upstairs, and footsteps suddenly thunder from above. The sound makes you flinch back, snapping your head away from the light and locking to the staircase at the far end of the hallway. Gaz clears his throat ahead of you.

“It’s just Ghost – a-a friend. He’s here to help you.” Your lips thin but you nod carefully. 

A hulk of a man comes down to the ground floor, clothed in the same attire as Gaz beside a half-skull mask that covers his face. Under the covering, a black sheet sits over his head. You can only see Ghost’s eyes – blue and numb. Much colder than John’s…like ice rather than a Blue Bird’s underbelly. 

He stops for a moment and the two of you lock eyes. Shuffling, you look away first, gaze flickering to the side as Gaz stands to his full height. 

“Bloody hell,” Ghost monotones, “That her, then?” 

“Get the Captain and Soap on the radio, I need to stop the bleeding,” Gaz barks, grabbing you around your shoulders and practically dragging your body into the adjacent room – the living room, “Tell them I got her and that we need Medical Evac!” He sets you down on the couch and kneels on the floor; digging through his equipment and sending quick glances from under his cap at your rapidly deteriorating state.

You never registered Kyle’s sentence – already the veil at the edges of your vision is taking over. Your pain had begun to dim. In your mind, you knew that was bad but couldn’t, at that moment, care. The glass still sticks out of you, your bones still broken and arm dislocated; feet bleeding and neck more black and blue than any other color, but the euphoric feeling in your brain was enough to block it all out. Mahdi Karim’s life, at that moment, had never ended and you don’t wear the evidence in streaks down your face or on John’s clothes. 

“Hey,” Gaz lightly taps your forehead with a finger, making your eyes refocus for a moment before they blur again, “Hey, now,” He attempts to smile, forcing out a chuckle, “Come on, keep those eyes at me. I know I don’t look like John but I don’t think I’m that bad to stare at.” 

A pressure is settled on your ribs, and with a sharp inhalation, you pull back as bile fills your mouth. 

“Easy,” Kyle whispers, pushing the rag he holds deeper into a long cut over your side that weeps crimson. You blink down at it – you had never even noticed. Had you gotten that in the fall? 

“Tell me about how you met John.” Your eyebrows furrow, body beginning to slump forward as your hands shake violently in your lap; the clothes over your skin sticking to you uncomfortably. 

“Library,” You slur, voice gravely. Oh, that hurt.

“A library?” Gaz presses his hand tighter, smirking up at you, “Well, can’t say I’m too surprised. I’ve seen the man go through five books in a single Op. over in Egypt. Never understood that, to be honest. I can’t focus on one for more than an hour.”

Weak amusement filters over your expression.

“Garrick,” Ghost’s voice sharply enters the room, his presence making itself known as it lightly jogs into the room, “Mark’s near the kitchen window; coming around clockwise.”

“Shit,” Gaz hisses, about to stand up before Ghost stops him.

“I’ve got the curtains, keep pressure and make sure she doesn’t pass out.”

“Affirm.” 

Ghost rushes across the room, grabbing the moth-eaten fabric that was swinging uselessly over the living room and snapping it shut. His hands hold his Grau 5.56 Assault Rifle firmly as he angles his body on the wall next to the window. 

Watching his eyes flicker, his gaze once more finds yours. Blinking, both of your orbs stay locked for a minute or two until he looks away, going back to guarding the window. His feet move, legs angling themselves onto a ready stance.

Clenching your eyes shut, your lips pull down – pins and needles making your skin itch. 

A shadow moves from outside, leaving a melting outline that slithers past like a serpent. 

“Where the fuck are they,” Gaz snarls under his breath. Adrenaline was making the man’s hands vibrate over your side, and your eyes were becoming heavier. The hypnotizing sound of the rain puts you into a trance.

Your body slips forward. 

“No!” The man ahead of you harshly whispers – grabbing the limp form of your frame and rearranging you until you were on your side, body lying on the couch. His hands quickly return to your still-bleeding wound, setting his shoulders so he can bear more weight down on you. 

Your lips release a small exhale of air that wheezes from you and the squelching of a blood-soaked rag makes your eyelids flutter and skin wrinkle. 

“Gaz get the woman’s bloody eyes open.”

“I’m trying! Come on, Love…please–!” 

Gunshots ring out from outside, yells growing out over the thunder and lighting – a static sound enters the living room. At this point, the only part of you working property was your ears; in the thin bits of reality you could make out voices that leave your ears twitching in familiarity. 

“--outside! We’re coming in…Cover us!”

“Copy!” Ghost yells, rushing away from the window to thunder his way to the front door. 

The echo of running feet from outside suddenly became closer and the sharp ring of “MacTavish – Go!” 

That voice was so familiar, but why couldn’t you place it? 

Multiple feet storm inside, thumping over the floorboards, one continuing down the hallway as Ghost and the other stay to shut the door and stand watch.

“Where the hell is she!?”

“Here!” Gaz calls and a groan exits you at the loud voice so close to your sensitive ears. A heavy body can be felt moving rather than heard as it rampages closer. A shadow moves behind your eyelids just as a strong bout of wind makes the house’s windows rattle. There’s a pause, and then a slow breath inhaled.

A deep voice, layered with grit and dipped in urgency.

“How bad is it, Sergeant?” Your body tenses and with a flickering eyelid, you force your consciousness to come back to you. Opening your eyes halfway, the blurriness only peels back enough for you to notice a looming figure broader and more built than Gaz – a wet bucket hat sitting on top of a beard-covered face. Concerned blue eyes bore into you as the man knees down. 

“John?” Your voice wavers, a strangled tormented type of imitation of normal speech. Gaz’s hand leaves your side and your boyfriend replaces it. Your entire abdomen had lost feeling. Was this a dream?

“Garrick, where’s the fucking Evac?” John hisses, wild eyes falling from one open wound to another. His body orients itself next to you, free hand coming to grip your cold cheek. You breathe out a sigh of relief, familiar scared fingers and calloused palms wiping away rain, blood, and tears.

John was in the state he always was when he was on missions and a teammate was struck down – he had to be. If he thought about you too hard, or the blood that stains his grip, he would put you in even more danger; lose his edge. He would panic.

“Ghost contacted them, Sir. They’re ten minutes out – police are fifteen.” 

“We need to move.” The conversation continues, but you space out every once and a while, at least until the hand on your cheek shakes your head. 

“Love, I’m going to move you,” Your eyes refuse to stay open as John calls your name getting increasingly louder, “...Shit...!” 

Gaz’s voice warbles from across the room, “The Mark’s still out there – you sure we should make a move? We don’t have eyes on him, Captain.”

“What else do you bloody suggest I do, then, Sergeant? Let my girl bleed out? Not on my fucken’ life. We’re making for the Humvee. Guns hot…I’m going to need you on my six.” 

Arms go to wrap around you, dragging you to a warm chest that you go to limply and without protest. 

“Stay with me,” John’s breath hits your cheeks and you feel his breath stutter, his panic growing as your body grows colder in his grip, “please, stay with me.” 

But the Captain was an experienced man – praying for a future event was worthless to him. He had to act for it. 

So the man tightens his hold, hiking you farther into his sheltering grip with a brief and shaky kiss on your forehead that leaves your nose wrinkling.

“Muppets,” John barks, looking up and stalking out of the living room, “we’re making a run for it. Gear up.” 

Your boyfriend doesn’t know if he’s carrying your dead body in his arms, but as Ghost opens the front door and rushes out with his weapon at the ready, John doesn’t stop to think. Soap takes up a stance near his side, sending concerned glances at your non-responsive form, and Gaz settles on taking the rear. 

The street is silent besides the rain, and the entire Task Force rushes out with snapping eyes and tight chests. It was a dead silence – one where the air is quivering with tension.

John looks once more down at your face, pulling to memory the panic he had felt when he found Mahdi Karim’s body in his foyer. He had entered his house, gun drawn, when he had noticed the front door was open; a specific type of agony he had never felt before constricting his throat. 

Of course, he had relationships before you, but never had he felt this strongly before – never felt this level of anger and hatred for someone who had caused harm. 

You were so vastly important to him that it made him sick to think of you dead before him. 

Grunting, John increases his pace over the ground, now sprinting in complete distress.

“I promised you we would watch that movie, Love,” He whispers, rainwater weighing down his hat, “Go for a walk down in Green Park so you could see the baby birds.” A wet laugh bursts from his chest and he plays off the tears in his eyes as he clenches his jaw. John doesn’t care about the rain, or your blood staining his vest, not even the water in his boots. All that matters is getting you back to the Humvee; getting you immediate medical attention and making sure that the son of a bitch that did this is–

A shot rings into the night and John lets out a strangled shout. Burning pain erupts from his right shoulder. He falls, but conscious of the precious cargo in his arms, the man twists his body to shield you as he connects with the ground; water flies around as he lands in a puddle. John’s breath is momentarily expelled from his lungs.

“Contact! Contact!” Gaz screams.

“Steaming bloody Jesus!” Soap yells out, moving into a circle of John and your’s bodies, “Captain’s been hit!”

“I’ve got him! Johnny, Gaz, flush ‘em out!” 

John groans, cursing under his breath and drawing your body closer to him. 

Keep her safe, He thinks as he blinks away black dots, get her back home. 

“Come on,” Ghost’s shielded visage appears above him, gripping him by the uninjured shoulder and forcing him up. More shots ring out over the night, but far off in the distance sirens start to breach the night, “Now, you want to explain to your bird when she’s awake why you’ll be off on leave for a bloody month, or am I going to have to do it?”

John clenches his jaw to stop the waves of pain. Ghost offers to take you from him, but he snarls, forcing himself to his feet as his blood splashes over his clothes.

“Fuck off, Lieutenant.”

—

The beeping was becoming too annoying to ignore, like a fly buzzing around your head. With a groan, your eyelids flutter and it takes a few minutes for you to open them fully. Squinting, the dim white lights meet you and a small breeze from an open window makes goosebumps ripple up your arms. 

You first notice the fuzziness around your body – strong pain meds making you loopy and floating. Twitching your fingers, the mattress under you shifts as you do; you test the mobility of your limbs with gentle movements, a rotation of your ankles, which are all heavily bandaged, and a rolling of your shoulders. All actions spark a numb shiver of caution. 

It would be unwise to move. 

Lifting your now re-set arm and tilting your head down, the tight bandages around your neck make you pause. 

John was there, Your eyes widen; body messing up the cover over your lower body. The beeping of medical machines suddenly increases as you strain yourself to sit up. Just as you do, a voice from across the room causes you to halt, veins freezing under your skin; your heart skips a beat before you recognize the voice a second later.

“I don’t know if that’s the best idea,” Gaz whispers, “I just got him to fall asleep, you know.” Blinking, your gaze goes to the window across the hospital room there the tall man leans near the glass. He smiles lightly, and bags take shape under his dark eyes, “I’m sure you know how stubborn he can be. Especially about you. I’ve never seen him so damn restless.” 

Your brow furrows, not trusting your voice to speak your confusion. Gaz points, and you follow his gaze to an uncomfortable-looking chair mere inches from your bed. 

It’s made of wood and a small blue cushion, a hard backing that you could see someone getting a stiff neck over. But you focus on the man sitting there instead of the dented frame – the slumped build in a hospital gown and an IV in the left hand that’s held down by two pieces of medical tape. John’s face and neck are slack, small eyes shut as his chest rumbles with soft snores that put your heart at ease like listening to a cat purr. His skin was illuminated by the gentle glow of a new morning, but under his eyes, there was the heavy burden of black and blue bags. 

Had no one gotten any sleep beside me? How long have I been out?

“He wouldn’t let the nurses force him out,” Gaz mutters, but you don’t move your wet gaze from John, “Nearly punched the bloody Doctor, too – Laswell had to sort it out, or else he would have been discharged. Decking a Civvy isn’t a good look for a Captain, now is it?” 

The man shakes his head, releasing a highly amused chuckle, and walks to your opposite bedside; grabbing a glass of water he taps your shoulder and causes you to turn forward. Unwilling to stop looking at the ethereal image of your sleeping boyfriend, you keep him in the sides of your vision as Gaz brings the glass to your lips. You’d be unable to hold it – the nearly inch-thick gauze over your hands and wrists was incredibly restrictive. 

You gulp down the liquid thankfully and tap on Kyle’s wrist when you’ve had enough. He pulls back and your wipe the droplets from your chin before you delicately smile at the man as thanks. 

Gaz nods, placing the glass back on the table.  

“...The staff had to just about rip him off of you. They said you had to go into surgery for your ribs and he ‘bout lost his head. But he had lost so much blood himself that it was easy enough for Soap to drag him away.” 

Lost blood? Your head snaps his way so hard you sway lightly. 

“Woah, careful, Love,” Gaz holds out a hand and hovers it above your arm, but looks sheepish and spares a silent glance to John when your boyfriend grumbles in his sleep, “Yeah,” He scratches the back of his neck, “Cap. took a bullet to the right shoulder.”

You turn and look at John more carefully, landing on the afflicted side and spying the extra bulkiness under his garment. 

What do you mean he took a bullet?! 

John shifts and your eyes widen in horror when he flinches in pain. His chin had hit his shoulder, forcing his eyes to flutter open in retaliation.

“Sergeant,” He grumbles, the huskiness of his voice making your cheeks heat, “I told you not to let me fall asleep.”

“Sorry, Sir,” Gaz smirks, taking a step back and sending you a wink, “Must have spaced out.”

“Hm.” John shifts, moving and running a hand over his face and down his beard, scratching at the wire hairs and stifling a yawn. Your heart is in your throat as he blinks his eyes. Blue so momentarily being glimpsed in between flickers of dark eyelashes. You briefly hear the sound of receding feet and the door closing.

The sting of tears makes itself known to you.

“Gaz?” Your boyfriend questions, face squinting, and body shaking in a stretch, “Where did you–” He sees you sitting up and stops, eyes locking onto your own with shock. 

Your head tilts and a slow smile creases your face, making tears dribble down your cheeks. John sucks in a quick breath, immediately trying to stand, but you hold out a hand – stopping him. 

Just calm down, You want to tell him, Everything’s alright. You’re hurt too.

“Doll,” He breathes, hand coming to grasp the side of your face and keeping you there with a relieved smile. It looks like a weight had been lifted from his body, “There you are…How are you feeling? If there’s any pain just say and I’ll go grab the nurse – she’ll fix you right up, yeah?” 

You want to tell him that you love him, but settle on kissing his palm instead, feeling the heat of his skin on your own and wanting nothing more than to disappear into his hold. You don’t want the nurse, you want a hug. 

John’s eyes weave over your bandaged temple, and he runs a thumb over it as if his touch could make it better. If you had your voice you would say it did. Silence reigns for a few long moments.

“I thought he killed you, Sweetheart,” He whispers, vulnerable as his eyebrows turn in, and your hand comes up to run through his locks; dragging him closer until his face is slotted into your neck. Your heart breaks as John’s beard presses into the gauze, “I heard the glass from the attic window break, just about scared me half to death, that did,” John had never admitted to being scared before – not even when he was captured by the Russians. The realization has your heart skipping beats, nose going to press into the side of his head, and stifle a sob in his hair. Your vision was blurry, but not from the fatigue, “I saw so much blood but I searched and searched. I couldn’t find you. Then when Gaz had you in the living room, pressing that bloody towel to your side…You were so lifeless that I didn’t…I didn’t know if–”

“John,” You force out through gritted teeth, “Stop.” 

He was shaking just as badly as you were. You were both quite the pair, it would seem. Your Captain pulls back and begins pressing kisses to any skin available to him – your forehead, cheeks, eyelids, and finally your lips. You revel in the feeling of his soft kiss, leaving you breathless as he pours himself completely into you. 

You don’t know if you had ever met anyone as perfect as John Price before, and you would be content if you never did again.

He pulls back when you both feel your hearts slow and you look at him, eyes sliding over his face until they land on his right shoulder with a glint of guilt. But he notices. He always does.

“None of that, now,” John whispers, placing his forehead on yours and swiping your tears away. His tall frame blocks everything beside him and he smells of gunpowder, pine needles, and smoke, “You are so incredibly brave, you know that? You’re absolutely bloody brilliant, you are…but everything’s been taken care of – just leave the heavy lifting to the others for a little while. The only thing you need to do is rest for me, Love, can you do that?”

Your brow teasingly raises even as your heart bursts at the praise.

“Please.” You smile and point to his chest, poking right into the middle and huffing.

Only if you do too. 

John grunts and a chuckle makes his body rattle in the way only his could, “Won’t find me fighting you on that.” He disconnects your foreheads. 

You haven’t been sleeping, You brush the bags under his eyes, watching his eyelashes flutter, Oh, John…when will you stop being so stubborn? Your body was fighting with you to drag itself back to the mattress – lay down, it seems to say, go to sleep and rest. 

John’s heavy presence is like a weighted blanket, and although you knew there was much to talk about – when you were able – he gave off waves of comforting heat that made your muscles loosen. You seemed to have the same effect on John because he lays all of his body against the bed frame breathing deeply. 

“Wanted to be awake when you came too,” He whispers, and you smile, nuzzling into his neck, “Didn’t want you to be scared.”

I never could be, You think, not when you’re here. 

Getting an idea, you pull back and shake John’s head from side to side with your hands to get him to watch you. The man grumbles, opening his eyes with mock annoyance.

“Yeah, Love?”

Your body moves, and John’s tired eyes widen, “What are you–!” 

Scooting to the far side of the bed, you only release one grunt of uncomfortableness when you have to place weight on your reset arm. Around your middle, you feel the telltale pull of stitches and stop sooner rather than later. You pat the empty side and send John a look. 

“Alright,” He groans, “Just stop moving around.” 

John’s large body barely fits in the bed, leading you to mold into his side and him to wrap his arm around your shoulders. Wanting to show your disapproval as John clenches his jaw in pain as he moves his right side to give you more room, you slap his chest. 

“What else do you want me to do, woman?” He looks down at you, raising a brow and laying his hand on your arm; running a thump up and down, “Let you fall off? This was your bloody idea.”

You roll your eyes at his grumble, moving your head to rest on his peck. Already your eyes were drooping once more, and John presses his lips into the top of your head. A sigh rises his chest.

“Sleep, Love.” He whispers, beard getting caught in your hair as a deep rumble enters his body, “You’ll never have to worry about that Muppet ever again. Made sure of it.” 

Smiling, you fall asleep to the sound of his heart and the feeling of his large hands creating patterns along your arm; not long after he follows, small puffs of breath from his snores moving your locks as the morning light enters the room. 

Gaz would return not fifteen minutes later with two trays of hospital food, Soap tailing after and talking to Ghost about what Laswell was going to do with Colby. The Manchester man only slides his eyes down to the Scot from over his lower-face covering and hums; scratching at his neck.

“Laswell? I’d be more cornered with what Price is going to do with the bloke. Bastard’s not going to be able to hide in his cell when the man gets discharged. Kate knows it too.” 

Gaz peaked his head into the room and paused spying two softly embraced individuals holding each other as if they would disappear when their eyes would open. Light pays off your forms, and John grumbles in his sleep before shifting even closer to you and letting out a sigh. He had never looked so peaceful. 

Gaz smirks before letting the door silently slip shut. He turns back to the pair with the trays raising as his shoulders shrug comedically.

“Sleeping.”

“What?” Soap raises a brow, crossing his arms over his chest, “Not ‘gonna wake ‘em up?”

“Do I look like I want to be eviscerated by a certain Captain, MacTavish? I’d quite like to keep my bloody neck, thank you.”

[minminbunny]

Stalker X Stalker AU - Posessive Coworker! Yang Jeongin/Naive Gender Neutral! Reader

*smut part - AFAB/AMAB

💕Drabble Masterlist

❤️Ultimate Masterlist

"Innie!" you giggled, wrapping your arms around him. Jeongin gave you a nonchalant pat on the back, even though his heart was racing within his chest. You beamed, "Guess what? I made candy over the weekend, would you like some?" you asked, biting your bottom lip. Jeongin nodded, "Sure," he said, internally waiting until you got to him when he saw you give out candy bags to the others. 

"Yay, here!" you said, giving him a full bag than the tiny packets you were giving out. Jeongin didn't realise the difference when he took it, the packaging was the same, sure it was a bit full but the others must have gotten the same. You gave him a big squeeze, "I'll head back to work. See you later," you beamed, skipping away from him with a contagious smile. 

Jeongin sighed, holding his chest, "Fuck, what am I going to do with them," he grumbled, hiding his face within his cubicle. You swayed your feet, drawing pretty hearts around his picture. You looked to your cubicle neighbor, "Hey, do you think Innie will ever like me?" you asked, hoping for support. "Well, he's the type to hate everyone. You might need to try a different approach," they said, ruffling your hair. 

You sulked, nodding your head, "You're right I'll think of something," you said, drawing out a little plan. Jeongin felt his eyes twitch when the coworker ruffled your hair, the pen broke in his hand as he tried not to lash out. He sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose, 'One day, I'll secure a damn collar around your neck' he thought, imagining his name etched on your pendent before he walked away. 

You gulped, standing in front of a old tarot shop, "Hello?" you asked, walking in. An old lady sat with her crystal ball, "Hello, deary. I heard you're looking for a love potion," she said, rubbing the crystal ball. You gasped, "How did you know?" you asked, naive enough to believe in such fabbles. 

The old lady chuckled, "I see and know all, darling. Now, this is the potion you seek. You must be the first one he sees after drinking it. Don't use more than half, or else he might turn into a feral beast," she warned, knowing the viagra content in the vial is quite high. You nodded your head, "No more than half, understood," you said, waiting for the price. 

The old lady smirked, "A vial like this is priceless, I'll charge you a discounted price," she said, giving you the number. You sulked when it was half your paycheck but for Jeongin you'd do anything, "Thank you," you said, leaving the shop. Jeongin stood behind the old lady, "Quite the scam you've built here," he said, twirling his knife. The old lady froze, "Wouldn't you like you future read, young man?" she asked, trying to avoid her fate.

Jeongin pursed his lips, "No, I can't let people like you take advantage of my little doll," he said, holding the knife across the old lady's throat. "Wait, wouldn't you like to know what they purchased?" she asked, hoping that would stall him. Jeongin tilted his head, "I could care less. They can buy whatever they want. I'm a gentleman to their purchase privacy," he said, slitting the old lady's throat before she could defend herself. 

Jeongin took your money and reported the crime anonymously to the police, he burned his clothes and vacuumed the floor. He then burned the contents of the vacuum and fled the scene. Jeongin sighed and slid your paycheck into your mailbox, "Seriously, a leash is needed," he grumbled, glaring at your room window.

You wore your prettiest outfit, and held your basket of cookies. After making all the normal cookies, you began to bake Jeongin's batch, you did as told pouring half when you suddenly flinched at a loud crackle of thunder. "Shit," you whispered, seeing the empty vial in your hand. You looked outside and saw no rain, "Stupid thunder," you whined, staring at the pink glittery liquid in the middle of your dry ingredients. 

You sighed before smirking, "I wouldn't mind seeing Innie as a feral beast. Maybe he'd turn into a werewolf and a have a big girthy cock," you giggled, stirring the ingredients together. You bit your bottom lip, hiding the special stash within your pocket while you looked for him. Jeongin sat by his cubicle, hoping that the money he placed in your mailbox didn't get stolen. 

You beamed when you saw him, "Innie, Innie. I made cookies, want some?" you asked, handing him his special batch. Jeongin gave you a subtle smile, and opened the bag, "Thank you," he said, taking a bite. The cookies were soft with a crunchy edge. Jeongin tasted a hint of chemicals but brushed it aside, thinking it's probably the glitter you used, "It's really good," he praised, biting into another cookie. 

You smiled, your eyes turned into crescents from smiling so hard, "Thank you, Innie," you said, waiting for the potion to kick in. You gulped, needing to be the first one that Jeongin sees. Jeongin furrowed his eyebrows, feeling his control slipping, "What?" he whispered, looking into your eyes for answers. "Is the love potion working?" you asked, seeing Jeongin hold his chest. 

Jeongin panted, feeling his cock throb under his slack, "Love potion?" he asked, groaning from the sheer sensitivity his body was in. You gulped, looking at him with a guilt and scared expression. Jeongin clenched his jaw, "Don't look at me like that; like you're afraid of me," he growled, gripping your wrist. You sniffled, tears ruining your mascara, "Are you mad?" you asked, hiccuping under his feral gaze. 

Jeongin buried his face into your tummy, "Everyone else left for lunch right?" he asked, his voice deep and husky. You nodded your head, guilt filling you up, "Today's the one hour break," you sniffled,  lips wobbling at the thought of upsetting Jeongin. "Good, good. One hour should be enough," he groaned, lifting you up.

NSFW BELOW CUT

AFAB

"Too fast!" You sobbed, clawing the desk for any form of leverage. Jeongin groaned, pounding your little cunt with a brutal pace. His hands bruising your precious skin as he fucked you in the meeting room. Your body laid pliant, taking as much as his rough thrusts as possible. He already came twice and he was still hot and throbbing within your cunt. "Hah, hah, hhgh," you hiccuped, covering your mouth to muffle your moans. 

Jeongin clenched his jaw and held your throat, "Let me hear you cry, darling. I wanted to take it slow with you but just had to be So. Fucking. Naive," he growled, thrusting harder with every word he grits. You sobbed under his thrusts, you cunt spasming from the constant pleasure buzzing through your body. Jeongin pushed his hair back and rolled his hips, "Look at you, doll. So messy, so dirty with cum," he chuckled, eyeing your makeup stained face and semen stained outfit. 

You sniffled, clenching around his cock, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry," you whimpered, wiping your tears. Jeongin kissed your palm, "You just couldn't help yourself, doll. You're so easy to influence," he grunted, thrusting his hips. You stared at him through your tears brimmed eyes, "Just wanted Innie to love me," you sobbed, heart squeezing at the confession. 

Jeongin held you close, his hips keeping their relentless pace, "Darling, I loved you from the beginning. Never once have I not love you," he rasped, nipping your ear. You sniffled, "Really?" you asked, pushing back with his thrusts. Jeongin chuckled, nosing your cheek, "Really, really," he said, kissing you softly. Your mind melted, his kisses contradicting his desperate thrusts. 

You arched your back, chest pressing against his as you creamed around his shaft. Jeongin hissed at the searing warmth coating his cock and came deep within your body. You gave him a few soft pecks, "Hehe," you giggled, nuzzling his shoulder. Jeongin raised an eyebrow, "What are you giggling for?" he asked, kissing your forehead. You hugged him close, "I'm just happy you're mine," you whispered, catching your breath. Jeongin chuckled, "Me too, doll. Now let's clean up as fast as we can before they come back from break, hm?" he said, kissing your nose.

AMAB

"Too fast!" You sobbed, clawing the desk for any form of leverage. Jeongin groaned, pounding your little rim with a brutal pace. His hands bruising your precious skin as he fucked you in the meeting room. Your body laid pliant, taking as much as his rough thrusts as possible. He already came twice and he was still hot and throbbing within your hole. "Hah, hah, hhgh," you hiccuped, covering your mouth to muffle your moans. 

Jeongin clenched his jaw and held your throat, "Let me hear you cry, darling. I wanted to take it slow with you but just had to be So. Fucking. Naive," he growled, thrusting harder with every word he grits. You sobbed under his thrusts, you hole spasming from the constant pleasure buzzing through your body. Jeongin pushed his hair back and rolled his hips, "Look at you, doll. So messy, so dirty with cum," he chuckled, eyeing your makeup stained face and semen stained outfit. 

You sniffled, clenching around his cock, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry," you whimpered, wiping your tears. Jeongin kissed your palm, "You just couldn't help yourself, doll. You're so easy to influence," he grunted, thrusting his hips. You stared at him through your tears brimmed eyes, "Just wanted Innie to love me," you sobbed, heart squeezing at the confession. 

Jeongin held you close, his hips keeping their relentless pace, "Darling, I loved you from the beginning. Never once have I not love you," he rasped, nipping your ear. You sniffled, "Really?" you asked, pushing back with his thrusts. Jeongin chuckled, nosing your cheek, "Really, really," he said, kissing you softly. Your mind melted, his kisses contradicting his desperate thrusts. 

You arched your back, chest pressing against his as you creamed between your torsos’. Jeongin hissed at the searing grip engulfing his cock and came deep within your body. You gave him a few soft pecks, "Hehe," you giggled, nuzzling his shoulder. Jeongin raised an eyebrow, "What are you giggling for?" he asked, kissing your forehead. You hugged him close, "I'm just happy you're mine," you whispered, catching your breath. Jeongin chuckled, "Me too, doll. Now let's clean up as fast as we can before they come back from break, hm?" he said, kissing your nose.

[moralesmilesanhour]

Hello!!! How are you? I’ve been a follower for the past few days and was wondering if I could request something.

I was hoping to request a fic or like give you a prompt for something for miles42 × femreader

So it goes like this- yk those super corny reads that are like the reader's pinning for miles and like sometimes miles finds them annoying but in a cute way but he don't know that her yk? So he's talking to his homeboys about her, talm about some how she's so "annoying, a nuisance" and guess who's behind the wall listening? The reader herself.

So this goes one of two ways- she either matches up there, confronts him. And she's like "flipping fine, if that's how you feel then lemme get out of ur way- you won't hear a peep from me" and she like just ignores him and he learns how he feels about her, sees how his life is so boring without her and all that- goes to apologize happy ending..

Option number 2: silent treatment. Like just slowly drifting away until he once again comes to the realization that he needs her and all that happy ending yay!

Feel free to do whatever you want with this but I'm thinking of sending the same request to other authors to see what they come up with cause everyone has a style k? And i just love studying them and reading them cause evervtime- no matter how similar the prompt is- they always manage to invoke different feelings with in me.

Anyway- have fun doing this- but remember you don't have to cause this is kinda too much and I'm sorry😓

"I want my pen back."

wc: >1,200 A/N: okay so i got a bit carried away...this is a long one. (yes I am using this as an excuse to try out the gradient thing) thank you anon for this fun request! i also rlly like ur reasoning behind it and i hope i was able to do this prompt some type of justice lol

The gel pen clattered to the ground.

“I got it,” you said, grinning at Miles. You squat to grab it before the boy can act to get it himself, and he sighs as you hand it to him.

“Thanks.”

Miles turned the pen every which way between his fingers.

You had gifted it to him on the first day of school, with that same expectant grin. The little cartoon dogs that surrounded the perimeter had begun to fade with use because – admittedly – it had actually turned out to be a good ass pen.

He’d thought initially that you were just being nice; maybe you were handing shit out to everyone because it was the first day, understandable. 

But then, it was highlighters (the erasable ones).

Pink sticky-notes on his locker, telling him to have a nice day with the ‘i’s dotted with hearts.

A new sketchbook for Secret Santa.

Miles’ pencil case had rapidly gotten bulkier, and when you rushed to grab a seat next to him during the one class without assigned seats, it finally clicked.

You were trying to get his attention. And he wasn’t sure what would happen if you got it.

“I like the new braids.”

He was snapped out of his thoughts, and turned to you.

“Huh?”

“The braids,” you laughed. “I like the pattern. Who did ‘em for you?”

A tiny smirk ghosted the boy’s lips.

“My mom. Just like the last time you asked me.”

He ran a hand instinctively over the meandering zig-zag pattern that his cornrows had been sectioned into. Miles looked at you from his periphery; you were still staring. 

“Bitch, just ask him out already!”

Your friend smacked the back of your shoulder as the two of you took your sweet time getting back to your lockers.

“Alright, today, I swear,” you said, hand over your heart for emphasis.

A beat of silence passes. “But what if he says no?” 

She groaned.

“Then he says no, and you can save your money. But say something, it’s getting embarrassing.”

Your friends’ encouragement landed you here, around the corner of a building where Miles and a gaggle of other boys from your homeroom were bursting into raucous laughter.

“Yo, why you ain’t bag her yet? She wants you bad,” one boy said.

Unsure if the ‘she’ in question was you, you stay where you are and keep listening.

“I dunno, she kinda annoying,”

Miles’ low voice makes your ears perk up.

“One day she gon’ run outta things to say about my hair, she has to!”

…Oh.

The buoyant feeling in your chest sinks as the group erupts into another laughing fit. If you asked him out now, you’d hear about it for the rest of the year.

Shoving your phone into your pocket, you turn back the way you came. 

Miles knew something was off when you sat down the next morning without a word. 

“You good?” he asked.

You glanced at him, then nodded before going back to playing with the beads in your hair. The excruciating silence stretched on for almost the entirety of class before it was broken again.

“Do you…wanna help me with my homework? I’ll really let you, this time.”

You raised an eyebrow.

“Morales, you got an ‘A’ in every class.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Your name’s on every bulletin board.”

“Damn,” the boy muttered to himself as his leg bounced under the desk.

Your beads clattered against your back as you rose from your seat. The bell had rung, finally. You didn’t even say ‘bye’.

Miles cracked open his locker. One of your sticky notes from last week had begun to un-stick and fluttered to the ground. There were no new ones. He bent to pick it up, noticing how neat and round your handwriting was on these compared to the way you wrote in class. The letters didn’t run together, like you were in a rush.

Neatly folding the note and sticking it in his pocket, Miles shut his locker to reveal your face. The boy nearly yelped in surprise.

“Where the hell did you come from? Scared the shit outta me,” he said with a grin.

“I want my pen back.”

Miles froze. 

“Which pen?”

You tilted your chin up towards the one he was currently gripping in his left hand. He looked down at it like a wad of cash.

“Oh.”

He couldn’t just not give the pen back to you…

…but he didn’t want to give it to you, either.

“What you need it for? Don’t you have, like, a whole store full of these?”

“Miles, I gotta get to class. I’m not playing,” you reached for Miles’ hand, but he raised it high above his head.

Instead of a smirk or mocking sneer, something like worry was etched onto the boy’s features. 

“Tell me what’s up witchu first.”

“What are you talking about? I’m about to be late, c’mon.”

“You ain’t said a word to me all day,” he dropped his hand momentarily. “Are you sick? Did I do something? What–hey!”

You had snatched the pen out of the boy’s hand when he wasn’t looking, throwing it into your bag.

“I thought that’s what you wanted.”

You turn to retreat down the hallway, but stop with a huff when Miles calls after you.

“Wait!”

“I’m waiting.”

“Come see me after school?”

You kicked an empty can down the sidewalk in front of Miles’ apartment.

“Make this quick, I gotta go study.”

He looks everywhere else to avoid meeting your eyes, looking for the right words.

“You didn’t answer me earlier,” Miles awkwardly shuffled his feet. “Are you mad at me?”

“...Yeah, kinda.”

“For what?”

You stop to think for a moment, crossing your arms. 

“For…for letting me hand you that pen, knowing you weren’t gonna give it back,” you began.

Miles’ brows furrowed in confusion. “That’s it?”

You shook your head profusely, “N-no, I’m not done. You let me buy you all that stuff, put all that dumb shit in your locker, whole time you don’t even like me–”

“You don’t know that,” Miles interrupted. Your head snapped up to look at him, and you paused.

“I don’t?”

Neither of you say anything for a moment, then Miles remembers the note in his pocket. He takes it out and shows it to you.

“These? Are cute as fuck,”

He searches for more words, ten continues, "A-and I use that sketchbook every day. That pen? It’s like, my favorite,” he laughs. “I got half a mind to steal it back from you.”

Miles watches you expectantly. Your arms are still crossed, but the corners of your lips quirk up in amusement.

“So you like getting free stuff.”

“No-! I…”

The boy’s arms had begun to flail around in frustration. You hold back a giggle, never having seen him squirm like this before. It’s a nice change of pace.

“Alright, listen. I like hearing you talk to me every morning, and…”

He trailed off. He had begun slightly bouncing on his toes.

“...I like you.”

At some point while watching Miles struggle to explain himself, the float-y feeling in your chest had come back. You tilted your head to the side, and smiled.

“Okay. What are you gonna do about it?”

The boy’s eyes lit up.

“Where do you wanna go?”

[sapphicantics]

Two Sides of the Same Coin | Chapter One

Pairing: Regina George x fem!reader

Summary: After a nobody destroys the Jocks and insults the Queen Bee without a care or an apology, you get catapulted to the top of the social food chain next to aforementioned Queen Bee, Regina George, who now has to learn to share the spotlight with North Shore’s new bad girl. | Or alternatively, your ‘don’t give a fuck’ attitude sucks you and Regina into each other’s worlds sending you down a path you never expected.

Chapter word count: 1.7k

Contents: vaping, underage drinking, mentions of weed, threats of violence, mentions of broken bones, shitty comebacks - I think that’s it, lemme know if I missed any

Note: Alright, I’m finally here with the first official chapter of Same Coin. Now I don’t know how often updates are gonna be for this fic but they will be coming, I’ve got so many ideas for it.

Intro - Chapter 2

— — — —

Menace is a bit of a crazy term to use to describe someone who sticks up for themself, but this is high school and everyone loves to exaggerate, especially boys with fragile egos who can’t stand the school knowing they got their asses kicked by a girl.

And when the girl is you — a girl who keeps to herself and minds her own fucking business like people should do any-fucking-way — oh, there’s bound to be countless descriptors thrown onto you to help rebuild their fragile masculinity.

Volatile, temperamental, crazy, psycho just to name a few.

You’re not sure how those are supposed to rebuild their masculinity, especially when you can just kick their asses and knock it right back down again. Despite those seemingly negative connotations that come with your new title, it does, admittedly, have a rather nice ring to it.

Anyways, nice ring or not, negative connotations or not, title or not, you’ve got far more important things to focus on instead.

Like why the fuck Charlie Hudson is in front of you right now.

It’s lunch and you’re under the bleachers with a strawberry flavored vape pen in hand. You take a hit and blow a cloud of smoke past your lips, raising a brow at him.

He doesn’t speak for a while probably assuming you’ll do so first, but you just take more hits from your vape and continue to stare at him. He approached you, he came over here to you, he’s interrupting your time so he must want something from you and he either tells you on his own or he doesn’t tell you at all. It makes no difference to you, but you’re definitely not gonna ask what he wants.

It’s only when you check your watch does he remember he’s on a time crunch and finally opens his mouth to speak. “I’m having a party tonight. I was thinking you could swing by for a bit.”

“Why would I do that?”

“Well, it’s gonna be a whole thing, you know?” No you don’t know, and that really doesn’t answer the question on why he’s inviting you or why he thinks you’d even want to go, but thankfully he continues. “Real big, real fun, real cool…” he reaches into his pocket, pulling his hand out and passing some cash over to you. “…really need someone to bring the Mary Jane.”

You tilt your head at him, looking between him and the cash before sliding your vape into your jacket pocket. You pluck the cash from his hands and flick through the stack. There’s a couple thousand dollars here — broken up into smaller bills because why not — a little over a thousand by your count, sixteen hundred to be exact, which is far more than you usually charge to supply a party, but if the rich boy wants to give you all his money then you’re not gonna stop him.

Perhaps, this might make you a thief to some, but really, what’s one more negative connotation added to your name?

You slip the cash in your pocket and nod. “I’ll be there at ten.”

He flashes you a smile as you walk past him and brush your shoulder against his. There’s no force behind it — okay there’s a little force behind it, not a lot though — but still he flinches at the pressure and you don’t miss the way he reaches up to rub at his shoulder out of your peripherals.

That reminds you that you need to make a few things clear. Well, one thing, specifically.

“Oh, and Charles?” He hates that name, thinks it makes him seem like an old man and what better way to ensure he knows you’re serious than calling him by his government. He seems to understand this as his eyes snap to yours and he tenses. “If North Shore wants a chance at making it to state this year, it’d be in your best interest to ensure your brother is on his best behavior tonight. Unless, of course, Lucas wants more broken bones. You got me?”

The bell rings behind you then, a seemingly ominous warning to the boy whose face is now alight with fear. You don’t bother waiting on a response, you know he’ll obey your wishes. You smirk and turn on your heels, disappearing into the school.

— — — —

You show up at 9:45.

Fifteen minutes before the agreed upon time, a rather gracious compromise in your opinion.

One you’re already starting to regret as you walk into the house.

The music is blasting so loud you can barely hear yourself think. The house stinks of sweat from the hundreds of people crowded around each other, dancing, singing, laughing, and making out.

Everyone is drunk — some way more wasted than others — but somehow they all seem to sense your presence and part for you like the Red Sea. Some of them even turn their heads to see if it’s really you before quickly looking away and whispering to their friends.

You roll your eyes at that and Charlie takes this moment to finally make his appearance, trudging his way out of the kitchen. He makes a detour once he spots you and after a quick greeting, he leads you out to the backyard. “You got the stuff?”

“What a stupid question,” you scoff. “You think I’d take your money and then show up to this party empty handed with this duffle just for fun?”

You shrug the bag off and place it on the ground between the two of you, unzipping it as you do so. Inside is a bunch of pre-rolled joints and plenty of bags of weed for those who prefer to use a bong. There’s some rolling papers in there so people can roll their own joints, but you’re pretty sure if anyone does rolls their own joints tonight they are not using the weed you bought — because they don’t trust you so they won’t trust the weed you bought, and also no one goes to a party without their own weed. On the off chance that they do use yours, however, the necessary supplies are there.

Charlie whistles at the haul, eyes wide, clearly not having expected this much from you, but that’s not really surprising.

“Damn, I knew you were a pothead but that’s pathetic even for you.”

It is surprising, however, that Charlie took time out of his day to summon an actual demon from hell to this party.

You say this out loud. On purpose. Because it’s your mouth and you’ll say whatever you want.

“What the fuck did you just say?”

You turn your head to see none other than the devil herself, Regina George, glaring at you.

“You fucking heard me, Regina. You’re a demon and you should go crawl back into whatever fiery pit of hell you came out of.”

“Yikes, someone’s feeling dramatic today. But if I left, who would teach you how to dress?”

You chuckle and shove your hands into your pants pockets. “Rather presumptuous of you to assume I would want fashion advice from someone who looks like a copy and paste Barbie doll.”

“Oh, sweetie, it’s adorable that you think your opinion matters-,”

You hold your hand up to stop any further comments and start talking over Regina, effectively cutting her off and shutting her up. “I’m so glad you said that because your opinion does not matter at all, not to me especially when I didn’t even ask, and acting like it does is only going to do you a disservice so I’m gonna go ahead and let you know - I don’t care and you can keep the rest of your shitty opinions to yourself.”

Regina scowls and steps into your personal space, pointing her finger at you, inches away from jabbing into your skin. She’s towering over you slightly and now that she’s so close, you have to tilt your head up to hold eye contact with her. “Listen here you little bitch-,”

For the second time in less than a minute, you cut Regina off, smirking at the little vein that bulges on her forehead. “No, I don’t think I will, actually.”

Regina is about to blow. You can see it in her eyes, in the way her shoulders are so tense, and if you can see it so can anyone else in the vicinity. You lean closer, lowering your voice to a whisper so only she can hear. “Be honest, are you just mad this shirt got to come out of the closet, and you didn’t?”

Regina’s hands are fast.

SMACK!

But so are yours.

You catch her wrist in your hand before her open palm can collide with your cheek, the sound echoing like a gunshot in the backyard. A hush falls around those outside and you feel dozens of eyes lock on the two of you.

Regina tries to pull her hand away and you tighten your grip in response - not enough to leave marks or to cause pain, just enough so she’s forced to stay where she is.

She glares at you, her eyes alight with fury and jaw tense. The air crackles with the intensity of her anger, and you can feel the heat of her rage radiating towards you. But there’s no backing down now.

“Enough, Regina!” you snap, your voice firm and unyielding. “This isn’t the time or place for this!”

Her eyes narrow, and for a moment, it seems like she might explode again. But you hold your ground, your own anger flaring to match hers.

“We’re not doing this,” you continue, your tone brooking no argument. “Not here, not now.”

She looks ready to argue, but you cut her off, stepping forward with a fierce determination. “Back off, Regina. We’ll settle this later.”

The tension hangs thick in the air, but she finally takes a step back and you release her, her jaw still clenched. Without waiting for her to respond, you turn on your heel and stride away, your heart pounding with the adrenaline of the confrontation.

You venture inside and slip into the kitchen, grabbing a beer. You down it in one go and grab another one for the road before leaving out the front door.

It’s gonna be a hell of a day tomorrow.

[gothamite-rambler]

"You have given me no reason to fear you," Stephanie said to her kidnappers calmly.

Stephanie Brown sat tied to a chair in a trio of kidnappers apartment. She was slightly afraid, but mostly aggravated she took Tim's advice on just being kidnapped and not fighting back when in civilian clothing. She could take these kidnappers down herself, but according to Tim it's better to be snatched. The kidnappers start up a recording on the leader's phone and he creeped closee to Stephanie. (I love the clip this was inspired by).

Kidnapper (Warren): All right, read this!

Warren held up a note book with a script for Stephanie to read.

Stephanie (squinting her eyes): Ma- Wow that handwriting.

Stephanie struggled to read what she could only describe as chicken scratch.

Stephanie: Ma, I have been abduct, I am fine-

Warren: Abducted.

Stephanie (dryly): It says abduct.

Warren: Just say abducted.

Stephanie (rolling her eyes): Ma, I have been 'abducted'. I am fine right now, but I may not be for loring.

She paused chuckling.

Stephanie (chuckling while continuing to read): I'm sorry, let's keep going-- If you do not pay the 'sun' of one million 'doolars'-

Warren (reading over the note): Wait a minute, wait a minute. Loring? The 'sun' of one million 'doolars'? What the-

Stephanie (mockingly): That's what it saaays.

Warren (pissed off): That's 'long' and the 'sum' of one million 'dollars'. You know what it means.

Stephanie (indignant): I don't know what it means. You told me to read this. That's what I'm doing.

Warren aimed the gun at her, but Stephanie crossed her legs not caring anymore due to the men's obvious ineptitude.

Warren: Just say what it means, okay?

He turned the notebook back to face her.

Stephanie (annoyed): I may not be for long if you do not pay the sum of one million dollars, you will never see me alive again these men mean 'businesses'.

Stephanie snort laughed.

Stephanie (jokingly): I'm so glad you got your child to write this. Where is the little tyke?

Warren shook with anger, reading the note again. He glared at the other kidnapper.

Warren: Kevin!

Joey (glacing at Kevin): I think he's pissed at the note.

Kevin toom a step back from Warren, holding his head down.

Stephanie (snide): It says 'businesses' that's what it says, you told me to read the note you never said to improv it.

Warren (lowering his gun and glaring at the sneering girl): Oh, improv! What are you Meryl -Fuckin- Streep? Okay, improv the note!

Stephanie (recrossing her leg and clearing her throat): Aye, Ma, these sexually frustrated degenerate losers mean (softer tone) business.

Warren (stammering and pissed off again): Don't- Don't- Don't improv it. Don't get smart.

Stephanie (with attitude): I'm sorry me passing english class in freaking home school ruined the flow of your crappily written note!

Warren: Fuckin- Joey give me a fuckin' pen!

Warren walked away, smacking Kevin on the back of his head. Joey passed him a pen. Stephanie kept her legs cross while whistling.

Warren (angrily whispering): Oh I was homeschooled, look at me. Fuckin' brat.

Stephanie: It's not whispering if I can hear you.

Warren went back over to Stephanie and showed her the new ransom note.

Warren (demanding): Read it.

Stephanie: Ma been kidnapped, send one million or I'm... Dead.

Warren presses the stop button for recording on his phone.

Warren (smirking): Perfect.

Stephanie (fake sweet voice): Good for you, your chicken scratch writing was so much easier to read. You write like a monkey with a typewriter but good for you.

Warren (shaking with anger): You're lucky we need this money.

Stephanie: Question, are you as bad in bed as you are at kidnapping?

Warren clenched his fists deciding it was better to walk away over unleashing his anger on the young woman. Stephanie kept her legs crossed knowing the kidnappers were about to deal with a born again catholic woman and one of her many batfam saving her.

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

Crystal listened to the audio that was sent to her from an unknown number enraged but also perplexed by one thing.

Crystal: The bleedin' nimrods din't have enough sense to edit this down? My lass sure knows how to give a tongue lashin' though. I'm proud of her. Well, time to call the rat bastard.

Crystal pulled out her phone and dialed Bruce Wayne's number. Without letting the man speak she interjected.

Crystal: Aye, me daughter got kidnapped and they're demandin' ransom. I work on a nurses salary, you're the Batman-

Bruce: Could you not fucking say that out loud. You're lucky I don't have you on speaker.

Crystal: And you're fecking lucky I'm not next to you with my slipper, who ya fecking think you're talkin' to!

Bruce (remembering who he's talking to): I'm-

Crystal: Nuh-uh, I'm talkin'! Either send them the money or send one of your many kids to save her. Oh and I am meetin' with ya later to discuss my daughter's pay. Yeah, we're bumpin' that up af'er this.

Bruce: I have no say in this at all, do I?

Crystal: Aye, I'll meet you at your manor in twenty minutes and we can get ready to save the child I trust you to protect but ya pissed me off.

Bruce: Okay.

Crystal: Okay, what?

Bruce (sighing): Okay... Crystal.

Crystal: Good boy.

With that she ended the call, grabbed her purse and keys, then left her apartment to save her daughter and give Bruce an earful.

[leurdhavemerky]

Hello,little goofy goober!I hope this ask finds you well!How about Viktor with a reader who is passionate about researching the worst of the worst of humanity in an effort to understand the world better and possibly help,who comes to him when it all gets too much,too heavy,too ugly just to remind herself of the beauty of the world as well?

Flame vs. Fissure

Summary: When her research becomes too taxing and troublesome, she wanders off to Viktor's favorite spot in hopes of finding comfort.

Contains: Reader x Viktor, hurt/comfort, light to mild angst, reader with she/her pronouns, fluff, LIGHT SPOILERS

A/N: The clocktower ledge referred to is the same place where Heimerdinger spoke to Viktor, where Viktor and Jayce chatted during the sunsets in act 3.

I think I formatted the dialogue right but, there is bound to be a mistake or two. Also, thank you to this asker I had so much fun!

Word Count: 825

Shimmer was being passed out to sickly fiends like candy. Broken glass littered the ground, puncturing her boots- and cutting those without. Every time (Y/N) had walked up to someone optimistically, pen and pad in hand, she was quickly brushed off. Or spat on. Or shoved. Most notably, called a "topside swindler" by a dealer.

Defeated and tired of being on her aching feet for hours, she trudges back to her office at the academy.

Her poor journal, being slammed onto the table that way. Nails dig into the leather cover, injecting it with heartache. She sinks into a chair, depressed.

The plan was to survey Zaunites. To better understand their struggles- mainly with the fissures. She was going to convince the council to set aside money for repair. So much of the Undercity's air pollution related sickness was the result of toxic gas leaking from those openings in the ground.

Now, without testimonials and evidence, the grant was slipping out of her fingers. More people would have to ruin their lungs and waste away for years to come. Nothing made (Y/N) feel more trapped than trying to help... only to be pushed away. It was miserable, seeing that much darkness in the world, and realizing her lighter is empty.

There was only one person who she could count on- who knew exactly how that felt.

When he wasn't slaving away in the lab, Viktor spent his sunsets out on the ledge towards the top of the clock tower. Its overgrown vines and worn charm were rare in the overly aestheticized city of progress.

Rhythmically shifting gears and cogs calmed Viktor's nerves. He found great comfort staring out into the expanse of Piltover.

The walk up to clock tower felt drawn out and tiring, like the oxygen had been sucked out of the atmosphere. The survey failed so, so terribly. The downright disturbing sights in the Undercity were still ruminating in the back of her mind.

Turning the corner, she sighs. She takes a soft step onto the ledge where Viktor stood, silently admiring the picturesque scene.

"Sorry- I didn't mean to interrupt your pondering," she states, breaking the silence.

He turns his neck to look at you, cat-like irises illuminated by the rays of the setting sun. A little smile cracks as he turns around.

"No worries, I was looking for someone to talk to."

"It's just- I'm having issues with getting the grant for fissure repair. It was embarrassing, how futile I felt."

"You've been surveying the Undercity all week, no?"

"I've tried," she whispers with a waver, "I just wasn't... welcomed."

He softens his gaze when he hears the strain in her voice.

"What went wrong, dove?" Viktor asks, stepping closer with concern.

A salty tear trickles down as her face contorts with anxiety. Her vision blurs and more water pours out, washing the rosy sunset from sight.

"It's all too heavy. I can't- I can't do this anymore. I spent months researching and begging," she whispers, choked up. "I just want the council to give the Undercity a chance." Her throat tightens as she looks down, avoiding Viktor's eyes.

He puts an end to it- tilting her chin back to him with a finger. Viktor wipes the glistening tears with his thumb, caressing her cheek with warm hands.

"Enough worrying. Come close to me dove," he speaks with a tender tone. Holding onto your waist with a gentleman's touch, his chest expands with a deep inhale. "This cycle of death and disease, it is not your fault," Viktor breathes, "you are simply trying your best. It is all you can do."

"That's the problem. I'm only able hold one candle, I can't light a whole city by myself," she whispers, sullen. Her hands find Viktor's shoulders as she sighs.

"You do not realize how bright your flame is, (Y/N)."

A silence hangs in the air as the sun begins hanging lower in the sky. She leans in and rests her head over Viktor's shoulder, The light pink hues have turned to deep oranges, and birds have soared back to their nests.

After the two give each other an, "I know, love" kind of gaze, they slowly pull away. Coming to the edge of the risky platform, they watch the rainbow light show nature has put on just for them until the stars poke through.

"The world is much more beautiful with your fire- your passion. It is too late to quit your research. The time is now," Viktor urges. He gestures out to Piltover's skyline, tracing along. Smokestacks from the Undercity rise higher.

The tears have subsided, only light stains on (Y/N)'s face as she feels the cool wind dry what's left. Her hair lifts slightly as a calming breeze blows through.

She says with determination, "I'll consult the council as soon as possible. I'm going to repair the fissures, even if I have to lay concrete myself."

[slyandelusive]

Roommate fate.

Summary: you find happiness in the form of your mothers intern. Tigris Snow x Whatnot!reader (Fabricia Whatnot’s daughter).

Fic note: I made Fabricia Whatnot act nicer towards Tigris in this than how she does in the actual book, also according to the thg wiki the currency in Panem in “panars” so that’s what I used when talking briefly about money in this. Speaking of money reader is completely unaware of the Snow’s financial situation but it’s hinted that Fabricia knows.

A/N: Posting this then legging it lmao💀🏃‍♀️ I had so much fun writing this but in the same breath it’s been years since I tried my hand at writing fics so yeah, I’m not claiming to be Shakespeare here haha. I have proof read this but sometimes mistakes slip through and if that happens here rest assured I’ll realise at some point, be consumed by embarrassment and then fix it. Hope you like this even if it’s just a little bit, mwah! <3

Also the bottom lace divider was made by @plutism :)

It was hot and humid and you could hear her breathing.

It’s three months to the day since your mothers intern, Tigris Snow, had moved into your family home. Your mother had told you about the plan for Tigris to move in as casually as ever while at dinner, you can still remember how the hot tomato soup felt stuck in your throat as you began to cough in surprise. You had no idea why your mother would offer such a thing to a Snow, your family was far from poor but with your mother gaining her riches after the dark days you were classed as new money, why would a Snow want anything to do with that?

Your mother said it was nothing to worry about, that it was to do with some stylist guidance thing but the last thing you wanted was for her to accidentally offend a Snow.

You didn’t know what to think when it came to Tigris but she turned out to be kind, kinder than you ever expected. You hadn’t known her too personally before she moved in, only ever seeing her trailing after your mother or sat at a desk in your mothers studio completely engrossed in whatever was in front of her, you were convinced you could tap dance around her when she was in that state and she wouldn’t even turn her head. The night your mother told you about this arrangement you went to bed thinking about every time you’d heard someone describing the Snows as uptight and cold, you’d recounted every story, every rumour in your head before you made yourself snap out of it, your final thought about Tigris before she moved in was that if anything, you had to at least give the girl a chance.

The first month with Tigris was coated with a sense of giddiness, each time either of you saw the other it was like you were first years at school again, eager to make friends, eager to be comfortable and eager to know everything about the other.

You were out when Tigris first arrived but your mother was there to greet her and told her to make herself at home. Tigris got as settled as she could in a room that wasn’t originally hers, when she entered she was met with two seemingly untouched beds, she poked around enough to find that the oak chest of drawers had two left empty for her and the wardrobe also had room made for her. She stood in the middle of the room slowly turning trying to get a feel for it, her eyes fell upon two desks, one covered in books, notes and pens and the other touched only by a lollipop and a fashion magazine, Tigris smiled hard as she picked up the sweet and flicked through the magazine, she’d like it quite nicely here.

Unbeknownst to Tigris she had set up camp in the bed that was already yours. You returned home in the afternoon and as you walked into your bedroom ready to greet your new roommate you tried not to falter too much as you saw her sat on your bed painting her nails, you decided to go with it not wanting to make her uncomfortable or embarrassed in a situation that was probably harder for her.

As you walked into your room that night ready to go to bed you were ever so slightly taken aback seeing Tigris asleep in the bed that was bought for her, as you walked up to your bed you found a not laying on your pillow,

“You should’ve said this bed was yours and I would’ve switched sooner! Thank you for not being mad about it.”

The note was written in pink ink and she’d drawn a smiley face and a little butterfly at the end of it. You’d find out the next morning your mother had mentioned in passing how you loved staring out of that window watching whatever the world was offering, she said she couldn’t believe you’d given it up and that was when Tigris realised it probably wasn’t intentional.

Her note had left your mind till a few days later when you found that it had fallen down by the side of your bed, you picked it up and slipped it in a small trinket box not realising Tigris was watching you and not seeing the grin that graced her lips when she saw that your were keeping it.

After creating a foundation of stability the pair of you spent the second month exchanging every silly secret you’d ever kept. If you were getting paid every time one of you whispered “hey, you still awake?” across the bedroom you’d be accused of stealing from the Cranes, Tigris and you would stay up till stupid hours in the morning, till you had to relight the candles, talking about anything and everything, you both had the matching eye bags to prove it.

You liked talking to Tigris, she spoke like how you’d imagine a swan would if they could talk, her voice was soft and elegant, she spoke so gently yet still with so much conviction it made your head feel fuzzy. She’d give you her full attention when you were talking too, sometimes she’d look at you so intensely it’d make you forget what you were talking about completely.

All of that lead you to now, the third month came and plagued your mind with thoughts of why is it so hard to figure out if a girl likes girls and why does straight up asking a girl if she does paint your intentions out so obviously. It’s currently June making nighttime the sticky type of hot where you feel like you have to peel the sheets off of you if you even dare to use them, you’d spent around an hour tossing and turning before admitting you weren’t getting sleep any time soon, you decided on going to get something to eat, you know just incase tiredness could come in form of snacks.

You tiptoed out of your bedroom, careful not to wake the lucky Tigris who appeared to be sleeping and began to make your way down to the kitchen, now stood at the counter pooling jam onto your plate and trying to figure out which cheese you wanted before allowing yourself to think deeper. Far too much was at stake here, if Tigris didn’t feel the same and was uncomfortable about it not only would you lose a friend but she might want to stay away from you completely meaning your mother would lose her intern. You sighed and once more let your thoughts be consumed by sweeter things as you started slicing a peach.

Your eyes were focused solely on your plate as you made your back up the stairs and into your room, opening the door slowly trying to minimise both the creaking noises and the chance of you dropping your plate. Once inside you made a beeline to your bed not caring to look anywhere else, you sat with your head resting against the wall as you stared out your window, looking to see which neighbours still had their lights on, at the skipping ropes left on the curb by kids and the slightly drunk man that had tripped over them.

You were mindlessly reaching for a peach slice, eyes still on the window making your movements look somewhat robotic when a voice startled you.

“You not gonna share?” Spoken out of nowhere your head banged off the wall slightly before you snapped it to the other side.

“Jesus Christ Tigris!” You exclaimed in a rushed whisper, a scream kept stuck in your throat.

“What? Surely your mother told you sharing is caring and how to properly treat a guest.” Tigris stated casually with a small grin adorning her face.

“You’re not funny Tig.” Shaking your head as you spoke but holding no true offence in your voice.

Tigris let out a stifled laugh and threw her head back. “Actually I’m very funny, I’m a very funny person that wants in on your picnic.” Grinning again as she manoeuvred her way down the bed closer to you.

You rolled your eyes but shuffled down your bed too, holding the plate out and letting her take her pick. Tigris pulled away with the apple you’d already bitten, a slice of buttered bread and a sugared shortbread biscuit, you swatted at her hand as she stuck two fingers in the pile of jam you made and laughed.

You fell back into your regular routine of talking, well whispering, about whatever came to mind. Had you heard about the new drama with the Plinth prize? That a bakery had started charging nine panars for just one pastry? Or what about that man that’d dyed his hair for different colours had you seen him!? You told her about the drunk man you saw earlier and your night carried on with mindless questions.

“Hey I heard Festus Creed asked you on a date and you turned him down what’s all that about?” The line of questioning took you off guard even though it was spoken like every one of Tigris’ previous questions.

You stuttered slightly before fidgeting with the ends of your blanket in front of you and answering. “Oh uhm nothing really he’s just not my type.”

“What too young?” Tigris’ tone was still casual but slightly teasing, looking you directly in the eye.

“Yeah that and I’m not all that into guys.” You pushed the sentence out of your mouth fast enough before your mind convinced you not to, that decision was made on a mix of lack of sleep and not wanting to lie to her.

“Oh.” Her voice was somehow softer and she gulped slightly before replying. Tigris’ face was painted with confusion like she was expecting you to say anything but that.

“Oh?” Your voice held a sense of urgency, you licked your bottom lip to stop yourself from biting at it.

“No no no that’s like really uhm cool.” Tigris sat up as fast as she was speaking, head nodding in tow.

You let out a small snicker before speaking “It’s cool?” Your eyebrows were scrunched and your mouth had turned up into a grin.

“Super cool.” Tigris spoke like she was a high biology professor stating a proven fact.

Your hushed laughter filled the room you nodded in a agreement “Super cool.”

“Exactly.” Tigris voiced, you’d never seen her smile like this before.

Silence fell over the pair of you once again, Tigris lay back down and your attention returned to you plate, you both took turns trying to sneak glances at each other and then try to hold back your laughter when one of you would catch the other.

You were almost done with smothering the last bit of jam onto your last piece of bread when Tigris spoke up again.

“So, is there a girl you have your eye on?” Tigris spoke slowly, testing the waters.

The question caught you off guard, not wanting to look like a fool but also not wanting to misinterpret what Tigris was talking about.

“Uh well I’ve heard Vipsania Sickle’s older sister is recently single.” You gulped slightly before speaking and returned your attention back to your jam after stopping.

“You’d go out with a Sickle girl!” Tigris somewhat exclaimed, voice still held to a whisper but her shock was evident. The lengths the pair of you would go to to not wake up your mother!

“Yeah why not, I heard her family has their own box at the theatre and I’ve always loved the ballet.” You nodded your head to left, motioning toward your desk that held a stack of old tickets.

Tigris was left to think and the silence resumed, you finished your last bit of bread and situated yourself back laying down in your bed, ready to give sleep another go. Around twenty minutes passed before the last interruption of the night came.

“Hey y/n.” Tigris spoke softly

“Yeah Tig.” You whispered back

“If things don’t take off with that Sickle girl, I’d love to take you out some time.” Tigris spoke again before you could reply. “You know cause we’re both super cool girls that like super cool girls.”

You laughed in response at first, a laugh that felt like summer, more like a happy giggle.

“Yeah I’d like that a lot Tig.” You thanked your lucky stars that there was enough street light gleaming into your room so you could see the way Tigris smiled and laughed too.

“You just run your plans past Sickle and I’ll be here waiting.” Tigris proclaimed with the teasing tone back in her voice, nodding her head and pointing her finger at you, you both knew you’d never speak to Vipsania’s sister for anything romantic again.

[aardvaark]

only murders in the building s3e8 spoilers ahead!

this is the best photo i could get of the strips of paper that have been pieced together so far. all we can see is:

"02/16/2023

mmence on

sion, and

until and

(line gap)

society,

performing

composer

however,

right to

where it"

now that’s… fairly vague, lol. not too much to be gathered, except that it relates to the play itself - words like "performing" and "composer" seem to show that. in other words, it’s probably not the autopsy report or someone’s diary. the first unfinished word is probably "commence". this makes it sound formal. again, unlikely to be a diary or a letter to a close friend or something.

so what could it be? personally, my current standing theory is that it’s Maxine’s review. i have a few reasons for this:

we know that Maxine has written a review. yes, she was originally writing by hand and her pen ran out of ink, but she mentions in episode 2 that it was some of her best writing which sounds like she had finished it later, plus it’s her job to write these reviews, im sure she must have finished it. and so there exists a "vitriolic" absolute pan of the play somewhere. one that we’ve never seen and which Maxine didn’t show to Oliver. maybe we can’t see it because it’s been shredded.

the language, from the small bits we can see, would make sense for a review. first she states when the play "commences" for its opening night. then she reviews the various elements of the play, such as the "performing" and notes things like who the "composer" is and whether they did a good job. the word "however" makes me think that the writer is giving some sort of a negative opinion there. which, you know, is what the review is.

Maxine is a character we were introduced to in the second episode but really haven’t explored. i don’t necessarily think she is the murderer; in fact, i can’t even think of a motive she’d have. but, i think they introduced her for a reason.

a scathing review could absolutely generate anger or violence in someone. imagine you’ve put your heart and soul into your performance or crew role for months, only to get insulted and for the show to be an utter failure. it could mean the end of your career or the loss of a lot of money.

but even if it is Maxine’s review, and even if someone was upset by it, why would that lead to Ben’s death? i do have a theory for that. it might not be the correct one, but it’s my best shot at the moment:

Cliff and Donna (the mother and son producer people) have repeatedly expressed that this play is high stakes for them. it’s Cliff’s producing debut and they need it to be perfect. the problem is, the show was far from perfect - something that they may have already realised to an extent, but which that pan confirmed. plus, a terrible review by a famous reviewer would lose them money and reputation. if one or both of them got their hands on Maxine’s review, it makes sense that they’d destroy it and want to put an end to the show in a way that can’t be blamed on them. an accidental death on stage - with the autopsy report altered to day there wasn’t any poison, and we know it was altered cause it was negative for meth - would solve their problem, as well as draw them a lot of press attention (any publicity is good publicity), and finally, would prevent the review from ever being published because no one would publish a scathing review of a recently deceased young man’s performance. i can imagine that the producers would have access to and knowledge about the set and theatre, which would allow for the spooky ghost stuff that seemed like more than a coincidence in "Ghost Light". they’d also have access to Ben’s room to plant the poison cookies (because c’mon, he was clearly talking to a plate of cookies in the dressing room video).

additionally, Donna’s speech to Loretta in the bathroom makes me suspect her more. and Loretta’s song, while clearly more about sacrificing herself for her own son in that moment, could double as meaning that Donna would kill for Cliff’s sake to protect his reputation in the industry. and as Loretta says, poisoning as a murder method tends to point to a woman murderer - this is actually true according to data on homicides. Donna is a woman, she would do anything for her son, the review would ruin his reputation in her mind, she poisons Ben to end the play.

then there’s Ben’s apologies in episode 1. to Cliff… well, he forgets Cliff’s name for one thing, and then he basically just says he’s sorry for being so annoying to them and complaining about his dressing room. then he continues to complain about his dressing room before moving on.

while Donna may have done the first murder, i don’t think she did the second. perhaps it was Cliff, pissed at his non-apology and wishing the man was dead for real. perhaps it was someone else entirely (probably a man since they haven’t had a male murderer so far and have even pointed that out).

but again, this is still a very loose theory based solely on the possibility that that document is the review. what else do y’all think it could be? or what else could have happened if it is indeed the review?

[fionnasbunnyhat]

Summary: You and Fionna meet for the first time

warning(s): Fluff, swearing, and i think that's it.

I was tired and really wanted a coffee to start my day, I haven't been here long so I didn't know which place would have good coffee. I saw a cute little old-looking shop 'the Beatrice Buttler's bakery' The big sign read. I decided that a cute shop like this and it's close to work? Perfect. I walked across the dead road and opened the door to a chime noise. I saw one other girl in the store, she had blonde hair that was messy put in a tie and a stressed look on her face. She was talking to the pink haired male that was working there. They both turned to face me and I saw the girls face, she was near my age I know that for sure. "Hi, sorry are you taking her order?" I said feeling like I had disturbed their conversion "No, what could I get for you?" The male's voice was cheerful and calm like a sweetie.

The girl who was now sat down was watching me, her eyes following me. "Could I just get a regular and a cookie?" I don't start work until tomorrow but I firgured it's smart to look out beforehand to get a good memory. "Of course!" He said smiling and turning around while grabbing a few things. I stood there moving my feet around myself, a few minutes later he handed me a bag. "That will be 4.50 please" I gave him the money and sat down at a table, a few more people came in while I was standing in the line so the blonde haired girl couldn't speak to the worker. She decided to move herself and sat on a chair in front of me, I felt rude not saying anything so I placed my phone down and smiled at her. "Hey!"

"You seem too happy" I wasn't expecting that to be the first thing that came out her mouth but okay "Sorry, is it unnerving?" I stopped smiling and gave more of a upset or dead faced. "Hmm...no it's just how are you happy living here?" She had to have lived here long enough to see how sad this city is. To be truthful I didn't really like this place but the rent at my house isn't that bad. "I don't know" I said, where is this conversion going? "My name's Fionna" She said while eating a biscult. "YN" I smiled for a split second before taking the cookie from the bag and starting to eat it. "YN? That's a cool name" Fionna started telling me about her jobs, her cat and how she knows the owner of the shop and a bunch of other things I forgot.

The next day before work I came in and she was there, she seemed to be more happy than yesterday. "Hey Fionna and Garyyy?" I said, she mentioned his name being Gary but I still wasn't sure. "Yep thats me" He said pointing to him while letting out a smile. "Could I get the same as yesterday, just a basic coffee and a cookie" He nodded while smiling "So- YN where do you work?" Fionna said coming close to me, her hair seems to get messier and messier but somehow I like it. I told her where and she started talking about random things after that. She spoke a lot, I listened and tried to remember all the things she told me but it was hard.

"If your ever free would you like to hang out outside of here?" I said I was just about to leave for work "Oh- Yeah are you free Friday" She said smiling while fixing herself up a bit. "Yeah! Wait hold on" I grabbed a pen from my bag and looked at her. "Could I have your hand?" She put her hand in front of me and I turned it around to the palm and wrote down my number, she was confused on what i was doing. "That's my number, message me on where we should meet Fi" I said giving her a quick nickname and I sped-walked out while waving.

When I got home from work I sat on my bed and grabbed my phone unlocking it for the first time today and I saw a message 'Hi' 'It's Fionna' 'from the store' 'the one with the cat called cake' 'I was thinking maybe your place if your up for that :p' I smiled at her messaged 'Yeah that's fine with me do you want me to pick you up?' I wasn't sure how far away she was from mines. 'Where do you live (Not in a creepy way)' I chuckled at her comment and replied 'XXXXXXXXX' I sent my address 'Wait holy shit- we don't live that far away from each other. 'Oh?' She sent her address and she was right it was pretty close. 'I'll see you tomorrow!' I messaged before going to sleep.

I'll make a part 2 I just don't know how big the limit is on Tumblr :D

[theyjusthowl]

WIP whatever day it is

Hmmm, hi! So. Sterek is still going strong and I found my groove again but I did something different this week so here's a 911 WIP. Working title for this is "unsteaddie // not readdie".

Aaaaah I'm nerevous, never dabbled into buddie before!

Here's two truths and a lie about Eddie. Shannon was the love of his life. Eddie is a nester. Eddie is not a commitment-phobe. Number two and number three cancel each other out, so one of them must be the lie.

Eddie is not a commitment-phobe. He committed to Shannon alright. He committed to her into the afterlife. That's rock solid commitment there.

He's almost proud of himself. It's just that this truth and lie thing is just another exercise from Frank, to better understand himself, to rediscover his identity in the wake of Christopher's departure.

Eddie is alone with his thoughts, and he has many of them. He's just not comfortable sharing them with Frank. So he hands back the booklet to Frank.

Frank looks at the three lines written on the page and taps his pen over them, thinking. Eddie can already see how much he's going to hate where this is going.

"Eddie, tell me. Is this how you see yourself?"

"Yes," he says. After a brief pause, "No."

"Care to explain?"

Eddie mulls it over. "No."

"Alright, Eddie." Frank sighs. "You know we can skip the topics you don't feel like talking about, but we can't skip everything. Try to name why you don't feel like telling me about what you wrote."

The thing is, Eddie thinks, they're all truths. And they're all lies.

Eddie committed to Shannon because it was easy. There was never a question about it. Eddie got her pregnant, because Eddie didn't think to use a condom, because his Catholic upbringing only contemplated celibacy and it was more than their teenage hormones could handle. It was open and shut. Eddie had to be a man, do the right thing, so that Shannon didn't have to be ashamed of what he did to her.

Eddie committed to the army, because he had a baby on the way, and the bills were racking up, and he wanted to be a good husband, dutiful, attentive, a provider. Eddie did his first tour, because he's a nester. He wanted Shannon to buy a house with him and build a family, maybe have another child in a few years, when they were settled into their married life. He wanted to buy and put together a crib and paint the walls of the nursery in their new home, he wanted to give that baby, that boy, his son, a good life. He wanted to be there for the little milestones, so he did a tour, came back for Christopher's birth.

Eddie committed to his son when it became clear that his marriage wasn't working. He did another tour, saved up some money and tried to be better for Shannon, but it was too late. He tried to learn about his son's condition and be a good parent to him, moved them to LA and became a firefighter. That was an easy commitment too, because then there was Buck, and he wasn't alone anymore, and all he had to do was follow orders, clock in, clock out, grab a beer, go to PT nights, be present, be a father.

Eddie committed to all these things and built his identity around them because it was maybe easier than accepting that Shannon had her part in it too, that maybe she was his first love but not the love of his life. Shannon's ghost protects him from other people's prying. No one wants to disturb a widower. Shannon and Eddie didn't really fit, she was probably right about that. She'd moved on, wanted to rediscover herself as a person before jumping into being a wife. Maybe this new Shannon would have loved Eddie. Chances are she probably wouldn't have. Maybe Eddie would have hated this new Shannon.

So maybe Eddie is not a commitment-phobe. Maybe he is, but he's really good at submitting and has that mistaken for commitment. Maybe he can fool some people into thinking he's got a handle on things.

He doesn't.

"I feel… Unsteady," he says.

"That's a big feeling. Why do you think you feel that way?"

Eddie takes a deep breath.

"I'm not sure who I am. If I'm not a soldier, I'm not a husband and I'm not a father."

"You're still a father, Eddie."

Eddie thinks of Buck, telling him these exact words every other night when they hang out.

"I know. I just don't feel like I am. I'm not comfortable with this much free time."

Cue the beginning of Eddie's undoing.

He goes home with the same homework and instructions to take a good hard look at himself and think about who he is, what defines him. He rings Buck and asks him to come over on Friday night, even though he knows Evan has plans with Tommy.

Here's a truth about him.

Eddie Diaz is a possessive bastard on a power trip.

Buck is just the unlucky fixer on the receiving end of Eddie's recklessness.

[kedreeva]

How would you rate peafowl in terms of intelligence, in general or socially? Any of your animals outstanding in that regard and where does Bug fall on the scale?

Honestly they have a huge range of intelligence and personality. They're GENERALLY smarter than chickens, not as smart as crows. They do have complex social hierarchies and rules, though, and violating the rules has consequences for social standing. Rude boys, for example, do not get the girls.

They also have long memories for some things- for example if you frighten or anger or hurt them, they remember that and they will likely not trust you again, if they don't outright try to chase you off. My dad once made a swipe at a nosy hen and she never forgot. She threatened to fight him every time she saw him after that. LOTS of people report that their birds can be caught 1 time by a bird net pole, and forever after they will bolt if they see it (and we have the same experience here, and I don't even have to have caught them personally if they even SEE me catch 1 bird with it, that's it. This is why I move them into a coop and turn off the lights to pick them up). I know people who have tried to solve berserker males problems by hitting their birds with brooms or sticks or spraying them with a hose, and what they find is that this makes it a thousand times worse because the male's understanding of the situation is only confirmed- you ARE a rival and you DO want to fight him. And since you (the intelligent human being who understands birds and money and probably a) like this bird and/or b) spent a lot of money on this bird) are unwilling to purposely cause severe injury or death to him, he will always hold a grudge and always think he has a chance to beat you.

They do have some amount of social learning, at least from my observations. When I taught Eris to use word buttons to ask for specific treats, Artemis learned without actually ever being taught. With 12 buttons on the board at the time, she removed the "treat" button and guarded it so she could tap it instead of Eris. More commonly, if one bird thinks a treat or other potential food item is yucky, they will start shaking their head no and clacking their beak the way they do when they taste something they hate, as if they took a bite and it tasted bad- but WITHOUT having actually touched the item. This triggers all the nearby birds to have a look, and they all start shaking their heads and clacking their beaks. Once one of them figures out how to do something - like get up onto the pigeon perch in the rafters they're not supposed to be on - the others will watch and learn how to do it, and start doing it, too. I just recently had to put an extra lock on the barn pen door, because I caught Wendy pulling our emergency latch release for dumbasses that lock themselves into the pen on accident, and the others were Watching to learn. Eris had to be moved out of that pen because she also learned how to let herself out of the pen that way.

Then you have birds like Callisto. Who will come over when you call for treats, and despite that the treat gets held right in front of her or dropped close by her, panics and can't find it to save her life, and you find yourself standing between her and the others to give Callisto enough time to look at the ground for the treat.

Or stan who, every morning, gets let out of the coop and walks calmly over to the fenced door between pens to be let out into the pen. Except the door is open.

So. It's a scale. it's a scale that slides between "mocking me with word buttons I taught her" and "repeatedly waits at an open door to be let out"

[shares-a-vest]

A sequel to THIS Steddie ficlet but you don't really have to have read it.

Nancy finishes up signing her name with a flourish on the inside of the greeting card she’d bought for Robin for Valentine’s Day. She sets her red sparkly gel pen down on the desk and admires her work. Excellent. Perfectly balanced cursive writing and not a mistake in sight. Poetic and just a little naughty - nothing like Eddie’s card that she had had the displeasure of seeing in full view on the floor of Family Video.

At least it was spirited, unique and honest.

But her card still feels like it’s missing something.

She lifts the card to her lips and stops just short of leaving a lipstick stain on it. Robin probably won’t like that. She’d say something about someone having their mouth all over her Valentine’s Day card, even if it is her own girlfriend.

She looks around at her dresser and contemplates spraying the card with perfume. But she scrunches her nose, thinking Robin probably wouldn’t like a strong scent coming from it either. Turning back to her desk, she decides on a few hand-drawn flowers sprinkled over the inside of the card. Robin will surely give her something handmade (as she always does).

Using a pink marker pen, Nancy carefully surrounds her writing with daisies in varying sizes, the easiest flower for her to draw somewhat competently. As she goes, she inches closer and closer to the surface of her desk, tongue poking out in concentration as she begins adding a peppering of little stars too.

“Um, Nancy?”

She makes what can only be described as a mouse-like squeak noise at the sound of Mike’s interruption. She clutches the marker in her hand, stopping herself from smearing it across Robin’s card. She carefully lifts her hand from the cardstock and clips the cap safely onto the pink marker before spinning around to find Mike lingering at her bedroom door.

“What?” she asks, unable to hide her frustration.

“Are you leaving yet?” he asks, bounding into her bedroom and looking like he's rearing to go somewhere.

Somewhere that presumably requires her to drive him.

“Soon,” she says, giving her brother a tight-lipped, sarcastic smile.

“Can you drive me to Hop’s?” he asks, picking at the bottom seam of his Hellfire shirt.

“Spending the evening with Will, are we?” she teases.

Mike groans and flops back on her bed, sending a pink decorative cushion toppling off the edge where it wedges itself between the mattress and side table.

“I have a card to give him,” he says, staring at the ceiling.

“Good,” she smiles and decides she should probably set aside her card to help out the lump currently sighing and squirming (and messing up the bedspread) on her bed. “You aren’t planning on wearing that, are you?”

Mike rolls onto his stomach to look at her with a look of complete incredulity. Or maybe it’s cluelessness.

Admittedly, that came out meaner and more accusatory than she meant it.

She sighs. Of course, Mike doesn’t know that on Valentine's Day maybe he shouldn’t wear his nerd uniform.

“Just… Anything but that,” she says, even though that doesn’t seem to help either.

Her brother just blinks, kicking his feet.

So she stands up with a huff and gestures to the door. Mike stands and looks her up and down, suspicious.

“You are going to help me pick out something?” he asks, dumbfounded. “For Valentine’s Day? To wear to Will’s house?”

“And politely make suggestions about what you could do that doesn’t involve hanging out in an overcrowded cabin reading comic books, yes.”

And that’s how Nancy spends part of her night chauffeuring around Mike and Will. First picking up Robin, negotiating the change of plans with much protest. Then heading out to the Hooper-Byers’ cabin to pick Will up. Then driving them to the diner which the boys had to settle for because there was no way Nancy was going to have them in Enzo’s a table away from her and Robin. And she wasn't giving up any of her money to Mike, either. Nor did she want to drop them off at the pizza parlour which is where she knew Steve and Eddie would be at some point.

She finally pulls into the car park beside Enzo’s and cuts the engine.

“So,” she starts, clicking off her seatbelt and turning to her date, beaming.

“So?” Robin echos, trying to look inside the restaurant windows.

“I have a card for you,” Nancy says and reaches around to fish in the back for her handbag.

She feels around for it and finds it has been kicked under the passenger’s seat.

“Oh no!” she exclaims and Robin whips around, reaching for it with ease.

“What is it?” she asks, mirroring Nancy’s panic as she hands her the bag.

“Your card!” she says, sniffling. 

Nancy is a little surprised that she's this upset about it. Even though it’s her own damn fault for leaving a soft-fabric bag in the vicinity of two fidgeting and oblivious fifteen-year-olds. She relents and hands the crinkled envelope to Robin.

She tries not to watch as Robin carefully opens it, looking the card over before flipping it open and reading it.

“Wow,” Robin says after a minute.

“You like it?” she says, wide-eyed and hopeful.

“This is so much better than Eddie’s card,” Robin says, giving a belated shudder.

Nancy tuts and rolls her eyes. Robin was so dramatic about Eddie’s card. Even after Steve read it fully, she couldn’t help herself from both scolding him for its contents and asking him for details.

“Not the reaction I wanted,” Nancy sighs, looking at her feet.

She looks over the floor mats and thinks about how her car is in desperate need of a cleaning as she scuffs a pebble under her flats. She only breaks away from her stray thought as Robin shuffles through the ridiculously large handbag at her feet.

“Here!” she declares, holding up a crumpled envelope in victory and promptly hands it over. “Eddie, I loathe to admit, inspired a similarly flirtatious greeting card. Although mine is far less eloquent than yours. Somewhere between the obscenity of Poet Munson and Romanticist Wheeler.”

[shadowqueenjude]

Day 6 of @nestaarcheronweek

Learn to keep a secret --> Nessian, post-ACOWAR

What if instead of Cassian yelling at Nesta and getting angry at her rejection, we see Cassian trying to reach out in a softer manner?

Cassian paused before Nesta's front door, building his nerve.

Nesta had withdrawn from everyone, even her younger sister. She had flat out told Cassian that she wanted nothing to do with him, not long after she had laid her body over his, choosing death with him. After his confession. It stung, Cassian had to admit, but nothing hurt him more than watching her destroy herself.

He had gone with her a couple of times to the taverns. He hadn't interacted with her directly, of course, but he had observed her. She seemed to be drawn to sensory stimulation, things that drew her out of the darkness that was inside her. Like the music, the drinks, the dancing. So hopefully...his plan would work. It had to, otherwise...he didn't let himself think further.

He was perfectly aware of the fact that his high lord despised Nesta. If she continued on her self-destructive path, Rhysand would do something drastic; Cassian might have to take them both out of Night for the time being, or even permanently. He didn't want to have to do that, but he had to protect her in whatever way he could.

He swallowed the lump in his throat, took a deep breath, and knocked on the door, waiting.

No response.

"Nesta." Still nothing. Was she even here? Was this the wrong house, or was she already at the taverns?

"Nes, please." Cassian couldn't help the desperation that slipped out on that last syllable. He understood; he really did. Recovery couldn't be rushed. But it was killing him inside to see her like this.

A blast of warm air hit him as the door opened abruptly. His mate looked beautiful as ever, even though it seemed as if she hadn't been eating properly, a plain white nightgown emphasizing her bony shoulders. A shard of ice stabbed his heart.

"What do you want." Her low, cool voice always did unspeakable things to him, but he tamped down on his mating instincts, trying to speak to her normally. "You look hungry. Want a bite to eat?"

"I told you I want nothing to do with you, Cassian," Nesta answered shortly. She was about to slam the door in his face when he put a hand out. "Nes, please. I'm begging you. If you come out today, I'll convince Feyre to give triple your usual amount of money."

Nesta's silvery blue eyes focused all their relentless attention on him. Cassian spread his arms, letting her see it all. He'd given her everything that day she'd beheaded the king of Hybern anyway.

"Fine," she snapped. "Give me a moment to get dressed."

Cassian heaved a sigh of relief, slumping into the snow in front of her house. Part 1 was successful. The hardest part was done.

She came out in a magenta empire gown with black embroidery at the collar resembling the shape of teardrops. Her hair was up in its usual braided crown, and Cassian's heart stuttered in his chest. Even emaciated, she was so heartbreakingly gorgeous, every bit the cunning courtier who was far too good for him.

"This had better be quick," she muttered. Cassian offered her no such assurances, fully aware of the surprise they had in store.

He took her to a place off the main road, with simply, hearty meals, yet very tasty ones. "You should have their Palak," Cassian murmured as they walked inside. "It's delicious."

They took a table near the back, Nesta still saying nothing. A small little critter who seemed to be a ghost except for the long spiky black tail he had came up to them, notebook and pen in hand.

"Order?" Cassian looked at Nesta. Her call. She scrolled the menu on the table before answering, "Two Palaks, please." Cassian's eyes widened in surprise that Nesta had actually listened to him.

"Don't you dare," Nesta seethed.

"I wasn't going to say anything!" Cassian protested.

Nesta said nothing, but Cassian spoke. About how he was retraining his wings after they were shredded, how the Illyrians fared, what her sisters, Amren, and Lucien were up to. He wasn't sure how much she listened to, but she didn't seem inclined to wipe him to dust with her silver flames, at least.

After she wiped her plate clean, she shoved it away from her, standing up. "Can I go home now?"

"No!" Cassian shouted. Nesta raised a brow at him as other people turned to stare at them. "No, I mean, I don't think anyone has ever given you a proper tour of Velaris. Would you like one?"

"I've already seen all there is to see," Nesta replied drily. Cassian shook his head vigorously. "You've only lived here a few months. I've lived here centuries. Come on." Nesta still looked skeptical, but she took Cassian's arm and let him lead her out.

When they were well away from the building, Nesta spoke. "You're a terrible liar, you know. I know you have something planned."

Cassian blushed. "My strength is on the battlefield, not the courtroom."

"Clearly." Well, she sounded amused, at least. Another big sigh of relief.

They walked along in silence for a few minutes before Cassian blurted out, "Do you prefer being indoors or outdoors?"

Nesta raised a brow. "I suppose it depends."

"What about today?" Cassian mentally cursed himself. Subtlety was certainly not his strong suit.

Nesta squinted at him before she smirked. "Today is a nice day. We should be outside."

Move everything outside, Cassian shouted to Feyre mind to mind. Right now.

On it, Feyre replied before shutting off the connection.

"I like outside," Cassian said stupidly to cover for his slow response. Nesta's smirk widened. "I'd imagine so, considering you're a warrior and all."

"Yeah." Cassian was so bad at keeping secrets. His mind was screaming fit to burst, begging him to reveal the big surprise. Nesta only looked around, seeming more at peace than she had in months.

"Let's sit here," Cassian said, pointing to an outdoor table. Nesta obeyed, and the two of them settled onto the bench.

"So," Nesta said, "are you finally going to tell me what you've planned?"

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY!" Feyre and Elain shrieked as they walked in, Feyre's arms laden with gifts while Elain held the prettiest chocolate cake Cassian had ever seen. Nesta didn't look remotely surprised, a small smile flitting across her face.

Feyre placed the bag on the table, pulling out all the gifts. "I baked this cake myself," Elain said, her face radiant as she placed it by Nesta's side. Feyre furrowed her brow in concentration, trying to sort out the gifts.

"Oh yeah, here! This is my gift: this lovely ring." Feyre slipped it on Nesta's hand. "It's not an ordinary gift; see the flame ornament? There's real magic in there. For a maximum of five uses, you can generate your own wings, so you don't have to rely on one of us to take you places!"

Nesta looked at Feyre in surprise. "That's...thoughtful of you."

"I also got you some nice jewelry, since I know you like sapphires so much." Feyre whipped out a stunning necklace with sparkling deep blue stones with sharp ends. Feyre winked. "It doubles as a knife." She turned one stone, and sure enough, a stunning knife appeared.

"Now my gift," Elain said enthusiastically. She pulled out a large patchwork, showing it to Nesta proudly.

"Er- what is it!"

"It's us!" Elain exclaimed. "This one," she pointed to a crimson lady sewn into the patchwork wearing a crown, "is you. She's chopping wood and wearing a crown, see? And this one..." she pointed to a blue one in the middle holding a bow, "is Feyre, because she was skilled with a bow and provided for us! And this one..." she pointed to a purple one holding a frying pan, "is me, because I did all the cooking!" She pointed to the center piece, featuring all three. "That's us sleeping on that small bed in the cottage." She smiled. "Anyway, I hope you like it. Now for Cassian's gifts."

Cassian stood up, clearing his throat nervously. "I...well....I got you some stuff." He pulled out the first gift; three books bound with ribbon. "I know you like romance novels, so, well...I asked around, and these are some of the most popular ones in Prythian, so I hope you like them." Then, he pulled out his second gift. He fiddled with the ball in his hands. "This is...a symphonia. It captures music in a ball so you can listen to it later. I...noticed you enjoy music."

Cassian turned the ball, activating it. One of the most popular songs at the tavern began to play. He sighed. "I know it isn't much, but-"

Nesta jumped into his arms.

"I love you all," she said in a muffled voice as she pulled away. She sniffed, wiping a tear out of the corner of her eye. "This is the best birthday ever." Feyre and Elain squealed, swinging their arms together in triumph, but Nesta only had eyes for him. "Dance with me," she whispered.

So Cassian offered a hand, and she took it; her slender, elegant hands were so small in his. She was an excellent dancer, and Cassian could by no means compete. But Nesta didn't seem to care, content to be there. She placed her head against his chest, looking for all the world completely joyful.

"You're such a silly boy," she murmured against him. Cassian stuttered. "What? I'll have you know- um, that is to say-"

"I figured out what this was about the moment we left that restaurant," Nesta interrupted, steering him into a spin. "And you're adorable, really, for arranging all this for me." She got on her tiptoes and whispered in his ear, "But you reallyyyy need to learn to keep a secret, Lord of Bloodshed."