#lena's a young girl who's been abused all her life and still manages to be kind and helpful | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

deadbiwrites · 5 years ago

Note

a video of supergirl grabbing lena luthor's ass starts circulating and it's very embarrassing for sc but extremely funny to their friends

(I am SO sorry. Where do these hide? Why do I never see them? How long has this been here?!

Anyways, have some cute nonsense!)

The day starts like any other, honestly.

Like, sure, Kara’s never thrilled when she wakes up 20 minutes late and has to use superspeed to get through her morning routine and into the office on time, but it happens regularly enough that she’s just sort of used to it by now. Like, the sky is blue, the grass is green, she manages time poorly. Whatever.

But she does get to work on time, with just enough to spare that she can make a brief detour to Nia’s desk for the coffee her protege has already bought for her, thank her profusely (with perhaps minor promising of firstborn children), and slip into the morning meeting just as Snapper, James, and Lena start handing out assignments for the day.

“Well, well, good of you to join us, Ponytail. Let me guess, a family emergency kept you out all night again?”

‘I mean, that Abraxian wasn’t my family, technically, but someone’s family, so…’ “Something like that. Sorry.”

Lena catches her eye and quirks a brow in question, but Kara just shrugs easily and sips her coffee, pulling a silly face at her friend when Snapper’s attention moves away from her. When her eyes uncross, she can tell Lena is fighting not to laugh, eyes sparking with mirth as she bites her lip. Kara takes another sip of coffee, feeling a bit smug that she can get Lena to smile without even having to say anything to her. That’s real talent, right there.

Especially since Lena has to stand up at the front with James, who has been by turns cold, dejected, and surly toward her since their breakup (a big, real, final one) a few weeks prior. Lena had said that the whole thing was a mistake, that she should’ve never gone for it in the first place because she’d been right the first time- they’d had some chemistry, after all, but it certainly wasn’t compatible long-term.

Which… Kara can certainly relate. Like, a lot.

Especially about the whole… James being kind of wounded about it part. That part had really sucked- when he’d done it with Kara, who he’d gone on like, a date with, it’d resulted in him deciding to become a vigilante. Rao only knows what he’ll do when it’s someone he dated on and off for over a year...

“Ponytail!”

Kara jumps, realizing too late that her wandering attention hasn’t gone unnoticed. “Yes, sir?”

Snapper rolls his eyes. “Great, now that you’ve stopped orbiting Saturn, you wanna go get that article started?”

Kara’s eyes widen slightly in a panic as she realizes that she has no idea what he’s talking about. “Uh…” Behind his back, Lena catches her eye and nods subtly. Thank Rao. “Yes. I super do.”

Lena snorts, James sighs deeply, and the meeting is adjourned.

“So what exactly am I supposed to be doing today?” Kara asks Lena as they stroll out of the conference room together.

“Well unfortunately for you, you have to interview a big-time CEO. You have a meeting scheduled with her in three hours.”

“You?” Kara asks hopefully.

“You’re very sweet,” Lena chuckles. “No, Elena Watts. She’s a real estate developer, and she runs a nonprofit organization for homeless youth. It’s one of the articles we’re doing for next month’s spread. Contrary to popular belief, Cat and I weren’t the only women with high-profile jobs in this city. ”

“Oh, that’s pretty cool! Have you met her?”

“Not personally, no, but I have donated to her charity- it’s a very good cause, especially the outreach they do with queer youth.”

Kara elbows Lena gently. “You’re such a softie.”

“Mmm, maybe. But if you tell anyone, you’re fired.”

Kara clutches a hand to her chest, feigning horror. “Why Miss Luthor, what a blatant abuse of power!”

Lena shrugs. “I’m a Luthor, darling, I have to keep up appearances somehow.”

“Ouch,” Kara laughs. “See you at lunch?”

“Only if lunch includes a milkshake- I have a teleconference with both boards today. Unless you feel like joining me?”

“Wow, well as fun as that sounds, I’m gonna go do literally anything else.” Her comms crackle to life, alerting her of a hostage situation downtown, and Kara sighs. So much for a work day. “Alright, well, I’m, um, gonna go… see what I can find on Elena Watts. Maybe over another cup of coffee at Noonan’s.” She widens her eyes a bit, trying her best to convey that she’s going to be on Super-duty for a little while.

Thankfully, Lena picks up on it and grins. “You just want sticky buns.”

“Lena, I always want sticky buns. They’re like, my second favorite thing to eat.”

“Oh? What’s the first?” Lena asks, voice just a bit lower than usual.

Kara opens her mouth and closes it, flushing slightly as she averts her gaze and adjusts the laptop bag on her shoulder. Stuff like that has been happening more and more, and she’s not 100% sure what to do about it. Because on the one hand, it makes her stomach do flips and tie up in knots and makes her brain do this… staticky thing where nothing filters in or out, just a pleasant buzz of how funny and smart Lena is and how much Kara likes hanging out with her and being flirted with (because that’s definitely what’s been happening, even if neither of them is really ready to address it) and just generally looking at Lena.... who is currently biting her lip and grinning up at Kara, and that buzz makes her kinda dumb, which is just really unhelpful. But on the other hand, it’s also kinda awesome and Kara really enjoys it, and-

“Kara?”

She spaced out again. Crap.

“Um. What time are you free for lunch?”

Lena sighs, seeming slightly disappointed that Kara isn’t flirting back at the moment (and thank Rao Lena can’t read minds), but she smiles back easily enough as they step off of the elevator. “I should be done by two.”

Feeling emboldened, Kara turns so she’s walking backwards in front of Lena and grins. “It’s a date,” she says with a grin, ducking forward to press a quick “friendly” kiss high on Lena’s cheek. She whirls and jogs out the double doors, leaving Lena smiling exasperatedly after her.

It is genuinely baffling to Kara that people still commit crimes in National City. It’s not even an ego thing, really, since Kara tries to keep herself humble (even when she manages to wrap up a hostage situation within twenty seconds of arriving on-scene without injuring any of the criminals or damaging the building too badly). Like, yeah, she gets that there’s a certain element of crazies who just sorta gravitate to places with a local hero, the big-bads who have their own suits and geek-toys and abilities. Them, Kara gets. Kinda sorta. But the regular ones, who are armed with like, pistols? Or knives? Just regular man made stuff without even the benefit of magic or kryptonite or something?

Why?

She’s sure that if she asked, Lena would have some sort of statistical thing about large cities and poverty and all sorts of other factors that would end up making Kara feel like a jerk for being uncharitable to the criminal element of her city, but at the moment she’s mostly too annoyed by the fact that she has to spend her weekdays chasing them around instead of chasing stories.

Once all the hostages are freed and the cops secure the scene, Kara departs, flying into the alley behind Noonan’s and changing into her regular clothes before she heads inside to do a bit of research before her meeting with Elena Watts in a few hours (just because she’d used it as a cover doesn’t mean it was a bad idea…). She finds her favorite little two-person booth tucked into a quiet corner, plugs in her laptop, and gets to work, asking the waitress to please keep both the coffee and the sticky buns coming.

She gets a surprising amount done by the time she needs to leave for the interview, having a good foundation for what she wants to write and who Elena Watts is.

Ms. Watts turns out to be a pretty nice lady around Eliza’s age, if a bit busy and distracted by the steady flow of people in and out of her office. She answers all Kara’s questions with aplomb, happy to elaborate on most every point and eager to draw attention to the rising issue of homelessness among children and teens in the US.

“When I was young, my dad lost his job at the auto plant. It was supposed to be a temporary layoff, but the factory never reopened. We ended up losing the house, and we lived so far from our extended family that staying with them wasn’t much of an option. We lived in our SUV for six months, sleeping at shelters every now and again, if we could find one that allowed families to stay together. We showered at the local YMCA. Five people and a dog, living and sleeping in an old station wagon- even now, it sounds ridiculous. Eventually, we got back on our feet, but I never forgot that. It was just six months, but it was- and remains- the scariest, most uncertain time in my entire life, and it shaped me in a lot of ways I didn’t expect. And there are kids and families who do that for years. I just want to help them the way I wish that someone had been able to help us.”

At the end of the interview, Kara thanks her profusely for her time and for sharing her story before hurrying off to CatCo to type up a draft for Snapper (“What’s wrong with you, Ponytail, why is everything you bring me sappy and sentimental?”), which she finishes an outline of just in time to send it off before running to Big Belly and L-Corp for lunch with Lena.

She greets the newest in a series of secretaries (Anna? Amy? Ava? Lena’s really missing Jess, these days, but from what she’s told Kara, Jess is kicking butt in her new role as VP of Operations and will probably take over for the COO when he retires in a few years), and the girl waves her in distractedly.

And that’s when Kara’s day goes from normal to not, because inside the office are two masked men holding a stone-faced Lena at gunpoint on her balcony and demanding… something, probably. Kara’s a bit distracted by the loaded gun aimed at Lena’s head.

“Hey!” she yells, attracting both their attention. They whirl on her and Lena’s eyes widen in alarm, and Kara suddenly realizes three things- 1) she’s in her Kara Danvers clothes, not the supersuit, 2) she can’t speed into the suit now that they’re both looking at her, and 3) she has no plan.

Crap.

“Who the hell are you?!” one of them demands.

Kara… doesn’t have a good or snappy answer for that, and instead does the only thing she can think of- she throws the large milkshakes she’s carrying at them as hard as she can.

Which, in retrospect, is too hard, apparently because while yes, it is both funny and gratifying to see two grown men get absolutely leveled by a tasty dairy treat to the face, the one closest to Lena manages to elbow her in such a way that she falls backwards over the rail with an instinctual scream that makes Kara’s heart fly into her throat. She whips off her glasses, and by the time she’s out the window and speeding toward Lena’s flailing form, the suit is materialized. She gets under Lena, catching her carefully and dropping a bit further before slowing down (because she’s been made aware that when she doesn’t, the people she’s saving may as well be hitting the pavement), finally coasting to a stop about 20 feet from the ground.

Lena’s face is screwed up in a forced sort of focus, her hands clutching tightly at Kara’s shoulders and cape as she holds her breath.

“Are you okay?” Kara asks quietly.

Lena swallows thickly and nods, eyes still firmly closed. “I’m alright. Thank you- I’ll admit, I wasn’t quite sure how to get out of that one.”

“What was that? What did they want?”

Lena cracks an eye open. “Oh. you know, just my quarterly assassination attempt. I think my mother was starting to miss me, so she wanted to reach out.”

Kara snorts. “That really shouldn’t be funny.”

“Maybe not, but here we are.” Lena shifts a bit in Kara’s arms, cheeks a bit flushed from the adrenaline rush, and clears her throat. “Not to be rude, Supergirl, but do you think that perhaps we could continue this conversation… on the ground?”

“Oh. Oh! Yeah, sorry. I forgot we were, uh, flying.”

Lena chuckles as they ascend slowly back up to her office. “You forgot you were flying?”

Kara shrugs with an easy smile. “I guess you have that effect on me.”

Lena huffs a laugh against Kara’s neck, eyes squeezed shut again. They alight on the balcony, finding the two men still unconscious, covered in Kara and Lena’s lunch. Lena sighs as Kara sets her down, pinching the bridge of her nose. “What a mess.”

“Yeah, sorry, I sorta… panicked.”

“I was so looking forward to a milkshake too…” Lena laments playfully.

“Well, then I have good news and bad news,” Kara says. She reaches out and gently wipes a bit of her own chocolate shake from Lena’s cheek with the pad of her thumb, tucking it into her mouth on instinct to get a taste of it. “The good news is, you do, in fact, have some shake on you!”

“Whats the bad news?”

“Also that you have some shake on you.” Kara laughs, gathering the two men in her arms and hefting them a bit so they’re easier to carry. “I’ll get you another one. Be right back.”

She drops the men at the police station with a brief explanation before flying back into the office. Lena hands over her discarded glasses with a wry grin.

“I figured you’d need these before the police arrive.” She’s putting on a brave front, but she’s clearly still more than a bit rattled, if her too-bright eyes and thundering heartbeat are anything to go by. Kara steps closer and opens her arms in invitation, and Lena doesn’t hesitate to step into them. “Thank you,” Lena says fervently, tucking her face into Kara’s shoulder and wrapping her arms tight around Kara’s waist.

“Always,” Kara promises, daring to press a reassuring kiss to Lena’s temple (and getting a bit of Lena’s strawberry shake for her troubles) before wrapping her up even tighter in her arms. “Are you actually okay?”

“I mean, my fear of heights has been reaffirmed,” Lena jokes, “but aside from that, I’m not hurt.”

“Good. I don’t like, love people pointing guns at you. Just so you know.”

“I’m not a fan either, for the record,” Lena drawls, burrowing even closer. “Even though I know you’ll save me, it still puts a damper on my day.”

Kara huffs a laugh. “Same.”

They stay like that for a few minutes, until Lena’s calmed down enough to stop shaking and calls her assistant (Audra, apparently) in, telling her what’d happened and that the police would be arriving shortly to take her and Kara’s statements, and please advise the security team to let them up discreetly. After the cops arrive, it’s a blur of questions, and Kara has to concentrate on telling the story of how she’d panicked and thrown the milkshakes at the men, and one of them had knocked Lena over the balcony (all true), and Kara had yelled for Supergirl, who had knocked the men out on her way to Lena (also technically mostly true. Technically. Mostly.). The police are sure to tell Kara that next time, she shouldn’t throw things at people with guns, and also to tell them both how lucky they are that Supergirl had shown up when she did.

“She’s always there when I need her,” Lena agrees, throwing a sly wink over the officer’s shoulder at Kara.

Kara just shakes her head and smiles. Even almost dying isn’t enough to make Lena not flirt with her. The woman is truly a marvel.

Kara’s comms crackle again, accompanied by Alex’s custom ringtone on her cell, and after assuring the police that she has no issue with giving another statement if they need her to later, hurries over to the DEO (making a quick stop in the back alley to change into her suit).

When Kara arrives, she’s told that J’onn and Alex are waiting for her in the Directors’ offices. She makes her way there, waving to the agents and scientists she knows. But it’s very weird, because every time one of them sees her, they start giggling before quickly hurrying off in the opposite direction. Like, literally everyone is whispering and pointing and giggling, and it’s giving Kara such visceral flashbacks to high school that it’s all she can do to not check her cape for a taped on sign that says ‘Kick me’ or ‘Freak’.

(Kids are mean.)

By the time Kara gets to her destination, she’s fully paranoid, sure that someone’s playing a prank on her, somehow, and that everyone but her is in on the joke. She opens the door with more force than intended and catches it just before the handle puts a hole in the wall, throwing Alex and J’onn a sheepish smile. She closes the door extra gently and leans against it heavily. J’onn and Alex just stare at her, looking thoroughly unimpressed.

“Busy day, Supergirl?” Alex asks, and after half a lifetime of spending time with her, Kara recognizes that she, too, is trying not to laugh.

Kara’s had enough. “Okay, do I have something on my face? Or on the suit? Is someone messing with me?”

J’onn’s brow furrows. “No.”

“Then what’s the deal? Why is the entire DEO like… laughing at me? Did someone accidentally vent the lab fumes out into the main hub again?”

“No.”

“Did someone see me crash into that billboard last week?”

J’onn’s frown deepens. “What?”

“No,” Alex answers.

“Then why is everyone laughing at me?!”

“I mean, if I had to guess, I’d say it’s because of that,” Alex muses, nodding toward the big TV on the wall beside Kara.

She steps back to watch the news coverage of her dealing with the hostage situation this morning and frowns. “What, those guys? That was routine, what’s so funny about tha-”

“No, no, not that. That,” Alex clarifies, cranking up the volume.

“...reports are saying that the CEO of L-Corp, Lena Luthor, experienced an attempt on her life early this afternoon. Sources claim that she fell from a considerable height-”

“Hey, she was pushed,” Kara corrects.

“Shh!”

“...caught by Supergirl, who may have gotten a little… familiar with her.”

And there’s a video (clearly recorded on a cell phone but not the worst quality Kara’s ever seen) of Kara catching Lena and slowing to a stop above the sidewalk, of them talking quietly, of Kara’s hand definitely on Lena’s-

“Oh. Oh no.”

“Oh yes,” Alex drawls, clicking the TV off with relish, a large, evil-big-sister grin spreading across her face. “Congratulations, Supergirl- the world just watched you grope Lena Luthor’s ass.”

“But I’m not- I wasn’t groping, I was catching! My hands weren’t… If it was groping, I’d be all up on her, and I wasn’t!”

“Camera begs to differ. It’s already trending on Twitter in National CIty.”

Kara puts her head in her hands and groans. “Why?! I was trying to save her!”

“You were definitely trying to save part of her,” Alex agrees. “Granted, it’s a very nice part...”

Kara’s head pops up, and she shoots Alex a look that’s between a pout and a glare. “You’re not helping.”

Alex feigns confusion. “Am I supposed to be helping?”

“Alright, enough,” J’onn cuts in before Kara can retort. “We just wanted you to be aware. I don’t think that this is going to be taken for anything more than it is- a humorous moment in the middle of a successful rescue. You shouldn’t worry about the press.”

And truth be told, Kara isn't worried about the press- she’s worried about the fact that she’s going to have to face Lena after this. Lena, who she knows for a fact has google alerts set for herself, Kara Danvers, and Supergirl, a gesture which is normally actually sweet and kind but is right now definitely gonna bite her in the-

“Okay! So, is that all?”

Alex blinks, looks over at J’onn, and shrugs. “I mean, yeah. Try not to make a habit of groping your crush when you’re in the suit.”

“I wasn’t groping her-”

Alex grins. “So you admit you have a crush? Interesting…”

“Alex!”

J’onn’s prediction is mostly right- no one seems to be taking the shots of her grabbi- saving Lena as anything other than a funny blip of a moment in their coverage of it.

He was wrong about the sheer scale. The clip had gone totally viral in a matter of hours, and seemingly every major network in the country has run the clip at least once as a bit of filler-fluff, and almost every major network anchor (including the ones at CatCo, the traitors) has made at least a passing joke about Supergirl being ‘Super-Handsy'.

Which means that Kara is very late getting back to Lena’s office with replacement food. But like, she’s been busy, okay? It’s not like she’s avoiding Lena, or something, because she’s embarrassed- which she isn’t, because she didn’t do anything bad or wrong and-

Anyways, it’s well past sunset by the time Kara gets to Lena’s office door again. She hesitates outside it for just a moment before shouldering the door open and knocking tentatively.

Lena’s attention jerks from whatever she’d been absorbed in to Kara, and a relieved smile blooms across her face. “Hey there.”

Kara finds herself equally relieved to not experience a repeat performance of earlier scary situations. “Hi,” Kara says, unable to resist smiling back. She raises the bags and cup carrier. “I bring grease and milkshakes. Again.”

“Oh thank god, I’m starving,” Lena says, rolling her chair away from her desk and rising into a deep and probably much-needed stretch. Kara very determinedly does not stare at the slight sliver of soft tummy that appears between her blouse and skirt at the motion. “I’ve been staring at this screen for several hours. And Sam called to yell at me- she says hello, by the way- she and Ruby are in town next weekend.”

“Good!” Kara crosses the room to the couch as Lena does, easily spreading out the veritable buffet of fast food she’d brought over the coffee table. “I mean, not good that she yelled at you, or that you’re still at work, Miss Luthor,” she says pointedly, receiving only an unapologetic shrug in response. “But good that, um-”

“I get it,” Lena chuckles, resting a hand lightly on Kara’s knee and boy, if that doesn’t make Kara’s brain go fuzzy and dumb again… “Thank you, for checking in.”

“Of course I was gonna check on you, Lena,” Kara huffs. “Plus, I know you probably didn’t get lunch, so…”

Lena hums around a mouthful of burger, chewing until she can politely speak again. “Well it’s delicious. Did you make it yourself?” she teases with a sly grin.

“Oh, yeah, totally. Slaved away over a hot stove for this- I just wrapped it in Big Belly wrappers so you wouldn’t feel bad about it.”

“Very clever.” Lena pops the lid off of her milkshake and drags a fry through it (an advanced culinary delicacy Kara had horrified her with initially but had eventually become a bit of a guilty pleasure). “Although I have to say, traditionally you’d have to buy me dinner before you grabbed my ass.”

Kara chokes on a pickle. “Oh no,” she groans, dropping the burger onto the wrapper on the table and dropping her very red face into her hands as Lena laughs beside her. She peers out from between her fingers. “I am so sorry, I was just worried about you hitting the pavement and like, catching you in the least jarring way and I wasn’t paying attention to where my hands were and I didn’t even notice until I got back to the DEO and-”

“Well I have so say, I feel a bit offended that you didn’t even realize you were copping a feel...” When the only response is another groan and a deep flush spreading from Kara’s neck to the tips of her ears, Lena relents. “Kara, Kara, it’s fine!” she laughs, pulling Kara’s hands away from her face and giving them a grounding squeeze. “Nia’s been sending me memes about it all day, which has improved my mood significantly. On the grand scale of fallout from assassination attempts, this one was at least funny.”

“I know that’s supposed to be comforting, but all it makes me wanna do is wrap you in bubble wrap forever,” Kara informs her.

“Pass on that. But seriously, don’t worry about it- I know it wasn’t on purpose- unfortunately for me, you’re too noble to do something like that,” Lena laments playfully.

And whether it’s the knowledge that Lena is not, in fact, upset, the overall weirdness that has been this day, or this delicious burger fueling it, Kara feels a bit emboldened. “Hey Lena…”

“Yes?”

“What if I wanted to grab your butt? Just, y’know, as a hypothetical. For future reference.”

Lena quirks a brow at her, fighting a smile as she contemplates this. “Hmm. Strictly hypothetically?”

Kara scoots a bit closer on the couch. “Sure.”

“Well, you’ve already bought me dinner…”

“And lunch, technically. Even if I gave it to the bad guys.”

“True. Plus you saved my life, so that gets you some points, probably.”

Kara pauses in her sly scooching. “Oh, hey, wait, no, that’s not-”

“Kidding, Kara. I know you’d never use that to your advantage. I, however, have determined that strong moral fibre and nobility do, in fact, earn you more points, which is my choice on the matter and you get absolutely no say in it.”

“Oh. Um, alright, I think.”

Lena stares off into the middle distance, tapping her forefinger thoughtfully against her chin. Finally she shrugs. “Yes, I think you’re fulfilled the prerequisites for a bit of grab-ass today.”

Kara snorts, Lena laughs, and soon enough Kara takes her up on the offer.

“Hey Kara, remember that time you grabbed Lena’s ass and it made international news?” Nia asks around a mouthful of mushu pork.

“You mean last week? Yes, I remember,” Kara drawls. Beside her/halfway sitting on her lap, Lena snorts.

“That was the best.”

Alex glares. “Um, excuse you, no. No it was not. I had to sift through so much thirsting over my sister on like, every social media platform. It was the worst day of my life.”

Brainy’s brow furrows. “Surely that cannot be correct, Alex. Statistically speaking-”

Alex holds up a hand, cutting him off. “Trauma can’t be measured, Brainy.”

Kelly chuckles and presses a consoling kiss to Alex’s cheek, and it makes the tough agent melt into a doe-eyed puddle of mush that Kara snorts. And she says they’re gross... Kara sneaks a glance at Lena from the corner of her eye, and she catches Lena looking at her. She leans close and jostles her gently as she drops her head onto Lena’ shoulder. “We’re never gonna live that down, are we?”

“Probably not.”

“We have the worst friends.” When this elicits nothing but a chuckle, Kara tips her head back to see Lena still looking at her, a soft smile playing at her mouth and shining in her eyes. And like, this whole thing they’re doing is new, with the kissing and the actual dates and the... everything else. But the thing where Kara catches Lena looking at her and she doesn’t look away? That freakin’ knocks her out, every single time. “Hey,” she manages.

Lena grins down at her. “Hi.”

So yeah. Maybe the initial circumstances weren’t ideal, and she doesn’t love the mockery that’s been heaped upon her by all of her friends and loved ones (including Winn, who’d sent a missive from the future that literally just said ‘LOL’). But the fact is, Kara muses as she surges up just enough to kiss the corner of Lena’s mouth, that she doesn’t regret a thing.

#supercorp #prompts!#asks open #ask response #supergirl fanfic #kara x lena #humor #idiots #international news about idiots #kara danvers #lena luthor #i'm also deeply sorry that this is so long on mobile #i swear there's a read more that's supposed to be there #but alas

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supergay-supergirl · 4 years ago

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why supergirl season 5 was actually good: sort of an essay

This has been sitting in my sticky notes for months and I figured now that I have a Supergirl blog, I can actually post it.

People love hating on Supergirl Season 5. And I get it. I admit that it had a lot of problems. But I did like the season overall, and there's enough out there about Season 5’s problems, so here is a post about some things that were great about Season 5!

1. Lena’s Arc

Apparently everyone hates how this was executed, but I really liked it. I like how 5A allows her to scheme and lie and altogether explore the darker (Luthor) side of herself, because only after experiencing what she’s been afraid of becoming can she fully come to know herself. I like how in 5x07, she gets to scream and cry, to express to Supergirl how much she’s hurting, and how betrayed she feels. I like how in 5x13, Kara finally accepts that Lena joining Lex was not her fault, and that she didn’t deserve to be manipulated (“From now on, you’re accountable for your own actions.”). I like Lena’s growing obsession with erasing human pain through 5B and the fact that we know exactly where her motivations come from, and we feel for her because we’ve seen how much pain she’s in herself -- but at the same time, we can still oppose her ultimately villainous actions, which leads us to hope for her redemption. (A lot of this is due to Katie McGrath’s stellar acting as well.)

I love how the season shows just how much Lex’s continual abuse and manipulation affects her, and shows her standing up to him at the end. I wish they had focused more on Lena instead of pushing her aside in favor of Lex in 5B, but overall I liked how they expanded on the Luthor sibling relationship from Season 4, even if it was missing some of the complexity of the previous season. And finally, I love the way Lena fights so hard to regain Kara’s trust in 5x19 (and succeeds!). It felt like there was more of a balance between the two starting from 5x13, where previously it had always been Kara apologizing and trying to gain Lena’s trust.

2. Supergirl’s New Look

PANTS. PANTS. PANTS. PANTS.

For Season 4, Kara the Reporter got a more professional wardrobe as she began to mentor Nia, and the switch to pants feels like the same thing for Supergirl. It completes the transition from “young adult” to just “adult.” It may have been reasonable to call Kara a “girl” in Season 1, but by now, she is an adult woman, and I’m glad that her wardrobe reflects that.

I was opposed to Kara’s bangs at the beginning of the season, but they have definitely grown on me. Like the pants, I think they mark an important change in Supergirl’s character, one that is better appreciated by the audience than the characters. Now, when I rewatch previous seasons, I think, “Wow, Kara looks so different now.” I didn’t think that when I rewatched episodes after Season 4. The bangs are a way to identify Adult Kara as having changed a lot from how she was at the beginning, and like the pants, I feel like they complete her transition into adulthood.

(But are the writers expecting us to believe that nobody who knows Kara would be suspicious that Kara and Supergirl got bangs on the exact same day? Seriously.)

3. Eve Teschmacher

In Season 4, Eve Teschmacher was a brilliant, eager-to-please young woman who (whoops) turned out to be evil. And she was great. But I was dissatisfied with her betrayal because it came so out of the blue, and it was a complete 180 without much buildup at all. Season 5 gave her the humanity that she was lacking, first with her mom, then with her desperation not to have to kill. Not to mention, some pretty badass fight scenes.

4. J’onn’s Swagger

J’onn’s storyline in Season 5 is not nearly as deep as in Season 4, and I see that as a good thing. Season 4 J’onn was wonderful and necessary, but in a season that has a lot of strong development for Kara and Lena, it was nice to have a relatively static character who’s at a good place in his life. Season 4 let J’onn discover the man he wanted to be, and David Harewood brings a new confidence to Season 5 as a result of that. It’s fun to watch him strut around in his supersuit and say normal things as if they’re great proclamations. It’s nice to see the happy, healthy adult relationship between him and M’gann. The easy trust they have with each other causes them to act more like they’re married than dating, as opposed to the younger characters who are often caught up in relationship drama.

5. Kelly Therapy Face

All the characters need a therapist, and they finally got one! Well, Kelly is technically a psychologist, which I believe means she could be a therapist but is not necessarily? I don’t know things. Anyway, it’s nice to have a calm, supportive presence in the group, and this effect is helped by Kelly Therapy Face. Kelly Therapy Face is the face Kelly makes when she’s listening to you talk about your problems. Kelly Therapy Face and her generally calm presence bring down the interpersonal drama of the group and solidify the idea that all these people are growing into full adults, with adult relationships and adult responses to issues. Their emotions are stabilizing, they’re building stronger support systems, and they’re gaining a better understanding of how the world works and their places in it.

This is more of a Season 4 thing -- this season really didn’t give Kelly the screentime she deserved -- but I also love how even though Kelly acts as a source of support for others, her own fear and trauma are rarely glossed over (see: the end of 5x05). This gives Kelly a humanity and realistic quality that many emotional-support characters don’t get. It also shows the key difference between Dansen and Sanvers: whenever Alex and Maggie had conflict, they swept it aside rather than working through it, leading to their eventual breakup, but when Alex and Kelly have conflict, they listen to each other and try to fix it. In accordance with their adult-ness, Alex and Kelly also seem to be in agreement that it’s okay to have conflict in their relationship (“And I might not know every little detail about you yet, but I know you,” 5x02).

6. Reality Bytes

Calling attention to violence against trans folk, exploring Dreamer’s dark side, and showing the strength of Kara and Nia’s mentor-student relationship in one episode? Just. Yes. Either Nicole Maines was projecting a lot or she’s a really good actor (probably both), but either way, as a trans person, I felt this episode on a personal level: the anger, fear, and frustration at knowing that your community is being targeted and the people you’re supposed to trust (i.e. the police) are probably not going to do anything about it. Additionally, Kara and Nia’s conflict in 5x15, and the fact that Kara compares Nia’s experience to her own, is a great marker of how far Kara has come. In Season 1, Supergirl felt a similar anger and hurt when villains sought her out, but by now, she’s more at peace and can offer Dreamer reassurance and comfort.

7. Brainy’s Plot

Brainy’s storyline in Season 5 is nice because it manages to remain stable as an important, but secondary, plot. It enhances the sense that there’s more going on than we realize and gives us a view into the scheming of the villains, while not taking over too much screentime or audience brainspace.

8. Jon Cryer

As annoying as it is that the writers gave up a lot of Lena’s screentime to Lex, Jon Cryer’s performance in Season 5 is just wonderful. He can go from acting totally in control to screaming in a matter of seconds. Lex Luthor is witty, assured, and charming in a weird way. On the other side of his personality, he is a madman who cares about no one’s interests but his own. Jon Cryer’s acting manages to package all this great but conflicting writing into a brilliant, awful, occasionally sympathetic villain who has more than his share of awesome (and terrifying) scenes.

9. Alex’s Grief

I like that Alex gets to let go of her emotions a little this season and express herself. Especially when Jeremiah dies before 5x16, Alex has a really tough time (and a mention of her possibly drinking problem! Expand, please!). She tries to escape from the pain of real life through virtual reality, but eventually realizes that she has to face her pain rather than avoid it, which is a major theme of the season. What’s great about 5x16 and the next couple episodes is that the other characters allow her to grieve. They could have told her to get over it and see all the happiness in the real world — it would have fit with the theme — but instead, they support Alex as she grieves. They listen without judgement when she expresses her anger that Jeremiah left and forced her to take care of Kara. Kara and Kelly are (mostly) understanding when Alex doesn’t want to go to Jeremiah’s funeral, and when Alex arrives late at the end of the episode, Kara lets her know how much she appreciates that Alex came at all. Throughout her life, Alex hasn’t had much opportunity to be herself and express her emotions, an idea that’s repeated over and over again starting from her coming-out arc in Season 2 or even earlier. Now that Kara can for the most part take care of herself and Alex has a good support system, she finally gets the opportunity to be vulnerable.

10. Andrea Rojas’s Moral Ambiguity

Is Andrea good or bad? Neither. She’s a person who wants love, success, and money, who does sketchy things to promote her company but also fights fiercely for her father and cares about the safety of her technology. Before Andrea, Lena was the main morally ambiguous character, and she could be categorized as “playing for her own team.” However, Andrea goes a step further, crossing into a territory I would call “not playing a game at all.” She’s just a human being trying to have a good life, and that causes her to do good things, bad things, and everything in between. In a show that often accentuates the difference between heroes and villains (“Don’t let them down by stooping to his level,” 5x15), Andrea is a reminder that most people aren’t good or bad -- they’re just living their lives.

TL;DR: They’re all adults now and Lena needs a hug.

#supergirl #supergirl season 5 #kara danvers #lena luthor #j'onn j'onzz #kelly olsen #dansen #nia nal #dreamer #brainiac 5 #alex danvers #andrea rojas

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truecrimesposts · 5 years ago

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ANDREI ROMANOV CHIKATILO

The Butcher Of Rostov

Andrei Romanovich Chikatilo, or The Butcher Of Rostov, as he would come to be known, was a Soviet serial killer who murdered at least 50 people between 1978 and 1990. I've chosen to discuss this case mostly due to the political side of the case, as the countries communist views actively got in the way of the case. In the Soviet Union at this time their ideology asserted that serial murder was impossible in a communist society, making it even harder for the police to protect the people of Rostov.

Chikatilo was born on the 16th of October 1936 is Yablochnoye, Ukraine. Growing up in Ukraine at this time was extremely difficult, since the country was still dealing with the aftermath of an extreme famine which led to millions of deaths, and people resorting to cannibalism in order to survive. In fact, during his childhood Chikatilo would be told frequently by his mother that he had actually had an older brother, but he had been kidnapped and actually eaten by the townsfolk during the worst of the famine. While this story could never be officially verified it is believed that this story is actually what motivated Chikatilo to cannibalise some of his victims. He was an avid reader, and his favourite books to read would become heavily inspired by his own life. During the second World War, Chikatilos father was conscripted to fight in the war against Germany, at which time he was actually kept prisoner. His father was vilified when he eventually returned home, which would in turn affect Chikatilo. He was brutally bullied by his schoolmates because of his father's perceived cowardice. After his father's return Chikatilo began to develop an interest in stories about how German soldiers had been tortured by their Soviet captors during WWII.

However his surroundings would not be Chikatilos only issue. It is believed that Chikatilo was born with hydrocephalus (water on the brain) at birth, which would cause several issues for Chikatilo. One of the most noticeable problems caused was his genital - urinary issues, which would cause bedwetting quite late into his life. It is believed that Chikatilo wet the bed until at least his late adolescence if not his wary adulthood. These genital - urinary issues would also cause Chikatilo to be unable to sustain an eretion later in life.

At 15 years old, Chikatilo experienced what would be his only sexual experience during his adolescence. Chikatilo attempted to overpower a young girl, and he acyally ejaculated almost immediately during the short struggle. Instead of taking this seriously, getting him help or telling anyone what had happened, his schoolmates instead just began to bully him even more aggressively than before. It is believed by psychologists that this event is what triggered Chikatilo to conflate violence and sex, a trait which would stick with him forever.

After failing his entrance exam to the Moscow State University, and completing a brief spell of military service, Chikatilo moved to a town near Rostiv-na-Donu with his younger sister where he got a job as a telephone engineer and married a local girl called Fayima whom his sister had actually introduced him to. Finally, in 1971 he managed to get himself a degree from Rostov Liberal Arts University and managed to get himself a pretty good job as a teacher. However Chikatilo was forced to move from school to school doolowed by complaint after complaint of sexual assault from his young students and their parents. However nothing official was done about this and he ended up settling at a mining school in Rostov.

Chikatilos first documented murder victim was 9 year old Lena Zakotnova. Lena was lured into a shed by Chikatilo, where he then attempted to rape the young girl, during the attack Chikatilo slashed at the young girl with his knife, ejaculating as he did so, confirming his psychological connection between violence and sex, which would go on to become a component in all of his attacks.

There's was actually a witness during this investigation, who claimed to have seen Chikatilo with Lena not long before she disappeared, however despite police taking this seriously and investigating it, they would get nowhere. Fayima provided him with a strong alibi which enabled the killer to avoid any further suspicion in regards to this crime. Desperate to make an arrest in this case, the police arrested a 25 year old man who had a previous rape conviction, Alexsandr Kravchenko. After a brutal and extended interrogation by desperate police, Alexsandr actually confessed under duress for this crime that he didn't commit. He was tries for the murder and in 1984, he was actually executed, and Chikatilo got away with his heinous first murder.

However the close brush with the law clearly got to Chikatilo, and as far as we know today, Chikatilo didn't kill anyone else for 3 years. Tragically though, he hadn't stopped committing crimes. Accusations of sexual assault and abuse kept popping up and finally in 1981 he lost his job at the mining school he had been working at and was unable to find another teaching positions because of this long list of previous accusations. Instead, Chikatilo began working as a clerk for a raw materials factory in Rostov. This should have been a good thing right? Since his access to children had been taken away? Tragically this was not the case. Chikatilos new job involved huge amounts of travel which would give him pretty much unlimited access to a multitude of young victims over the next 9 years.

Larisa Tkachenko, 17, would be Chikatilos next victim. On the 3rd of September 1981 Chikatilo gagged the young girl with dirt and leaves to prevent her from screaming before strangling and stabbing the young girl. The brutal force used is what gave Chikatilo the satisfaction he longed for and the murderer had started to form his own twisted MO.

Chikatilo would find young runaways, usually at train stations or bus stops, before luring the girls and boys into forests and woodlands nearby before beginning his attack. Chikatilo would attempt to rape his victims but due to his inability to sustain an eretion, he began to instead use a substitution, a knife. In a nber of cases, Chikatilo would actually eat the sexual organs of his victims, or remove other body parts like the tip of the tongue or the nose. However, in his earlier cases somothing which was almost always present, was the fact that Chikatilo would target his victims eyes. Slashing and even removing the eyeballs of his victims. Chikatilo would later claim that he did this because he believed the eyes of his victims held an imprint of his face, even on death.

Serial killers were not a very well known phenomenon in the Soviet Union at this time. This was down to a combination of cultural differences and most noticeably the suppression of information at the time, especially information about murder or child abuse cases, in an attempt to maintain public order.

However the Soviet authorities couldn't Bury their heads in the sand when it came to Chikatilos crimes. The similarities in all the attacks, especially the eye mutilation during earlier attacks, was to to much to deny or ignore, and the authorities were forced to face the fact that there was a serial killer operation in Rostov, and a particularly brutal one as that. The media coverage was minimal, but that didn't stop the speculation of the people in Rostov, and rumours of foreign plots and incredibly, werewolves, began to circulate the area, and fears really began to grow.

Major Mikhail Fetisov was transferred to Rostov in 1983 in order to take control of the investigation. Having no doubt in his mind that there was a serial killer on the loose, Mikhail Brought in specialist forensic analyst Victor Burakov to head the investigation in Shakhty. The investigation centered on convicted sex offenders and the 'mentally ill' but the interrogation methods used by investigators at this timeed to a large number of confessions that Burakov was hesitant to believe since they were likely made under duress like Alexsandrs had been. At this stage in the investigation, police had no idea how many murders had actually taken place since not all of the bodies had been discovered, but they did know one thing, with each new body came more and more forensic evidence. The police were operating under the believe that the murderer was blood typed AB due to the semen samples thst were discovered at several crime scenes. Chikatilos blood typed was actuallt type A, but he happened to be a part of a minority group called 'non secretors' which meant that his blood type could not be found out from anything other than a blood sample. The police also had hair samples, since multiple identical grey hairs had been found at several of the crime scenes also.

There were 15 more victims during the course of 1984 and the police efforts intensified drastit, mounting massive surveillance operations canvassing most of the bus stops and train stations in the area. Incredibly this actually did lead to Chikatilos arrest after he was seen behaving very suspiciously at one of the bus stations that were under surveillance. He was imprisoned for just 3 months for a number of minor offenses, but since his blood type didn't match their suspect, (due to his non secretor status) he evaded suspicion for his crimes once again. If this crime had taken place in present day, this would likely have been it, this would probably have led to Chikatilo being discovered as murderer due to the advances in forensics.

After being released from his 3 month sentence he found work in Novocherkassk as a travelling buyer for a train company, and as far as I could find he didn't commit another killing, or any crimes for that matter until 1985, when he murdered two women in two separate incidents.

Burakov was growing frustrated with the case, and another specialist was brought in in an attempt to further assist the investigation. This time it was psychiatrist Alexandr Bukhanovskys turn to help investigators by refining the profile of the murderer. Bukhanovskys defined the killer as a 'necro-sadist' and placed the mans age as between 40-50 years of age, which was a fair bit older than the police had believed him to be previously. Burakov was so desperate to bring this sick killer to justice, and he actually made the decision to visit and interview serial killer Anatoly Slivko shortly before he was executed, in an attempt to get inside of the mind of someone who was capable of committing such heinous crimes.

Around the time of this interview, the attacks seemed to stop. As usually happens when serial killers have breaks in their crimes, the police theorised that one of three things had happened, either he had stopped killing, been arrested for unrelated crimes, or that he had died. However, in 1988, he was back, with a slightly altered MO. This time he was keeping his attacks outside of Rostov and he was no longer finding his victims at bus stops and train stations like he used to. Chikatilo killed a documented 19 people over the next two years, and he seemed to be killing much more irrationally than he used to, and taking bigger risks than he had previously. He was now focusing primarily on young boys. And his crimes would often take place in locations thst were pretty public, and at a higher risk of discovery.

Massive pressure was now being put on the police in the area, and police were patrolling the streets almost constantly which did little more than make people feel a bit safer at first. Burakov then brought in ununiformed officers to patrol likely areas. Chikatilo had actually evaded capture on several occasions, but his luck would soon run out. On the 6th of November, shortly after killing his final victim Sveta Korostik, he was noticed by patrolling police station due t oh his suspicious behaviour. His information was taken and when he was linked to his arrest back in 198r, Chikatilo was put under surveillance.

Chikatilo was finally arrested on the 20th November 1990 due to even more suspicious behavior but he refused to speak. This was when Burakov had an idea, he allowed Bukhanovski to interview Chikatilo, claiming that he wanted Chikatilos help to try and understand the mind of a seru killer from a scientific perspective. This 'flattery' was all it took for Chikatilo to open up to the psychiatrist. He gave Bukhanovski very detailed descriptions of his crimes, and even led the police to previously undiscovers bodies. He claimed to have taken the lives of 56 victims but only 53 could officially be verified. The police had no clue that there were so many victims, they had only linked 36 murders before this.

Chikatilo was deemed fit to stand trial and on the 14th of April 11992 he was taken to court. The killer was kept in an iron cage for the duration of the trial to keep him away from the families of his victims and to be be honest, to keep him away from everyone in the room. He was referred to as 'The Maniac' by the media due to his behaviour in court. His behaviour ranged from bored to manic, singing,talking gibberish and pulling his trousers down in the middle of court. The judge residing over the wasn't exactly impartial, he often overruled Chikatilos lawyer and it was very clear that he'd already decided that Chikatilo was guilty. However despite this, there would not be a verdict on the case for another two months. On the 15th of October 1992, Chikatilo was found guilty of 52 murders, and sentenced to death 52 times.

Chikatilo appealed his conviction, claiming that his psychological evaluation was biased and that he was never fit to stand trial to begin with, but his appeal was denied, and 16 months later, on the 14th of February 1994, he was executed by a shot to the back of his head.

A positive not to end, Alexandr Bukhanovsky, the psychiatrist who was viral during the investigation, actually went on to become a celebrated expert on sexual disorders and serial killers.

#crime / law / justice #major crimes #murder #murderer #true crime #true facts #murderpedia #The butcher of Rostov #andrei chikatilo #serial killer #killer #cannibalism #cannibalistic

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kpopfanfictrash · 7 years ago

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Blackjack (IV)

Author: kpopfanfictrash

Pairing: You / Jungkook

Rating: 18+ (explicit sex... with a detachable sink hose - look, idk; descriptions of past abuse)

Warning: physical abuse

Word Count: 7,721

Summary: Bangtan is one of the most vicious mafias on the west coast. Only six members are known by name though, with a mysterious seventh member dubbed only as ‘the shadow.’ When you become indebted to the worst of the worst – how, exactly can you find a way out?

It is as though the world slows, or perhaps only you do.

Jungkook stares, piecing together the strands you have shown him. You remember what you said the morning after sleeping together – you said Lena did not know everything about you, that no one did. You remember what you told Lena about wanting to protect Jungkook from harm. In the mafia, there is a strict code to be followed: women are protected by the men who love them. Of course, this rule exists in varying degrees and forms throughout the families– in the Vine and likely in Bangtan, the rule applies to both genders.

What it means though, is that sleeping with another member’s sister, their wife or their daughter are all considered unpardonable offenses. The member who is ‘wronged’ has full liberty (sometimes, they are even encouraged) to seek revenge – whatever the word means to them. Thievery, violence, blackmail – even death. All are acceptable under the martial law of mafias. Even being removed from the Vine, even having disappeared all those years ago – if your brother ever found out and discovered you with Jungkook, he would be at full liberty to seek Jungkook’s death.

Jungkook does not react for a moment. He goes still, grip tight on your waist. After a long minute, his expression softens. Leaning forward, he stops an inch away from your face.

“And?” he whispers.

Eyes widening, you find yourself confused by his lack of response. “And?” you repeat. “He’ll kill you, Jungkook.”

Eyes narrowing, Jungkook smirks. “He can try.”

“Right. He will try,” you say, rolling your eyes. “I don’t want you to get hurt and I...” Hesitant, you look down. “I don’t want my brother to be hurt, either.”

At this, Jungkook becomes gentler. “I know. But,” he says, sliding his hands to your hair. “If your brother is a member of the Vine, how has he not found us already?”

Swallowing, you try to ignore how close he is right now. Jungkook’s eyes are burning, piercing and each time you try to speak, the words stick in your throat. “I ran,” you admit. The walls of your apartment are thin here, and you do not know who might be listening. “When I turned eighteen, I changed my name and I ran. They haven’t found me – or at least,” you say, shaping your fears into words. “I don’t know if they’ve found me.”

Looking past, Jungkook stares at the rain. “I haven’t noticed anything unusual,” he mutters, though he hesitates. “But I can’t say I’ve been entirely… focused, as of late.”

Hands slipping further into your hair, he steps closer. Bending his head, Jungkook stops with his lips a centimeter above yours.

“It’s not safe, Jungkook,” you whisper. “I’m not safe.”

Jungkook seems slightly amused. “And I am?” he asks, fingers pushing a piece of hair behind your ear. “Am I,” he exhales, brushing his lips to your neck, “safe? Is that what you think of me?”

Shivering, your hands rise to wrap around his waist. Jungkook presses kisses to your skin, moving you backwards until your hips hit the counter. “Jungkook,” you groan, eyelids shutting. “Stop.”

He obeys, pulling back to look at you. “Tell me,” Jungkook demands quietly. “Is that all?”

“Is... what all,” you blink, unsure what he is asking. “What do you mean?”

“Is that all?” Jungkook leans forward until his hands find the counter. “Your brother is a part of the Vine, you ran when you were young. If they find out about us, they'll try and kill me. Is that all?”

Staring back, you manage a nod. “Yes. Is that not enough?”

Jungkook merely arches a brow. “I hear you. I understand what you’re saying. Hear me then, when I say I don’t care. Hear me,” he interrupts, seeing your face, “when I say your family doesn’t dictate who you are. Only you do. The Vine is dangerous. My being with you is dangerous. But Y/N,” Jungkook says, softening. “Life is dangerous. People are lying who say otherwise. Life is struggle, life is hardship, life is pain. All of it intermixed with fun, joy, love. There are always obstacles, always things to overcome – but that doesn’t make the good things less valid.”

At this, you hesitate. You have spent so long on the run, so long in hiding that it is difficult to imagine another way. For some reason, you remember the little girl behind the table. You remember the girl who hid in her home, unable to fight. You are not that girl anymore. You are older, stronger and perhaps it is time you stopped running.

Realizing this, your grip tightens in his t-shirt. Jungkook smiles, inhaling sharply when you press your lips against his. The first kiss is soft, tentative – somehow, it feels like the very first one. The kiss is a confirmation, an answer to something he asked.

You want him. He wants you.

Jungkook’s body presses closer, hands fumbling with the counter behind you. Something falls to the ground – an old magazine, maybe a phone bill – before he bends, grabbing your legs to lift you onto the counter. A groan escapes you, pulling him closer, wrapping your legs around his waist.

His shirt is still damp, sticking to his body while his hands slide up your legs. “Jungkook,” you exhale, playing with the material. “You’re getting me wet.”

“That’s kind of the idea,” he mutters, teeth scraping your neck. “Why is that a problem?”

“Because,” you giggle. Jungkook shifts and nearly falls, attempting to maneuver inside your cramped kitchen. “It’s making you fall all over the place.”

He catches himself quickly, returning his mouth to yours and losing himself in the process. His hands are everywhere – in your hair, on your waist, yanking you closer. Your body molds obediently against his, seeking his touch. Kissing down the side of your neck, Jungkook tugs your shirt with his teeth.

“Maybe,” he gasps, hands groping for the counter, “the problem is that you’re not wet enough.”

When you open your eyes to respond, Jungkook retracts his hand and sprays you with the sink hose. A shriek escapes you, recoiling but he is too fast to avoid. Gasping, you sputter as your eyes widen in shock. Before, you were dressed in a white t-shirt – a description which seems woefully inaccurate now, with the material soaked through.

“Ah.” Jungkook’s thumbs brush peaked nipples over the fabric. “That’s better,” he murmurs. "Are you wet enough now?"

Warmth pools between your thighs. “Fuck off,” you hiss, punching him hard in the arm. "That wasn’t what I meant," you say, but you laugh. It is hard not to, faced with the stupidest grin on his face.

Cocking an eyebrow, Jungkook seems ridiculously pleased with himself. "No?" he asks. You consider smacking the smirk right off him. “What if,” he murmurs, hands drifting over your body. “I make it up to you?”

The word how is on your lips when Jungkook’s fingers slide beneath the waistband of your sweats. Tugging them lower, he removes them entirely and drops them to the floor. You are not wearing underwear and when Jungkook discovers this fact, he exhales. “Naughty,” he murmurs, brushing a kiss to your shoulder. Grabbing your waist, he deposits you close to the edge of the sink. “You should really wear underwear when you have company over, Y/N.”’

“I didn’t invite you – oh, fuck,” your groan, when Jungkook turns on the faucet.

Watching your face, he moves the hose to your body. The noise torn from your lips is embarrassingly breathy. Keeping you still with one hand, his other controls the hose and its movement, slipping it lower to slide over your sex. Water pulses, sliding against you – you gasp when Jungkook finally reaches the nerves between your thighs.

He smiles at your response. “More?” he murmurs, watching you squirm.

With a fervant nod, you push your hips forward. The water streams between your thighs, over the sensitive mound and arching against him, you nod. “Yes,” you whimper, broken. Clutching him tighter, you balance yourself on his arms. “That feels so good, Jungkook – keep going.”

He nods, tugging you forward – his right thumb flicks upward, changing the setting and the water switches to torrent. Kissing you fiercely, Jungkook readjusts the position of the hose underneath you. Water pulses over your clit when he slips a first finger in. Curling inside you, Jungkook withdraws from your body and replaces his finger with water. Suddenly, the pulse is relentless, a punishing rhythm which leaves you gasping against his lips.

“Fuck,” you choke, clutching his arms. “Jungkook, I –”

Legs trembling, you try to keep still – and Jungkook chuckles, pulling away. “You don’t get to come,” he murmurs, sliding your wet t-shirt up on your stomach. “Not until I say so.”

His eyes gleam when you nod. Tonight, you sense Jungkook wants to be in control. The past few weeks have been so full of uncertainty; he need to know you are his, which is something you understand. Nodding again, you spread your legs wider as Jungkook increases the pressure. The water pounds into your body, hitting your g-spot and making you moan. Jungkook kisses you roughly, bringing you to the edge several times before turning off the water completely.

Tossing the hose into the sink, he grabs your hips and lifts you from the counter. Legs wrapping around him, Jungkook walks from the kitchen and into your bathroom – it is a short trip, barely more than a couple of steps.

When Jungkook sets you down, you nearly slip on the tile. His hands catch you quickly, steadying your frame. Grip tightening on your waist, he stares at your breasts through the shirt – then changes his mind, dragging the cloth overhead. When you stand naked before him, he inhales. Jungkook remains fully dressed in everything but his jacket, but there is something enticing about being completely at his mercy. Your heart thumps, seeing how his gaze curves over your skin – he searches, seeks, and still wants for more.

“Spread your legs,” he insists, stepping forward. Obedient, your feet move apart as Jungkook drops to the ground.

When his tongue finds your center, you exhale, fingers sliding into his hair. Jungkook’s hands spread you further, tongue slipping between the slickness of your folds. He traces you gently, sucking your clit between his lips and alternating with kisses – until your knees start to tremble above him. Every inch of your skin feels aflame, every touch of his lips molten and when Jungkook sees you he takes pity, sliding a hand higher to brace you against him. Pulling you close, his tongue flicks lazily against the lower half of your body. You whimper, hands curling into his hair while his tongue continues, merciless below.

His hands are gentle at first – then harder. Jungkook is your anchor, grasping flesh and kneading your ass with his hands. A moan escape when one of his fingers trails lower. Your eyelids flutter, breath shallow – and Jungkook abruptly stands, taking your orgasm with. Eyes flying open, you see his cock hard, straining the front of his pants. Grabbing your hand, Jungkook brings this down to the bulge.

Inhaling sharply, you cup his dick over the fabric. Jungkook groans, lifting his shirt overhead. The muscles of his body flex, tossing this aside. “Jeans,” he mumbles, when you move your hand higher.

Unbuttoning a button, you keep your gaze firmly on him as you move to the next. Finding his zipper, you push the pants past his thighs. Jungkook’s boxers are removed and when his dick springs up, you lower yourself to the ground.

“No,” Jungkook declares, catching your arms to step free of his jeans. “No more teasing, Y/N. I want to be inside you.”

There is little time to respond when he pulls you against him. Kissing you roughly, Jungkook walks the two of you into your bedroom. Breaking away, he disentangles himself long enough to sit on the edge of your bed. He stares at you there, his cock red and hard. “Y/N,” he groans, watching you slowly kneel over him.

Reaching down, you stroke his length with your fingers. Brushing over the tip with your thumb, you try not to moan when it comes back wet with pre-cum.

“Condom?” Jungkook whisper, suddenly urgent.

With a nod, you reach for the bedside table to rip open a packet. Jungkook patiently while you roll it on and then grabs your hips, aligning himself to your core. Teasingly, he pushes in halfway before pulling back out. His cock enters you in slow, easy thrusts – none of which satisfy your ache.

“Jungkook,” you whimper, waiting for him to kiss you.

His hands slide into your hair, pushing his hips against yours. Jungkook’s hands slide to your waist, bracing himself and you whimper, lowering onto his cock. He slides into you easily, your body so wet that the sound is sinful, each time you lower yourself further.

Biting your lip, Jungkook pulls this between teeth and pushes himself upwards. Hands grasping your body, he guides your hips – only to groan, when you pick up the pace. Resting both hands on his chest, you help by lifting and lowering yourself on his cock. Forehead bent to his, you tilt your pelvis so Jungkook finds a deeper angle. Moving harder and faster, Jungkook nearly slips out when you drop up and down on his dick.

“Easy, babe,” Jungkook grunts, grabbing your ass. Leaning back to the headboard, he braces himself. “Here,” he murmurs, lifting you – only to slam his hips upwards. His gaze darkens when your chest bounces at the motion. Fucking you harder, he moves until you gasp above him with pleasure.

When his hand slips between your thighs, you cannot control the noises you make. Jungkook’s fingers start gentle, playing with your clit as you groan. You begin losing control, falling prey to the rhythm of his hips, the subtle sin of his fingers.

Suddenly, Jungkook sits up to pull your chest against his. Helping you along, his fingers continue moving while his cock thrusts inside you – until you come apart, stuttering around his hard, throbbing length. You gasp, doubled forward to bury your face in his neck.

Jungkook catches you gently, pulling you in – and grabbing your hips with his hands, continuing to move until he comes as well. Your legs begin to relax, softening as Jungkook releases into the condom. He swears, biting down your shoulder; following this with a gentle sweep of his lips.

You stay like that for a while. Flushed, spent and sweaty against him.

Jungkook does not try to move. Instead, he holds you, rubbing small circles against your back. “Y/N,” he sighs. Nose brushing your jaw, he pulls back to look at you. “I don’t want to leave.”

You find you do not want him to go. Already though, you feel your fear rising. No one has ever stayed here before. The fear of the Vine, your brother chokes you and it is only the gentle press of his body to yours, the feel of his hands on your skin which alleviates the pain.

“Okay,” you whisper, aware you are agreeing to more. “Stay.”

Jungkook nods, lifting you off. Rolling from bed, he removes his condom and throws this in your trash. When he goes, you lift yourself on your elbows and watch him disappear. It is hard to look away from the motion of his legs and when he returns, you fall flat on your back.

“Why is your butt so great?” you mumble, staring up at the ceiling.

Jungkook laughs, the sound shocked into being. Joining you on the bed, he hands you a washcloth, cleaning gently before setting this aside. Lowering himself to a pillow, Jungkook wraps his arm around your waist to survey your place.

“I like your apartment,” he decides, fingers tracing your skin.

“Well. I like you,” you respond, returning his gaze to yours.

Jungkook smiles. “But Y/N,” he whispers, pulling you close to bury his face in your neck. “You barely know me.”

When you realize he is making fun of you, you shove him – unable to stay mad for long when he wraps his arms tighter. He fake-bites, growling lightly to flop down on his back. For a moment, you watch him like that, propping yourself up on your elbow.

“Can I ask something?” you venture, and Jungkook looks over suspiciously.

“You can,” he nods – but grins. “I might not answer.”

“Why,” you continue as though he has not spoken, “were you dressed as a police officer the night we first met?”

Jungkook stares for a moment and starts to laugh. “Oh, that,” he says. “I was undercover. A dirty cop is selling our information to the Coalition – another mafia – oh, you know that. Right. Anyways, Namjoon wanted to know how much they know about us, where their information is coming from – that kind of thing.”

“I see,” you nod.

Jungkook moves closer. Legs intertwining with yours, he huddles under the sheets.

“So, you’re Bangtan’s spy – more or less.”

Jungkook ponders, then nods. “I suppose. That’s what I used to be for the government.”

At this, you arch a brow. “The government?”

The corner of Jungkook’s mouth lifts. “So much you don’t know about me.”

“Well,” you inhale, rolling your eyes. “Since I told you a secret of mine, tell me one in return. You owe me. Tell me something I don’t know about you.”

Pretending to think, Jungkook purses his lips. “I hate cheese whiz. It’s not,” he says, brows furrowed, “cheese. I’m very passionate on the subject.”

A soft laugh escapes, poking his chest. “Fuck,” you complain, poking him harder. “That is a lot of muscle. But – seriously, cheese whiz?” you say, not one to be deterred. “That’s it, that’s your big secret?”

Jungkook laughs, quieting the longer he thinks about it. Finally, he exhales. “I’m an orphan,” he states. He says so simply, without much fanfare. “My orphanage was raided for mistreatment, which is how the government found me at all. I don’t know if you noticed,” he says, shifting on top of the bed.

When he turns – the moonlight hits the curve of his shoulder.

Before, you noticed Jungkook’s scars but you did not think much about them. There were so many, you considered them a part of his job. This was insensitive, you realize, given the source of your own. Now, you reach out to brush over his skin. The longest scar is obvious, puckered from shoulder to waist. The line is thick, badly healed – as though Jungkook did not have the resources to mend at the time.

“Will you tell me about it?” you ask quietly.

Jungkook pauses a moment before rolling to face you. His gaze is dark in the moonlight. “It was given to me by our matron,” he says. “I blabbed about the condition of the orphanage on an adoption interview – she punished me with the scar and we were raided the month following. The government saved me, placed me in a special program for children similar to me. I later found out they were turning a blind eye to similar orphanages and left. I became a vigilante of sorts, struck out where I could until finding Namjoon. Actually,” Jungkook admits, half-smiling. “Yoongi was the one who found me. I was under his surveillance, long before he showed up at my door. When he visited, he didn’t even speak. He just handed me a list of all my bank accounts, all my passwords from the past ten years, along with my social security number – I accepted the meeting with Namjoon the following day. Since then...” Jungkook shrugs. “I’ve worked for Bangtan.”

You don’t respond at first. Taking this all in, you observe Jungkook for a moment. For someone so young, he has dealt with a lot of deception. It would make sense then, that he does not like, nor trust the law. Inching closer, you trace a different scar on his chest. The line of this one is long, moving lower until – Jungkook grabs your hand.

“Uh-uh,” he chuckles, nuzzling your neck with his lips. “Already? You’re insatiable, aren’t you?”

Smiling, you wrap yourself gently around him. “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.”

“I think,” he exhales, giving you a pointed look. “You do.”

His words are soft, not important in content but in meaning. His voice is intimate, as though he cares. The way he stares is important as well, since no one has looked at you with such open sincerity before. Here Jungkook is, saying things he has likely never told anyone and asking to know these things about you, in return.

“My father died when I was young,” you say suddenly. “He died when we were young, and my mother never recovered. The man after, he was abusive. He was part of the Vine and he liked to hurt my brother and I – my brother joined the Vine to fight back at him. I ended up leaving the Vine. Leaving him the moment I turned eighteen.”

Jungkook’s chest rises and falls beneath the sheets. “Is he...” Jungkook falters, struggling to control his obvious anger. “The man who hurt you – is he still a part of the Vine?”

With a shrug, you try not to show how much the thought bothers you. “I don’t know,” you admit. “I’m not even sure if my brother is alive, or what position he holds. I like to think he still is.”

Inhaling softly, Jungkook looks at your sheets. “We will have to be careful,” he agrees, echoing what you said earlier. “I’ll talk to Namjoon in the morning and see what he thinks about how to proceed.”

“No,” you blurt, clutching his waist. Jungkook looks up, surprised. “I don’t want anyone to know,” you say. “Not Namjoon, not anyone – it’s not safe for them, Jungkook. Please.”

Staring, Jungkook’s brow lowers. “But Y/N,” he responds. “This might be the only way to protect you – it might be the only way to protect us. I trust Namjoon, I really do. If Namjoon helps, we’d have the entirety of Bangtan behind us.”

Body tense, you immediately understand what Jungkook means by this statement. Having Bangtan’s protection would be a formal declaration. It would mean you belong to Bangtan, mean you are a part of them – and it would mean the Vine has no claim on you anymore. They would likely fight it; your brother would definitely fight it.

“I belonged to them once,” you say to him softly, a reminder. “I once was a part of the Vine, which means I am technically your enemy.”

Jungkook’s gaze turns determined. “Not if you don’t want to be,” he says simply. “Not if I vouch for you, and I will – so long as you want that. I would never force you into Bangtan’s protection, Y/N. I just want you to be safe.”

When he pauses, the air between you is heavy – there is emotion, along with something else. An odd sort of hesitancy exists, as Jungkook lays himself bare. He holds his feelings out and waits for your response. Staring back at him, you feel something crumble inside your chest. The look he gives is deafening and, unable to stop yourself, your curl into his torso. Pressing closer, you rest your cheek on his chest.

“What if,” you whisper, brushing a kiss to his skin, his scars. “We both protect each other?”

Nodding, Jungkook’s chin brushes the top of your head. “I can live with that.”

“Good,” you murmur, looking up – breath hitching, his lips find yours. He kisses you softly, gently before pulling away.

With a yawn, Jungkook settles onto his side. Arms tightening around you, he pulls you into him. “I’m not tired,” he mumbles, already half-asleep. “Tell me another truth.”

“You might not be tired, but I am,” you whisper, barely getting the words out before your head hits the pillow.

The night passes in this way; your body, soul and thoughts entwined with his. For the first time in over a week, you do not dream.

In the morning, you are woken by a phone call.

The shrill ringing pierces the silence, following by vibrating on top of your nightstand. Jungkook moves sleepily, nearly squishing you as he rolls on top. “Hey,” you gasp, jerked awake by his weight. “Jungkook!”

“Morning,” he grins, grabbing his phone and brushing your nose with his.

“You’re squishing me,” you mumble, squirming until Jungkook props himself up on one elbow.

“Hello?” he answers. Instantly, his expression changes at the voice on the other end of the line. “What’s wrong?” he demands, voice lowering.

Whoever it is, they speak quietly. Their words are barely more than a whisper, but Jungkook hears exactly what they are saying. “Understood,” Jungkook mutters, body tense. “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

At this, your stomach sinks with disappointment. You were looking forward to spending the morning in bed. Maybe making breakfast, lounging around in your apartment, continuing more of what happened last night.

“What do you mean?” Jungkook asks, all traces of laughter disappearing. It appears the conversation is not over. Rolling out of bed, the sudden departure of his weight is disconcerting. Sitting up, you wrap the sheets tighter. “No,” Jungkook mutters, facing the window. A long pause follows, where Jungkook listens and does not speak. Then, “And what if I say no?”

You do not hear the response, but whatever it is – Jungkook does not seem pleased by it.

“Fine,” he agrees, clearly not okay with the situation. “Fine – but you owe me. You owe me big.”

Jungkook hangs up. Tossing the phone away, he turns to meet your gaze. For some people, standing naked might be comical but for Jungkook, it only makes him that much more intimidating – he seems comfortable, scars and all. Running a hand through his hair, he also seems agitated.

“Who was that?” you ask, finding your voice. “Who was on the phone?”

“Namjoon.” Jungkook struggles to keep his tone light. “He asked me to come in this morning.”

“O-kay.” You nod, not understanding why he is upset. This can hardly be the first time Namjoon has called him in early. “Is that all?”

“No,” Jungkook admits. Walking closer, his expression remains inscrutable. “He wants you to come in, too.”

“Me?” You blink, taken aback. “But why?”

“He wouldn’t say,” Jungkook says – the longer he stands there, the more uncertain he seems. “He said I needed to come in and that you needed to come with. That’s all.”

“I,” you stutter. Mind reeling, you recognize history repeating itself – you wonder, when you became a twisted version of your mother. Without a second thought, you invited a dangerous criminal into your home, let him into your bed. One who could ruin you at any moment – you let yourself think you meant something to him, only for him to turn you in to his boss.

Jungkook must see your shock, since he moves swiftly forward. Lowering himself to the mattress, he cups your face with both hands. “Hey,” he murmurs. “You don’t have to come. Namjoon can fuck off, as far as I’m concerned – he doesn’t own me. He doesn’t own you.”

Breath quieting, you struggle to remain calm. “Jungkook,” you sigh, pushing his hands away from your body. “These are dangerous men – stop trying to pretend that they’re not.”

“Yes, but I’m also dangerous.” Jungkook flashes a smile, only to sober. “I know, Y/N. I know that they are. I’ve been in this world a long time. But,” he hesitates. "The one thing I will say, is that Namjoon is smart. He’s intelligent, strategic and if he wants to talk – it might be in your best interest to listen.”

“My best interest?” you say, fierce. “Because the other option is he’ll hurt me, is that it?”

“No, no,” Jungkook says, hands encircling your wrists. Quickly, he lets go. “Nothing like that. I’m not doing a good job of explaining. All I meant was that if Namjoon wanted you dead, you would be already.”

You stare back at him. “Gee, what good news.”

Jungkook looks up at the ceiling. “The fact that he wants to talk in person – he has information to give us. Information that needs to be delivered face to face.”

Despite your self-preservational instincts, curiosity crosses your spine. “What kind of information?”

“I don’t know,” Jungkook says, looking down. “He wouldn’t explain over the phone. Yoongi probably thinks I’m being tapped. Y/N,” he exhales, hands finding yours. “I trust Namjoon completely. He won’t hurt you, I’m sure of it.”

“How can you be so sure,” you say softly. “I don’t trust him, nor anyone like him.”

Bowing his head, Jungkook considers your bedspread. “That’s fair. Let me ask you this, though – do you trust me?” he murmurs, awaiting the answer.

You take a moment to consider. Staring at his dark crown of hair, you slide your fingers under his chin.

“Yes,” you exhale, lifting his gaze to yours. The answer is true – no matter how ill-advised, how idiotic it sounds – you trust him. “I trust you.”

“Then,” Jungkook inhales. “I will vouch for him, if you’ll trust me.”

After a long moment, you nod. The weight of it is heavy, as though sealing your fate, but you cannot deny you are curious. You want to know what Namjoon wants.

“Just,” you hesitate, as Jungkook pulls away. “Know it only takes one betrayal to lose a person’s trust.”

Jungkook’s gaze darkens, and you wonder what he remembers. “I know,” he states, looking down at your hands. “I know.”

The room is quiet until you stand, sheet falling from your waist to walk into your bathroom. “Get ready,” you call, tossing Jungkook’s pants from the hall. He starts, moving to stand from your bed. “It’s probably important to look your best when meeting the head of a mafia.”

“That so?” Jungkook feigns surprise, eyes wide. “Golly.”

“Yes,” you say, ducking into the bathroom. “So, go put on some pants and tuck your penis away.”

An hour later, Jungkook pulls up outside an unmarked building. He hesitates in the car, placing it in park and turning your way. “This is it,” he warns. “You don’t have to do this, Y/N – despite Namjoon’s threatening tone, you don’t have to go in.”

Rolling your eyes, you unbuckle your seat belt. “Let’s just get this over with, so I can go home and eat lunch.”

“So, we can go,” Jungkook corrects, grinning. Leaning over the console, he breifly captures your lips with his. “I’m not done with you, yet.”

Cheeks furiously heated, you pull back. “Save it for later, Jeon,” you demand, briskly leaving the car.

He laughs, following and slamming the door shut behind him. Squinting up at the sun, Jungkook’s gaze sweeps the area – you wonder what he looks for until a silver-haired man walks from a building.

The door bangs shut behind him, loud in the otherwise silence.

“Morning,” Yoongi calls, tossing a small black box at Jungkook. The tech of Bangtan is dressed casually, in a sweater and jeans – although to you, Yoongi always seems to have the air of a businessman. Before he belonged to Bangtan, you have no idea what Yoongi did – likely, this is purposeful on Yoongi’s design. “You know the drill,” he drawls, looking at Jungkook.

Grabbing the box, Jungkook turns to face you. “Arms out,” he instructs, and you do so. Raising your wrists, you hold them parallel for Jungkook to scan over your torso. Your arms, chest and legs are similarly covered in clinical movements, while Yoongi watches.

His gaze flickers, but no emotion shows through. Yoongi watches impassively, ensuring you carry no weaponry, no metal of any kind – he smiles when Jungkook nods, clicking the device off.

“Done,” he announces, tossing it back to Yoongi. “We good, here?”

Yoongi nods, turning around. “Follow me,” he says, walking away.

Looking to you, Jungkook motions you follow. He locks the car as you leave, his shadow catching up to you easily. Leaning in, he whispers, “You don’t have to speak if you don’t want to.”

You nod. “I know.”

Jungkook’s hand finds yours, interlacing. “Not that you can’t speak. You can, if you want to,” he adds.

Glancing at him, you fight back a smile. “I know that, too.”

When you look forward, you feel grateful you took the time to dress. Black jeans, combat boots and a brown suede jacket. Sometimes, looking the part is enough to make you believe it. Clothing is similar to armor in a way; it is a means of blending in, when you have lost all control.

Jungkook’s grip tightens as you enter the building. The hallway is chilly and small, with just enough space to walk beside Jungkook. Yoongi does not look back as he enters, continuing to face forward. You note his eyes continue to move. His fingers constantly twitch, in a constant state of observance – almost trance-like in his intensity. You realize it would be difficult to slip anything past him.

Two large men stand at the end of the hall – seeing them, you shrink in on yourself. You remember men like these, remember them visiting your mother and remember hiding behind couches until you were certain they were gone. The two men seem to recognize Yoongi; Jungkook, as well. They step quickly aside.

“Thank you, gentlemen,” Yoongi says, walking past. He is shorter than the men – much shorter, but both of them seem scared when he passes.

The one on the right glances at Yoongi’s hands – and you understand their nervousness, seeing his phone. It hangs loose from his grasp in a non-threatening gesture but to Yoongi, this is a stance of attack. Walking into the room, he flashes a smile and blends into the shadows. Melting off to the side, he slinks out of view and sits down.

Before you are two rows of three chairs; six in total. The seventh chair is at the front of the room, although you do not look there yet. Six of the chairs before you are full. The last one is empty – a seat situated directly to the left of the Head. The chair must be Jungkook’s, since the man seated behind the desk is none other than Kim Namjoon.

Walking forward, you fight to keep your gaze steady. You have only seen Namjoon once prior, and never have you spoken. He has always remained aloof, which is how he intends it to be: fear can be a powerful motivator. Namjoon stays seated as you enter, feet flat to the floor and palms flat on the table.

He watches you walk. For some reason, you get the feeling Namjoon is always watching. Not in the same way as Yoongi, though. Yoongi watches out of boredom, watches just to observe. Yoongi does not truly care what he sees, all he wants is to know things.

Namjoon seeks to understand. Each visual is a data point and you know he is intelligent enough to string the answers together. His gaze is unnerving and you begin to understand why he commands such respect. Coming to a stop before him, you realize you have yet to observe the rest of the room. The remaining chairs hold – from right to left – Min Yoongi, Jung Hoseok, Kim Seokjin, Kim Taehyung and Park Jimin. Such is the respect Namjoon commands that you did not notice them until now.

All in one motion, he stands. Smoothing an immaculate tie, Namjoon gestures for Jungkook to shut the door. Jungkook obeys, which surprises you, but when he returns he laces his hand in yours. The gesture presents you as a united front. Trying not to flinch, you notice Jimin staring. He frowns at your hands, before turning to Namjoon.

Namjoon does not react, merely inclines his head. “Welcome,” he allows. “Thank you for coming, Y/N. It shows a great deal of trust on your part.”

“Some would say foolishly so,” Taehyung adds – when you swivel to face him, he winks. “Hey, Y/N,” he grins. “How do I look today? Pretty?”

When you grimace, you see Jungkook arch a brow. “Pretty?” he murmurs, leaning towards you.

Shrugging, you manage to avoid his gaze. “So, sue me,” you whisper. “He is.”

Facing forward, Jungkook clamps his lips together. It appears as though he tries hard not to laugh – until Namjoon sighs at the front. “I’d ask everyone to be seated,” he muses, waving a hand, “but it seems we only have seven seats.”

“Well,” Seokjin sighs, filled with frustration. “If I had been given proper notice, I would have spoken to facilities and arranged for more. As it is,” he exhales, waving a hand. “You woke me from my sleep thirty minutes ago.”

For the first time since sitting, Yoongi looks up from his phone. “What the hell?” he asks, clearly appalled. “It’s almost eleven ’o’clock in the morning.”

Seokjin stares back in challenge. “Some of us,” he sniffs, “sleep for a full eight hours. It’s how we maintain our status as the best-looking.”

“Uh.” Taehyung raises a hand. “About that. I’d like Y/N to weigh in on the question of who’s the best-looking.”

“Jungkook,” you say, automatic and six heads turn to face you. Jungkook does not react, except to smile. “Jungkook is the prettiest.”

At the front of the room, Namjoon groans. “That’s enough,” he says, waiting for the room to fall silent. “Squabbling isn’t why we’re here. Besides,” he adds, glancing at Seokjin and arching a brow. “I rather think power is the most attractive quality, no?”

Seokjin looks up at the ceiling. “There’s no power section in the Miss Universe pageant, Namjoon. That’s all I have to say.”

Namjoon’s lip twitches, leaning forward to counter. While the two of them bicker, you look at the rest of the room. Yoongi and Jimin sit closest to you and the doors. Yoongi clearly does not pay attention, staring at his phone and scrolling aimlessly through. Jimin is exactly the opposite – he watches you closely, staring between you and Jungkook with obvious concern. His stance is lazy, legs spread and one hand on his knee. He seems almost angry, but that does not make sense. You have done nothing to offend him – but then Taehyung moves, drawing your attention to him.

Hoseok and Taehyung sit across from one another and both of them look steadily at you. Hoseok is silent, leaning forward with both hands steepled under his chin. He observes you calmly, calculatingly; sizing you up in order to determine the level of threat you pose – Hoseok would be the one to restrain you, should it come to that. Taehyung sits opposite him, both in stance and in manner. He remains confident, overly so; his grin only widens when you roll your eyes at him and move on.

Seokjin is the last member you see, seated across from Jungkook’s empty chair. He watches you silently, almost like Hoseok. Unlike the former though, his expression is unreadable. His dark hair is styled perfectly back from his face and despite what you said about Jungkook, Seokjin is truly the prettiest in Bangtan. This is all a part of his game, though. Seokjin exists to lure others in, to make them forget themselves – to lull you into a false sense of security and get you to tell him everything. Then, he will crush you.

Seokjin smiles, rather unsettlingly before Namjoon cuts in.

“I apologize for the early morning meeting. It was unavoidable.” Here Namjoon pauses, tilting his head. “I received information earlier this morning from Min Yoongi.”

Yoongi raises a hand, continuing on with his phone.

Jungkook looks at him sharply. “What kind of information?” he asks, grip tightening on yours.

Namjoon’s gaze drifts to his. “Normally,” he murmurs, quiet. “I do not care who my members date.” Despite the content of this statement, there exists no malice in Namjoon’s tone. “So long as the relationship does not put my members, my organization at risk – I do not care who, or when they date.”

Taking a half-step forward, Jungkook shields you from view. “What,” he demands, voice low and dangerous, “is this, Namjoon? You swore she wouldn’t be hurt. You swore it.”

If you hadn’t been paying attention, you would have missed it. The second Jungkook steps, the others react. The movement is small, slight – but Hoseok and Taehyung pull back. This has happened before; Jungkook and Namjoon have fought and from the way the others react – it is not a pretty sight.

Namjoon nods, curt. “I did say that. I meant it. It’s only,” he exhales – and for a moment, Namjoon seems tired. “I need to know you want this. Need to know you choose Y/N because if you do, there will be certain consequences which follow. We will need to deal with them, as they arrive.”

Jungkook does not react. “This is my decision,” he states, absolute. Then he looks at you. “This is your chance,” he says. “You can leave now, if you wish. No one here would stop you.”

The words are soft, but resigned. Glancing around the circle, you find that no one contradicts him. Returning to Jungkook’s gaze, you silently nod – you do not trust yourself to speak at the moment. There is not really a choice for you, not anymore.

The moment you agreed to come here, you knew what you were agreeing to.

Namjoon nods, seconding Jungkook’s motion. “Then it is done,” he declares. “We accept, we move forward.”

“Hang on,” Hoseok interrupts, leaning in. He glances from Namjoon to Yoongi. “What kind of information was intercepted? What consequences are you referring to? Is Y/N,” Hoseok says, upper lip curling, “a spy? Does she work for the police? What the hell did Jungkook sign us up for?”

Jungkook’s answering laugh is soft, dangerous. Hoseok’s eyes widen when Jungkook crosses the room and places a hand on his chair. “Do you really think,” he murmurs, words silken. “I wouldn’t know if Y/N were a cop?”

Hoseok’s gaze narrows, about to respond when Namjoon interrupts.

“There’s been a hit,” he responds, bored. He watches the entire room freeze, regaining their attention. “There has been a hit issued on Jungkook’s head.”

Slowly, Jungkook straightens. Glancing at you, his face remains drawn. “What for?” he queries, although you both know the reason.

Namjoon exhales. “It appears Y/N is rather well-known within the Vine. They saw her leaving our club and recognized her with you. A hit has been ordered for violating one of their women.”

When he says this, you bristle. “I am not,” you hiss, finding your voice, “one of their women.”

Namjoon’s gaze brightens, curious. “I understand. The facts remain though, that a hit has been ordered on a member of Bangtan. What I do not understand though, is why.”

When Jungkook looks at you, you nod.

“Her brother,” he explains, facing forward. “Her brother is a member of the Vine. Y/N ran from them when she was younger – but it appears they have found her. I wish to offer her my protection.”

Namjoon exhales, as though he feared it would come to this. “A bold offering,” he says softly. “Does Y/N wish for our protection, in return?”

Meeting Namjoon’s gaze, you are surprised by what you see there. He does not seem surprised, though you imagine it would take a lot to surprise a man like him. Rather, he seems resigned; as though he has already mapped out this chess game in his head and this is merely the first move.

Rather than give off an impression of weakness, you lift your chin. “I do,” you say.

The moment you speak, Seokjin nods. “I offer.”

Hoseok follows suit. “I do, too.”

“I offer,” Taehyung nods, oddly solemn.

It is surprising to you, how fast they agree – glancing at Jungkook, you begin to grasp the respect he commands.

Now, there are just Yoongi and Jimin. Yoongi glances up from his phone, scanning your frame. “The messages I received said nothing about Y/N being a spy. There is little data to support that conclusion. I offer her my protection as well.”

A tiny, bubble of hope swells within your chest – as all eyes turn to Jimin.

Jimin stares back, unreadable. “Your brother is a part of the Vine?” he asks, voice low. Jimin tilts his head to one side. “What is his name?”

You blink, about to answer when Jungkook steps in between you. “I do not think,” he states, holding Jimin’s gaze. “That is applicable. Not for this conversation.”

Jimin’s lips tighten, unsaid words passing between them. After a long moment of silence, he nods. The gesture is curt, before sinking even lower. “Fine – I offer Y/N my protection, as well.”

Namjoon exhales, relief clear on his face. “Then it is done. We offer Y/N our full protection as Bangtan – she will be inducted within the month.” Smiling grimly, Namjoon lowers his hand to the table. “Welcome to the family, Y/N.”

[Master List]

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duskfloret · 7 years ago

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「 ♔ 」 The majority of Lena’s lives have had a lot of similarities--namely, being born into either royalty or an otherwise rich family, barely having anyone in her life that actually cared about her well-being, getting taken advantage of, and dying young. In that regard, a lot of her memories of her past lives tend to blend into one another until they’re indistinct and she can’t specifically pick them apart; however, her deaths are the parts that she always remembers vividly, and they tend to haunt her at night.

Her first life, of course, was as Andromeda, and it’s currently the longest one she’s had. In this one, her death wasn’t particularly memorable or tragic in comparison, as it’s the only time she died of natural causes. Specifically, she died giving birth to her ninth child, and the only part she found regretful was that her husband wasn’t by her side when it happened. By her own estimate, she was in her early to mid-thirties at most.

In her second life, she experienced arranged marriage for the first time, having been saved from it previously. She was still hopeful about life and the future, and she still had a reason to keep going, but unfortunately, her husband wasn’t so kind or caring. He was a good leader who put his country first, something she respected him for at first, but that didn’t last long. While he was a great leader adored by his kingdom, the pressure of it all stressed him out to a point he could barely handle, and not long after getting married, he began taking his frustrations out on his wife. At first, it was only verbal and he apologised quickly, but then his stress only grew: after a few years of trying to conceive an heir, it became apparent that it wouldn’t happen. As he’d had an affair that resulted in an illegitimate child, he knew it wasn’t his own fault and turned the blame towards his wife, thinking her useless because of it. Her best guess was that it was likely a result of an illness she caught as a child, but there wasn’t anything she could do: she tried consulting the doctors available and taking medicine, yet nothing helped. At the peak of her husband’s frustration, he struck her once, only once, in the chest. She noticed the bruising that followed, but paid no mind, both not believing it to be a serious injury and not wanting to draw attention to the abuse. She ignored it, only to die a few days later due to the internal bleeding it caused. She passed away a month before her twenty-third birthday.

Her third life marked the beginning of a pattern. Her parents were distant, unconcerned with her well-being, and she had no siblings or friends to spend time with. A lonely life, and unfortunately, one she was starting to get used to. Once more, she was wed off for the benefit of her family. Her husband was kind to her and treated her well, but over time, she came to realise that it wasn’t because he cared about her. The only thing that mattered to him was her family’s status, higher than his, and the only reason he kept up the act of benevolent husband was due to the wealth the marriage brought him. Though disappointed, she decided that it could have been worse and that it’d be pointless to make a big deal out of it. For a few years, she could pretend to enjoy her married life, but as time went on, her husband’s poor leadership skills and management caused him to lose favour with those beneath him, and a conspiracy to eliminate him was born between a few particularly unhappy men. They patiently waited for their chance to strike, and one night when they found him alone, they took it. Though they intended to leave the wife alive in hopes that she’d be remarried to someone more suitable, she stumbled upon the scene, having just stepped away to grab some midnight snacks from the kitchen. She rushed forward to help her husband, and by instinct, one of the attackers stabbed her when she attempted to pull him away. They quickly fled, leaving the couple to bleed out in their bed chambers. She was twenty-five at the time of her death.

In her fourth life, she was wed to a violent man. He mostly yelled and threatened, but on the few occasions where the abuse became physical, he made sure not to hurt her too much; at least, he was careful until she bore him a son, but afterwards, her health no longer mattered. She was more careful when it came to tending to her wounds, but rather than go to the actual doctor, she allowed herself to be treated by her maid, who had a fair amount of medical knowledge. Rather quickly, feelings blossomed between them, and their time spent together became a bit more intimate. Due to her marriage being forced and loveless, she didn’t view her affair as cheating, though they did their best to hide it anyway. Her lover and her children were the only reasons she got out of bed in the morning, and nothing mattered to her more than them. She’d hoped to watch her children grow old and hopefully have better lives than her, but one day when her husband caught her with her maid, that hope died. He was furious and quick to lash out, angry at her betrayal. Though he went for the maid first, she attempted to hold him back so that her maid could escape, only for him to shove her aside, and she hit her head on the bed post as she fell. She fell into a coma, which lasted for a few days before she finally passed away. She had just turned twenty-three the week before.

Her fifth time around, she had an older brother who was kind and charitable. She admired these traits at first--especially because she rarely encountered them--but over time, she noticed that there was a such thing as being too kind. People took advantage of him, and eventually, it led to his ruin. As a child, she’d confided in him about his past lives, as she felt she could trust him; she didn’t think much of it, and she forgot about it over the years, but when she was fifteen, she remembered in the worst way possible. She was the one to find his body after he killed himself, but unfortunately, she didn’t find his journals first. Their parents did, however, and read through what he’d written as he fell into depression and began hating everyone around him, from those who took advantage of him to those who didn’t stop it--and he mentioned, in great detail, his freak of a little sister who thought she could remember her past lives. While she knew he hadn’t truly meant it, that it was just his mental instability talking, the betrayal cut her deep, and when confronted about the accusation, she said nothing to deny it and was thrown into an asylum, abandoned and left to rot by everyone who should have cared about her. In an overcrowded cell without enough food or water, her immune system crumbled, and she died of illness less than a year later. She was barely sixteen.

Her sixth life was much like her fourth, where she was wed to a violent man and fell in love with one of her maids; however, in this life, her maid did not love her back, and their relationship was strictly professional. She had no companions, no joy, nothing to look forward to, but for some reason she couldn’t put her finger on, she wanted to keep living, but at the same time, she cursed this desire. For the most part, she allowed days to go by in a blur and sat back as she pretended that life had nothing to do with her. She aimed to live in a dream until what she truly wanted came and snapped her out of it, and her disposition became increasingly aloof. Her lack of care frustrated her husband, who decided to beat some sense into her. Though he was violent in general, she never felt particularly threatened by him until that day. That day, she scrambled away in an attempt to escape his anger, and in her panic, she knocked a candle to the floor. Flames spread faster than she could have anticipated, eating up the rugs and curtains and furniture. Her husband either didn’t notice or didn’t care, as he pinned her to the ground, preventing them both from escaping. He was a mad man, she realised in that moment. Not just violent, but insane. They both died, along with many others as the fire consumed the mansion. She was twenty at the time.

In her seventh life, she abandoned her optimism and hope and fell into a jaded mindset. All the pain and tragedy she’d endured hit her all at once, and she wanted it to end. Though she played the part of the standard rich girl well, she was plagued by nightmares and longed for the cycle to end. It occurred to her that if she took matters into her own hands and ended her life herself, there’d be no lingering emotion or desire to bring her back again; after all, any desire she had to keep going, keep living, had long since been crushed under the heel of her cruel fate. She was resolute in this desire, and at seventeen, she threw herself from the roof of her mansion and died on impact with the pavement below. Unfortunately, her plan to keep herself from being reincarnated again failed.

#♛「 lena ; about 」memory guts me and strews me in the snow ❞#long post //#abuse //#death //#suicide //#fun fact: her sixth life is the one where she met kyr

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