#like the side of the woman's car was all busted up and a tire looked popped

[secretariatess]

Actual exchange between a police officer and a woman:

Police: Looks like you're having a little car trouble.

Woman *on phone*: I am.

Police: So what happened?

Woman: I dunno.

Police: You don't know what happened?

Woman: Nowell, I had a little accident, but, we're figuring it out. We're gon-

Police: Who're you talking to?

Woman: Triple A. I live in the neighborhood. We're good. We're all good here.

Police: No . . . it's not good.

Woman: No, it's good. Because I'm not operating the vehicle, I'm not driving the vehicle. We're all good. (Smiles at him)

Police: Uh, you are operating the vehicle, ma'am.

Woman: No I'm not.

Police: You drove into a house.

Woman: No I didn't.

Police: You did . . . actually. You did. Um, so . . .

Woman *to her phone*: Excuse me, I'll call you back.

Police: Uh, well, you're on Google, so . . .

[plussizefantasia]

Trust Issues

Bucky x BlackCat!reader

Chapter 2/6 of the BlackCat!reader story that I had a request for!

<Prev / Next>

Word Count: 3.4k

Warnings: Language, Bucky and Reader being kinda mean to each other.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” The first words Barnes has uttered in nearly two hours. “There's only one fucking bed.” It didn’t occur to you to ask the front desk woman if there would be two beds, after all, you and Bucky were supposed to be playing a couple this weekend and couples didn’t need two beds. “Well buck up, Buckaroo, looks like we're sharing for the weekend."

“I’m not sharing a bed with you, you kick in your sleep and snore like a buzzsaw.”

“You’re a filthy liar Barnes, I do not snore.”

“No comment on the kicking?” He raises an eyebrow at you. You just roll your eyes and push further into the room. 

“Well, I’m not sleeping on the ground. So you can either be a chivalrous manbaby and curl up in that tiny-ass armchair or be a grown-ass man and split the bed with me. Your choice.”

Bucky grumbles under his breath, in a language that you don’t speak but hearing it admittedly sends a shiver running down your spine. You don’t really have time to stay and talk him out of his funk. The two of you are only here for the three nights and the last night was the gala so any and all recon needs to be done before then. 

Of course, the team of low-ranking agents who just want to do their fucking part to save the world or some bs like that have already put together a file of information for you. You’ve been burned before though and like to take care of yourself more often than not.

So you inwardly thank Tony Stark for the nice digs and head to the bathroom to get changed into your suit. 

You want to scope out the event space tonight as well as the governor's office the only problem was that the two buildings were practically on opposite sides of the city and you’ll have to take pretty much the whole night in order to get what you need. 

That means despite the fact that you are ridiculously tired from being in the car all day you’ll have to dawn your fur-lined catsuit right away and book it to the State Capital building before the last of the over-caffeinated halfway to burnt-out political interns leave for the night and your usual slip-in-behind-someone-who-isn’t-paying-attention entrance will fall off the table.

You pretend that you don’t see Bucky’s eyes bulge when you walk out of the bathroom in your full get-up, but you feel flattered nevertheless. There’s something to be said about the way donning your suit makes you feel, when you have the mask on and the suit zipped all the way up you feel invincible, powerful, badass, and let’s not kid anyone, sexy as hell.

The way Bucky can’t keep his eyes off you as you move about the room gathering the things you’ll need for your night of recon makes you think that he’s on the same page as you about that last one. But that’s all it is, you remind yourself. You’ve got good assets and when they’re tightly wrapped in a nice little bow they look alright, Barnes doesn’t like you he’s a man… he likes tits and ass. They all do. 

“I’m heading downtown, need to scope out entrances and exits and see if there’s anything in the governor's office that could help us bring him down.”

“I’ll come with.” Bucky moves to grab the bulletproof leather jacket that Steve had gotten him for Christmas this past year.

“Thanks but no thanks Barnes, I’m perfectly capable of doing recon on my own. Besides, you’re not exactly what I would call… stealthy.”

“I’m stealthy as fuck kitty.”

“Don’t call me kitty, and whatever you need to tell yourself, old man. I'll be back. Treat yourself to room service or something, I heard brooding makes you hungry.”

“I don’t brood.”

“And I don’t snore. See, we can both lie.”

Your night is uneventful. The only thing catching your eye is how suspiciously squeaky clean the governor's computer is. You don’t find much that can help you in your mission. The ballroom is a bust too although you do manage to come up with several escape routes should things go sideways the night of the gala. You end up rolling back into the hotel room at around three-thirty in the morning. Not expecting Bucky to still be awake you try your best to make as little noise as possible so that you don’t wake him.

It ends up not being necessary as he is already awake, lounging in the armchair nursing a glass of whisky, and staring at the door you've just come through.

“Don’t tell me you waited up for me? That’s so sweet Barnes.”

“I didn’t want to be the one to tell Fury that his favorite pet got in some trouble.”

“I don’t know how many times I have to tell you, Barnes, I am not Fury’s pet any more than you're Steve’s.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that.” He scoffs and takes another sip of his drink.

“Well, you’re off the hook I guess I’m back safe and sound so you can finally go about getting some much-needed beauty sleep.”

“You really can’t take anything seriously, can you? I’ve been waiting here for hours because you left without letting me in on your little plan.” Bucky stands up and places his glass on the side table next to him. You have no idea where the hell this anger he has is coming from but you’ll be damned if you let him talk to you like this. “We’re supposed to be doing this mission together and the first moments you’re left to your own devices you run off and risk yourself unnecessarily.” He's getting heated and it's rubbing off on you.

“What the hell is your problem James?  I didn’t ask you to wait for me! You’ve been a bit of an ass all day and I’m really fucking tired of it. I’m here to do my fucking job, are you?” Hindsight is a bitch though and you realize after you say the words to him that poking the bear is probably not your best option at the moment, nevertheless, you’re a glutton for punishment so you dig in even more. “I mean first you get all moody in the car because of some shit you brought up in the first place, then you stay up waiting for me like you’re my dad or some shit making sure I get home safe. I know that you don’t like me, I get it and if I’m completely honest I don’t really like you either. No matter what you think or want though, we have a mission to complete and I’ll be damned if I let some metal-armed brute fuck up my perfect completion record.” You don’t really remember taking breaths but obviously, you have or you’d be passed out after that long ass speech. 

It doesn’t get you the reaction you want though, instead, Bucky just clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth and lets out some long-suffering sigh like you’re the bane of his existence or some shit. You let him throw his grown-man tantrum and don’t move to stop him from huffing and puffing around the room until he goes to lie down on the floor.

“What are you doing?” you ask, every syllable dripping with exasperation.

“Sleeping, what does it look like?”

“Yeah, I can see that your trying to sleep like a caveman on the cold hard ground what I don’t understand is why, given the big ass bed right here.” You carelessly lift one hand and gesture towards the California King bed with admittedly really comfy-looking sheets spread across it. 

“I’m not sleeping in the same bed as you Kitty, I thought I had told you that.” He practically snarls.

“I thought you were kidding. What? Afraid you’ll get cooties or something?” 

“I’m not sharing a bed with you Y/N. Drop it.”

“Fine. You know what? Fucking be like that.” You grab a pillow off the bed and throw it down at him. Before grabbing one for yourself and taking up position on the floor a few feet away from him.

“What are you doing?” 

“Funny, I thought I just asked you that.” You reply laying down on the ground with your back towards him.

“You’re not sleeping on the floor Y/N it’ll mess up your back.” `“Well then I guess you have a choice to make. Either you get over yourself and we both get to share the nice bed, I’ll even put up a pillow wall to protect your dignity if you’re that worried about it.  Or we both sleep on the floor and I wake up tomorrow morning as grumpy as you because my back hurts.” You let the silence reign for a few seconds after you're done, still facing away from him and waiting for him to make the decision.

“God you’re so annoying you know that?” Bucky groans out as he moves to sit up and make his way towards the bed.

“I’ve been told it’s one of my best qualities.” You stick your tongue out at him and follow him to the bed. You follow through with your promise of a pillow wall placing three pillows length-wise between the two of you. Afterward, you turn around and turn off the bedside lamp, plunging the room into darkness. 

You wait for a few minutes thoughts racing endlessly in your mind. “Bucky?” You call out.

“What?” he mumbles back.

“Will you tell me a bedtime story?” You ask.

“Y/N?”

“Yes?

“Go the fuck to sleep.” You do.

_________________________________________________

The next morning you wake up to an empty bed, but an intact pillow wall so deem the night a success. Rolling over to check the bedside clock you see that it’s about seven and groan at the fact that Bucky’s absence apparently woke you up an hour before you had planned.

Bucky’s absence doesn’t last long, however, as minutes later he comes strolling into the room. He’s wearing a simple grey tee shirt and some black sweatpants but the entire front of his shirt is soaked making the grey a darker shade than it was originally. Similarly, his hair is dripping wet and you honestly can’t tell if he’s taken a shower yet or if he's just soaked with sweat. What confuses you more is that you don’t know which you’d prefer.

“Morning Sarge.” You call out from your place in bed. Bucky jumps a little like he forgot that you’d be in the room. 

“Morning.” He mumbled before making a swift turn and essentially hiding away in the ensuite bathroom. When you hear the shower turn on you know he's still in a mood from last night. You swear to whatever god there might be that this man is going to be the death of you. 

“I’m calling room service for breakfast do you want anything?” You shout at the bathroom door.

“Eggs and toast.” He calls back. You roll your eyes at his basic order but relent anyway and pick up the phone to call for the food. 

His shower finishes right about the same time that the food arrives. When he walks out of the bathroom in just a towel wrapped around his waist and a smaller one in his hand ruffling his hair to dry it you about choke on the food you hadn’t even started eating yet.

“Your foods over there.” You point to the little sitting area on the opposite side of the room from you. You're sitting crisscross across the ottoman at the foot of the bed. A plate of stuffed French toast with a side of sliced peaches perched on your lap.

“I figure that we should probably talk about the plan for the rest of the weekend, to avoid any more… angst between us.” You speak between bites of your breakfast.

“I thought we already had a plan but apparently that doesn’t mean much to you does it.” He turns his body to face you and crosses his arms over his chest.

“I’m not starting the morning off like this, James. You can either talk to me like an adult or you can sulk in the corner it’s your choice.” 

“I don’t sulk.”

“For a guy who doesn’t sulk or brood you sure spend a lot of time doing both.”

“I just- I don’t know why you always have to be putting yourself at risk.” You aren’t prepared for the tone shift of the conversation.

“I’m an adult Bucky, I can make those kinds of choices for myself.”

“I know you can, I just don’t see why you feel the need to.”

“What do you mean?” You can physically feel yourself start to get defensive. 

“I mean that for as long as I’ve known you, you’ve always gone the extra mile, covered every base that needs to be covered and even some that don’t. You push yourself to the point of exhaustion and you don’t seem to care. You do the job of ten people when you don’t need to and it makes me tired just watching you.”

“I-”

“I wasn’t finished. Take last night for example. You went out and re-did recon that our team already did for us because you didn’t trust that they had done enough and what did you find? Nothing. Nothing that you didn’t already know from reading the mission file.”

“When did this become a fucking therapy session? I don’t recall giving you my insurance information Dr. Barnes and I’m not sure I can pay your hourly rate.” You try to deflect. He's right, you didn’t find anything new and you’d been a little pissed at yourself because of it, but you don’t need that shoved back into your face.

“Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“Push away your real feelings with jokes, Peter and Tony do the same thing and it drives me up the wall.” He stares at you.

“I don’t know what you want from me Bucky. I don’t know who you want me to be, you call me a kiss-ass when I try too hard, but you’ve been pretty clear on the fact that you don’t think I can be redeemed. You seem to care about me and yet give me shit about anything and everything that I do. I don’t know what to think or feel around you and it throws me off.”

“I do care about you.” 

You don’t know what to say to that, so you don’t say anything. You and Bucky sit in silence for what could’ve been seconds minutes or hours. Neither one of you is willing to be the one who breaks the spell that has settled over the room. Both of you are saved by the bell when Bucky’s phone rings on the desk in front of him.

“It’s Steve, I’ll be right back.” He gets up and moves to take the call out in the hallway. You still don’t say anything. But you do flop onto your stomach across the bed the moment the door closes behind him. 

You grab the nearest pillow to your outstretched hand and bring it to your face, screaming into it and letting out as many muffled curse words as you can before you run out of air. When you’re done throwing your mini tantrum you stand up, run a hand through your hair, and take in the deepest breath you’ve ever taken in. 

It seems that Bucky’s call with Steve is going to go longer than you thought so you might as well get ready for the day. You put on the flowing wide-leg pants and halter tank that you packed, it gives just the right amount of classy that goes along with your cover in case you needed to interact with anyone, while still being easy to move in and pretty damn comfortable to boot.

You return to your perch at the foot of the bed, this time with the mission files in your hands. Despite how many times you’ve poured over them you still want to make sure that you’re ready for the gala tomorrow night. The best use of your time right now is trying to figure out the best way to get close to the Governor at the party.

Since his computer had been a bust the best way to get him was going to be a verbal confession to some of his backroom dealings. Maybe with more time, you’d be able to pull together a bit more of a sting operation and pull out all the stops trying to catch him but you were on a time crunch. The gala is tomorrow and then after that the governor starts his reelection campaign.

Bucky walks back into the room and throws his phone on the bed next to you, “Steve said the analysts back home got word that there’s a new player to be aware of tomorrow. The Governor's son is gonna be there, he's been flouncing across Europe for the better part of the last five years and we’re not exactly sure why he’s back but we know it’s important. Think you can handle it?”

“Did you actually just use the word ‘flounce’ in a sentence.”

“Can you handle it or not.”

“Don’t get your panties in a twist Barnes, I got this.”

“I don’t doubt it, Kitty, in the meantime though maybe we should do some asking around to see what we can get on the kid.”

“Honestly, James I’m a little hurt that you think I’m that far behind you. Besides, I know exactly where to look to get the answers I’ll need.”

“And where is that exactly?” Bucky looks at you and raises an eyebrow. 

“His Instagram.” Snapchat, Twitter, and any and all other social media you can get your hands on. You know rich kids better than any other group of people in the world, they’re incredibly naive most of the time and some of the easiest targets because they’re sharing their entire lives with the world. If there's something to know about this guy, you’ll find it on his socials. 

You and Bucky spend the rest of the day and well into the night, doing your research. At some point, you’d been given access to the full guest list which allowed you to add some names to your internet stalking session. By two in the morning, you can confidently say that you know this guy and several of the other guests who would be attending better than they knew themselves. 

“Alright doll, it’s time for sleep.” Bucky grabs your laptop and closes the lid before taking it off your lap completely and plugging it in for you.

“What? I was just getting in the groove! I found another rabbit hole.”

“I don't know what that means but I know that it’s late and we have to be on our best game tomorrow so sleep it is.”

“You can sleep, but I need to keep working,” Bucky calls your name.

“This is the type of stuff I’m talking about, working yourself to death. Trust in the work you did today, trust that you’ve got everything you need. I do.”

You will never admit to the way that your heart thumps when you realize just how much faith Bucky has in you. 

“I’ve made that mistake before, trusting myself and trusting others, it never goes well for me.”

“Well then, work yourself to death and be sloppy and tired tomorrow if you want, but do it over there with just a desk lamp because I’m going to bed.”

“Fine. I will.” Stubbornly, you pick up the notebooks and files that surround you and move them all to the too-small desk in the corner of the room. You flick the lamp light on and groan at the dimness of the bulb. Bucky’s words bounce around your skull, you wouldn’t be sloppy. You were never sloppy. Sloppy meant getting hurt or worse. You couldn’t be sloppy.

Fuck. You couldn’t be sloppy, especially with Bucky’s life on the line too. 

You growl low in your throat as you flick the lamp off and begin getting ready for bed, pretending not to hear the triumphant snort that comes from the lump on the bed.

“Scoot over, you fucking starfish, leave some room for me.” You shove at Bucky’s back, nothing happens of course but he takes pity on you and scooches over anyway. “Do I need to construct another pillow wall Your Highness or do you think you’ll be okay for one more night?”

“I think I’ll survive. But know that if you kick me in the middle of the night I reserve the right to shove your ass onto the floor.” 

“Noted.”

[gemini-sensei]

I literally had to send this in or I would explode.

I keep imagining that one of the guys gets off work and goes to the grocery store right after. Reader needed something for dinner that she forgot to pick up when she was there the last time. He's busy grabbing whatever it is so he can go home faster.

He's almost done when this skimpy little bitch starts trying to talk to him. He's trying to be nice and just get her off his back so he can check out. Next thing you know she’s basically all over him.  She’s trying to touch them and get up on him.

Suddenly out of no where she is being pulled off of him. It's Reader who looks pissed. For a moment he thinks “Oh shit please don't think I was into this weird crazy chick that was just all over me.” he's surprised that within a split second she is right next to him, and now his wife is all over him.

“What the fuck where you trying to do to my HUSBAND?!?”

“Lol sorry but I didn't know he was married.”

Reader grabs his hand which has a thick wedding band on his finger, she puts her own ring next to it. She's fucking pissed pissed.

Reader then says “Yes he's married and his kid/a are at home waiting for him.”

(please I would die if it was Hawk or Miguel because Reader would be like “his twins / triplets”)(don’t worry someone is watching the kids while Reader is out, she meant to text him that she was going to go pick what they needed up herself last minute but clearly he didn’t get the text.)



The chick doesn’t even seem that bothered that she caused a scene in the grocery store trying to hit on a clearly married man.

Reader ends up checking them out and they hurry off to her car. Her husband is trying to explain what happened.

Reader doesn’t even care because the next minute she has his pants and boxers down and is sucking his dick from the passenger side. It’s sloppy and messy. Super loud and wet, filling the whole car with her loud slurping and gagging. She moans around him every other sexy while she licks and sucks how fat dick. His eyes are rolling back in no time as she works him over in her mouth. His eyes are basically rolling with a few good minutes. He busts a nut right in her mouth. She smirks as she pulls off him and is about to look him in the eye and swallow his nice fat load. But she looks outside the front car window and sees the chick from inside the store. It’s almost as if Reader had luck on her side when her and the woman make eye contact.

Reader looks her right in the eyes as she opens her mouth and shows of her husbands nice white cum on her tongue. She gulps it down before smirking and pulling her husband into a sloppy kiss.

The women is completely shocked and embarrass as she runs off to her own car.

Reader is just on a huge ego trip at this point.

Sensei-Venus✨💕

🤭🤭 @sensei-venus I haven't stopped thinking about this for the last 2 days and it's just- ahhhh! I love it. The way Reader takes control of the situation and puts the other lady in her place.

I can see Miguel and Demetri getting super uncomfortable in that sort of situation, not wanting to be rude to the woman or yell at her or anything like that, but just trying to ignore her. And when his wife sees how visibly uncomfortable he is, it fuels her anger because isn't it obvious her hubby is uncomfortable? You see how good he looks but you can't see how put off he is?

Robby would ignore her for a bit until it became unbearable. He'd put up his tough guy armor and tell her to buzz off, but she thinks he's just playing hard to get. Please take the hint. He's so tired of it by the time Reader pulls her off of him that he's visibly exhausted. Not to mention Robby's feelings around cheating and how he'd never do that to Reader. So he's just feeling icky, but no worries babe. Reader makes him feel so much better.

Hawk is annoyed to no end, but keeps.it underwraps because he doesn't wanna cause a bigger scene. He's stone cold the whole time this other lady is all over him, trying to shrug her off as if she were nothing more than a chip on his shoulder. He thinks it's pretty hot when his wife comes out of nowhere and looks ready to deck the lady, ngl. He's all for the little.revenge stunt too at the end, watching his wife stare the other woman down and showing off how good she makes him feel with a warm load in her mouth. He revels in his spiteful, grumpy wife so long as her anger isn't focused on him.

[lizzy019]

𝒜𝓇𝑒 𝒴𝑜𝓊 𝐼𝓃 𝐿𝑜𝓋𝑒? ...𝐹𝑜𝓇 𝑅𝑒𝒶𝓁 𝒯𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝒯𝒾𝓂𝑒?

Sub!Two-Bit x Fem!Reader [Reader is best friends with Two-Bit] SLOW BURN!

cw -> somnophilia, masturbation, couch seggs, breast play, cowgirl, dacryphilia, light degradation

Word Count -> 6.2K (crazy ikr?)

Two-Bit is mah baby whatchu on abttttt

“Blasted car.” You muttered to yourself, parking your now useless vehicle onto the side of the road where people couldn’t hit it.

The car had stopped working, shooting out clouds of black smoke from its exhaust pipe while the little clunking noise had become repetitive from somewhere in the back of your vehicle.

With obvious exhaustion in your eyes, you find yourself trekking along the muddy and overgrown sidewalks, trying to spot Two-Bit’s house anywhere nearby to stay for a bit until a tow company could come pick up your car. Unfortunately, while you couldn’t find his house, you stumbled upon him trying to pick up a random innocent girl on the streets, who so clearly wanted nothing to do with him.

So with tired steps, you made your way over to the two and sighed heavily to announce your presence. This had Two-Bit looking over in confusion, smiling at you instantly and forgetting the other girl quicker than he could even think it. His hands grabbed your shoulders and happily shook you, making you a little dizzy, but a smile still managed to cross your face.

“Heya, numbnut! You wanna go with me to get ice cream? I’m so hungry, but food’s too hard to cook.” He frowned, hands moving to fix the little fold of hair hanging over his forehead. How could you possibly say no to him?

“I mean, I would, but my car’s busted. I think the engine’s worn out, and I was hopin’ I could stay over at your place until a tow truck driver comes by to pick up my car for a fix.” You murmured, hands pushed deep into the warm fabric of your pockets, eyes staying fixated on him as you watched him think.

With a soft grin on his lips, he nodded his head happily and politely let you loop your arm with his. In this sort of neighbourhood, any woman was likely to have something improper done to them without the supervision of another man. With paced steps, Two-Bit began to lead you to his house, talking away gleefully as you travelled to your awaiting destination.

“Oh, it was gnarly alright! The movie was sick, I don’t think I’ve ever seen somethin’ so swell! I ain’t never watched a movie starrin’ a girl either, but it was pretty alright. What about you, numby?” He asked with a smirk, awaiting an answer as you only shook your head and smiled.

What a big goof he was.

“Unlike you, I was drivin’ up to go get food. I was runnin’ low and you know how my family gets. I gotta be the one to do everythin’ nowadays..” You contempted, gently bumping him with your hip to try and get him to stumble. It was playful, a common little joke you did to amuse each other.

“Why were you buggin’ that girl? You gotta stop flirtin’ with ‘em just to bum their money, Two.”

Two-Bit scoffed at your words, bumping you back playfully and shrugging. Soon, you arrived at his home.

“My life’s boring, smartass. Gotta do somethin’ while Brenda’s at school, yeah? Somethin’ aside drinkin’ and eating cake while watchin’ Mickey, but it doesn’t matter. I like my way of doin’ things.” He answered, walking you to the side door and allowing you into his little bungalow house.

While inside reeked of cigarettes, alcohol, and overall dirtiness, it held a sort of comfort that made it appealing to you. Maybe it was the mess in the kitchen that was all too real at your own home, or maybe it was the way Two-Bit flopped so freely onto the sofa without a care in the world in hopes he’d turn on the TV and find a rerun of a Mickey show, or maybe it was the way the house had this.. warm feeling. Regardless, you threw away all ladylike manners and plopped yourself down beside him, trying to prevent him from moving with your weight and giggling when he slammed a pillow to your face.

“Hey! That’s not nice, I’ve been nothing but kind to you.” You tried to act innocuous, yet it was rebutted with another whack of the pillow which had both of you laughing hysterically.

The hand on the time’s clock finally hit 6:30, and just a moment or two later, Two-Bit’s mother and Brenda came through the side door. Why was the side door so popular for entry when there was a front door?

Nonetheless, Brenda’s beady blue eyes met yours and the cute 6 year old ran over to you with the most curious and gleeful expression you could possibly think of. She was the spitting image of Two-Bit, chubby face with the cutest eyes, lovely dirty blonde hair and the prettiest little smile. She looked like an absolute sweetheart!

“Are you another girlfriend that.. that Keith brought home?” Brenda asked you, a soft inhale between words as she collected some of her thoughts to speak them properly. You had to choke back a laugh, smiling so widely you were sure you looked like the Cheshire cat.

“No, sweetie, I’m not. You’re Brenda, aren’t you? Your brother says everyone calls you Annie.” You responded with faux serenity, trying to maintain your composure at the sweet sight of the little female version of Two-Bit. It was honestly adorable.

With a bright little gappy smile, Brenda nodded and hopped onto the couch beside you, sweet little hands coming to fiddle around with your purse.

“Yeah, everyone calls me Annie or Bren, but you can call me whatever! I’m just happy you’re not one of those weird girls he brings over, they scare me.” She muttered, her little petite hands releasing your purse before moving to the sleeve of your shirt. She seemed very curious, but before you could say much, Brenda tried to wriggle herself into your lap to watch Mickey more comfortably. So Mickey Mouse was common in the household?

“Alright Annie. You know you’re very pretty, right? You look a lot like your brother and your mother.” You paused to speak, gently beginning to split the little amount of hair she had to put two small braids on her head.

Entwining the hair together to form a pattern while Two-Bit and Brenda laughed at whatever was playing on the TV screen, you didn’t have the chance to see his mother walk by, a tired expression clearly tainting her facial features before she appeared in your peripheral vision. She seemed very content watching the three of you, and you paid no mind as to not embarrass her.

“Do you three want anything in particular for dinner?” Her dulcet and soft voice rang through the room, alerting the two siblings and you as well.

You could only shrug, putting the decision on the two as you finished Brenda’s braids. Now she had two lovely french braids, loose enough to be comfortable but tight enough to stay in place.

“Potatoes ‘n gravy!” Brenda exclaimed with glee, hopping off of your lap to scurry over and help her mother in the kitchen with dinner.

You smiled graciously at this sight, and a simple thought ran through your head as you watched. Brenda was a good kid, swell beyond belief and as kind as any girl could hope to be. Two-Bit sat up as well, handing you the remote in case you wanted to watch anything while he walked over to help set up the table. It seemed everyone had a job in the family, a role to play to get a task done.

You shut off the TV, setting the remote on the coffee table and sighing while you pushed yourself up off of the sofa to follow behind. Entering the kitchen, you were met with the unpleasant sight of garbage mixed with beer bottles, cigarette packs, carton boxes and filth piled up. While it had you frowning, the way Two-Bit had Brenda on his shoulders, grabbing the plates from the highest shelf to set the table, and his mother with the most affectionate smile anyone could ever display while she watched them was what distracted you from the mess. As long as they were happy, nothing else really mattered.

His mother’s gaze fell to you, and with a smile, she gestured you over. Without a second thought, you hurried over and smiled back, giving her the softest expression you possibly could.

“Yes, ma’am? Did you need something from me?” You asked politely, and his mother nodded slowly.

“Yes, I need you to mash the potatoes while I make the gravy. They’re already peeled, could you do that for me? If you don’t wish to, I could get Keith to do it.” She hummed out, moving to the fridge to dig out the proper ingredients while you agreed to it without a doubt.

How could you possibly say no when she looked so tired already?

With gentle motions, you began to mash the softened potatoes, carefully smashing them in the bowl they were in and adding the occasional sprinkle of salt and pepper to add flavour. No one likes flavourless, warm mashed potatoes anyway.

Sitting at the dining room table, skies dark outside and the one light overhead keeping the dining room table lit, you all were happily chit chatting over some steamed chicken, mashed potatoes and veggies. You had to admit, Two-Bit’s mother could cook really damn good. Regardless, you couldn’t help but occasionally frown whenever it seemed that Brenda disliked the veggies. It was sweet though, you could see your own younger self in her at times.

“Annie, are you okay, sweetheart? You look like you don’t like your food.” You always found yourself in awe by how gentle his mother was, but you smiled when Brenda pouted and pushed away her plate, everything nearly licked clean off except for the damned veggies.

“Mama, I don’t wanna eat ‘em! Yucky.” She pouted, bottom lip pushed forward in a plea to not eat them.

With a soft sigh, their mother nodded and shooed away the child to go watch shows on the television while she finished the rest of the veggies. You felt bad, but you didn’t wanna say anything in case you were interrupting something. But you turned to Two-Bit and saw him purloining the vegetables from his mother’s plate, and it wasn’t even sneakily anymore. He probably had the same thought process.

His mother turned to him with a wide smile, and you couldn’t help smiling yourself. She looked so happy.

“Keith, where will your friend stay? The guest room is occupied with all of our things. Would it be awkward to ask if you two could maybe share a bed for tonight? If not, we can clean up the guest bedroom for her.” She was almost too sweet, and you could tell Two-Bit was thinking the same thing.

While it would indeed be a bit awkward sleeping together with your best friend, you didn’t wish to put her through more work considering she just came back from a 14 hour shift. You shook your head, taking all the plates and cutlery to put them into the sink. In the kitchen with a sponge in hand, you began to clean all the used dishes and cutlery, as well as the glasses. It was the least you could do since they let you stay at their place for a day or two until the tow truck came. Unfortunately, there was still no one. Apparently they were “behind on schedule.”

Once you were finished, you looked back into the living room where Two-Bit had another beer in his hand, Brenda was sitting with a box of juice, and their mother laid on the armchair with a blanket on her lap trying to get some sleep. It was a sweet sight, you couldn’t lie.

“Two-Bit, can I use your shower? I promise I won’t be long, but where is it?” You asked serenely, smoothly almost.

His gaze wafted over to yours, and he nodded while he sat up to lead you to the bathroom. Soft steps followed by creaking floorboards were all that was heard for a moment or two. The hallway walls were littered with family photos, the one that stood out to you the most was the one with just Two-Bit, his mom and his dad. Two-bit had a father?

You paid no mind, tippy-toeing until you found the bathroom at the end of the hall. You thanked him silently, giving his arm a little slap before giggling and hiding away in the bathroom.

Stripping the clothes you wore off of your body so you could freely shower, the cold tiles of the floor stinging your feet, you began to find yourself smiling at the little collection of rubber ducks you presumed were Brenda’s. It was sweet, honestly. You turned on the shower, keeping it at your favourite temperature before hopping in to wash away any stress left behind from your car incident. While it was nice staying with Two-Bit, you had this little nagging feeling in your chest, something tight that made everything feel a little too rough around the edges.

You tried convincing yourself that it was just stress as you washed your body with soap, lathering it on all parts of flesh that were dirty or sore before rinsing under the shower’s waves of rain. You were losing it, there was no way you were falling for Two-Bit and just how lovely his whole lifestyle was. There was no way from a simple visit to his house, you had finally managed to convince yourself of it.

But that can only hold out for so long.

Two-Bit handed you a shirt while you embarrassingly covered your breasts from his view, taking the shirt in your free hand before he turned around so his back faced you, giving you privacy to put it on. You did just that, you threw the shirt over your head and popped your arms through the sleeve holes, finding the shirt to be just a tad bit too loose as it hung low around your collarbone.

Nonetheless, you found it cozy and you found yourself liking the smell of it. Needless to say it stunk with cigarette and beer, but it also had that scent that only Two-Bit had, that little chocolatey and woody kind of smell. It was nice, you couldn’t lie.

It had now reached 10:30 at night, you were exhausted from everything and honestly, you really didn’t want any more disturbances, so you tugged at Two-Bit’s arm and gestured for him to lay down and rest as well. Your head rested on the pillow he provided you, eyes already shut as his weight dipped the bed. You smiled softly when he covered your body with the blanket, it was sweet.

“Mmh.. thanks for everything, Two-Bit. ‘M sorry the tow truck company isn’t here yet, I swear I called them twice.” You apologized, hands tucked close to you as you felt yourself drifting off too quickly.

Two-Bit didn’t seem to mind, he was busy watching how your body looked in his shirt. He couldn’t tell you what was happening to him, how you affected him and how you annoyingly messed with his mind more than you already did. He simply gave a hum of acknowledgement to your statement, watching you fully succumb to the strength of your exhaustion before he moved his hand to rub at his crotch.

It was wrong, he knew it was. But he also knew you were a deep sleeper, he could use that to his advantage.

A hand came to dig his own half erection from his underwear, and his other trying to gently push up your shirt without having you stir or move. It was a selfish and greedy way to get what he wanted, what he’d been seeking since he first met you. He knew you’d never feel the same, you’d never wanna be with a guy like him. Someone scolded by society, shunned and disgraced.

Two-Bit was different from Keith. Keith was soft towards his family, loving to his friends, but Two-Bit was the one who was rebellious, boisterous and careless.

Soft groans left his mouth as he watched the slow rise and fall of your chest, nipples erect from the cold of the air. The way they moved and swayed whenever you subconsciously moved your body to become more comfortable. He felt so wrong, he didn’t know if this was a Two-Bit move or a Keith move. Whichever it was, it was a low move for the sake of getting his own pleasure.

His strokes on his weepy cock became more desperate until he focused solely on the tingling and burning of an orgasm building up. Poor Two-Bit, struggling not to moan, cum, or move too much for the sake of himself and everyone else’s sleep. But surely enough, his hand clasped the tip of his cock while thick spurts of semen began to spew out from the head, overfilling his hand and some inevitably pouring onto the bedding.

A loud whimper managed to leave his throat, until he too was knocked out from exhaustion. The sleep had managed to overcome his own need to clean up his hand and rid it from the semen on it, but he was dead asleep before he even had the thought to go and clean himself up. He’d do it in the morning..

Waking up to rustling fabrics wasn’t the most pleasant way to start your morning, but it was enough to get you going. You pulled down your shirt which you thought innocently was shifted while you were asleep, stretching and accidentally bonking Two-Bit right in the head. This woke you up more properly, and you began to apologize lazily.

“Mmh.. sorry, Two. Didn’t mean it.” You hummed, voice groggy from lack of use during the night while you tried to blink your eyes awake. Unfortunately, you were still too tired to even care about starting the day when the bed was warm and Two-Bit was there beside you.

However, Two-Bit looked down at his crotch, angry with his new morning wood he hadn’t realized until he moved his legs. But when he saw you were oblivious to it, he took it as his chance to get out of his own room as fast as he possibly could. Pants on and shirt messy, he zipped out from the room, leaving you hazy and confused all by yourself.

You didn’t mind, eyes adjusting to the daylight beaming through the curtains. You hummed and groaned softly, pushing yourself off of the fabric mattress and rubbing your eyes. Everything was stiff, your legs and back especially. Maybe some breakfast and a walk would do you some good.

You hobbled out of bed, securing some pants before peeking into Brenda’s room to check in on the sweetheart. She was just happily snoozing away, you couldn’t bring yourself to wake her up. Tip-toeing to the living room and dining room, you saw their mother still on the couch, Two-Bit reading the newspaper and sipping some tea. This had you smiling, he looked rather handsome with eye bags and glazed eyes.

Wait- handsome?!

You caught yourself mid thought, looking at him more thoroughly and your eyes uncomfortably drifted lower to where a slight bulge was most prominent under his pants. Your own body shivered, eyes darting back into the kitchen out of nervousness and discomfort as you made yourself a tea as well.

Soon enough, once your water had finished boiling, you had poured yourself a soft tea with sugar and honey to get you started, and you sat near the television to spectate over his mother in case she woke up and needed anything. She was such a sweetheart, and definitely needed the most care. Soft sips were the only noises heard in the room, coming from you and Two-Bit drinking your morning drinks. While it wasn’t pleasant, it had a nice and cozy, homey feeling.

You occasionally looked over at Two-Bit, seeing him unfocused as if he was using the newspaper to look busy but in reality it was only to cover up whatever else his mind was doing. It always wandered, Two-Bit’s thoughts.

Once you had finished your tea, you’d set it down on the coffee table and hurried to get dressed, needing to see if they took your car or not. Your own blouse was put on, pants as well before you rushed to the front door to grab your shoes. A soft “see you” was uttered by Two-Bit, and you responded with the same words before lightly jogging out of the house to go check.

Jogging through the front door and down the stairs, you managed to spot what looked like an oil blotch where your car was parked previously. A “yes!” escaped you when you realized they’d taken your car, and hopefully would be finished fixing it in a day. You didn’t wish to invade Two-Bit and his family’s home as if it was normal.

You jogged back to the house, a little tweak in your breath but overall having a more refreshed feeling now that you had breathed in the fresh air and got that good news. Once you entered through the side door like before, you found yourself looking around in confusion. Where had Two-Bit’s mother gone? Your worry was soon replaced with relief when Brenda had rushed into the living room, jumping with energy while her mother followed behind her.

Her tired eyes met yours, and she smiled gently at your soft huffs and puffs. Her smile didn’t hurt you in the slightest.

“Running in the morning? I didn’t take you for the athletic type, dear.” She hummed, taking the newspaper from Two-Bit to read it herself and sighing deeply.

“What misfortunes ruin our world now?”

You chuckled at her question, shrugging and playfully slapping the back of Two-Bit’s head. It earned a soft chuckle from him, and you chuckled as well.

“John Kennedy is elected President? What a mockery to our country.” Two-Bit’s mother hissed, earning a laugh from you both.

You looked at the bill for your car’s payment and the due date of your car’s pick up day.

$324.

Bill due - Sept. 18

Pick up day - Sept. 14

You had a week to pay off your car’s repairs, and had to wait three more days until you could pick up your vehicle?

It nearly had tears in your eyes, but you let them flow freely since you were all alone in the now quiet house. No Two-Bit, no Brenda, or their mother. The only sound in response to your sobs were the echoes of them once they left your throat.

How could you possibly pay off this bill in that short amount of time? Everything was getting so stressful and worrisome, it was all just piling up and piling up-

A loud creak startled you out of your spiral, making your body tense almost too fast and had your poor heart rate increasing faster than it had to be. Regardless of that, you tried your hardest to stop your unnecessary tears, fearing whoever was in the house would ridicule you for it. Whoever it was, it had every nerve in your body tightening as the footsteps grew nearer.

The door to Two-Bit’s door had opened, and sure enough, it was him. At first, you couldn’t tell what his expression was, but he hurried in to help you when he saw your current distress.

For a second, you truly didn’t know what to do, but you handed him the papers you received and he read them over carefully for your sake and his comfort. Two-Bit had to re-read it multiple times over, reading it out of confusion and laughing afterward. This seemed so incredibly stupid! You both were rather incredulous about the whole situation, but when he saw you had true distress, worry, and stress behind your beautifully coloured eyes, he knew he had to act properly. Even if you were best friends, he really had to step up and be the person you could lean on.

“Hey, it’ll be okay. I’ll help pay this off with you, yeah? You don’t even owe me after, how’s that sound?” Two-Bit offered generously, his expression grim as he saw you wipe tears from your face.

However, words couldn’t describe how happy he was when he saw you smiling all big and wide again at his offer, still sniffling a little. His hand came to gently rub your shoulder out of comfort and instinct, he couldn’t ever tell you how he felt seeing you so melancholy.

“Yeah, thanks, Two. I’d really appreciate that.” You hummed, sniffling once or twice more before he pulled you in for an honest hug.

Soon, it was the evening of the next day. You’d become Brenda’s “favourite girlfriend of Keith’s” despite not being his girlfriend, but you let her call you it anyway. You were happy the sweet little girl liked you so much to begin with!

You sat with Brenda on the couch, her in your lap as you both watched whatever was on TV. Two-Bit was staring holes into your skull as you put your focus on the screen, but he could tell you were only doing it for his sister’s enjoyment. He loved that about you, the way you were so sweet to his sister purely because you were his best friend.

He didn’t want to be best friends though.

It was almost unhealthy how obsessed he was with you, how desperately he wanted to be wrapped around your inner walls and feel your body pressed to his. To feel what your kisses would be like, to grope you and have you as his in totality and to push any risk and discontentful thoughts of being just a friend. It was like some uncontrollable magnetic pull, something that attracted him to you without meaning.

Two-Bit stuttered out of his thoughts when his mother came into the room, looking at Brenda with knowing eyes. Brenda gave a “hmph” before hopping from your lap, and she hurried off with her mother. You were confused, but you didn’t want to ask questions and seem rude for not letting his family have their privacy. You watched as the two put on their outdoor shoes before Brenda waved goodbye to you.

Soon enough, they had headed out and it was just you and Two-Bit alone in the house once again. While this caused you discomfort, you didn’t say anything and just shut off the TV.

However, Two-Bit sat right beside you, stiff as a sack of twigs before his eyes met yours. You could tell he was nervous from the way his eyes couldn’t maintain eye contact, and the way he was fidgeting in his seat was also a definite giveaway. But you didn’t say anything out of kindness.. and because he looked a little too pathetic.

“I gotta talk to you. Not no joke either, need you to be serious here.” He muttered out to you, hoping you heard him properly since his voice was all too quiet.

You nodded at his words, giving him your full and undivided attention while you waited patiently for him to properly collect and plan out what he wanted to tell you. It took some time, some open mouthed tries to spurt a word or two out, yet he struggled.

Finally, he worked out whatever knot he had in his throat and looked at you more seriously.

“I dunno how to tell you this, but somethin’s been goin’ on with me. I used to see you as a friend, a good friend no less, but now you’re lookin’ more and more like a goddess from the heavens. I catch myself havin’ these spirals of likin’ you so much to the point it hurts, and then it goes to some lewd and lustful part of me that wants to have you so fully in my hands. My little Minnie mouse, I dunno what to do anymore.” Two-Bit spoke almost too fast, you had to focus and listen real close.

Once you understood, you gave the softest hum and looked at your own lap. You didn’t quite know how to react. Sure, you felt the same, but how would that work? Regardless, your gaze came back to meet his and your confused expression became more accepting, more serene and agreeable.

“The feeling’s mutual then. I guess it’s a requited emotion we’re both experiencing, is it not?” You hummed out, your legs moving to straddle his hips while you looked at him intently.

Two-Bit was absolutely ecstatic when he got your confirmation on you feeling the same about him, his heart beating almost too fast and it felt like it would rip right through his ribcage. Hell, he’d let it do it if it wasn’t for him needing his heart to live. His dry hands came to touch the skin of your waist under your little top.

Your skin was so soft, warm and plush when he pressed his fingers into it to grip you better. The strength of his grip wasn’t too bad, but it showed his insistence on having you stay on his lap. You couldn’t help but smile, a hand coming to gently pull his bottom lip away from the top one. Soon enough, your mouths were pressed to one another and everything began to unfold.

Tongues swirling around, you could only enjoy what he tasted like. Beer obviously, but there was this little minty taste too, something alluring that had you trying to push your mouth closer to his own. Unfortunately, you could only go so far.

Nonetheless, his hands needily tried to tug at your top to signal that he wanted it off, and that he had to have you in that totality he yearned for for so long. Desperate attempts were ensued, and he finally managed to fling it off of you and toss it to the side. The kiss was put on pause as he eyed your breasts so perfectly held up by your bra, a lovely shaded colour that complimented your skin.

“Oh baby, you’re so pretty..” He hummed, unclipping the bra and putting it to the side. He was practically drooling when he saw your supple breasts on display, just for him.

Two-Bit attached his mouth to your nipple, eliciting a moan from your pretty lips while his hand was playing and tweaking the other one until they were both hard and tingly. Call him a simp, but he was genuinely getting off to your soft noises and the way your body reacted so pleasantly to his ministrations. You felt your pussy leaking in your panties for him, for his own body.

“Oh, Keith.. yeah, you’re doin’ good, baby. Fuckin’ shit..” You groaned, a hand grasping his bicep while the other fiddled with his hair.

The praise you so graciously handed him and calling him his real name had his already erect cock tightening the confines of his jeans further. He’d love hearing you degrade him, but maybe that’d be too embarrassing to ask for and he’d come to the conclusion that he didn’t need it that bad.

He pulled away from your nipple, his hands moving to wriggle your pants off of you, pulling your undergarments off with it until you were bared entirely to him. While it was indeed a bit embarrassing, you found yourself yearning for some kind of acceptance from him, not just some blank stare.

Truth be told, he was just admiring how wet you’d gotten for him, and how it’d stained your panties and left a lovely sticky patch all in between your thighs. If he’d known any better, he’d be eating it all up like it was his last meal. But no, this moment wasn’t about one person getting pleasure only. Two-Bit wanted to experience a moment of true cherishment with you, where it was both of you in your own world experiencing only feelings you could bring each other. So he took his clothes off as well, both of you bare and flat on the sofa. No, he wanted you to be in control, he wanted to see you take him like every fantasy he had of you wanted.

“Get on top’a me, baby. You take the lead, yeah?” He murmured out sweetly, stroking his weepy cock in his hand while he waited for you to start.

You both adjusted positions, now he was flat on his back on the sofa with his hands at your hips, and you meticulously fisted his cock once or twice before sitting yourself atop it. It was a struggle, but your self-lube and his precum were enough to make the movement quick, and soon his erection slipped into your pussy’s walls and enveloping his length happily.

Moans were bouncing and echoing off of the living room walls, the only thing repeating in your mind was how to move your hips and legs, and how amazing Two-Bit’s hard rod felt deep inside your core, kissing your cervix with a painful little pang until everything became mind numbingly sensational.

“Oh Keith! Yeah, baby, get that dick in there! Come on, you makin’ me do all the work? You lazy sack of shit.” You chided with pants and hard inhales, exhales becoming too hard to control.

He moaned wildly at your degradation, hips bucking into your pelvic bone to make up for his slacking that you made abundantly clear you disliked. His head was thrown back, hot streams of tears falling down his cheeks while he tried so hard to appease you and overcome your expectations.

The orgasm bubbling and moving in your lower stomach was almost painful with how strong it was trying to push through, but you held on and smirked at his tears. It showed how good you were making him feel, and it was honestly pretty hot. Regardless of that, you focused for a bit longer, watching him really begin to writhe and squirm.

“Oh fuck, baby, gonna cum! Ohh God yes, don’t stop! I’ll be good, wanna be good for you, baby!” Two-Bit shrieked in ecstasy, the orgasmic feeling of your walls tightening against him was almost enough to have his tip burst out semen, but he held on just like you were.

It was like a silent challenge to see who’d climax first.

Two-Bit struggled, eyes squeezed shut as they spurted more tears. Sure enough, his fingers dug into your waist when his climax shot through every nerve in his body, causing his movements to cease while he waited for his pleasured climax to simmer down.

You thrusted yourself onto his cock once or twice more until you too reached the climax you were pining for. It made a loud moan rip from your rest, reverberating your vocal cords while your release lifted you to cloud nine. It was white, searing pleasure, nothing less of congenial ecstasy.

Now it was just silence, asides the huffs and puffs you both gave as you recuperated from what was the most heavenly experience you could possibly live to go through.

“Well.. that was a wild experience, haha! Come on, let’s go wash off before Annie and mom come back from their program.” Two-Bit hummed out, kissing your cheek graciously before taking your hand and leading you off into the shower.

It was now safe to say you two had grown more close after that day. Hand holding became common, visits at each other’s places and shaboinking was a regular. You couldn’t say you disliked it at all. Except for the occasional weird stares you received out in public whenever people caught you two being all close. In the 60s, it was more improper for a woman to be boisterous and forward about her relationship, especially in the hood.

Now it came down to one final issue, and while it didn’t cause much harm to anything important, it served as a great annoyance to your day and commonly had you groaning with an eye roll and with a smile.

Little miss Brenda with all her curious questions, always asking you the cutest but most annoying things on the planet. It was sweet, but it got progressively harder to tolerate.

“Are you and Keith in love? For real this time?” She asked with a tone you couldn’t exactly code out, but you simply chuckled and patted her head.

“Yes, Keith and I are very in love, for real this time, Annie.” You answered, watching her expression contort into skepticism.

“He’s my brother, and even I wouldn’t trust him with that.” She retorted, pouting and stomping away.

This had both you and Two-Bit snickering quietly to yourselves, sharing a soft and innocent kiss before he parted to go and chide his sister.

[pullhisteeth]

knight in a navy blue boiler suit | eddie munson x reader

part 1 | part 2

summary you take your car in for fixing and the mechanics are a**holes about it. Eddie, though, saves the day. [1.8k]

contains misogynists >:(, generally a bit of a nervy situation in an autoshop, mechanic!eddie, fem!reader, male saviour trope (sorryyy), use of y/n, fluff! big fat set up for a part 2 lol x

-

“Hello?” you call out. You’re hesitant to walk further than where you’re hovering in the doorway because you’re surrounded by suspended cars and tools scattered on the ground, and knowing your own tendency for being reckless underfoot you think it best to stay where you are. Also, though you desperately want to think good of everyone you meet, you’re a woman in an auto shop. Alone.

“You alright, miss?”

To your left, a young guy rolls out from underneath a car and stands. He’s short and covered in what you assume is oil, but he has a kind face that puts you at ease.

“Hi,” you say, trying your best to sound more confident than you are. “I, uh, my car’s busted, I think.”

He walks over to you, wringing his hands with a scruffy rag, and you try your hardest to not shuffle backwards.

“What’s up with it?”

“It, uh, stutters, I guess, when I turn it on. Sometimes it takes a few goes to get it goin’.”

His face moulds into a hard, concerned expression, before cutting into a grin. His whole face scrunches when he does, and you try to ignore the way you sense the kindness slipping away.

“We’ll take a look at it for ya, no worries. You got the keys?”

You dig your hand in the pocket of your jeans and when you drop the key in his hand, he seizes yours and says, “we’ll get it sorted, don’t you worry.”

His words tone drips with a saccharine sweetness that claws under your skin. You pull your hand from his grip with a small, “thanks,” and he says, “come write your number down for me, babe, and we’ll give you a call when we’re done.”

You follow him quietly through the shop into a small office at the back. It’s lit by ugly white lights and made up of dark faux-leather couches and a makeshift wooden counter, where there’s a book open. He hands you a pen and you write your name and your number, as well as the make of your car and the licence plate, and try all the while to ignore his eyes boring holes in the side of your face.

You don’t see any other mechanics as you walk back through the shop, except a floppy mass of dark, curly hair poking out under another car.

-

The phone rings at half four that afternoon. You’re on the couch, house-bound without a car to get you anywhere, wasting the day away with daytime television and a book.

When you answer the phone, the voice on the other end isn’t the one you spoke to earlier. It’s softer, kinder, and you can tell that whoever it is, they’re tired.

“Hey, is this y/n?”

“Hi, yeah. That’s me.”

“Hey, your car’s ready if you wanna come pick it up.”

“Thanks, yeah, I’ll be there by five?”

“See ya then.”

The line goes dead before you can say goodbye back.

-

By the time you reach the garage it’s half five and dark. It’s that weird time of year, at the break of fall, where the days are warm and the dark brings blistering cold. So, naturally, you’re freezing, late and embarrassed.

You tread over the threshold at the garage and, just like earlier, hesitate before moving any further. There are more men here now – five or so of them, dotted around the room. There are two in the corner, both tall and broad and a lot older than the one you met before, and they turn to look at you when you arrive.

You see them utter something to each other – they’re too far away for you to hear, but they make sure to keep themselves quiet anyway and it sets your teeth on edge.

“Hey, darlin’, what’s up?” One of them, the taller of the two, calls over to you. The rest of the men turn to look at you when he does, and if you didn’t feel like a deer in headlights before, you certainly do now. 

You scan the room and you know how wide-eyed and nervous you must look. There are six men in total; in the other corner, you see the one who took your keys earlier on.

You wonder who you spoke to on the phone.

One of them, whose hair you recognise from when you left, is the youngest. He’s maybe a couple years older than you at most, and unlike the rest of them he isn’t sneering at you, or smiling at all, actually. If anything, he’s looking at you with eyes as wide as you think yours are.

“I’m here to get my car,” you declare, not sure exactly to whom you should be speaking. You direct it vaguely at the guy who acknowledged you, who's walking over to you with a smug smile that turns your stomach.

“What kinda car was it?” He’s stood right in front of you now, too close for comfort, and you have to crane your neck up to look him in the eye.

When you answer his question he chuckles, shaking his head slightly. You’re not sure what’s funny.

“Yeah, yeah, follow me,” he says through bared teeth. It makes the hairs on your arms stand on end.

He takes you to the office where he roots in a box for your keys. As he hands them to you he places his hand on your lower back and guides you out of the office and back through the garage. His head is hanging low, mouth by your ear, and he’s telling you in a low, somewhat theatrical voice that there’s nothing wrong with your car, and that it’s okay, girls like you make these mistakes sometimes.

“Don’t worry, darlin’, we won’t charge ya.”

He stops walking when you reach the middle of the room. He rounds on you, towering over you in a way that kicks you into a stressed stupor. You’re not sure how to deal with this situation, with a mean man twice your size domineering you like this in a room full of other men who’d likely do the same if given the chance.

Underneath it all, though, there’s an anger simmering lowly. You’ve been driving for a few years now, and you’ve learned a thing or two about cars in that time. It’s unfair that they can be so condescending just because you’re a woman.

You want to fight him on it, argue your case and say that can’t be true, you haven’t looked properly, I know what I’m talking about. But you don’t – or can’t. You’re left speechless, mouth opening and closing like a stupid fish out of water.

And then he laughs at you. It’s not like the snide chuckle from earlier; this is a full laugh, laced with cruelty and condescension. And as he does, he looks up and around the room, and the other men laugh with him. You’re trapped in a room filled with misogynists who are all laughing at you.

“Cut it out, guys.”

His voice cuts across the room like a gunshot. It’s irritated and cold but you recognise it as the one you heard down the phone. You turn to look at where it came from and find the younger man stalking miserably toward you.

His hair is wild, you notice. Even when he’s upright and not laid flat under a car, it seems to have a life of its own. He’s tall, though he has nothing on the guy stood beside you, and the arms of his boiler suit are tied around his waist to reveal a filthy white t-shirt. When his eyes meet yours they soften irresistibly and suddenly you feel the desire to run begin to dissipate.

As he reaches you, the laughter starts up again. He stops a few feet away from you, a silent invitation for you to meet him halfway so he doesn’t get as close as the other guy. You do, stepping over to him, and he leans down and says warmly, “Sorry about them.” As he turns toward the door, he adds, “I’ll show you where your car is.”

You follow silently, trying your hardest to tune out the now boisterous and unyielding laughter behind you. He takes you out onto the street, where you see your car parked a couple spaces down, but he stops when you reach the wide doorway and turns to give them a glare.

He looks back at you, where you’re stood with your arms crossed around your middle to guard from the cold, and says, “seriously, I’m sorry ‘bout them. They’re a bunch of assholes.”

You struggle to find words, focus instead taken by the way the orange streetlamp makes his hair glow like the sun.

“Are you okay?” As he asks this, he brings a tentative hand to brush your shoulder, as if to lightly shake you awake.

“Yeah,” you say, voice almost a whisper. “Thanks.”

“Here,” he says, gesturing to where your beaten-up old car is parked lazily by the curb. “I didn’t get a chance to look at it, but if you want…” He hesitates, stumbling a little over his words, a complete contradiction to the white-hot confidence he’d just displayed in the garage.

You look up at him, hoping your face is enough to encourage him to continue. It seems to be, because he meets your gaze again and smiles.

“I can have a look at it for you, if ya want. Not here,” he adds quickly. “You can bring it to my place. Only if you want, of course.”

His politeness and the extension of completely unnecessary kindness feeds a warmth that spreads from your scalp down your spine. You beam up at him, and attempt to soothe what you think are his nerves by saying, “that’s really kind of you, thank you.”

“Okay, just, uh… I’ll get your number from the book if that’s cool.” You nod your head at him a little too enthusiastically.

“Oh,” you gasp, realising you have no idea who this man really is. “I’m y/n.”

“Nice to meet you, y/n,” he says with a grin that’s got none of the artificial flavour of the man you saw this morning, and you realise he knew your name already because he's the one who called you. You feel a familiar heat travel up your neck and spread across your cheeks, but he just chuckles at you. “’M Eddie.”

“Eddie,” you repeat in a breath.

He walks you to your car, which is approximately fifteen steps, but the gesture spreads that warmth even further. He’s handsome and kind and he’s going to fix your car for you; what’s not to like? 

“Thanks again,” you say quietly as you open the driver side door. You stand inside it for a moment and look at him. He’s looking back with a lopsided smile and you can’t help but admire his big brown eyes and the dimples in his cheeks.

“Sure thing, sugar,” he slurs in response, taking the top of the door and opening it wider for you to slide in. Your eyes flicker to the chain around his neck and then the thick silver rings on three of his slender fingers. They make a metallic clink when his hand grips the frame of the door.

You get in, and he leans down to say, “see ya soon,” before shutting the door for you.

[stardancerluv]

Blossoming of a Shy Violet

Part 10 (wow!)

Summary: Beginnings of you and Eddie celebrating

Warning/Note: very mild swearing, underage drinking (Do not do this! This is a story), squint..ring/hand!kink (it’s Eddie afterall!), squint Dom!Eddie, touching between the legs…angst. And wow..chapter 10!?! Sorry this is a bit long….had a lot to build up to…next chapter will be even 🥵 Wow! Enjoy! And thank you everyone!

You happily twirled and swished to the music. The second drink had certainly hit a little harder. You were feeling great. You couldn’t believe that up there was your guy. You ran your hands along your sides as you watched how he moved and sang, you could not wait to kiss him, to feel him again. The place was busting with loud cheers and hollers. It made you so happy that they enjoyed Eddie’s music.

******

“I better get going.” Chrissy, looked distracted. Perhaps she was tired, but she didn’t have the glow she did earlier. It made you pause. “Have a good night, Y/N! Tell Eddie, he was fantastic.” Chrissy, got up and made a resigned face.

But you gave her a bright smile. “Sure. You too!”

Eddie and his band mates were making quick work of cleaning up and putting away their stuff into his van and the drummer’s car. Eyeing a corner, you imagined him and you spending time in it. Quick little kisses or little touches here and there, it could be fun. It would be deliciously wicked.

Glancing in Chrissy’s direction as she left, your breath caught in your throat. As she walked out your dad walked in, with the woman he must have been referring to the was on his arm. You jumped up and rushed out the backdoor.

Spotting his van, you went over to Eddie and the others. It was alot colder then you expected. Shivering, you wrapped your arms around yourself. Eddie made a face when he saw you. Stopping, he stood up and went over to you, rubbing your arms. “Baby, it’s cold out here.” You rocked on your heals and made a face. It upset you that you had to be worried about being out. “What’s the matter?” His brow furrowed.

“My dad just walked in.” You whispered. “I can’t let him see me or we’re, I mean I’m in real trouble.” You felt like a child.

“It will be ok, I promise.” He gave you a smile that made you feel like less of a child, Turning, he opened the passenger door. You saw him struggle with one leg still waggling outside. The sight almost made you giggle despite the situation. His van roared to life. Pushing himself back out of his van, he grabbed your hands. “Alright, climb in baby. I’ll be ready soon.”

You happily did so. He met your eyes them he closed the door.

You could hear as he continued to shuffle and slide things around behind you. You looked through the cassettes he had in tbe glove compartment, smiling you chose one and slid it in.

“Oh! That’a a good one.” You heard him call from the back.”

“It’s one of mine too.”

Several creaking, sliding moments later, he slid the huge side door closed.

“Eds! Come on, drive her home and come back to celebrate a fantastic gig.”

Your heart sank. You felt like you were becoming an issue.

“I’ll make it up to ya, I promise.” You heard Eddie say.

“Damn it, Eds. But…yeah..Yeah.”

When he finally climbed into the van, you were already counting and recounting the lines on the plaid’s pattern of your dress.

“Alright, time to usher you away before you‘ve getting spotting. Away to my castle we go.” He chuckled, as he buckled his seatbelt.

You put a hand on his arm. “I’m sorry Eddie. You can drop me off if you want.” You gave him a sheepish look.

“Nah, he always wants to celebrate. I want to be with just you.” He put a hand on yours. “All I need to know is this.” Eddie, began making his way to where he lived. “Will your dad go back home or go home with that woman?”

“Probably hers. That’s what usually happens.” You rolled your eyes. “As it is, he was supposed to be working the night shift and he complained about it being terribly long one.”

“Some night shift.” Eddie’s mouth formed a thin line.

“Yeah.” You shrugged. “He is never without company to keep him warm. At least in the last few years.” You added, after a pause.

Eddie shrugged. “He should lighten up on you. Especially, if he’s out all night.”

“I said that two towns back. But I am not that lucky.”

He gave you a sly smile that brought pleasurable knots in your stomach. “And what was my little nymph up to?” He cocked an eyebrow.

“Playing pool or darts.”

“Well, tonight you will be with me.”

“And tonight, you won’t have to climb in.” You giggled.

“Yeah, because you are coming to my place. There I know we will be all alone till the afternoon.”

Your eyes grew. “Your place?” The idea excited while making you nervous with Eddie you were experiencing so many new things. It was actually kind of thrilling.

“Yes.” He smiled. “I am very excited at the idea of you being in my bed.”

Your cheeks flushed as the butterflies took flight in your stomach.

******

The wheels crunched on the gravel near the trailer. After cutting the engine, getting out he quickly went over and opened the door for you.

You took his hand that he held out to you. “We have arrived my lady.” Eddie spoke gallantly.

You smiled. “Thank you.”

Off in the distance breaking the silence that had felt heavy, you heard dogs barking. You couldn’t stop yourself from jumping. Eddie wrapped an arm around you and gave you a squeeze. “They’re just the neighbor’s dogs, cuties actually but loud and annoying, especially at night.”

“Ahh, ok.”

He squeezed you, before retrieving his guitar from the back of his van. Going up the few steps, his keys jangled as he opened the door. With his usual flourish he ushered you in.

“So yeah this is uh…my castle.” He gave you a soft smile. Behind you heard a few things clanking about.

As you looked around, you saw several knickknacks, a few even caught your eye. You also saw countless hats that decorated the walls. Near you was a worn sofa and easy chair.

“So you and your uncle live here?” You asked turning towards Eddie

“Yes. But…” He returned from walking down a hallway. “it looks like the maid only visited my room.” He flashed you a smile.

“Really?” You giggled.

You beamed up at him as he stoped in front you. “Or was it your plan all along to get me into your room?” You fluttered your lashes at him.

He bent down and gave you a quick kiss. “Could be.”

“My room is the entire back area. I’m going to use the bathroom, go and make yourself comfortable.”

“Sure.” You smiled.

Your heart felt like it was going to burst out of your chest, as you lingered in his doorway. This will be your first time ever in a guy’s bedroom. Taking a breath, you went in.

Smiling, you spotted where he had hung his guitar. After that, you didn’t know where to look first. There were stacks of books, piles of magazines and so many posters. There were piles of clothes, though you had to admit, it looked like organized chaos.

“There’s my sweet nymph.”Eddie’s deep voice made knots tighten and loosen in your stomach.

Seeing how he leaned in the doorway made your heart pick up speed. A squeal erupted from you as both of you ended up on Eddie’s bed. Your eyes met, then moving as one you both shifted higher up onto his bed. A huge smile was splashed across his face as he looked down at you.

“You’re finally in my bed.”

“I am.” You replied while wrapping your arms around him. Despite trembling inwardly, you were beginning to enjoy the feel of his weight as he laid half on, half off the the top of you.

You were both breathless when your mouths met and the hunger over watching him, over his teasing you, fueled how you kissed him. The way he kissed you back felt just as hungry. You could not suppress the soft moan that poured from your lips as you felt his lips on your throat then across your chest.

He pulled back, “That is what I’ve been wanting to hear you all night.”

One of his hands drifted over your side then you felt as one of his fingers found the zipper in the front of your dress, your stomach tightened.

He tilted his head to one side, “Did you enjoy teasing me tonight?” You flushed at his words and how his brown eyes burned.

“I did.” You admitted.

He chuckled down at you, cupping your cheek he pressed a firm kiss on your lips. “Perhaps, I should have lowered since you were teasing me.”

“You wouldn’t have.” You met his eyes at the prospect of him doing that. It made your heart race. The tone his voice took was electrifying.

“I should have. All that means now is that I still have to show you what happens when you tease me.” A smirk curled his lips, his room filled with the sound of him lowering the zipper. “Wow, look at you.” He bit his bottom lip. I would have enjoyed the view.”

“Maybe I have lowered it for you.” Carefully, he shifted off of you. “Where are you going?” You raised yourself up on your elbows.

“I gotta take these boots off.” As he sat there, he loosened the laces then pulled off one. “After that sweet drink of yours, I need a real drink.” He glanced at you over his shoulder as he worked on his other boot.

“Oh? And what is that?” You looked at him playfully.

He held up a bottle of beer, for a moment all you could do was watch as he twisted off the cap and took a swig. A deep sigh, came from him. You were eager to kiss and run your lips along his throat. You never realized how much you could enjoy the site of someone’s adam’s apple bobbing as they drank something.

Seeing the bottle of beer, it dawned on you that the clanking about he did, had most likely had been him bring beers and whatever else to his room. L

“Well, I better take off my boots too.”

He nodded and took a hearty swig from his bottle.

Turning and reaching down you unzipped then took off your ankle boots. You were placing them on the side of the bed you were on when you stopped. You felt like ice water filled you, a lump formed in your throat.

You were not completely naive, you knew what you were looking down at. There open, was a huge box of condoms. A handful, were already used. You swallowed. You immediately remembered how Chrissy had straightened her skirt when she had climbed down from his van. Did he have a box in there too, you thought as your stomach churched.

Behind you, you heard the metal sound as he twisted another cap off followed by yet another sigh, which now brought a soft ache between your legs despite seeing that box did to you.

*****

The beer felt good in his stomach. “Baby, you’re too far away if we’re going to have any fun.” Wrapping an around your middle, he pulled you close. Not able to resist your bare shoulders, he pressed kisses against them.

You felt different as he pulled you close.“You’ve grown quiet, what’s the matter?” Moving, he now faced you, how your lips were pressed together, he knew you were upset. We agreed to talk and always tell each other if there was something we didn’t like.” Once he was settled, he placed his bottle between his legs.

You looked at him. “Am I like the others, you wanted to just bring me back here so you could bed me?”

“Others? Bed you? What are you talking about?” Two beers could not calm the jangle of his nerves, hearing you were upset. He wondered what had made you say this. It couldn’t be the issues of Heavy Metal. Or at least he didn’t think they could.

“I saw what you keep on the floor over here. Is there one in your van? Is that why Chrissy had to straighten her skirt earlier tonight?”

He closed his eyes, he rubbed them and bowed his head. Now, he realized what you had seen. He could only shake his head once more. Grabbed his bottle and up ending it. With the back of his hand, he rubbed his mouth. He put the bottle on the floor. He just really didn’t want it to push you away.

“Damn it,” He cursed. “I was so distracted with the delicious memories of you, of us last night that I forgot to put these away for safe keeping. One day I want to need them for us. But not yet, I want us to learn more about each other.” Reaching out, he grabbed your hands.

He chewed on the inside of his cheek. How could he right now? Words, swirled around as he tried to figure out how to tell, to explain what he did to make some easy cash. The Munson clan, were the elite of what they did in that underbelly of society. He had and continues to struggle with it.

He needed another beer to calm him. Never, did he expect anyone to ever have to this effect on him. But you, his shy violet…his nymph did.

“As for Chrissy I told you one day, I will explain to you the situation. And I promise, I will.”

“You did.” You voice was small. He looked up and caught you looking at him. “I shouldn’t lump you in with those in my past that hurt me, its unfair to you.”

He felt your breath as you brought one of his hands to your lips. You began pressing kisses knuckles.

“I never want to hurt you.” He whispered, as his heart thudded hard. “You don’t have to.” Each kiss brought jolts of pleasure through him.

“I want to.” Your eyes met his from under your lashes. “I’ve been eyeing your hands since the day we met.”

His lips began to curl. “Have you.”

“I like them very much.” You nodded, your soft lips lingered on his middle knuckle. “Weren’t we supposed to come back here and celebrate, right?”

He swallowed, he could barely put thoughts together. “Yes.”

You moved around then. Right before a part of you dipped off the one side of his bed, he caught you smiling. It was only then he smiled too, easily it could be mistaken more for a smirk. Despite, how you were making him very aroused he felt like he could relax seeing you smile. He hated keeping from you what he did or why Chrissy was there. But there just wasn’t a right moment.

Once again your inherent ability to make him hard was intoxicating. He shifted in his jeans. Once you were comfortable beside him, you handed him a beer and had one for yourself. He placed a hand over the cap of yours. “These are not sweet.” He warned. “These are crisp and have sharp bite to them.”

“It’s ok.” Smiling, you held the bottle just so before twisting cap off like he had.

“Nice. Good job. Give me the cap, please.” You plopped it into his hand. Watching you, he chuckled as you pulled the bottle back making a face. “You don’t have to finish it, if you don’t like it. I could check and see if there’s something you might like better.” He took a swig of his.

Shaking your head, you swallowed. “Nah I think I’ll get used to it.”

“My brave little nymph.” He took another sip.

Talking a swig, this time you sighed after you swallowed. “How shall we have fun Eddie?”

Reaching over, he lowered the rest of your zipper. “This is a start.” He licked his lips. “Look at you.”

“Oh?” You took a sip.

His hand dropped to you lap causing you to jump a little, since the cold from the bottle remained. “You look amazing.” He made a soft sound. “Don’t worry, you’ll be warming my hand up soon enough.” He squeezed your thigh, you nodded. Watching you, he noticed you actually opened your legs.

He slid his hand almost all the way to the warm apex between your legs. Your eyes grew as your bottom lip trembled. “I’ve been wanting to touch you so badly.” His fingers idly caressing the softness of your inner thigh.

He saw as you lose yourself in his touch, with the bottle pressed against your lips, a moan escaped from you. Now he smirked.

“With all the teasing you did, I was very tempted to lead my hand here as well.” He finished his beer.

“Oh Eddie.” You breathed, and yet perhaps to calm yourself he watched as you then finished the rest of what was in the bottle.

Moving his hand again, the edge of his hand reached your soft panties. He moved his hand up and down, it was as if your panties were merely waiting for just that little bit of friction from him and they were soaked through.

He made a sound that met yours. “Already so wet for me.”

You licked your lips. “I really like the feel of your hands between my legs.”

“That’s where they belong.” He moved his hand again, he could feel as you grew wetter.

“Eddie..” You whimpered.

“Yes, little nymph.”

You bit your bottom lip. “Touch me more.”

@eddieswifu @twentysomethingwereyote @gabriella-gvf @apocalypticwafflekitten @blackberries45 @buckymydarlingangel @mouthfulloftoothpasterry

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Portrait of a Dangerous Man🎨3

Warnings: (series) non-consent sex and rape; slow creep; cucking; (this chapter) sleep paralysis, stress.

This is dark!mob!Clark Kent x reader and explicit. 18+ only.  Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Synopsis: Your dream of having your work hung in an art show comes true but your first buyer is not all he seems to be.

Note: I’m so happy people are liking this story. Thanks so much to everyone reading and sorry if I’m a bit inactive lately, I’ve been exhausted and yesterday didn’t end, I swear.

Thanks to everyone for reading and thanks in advance for all your feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 As usual, I’d appreciate if you let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

On Monday, you yawned over your keyboard as your fingers moved on instinct alone. Your eyes ran along the text but the words were just letters to you. You had a lot to think about, a lot to do. 

You decided you would skip lunch and get through your work day an hour early so you could head to Clark’s right away. He was hard to deny when he asked if you could make it back so soon. You told him you worked everyday from home and you had hours beside that at the gallery three times a week at least. He accepted it with a nod but his silence was telling so you caved and said you could make it but not until the evening.

You texted Marcus as you waited for your Uber. He had a few hours to go still and you left him everything he needed to make supper with instructions; the veggies were cut, the meat thawed, and the pans already arranged on the stove. You had faith he could manage on his own.

The mansion was just as intimidating as the first time you visited. You walked up the drive and to the front steps. It was human nature to be envious of the sprawling yards and lavish estate and yet, it didn’t feel as if someone could truly live here. It would be like staying in a hotel as you were always overly aware of your every move, afraid to break something or make a mess.

You hammered the large knocker when your soft tapping brought no answer. You heard someone on the other side and wiggled your foot nervously. The door opened and square-faced woman greeted you in another language. You couldn’t tell if it was Swedish, German, or some other dialect. You were never a skilled linguist.

“Um, hi, I’m…”

“Ah, you are the lady painter,” she said, “I remember. I am Nina, Mr. Kent’s housekeeper.”

She turned and beckoned you to follow her. You closed the tall door and trailed her across the spacious foyer and behind the stairs into the kitchen. She turned through another room and led you out through the glass doors that opened onto the pool.

“Miss, would you like a drink? Tea? Coffee?” she asked.

“No, thank you,” you said as the water moved and your eyes were drawn to the figure moving beneath the surface.

“Miss,” Nina nodded and left you.

You stood, awkward and listless, and glanced around at the loungers and the umbrella over the round table. You weren’t entirely sure what to do. Had he forgotten about you?

“Hey,” your gaze was drawn back to the pool. Clark waded to the edge, his broad shoulders and chiseled chest visible as he made his way to the shallow end, “sorry. Lost track of time.”

He grabbed the metal railing and climbed up the stairs. The water slaked off his tight trunks and down his thick thighs. He appeared even larger with less clothes. You looked away before your thoughts lingered too long.

“It’s fine, I should have texted I was on my way,” you said, “I can go wait for you--”

“No worries,” he took his towel and rubbed dry his dark hair. The scruff along his chin was thicker than before, almost a full blown beard, “you’re not in a hurry, are you?”

“No, not really, can’t really rush… painting,” you shrugged, “I just… I didn’t mean to catch you off-guard.”

“Pfft, I’m ready for anything,” he grinned, “but I should also listen to the artist. I’ll go get changed and you can get settled in the studio.” He directed you ahead of him as he approached the sliding doors, “you just finished work? You should take a few minutes to unwind.”

“Uh, yeah, but it’s just, um, typing, not exactly hard labour,” you said as he followed you inside.

“Work is work,” he said, “I will never fault anyone who works hard, regardless of what they do.”

“Yeah, I suppose,” you stifled a yawn behind your hand.

He let out a breath as you came out into the foyer, “I’m sorry, you could’ve… you’re tired. We could have rescheduled. I’m sorry if I came across… pushy yesterday. I don’t mean to take advantage of you.”

“No, no, it’s fine,” you assured him, “I’m fine.”

“Alright,” he said doubtfully, “but you let me know if you need a break.”

“Will do,” you murmured as you neared the stairs.

🎨

You weren’t even close to done just the background of the portrait. Clark really didn’t even need to be there as you shadowed the folds of the curtains around his figure and the marble bust. Your arm hurt from reaching across and up the gigantic canvas and your eyes burned from squinting at your work.

You backed off the ladder carefully with your paintbrush and palette balanced in one hand. The paint was drying and you needed to mix more. You set down your armful and wiped your hands on the rag. He was watching you, he was always watching you. Well, no, he was just looking in your direction; it was all for the portrait.

You hit the button on the side of your phone and gasped. It was midnight. You had several messages from Marcus and you blanched as you unlocked the cell and quickly texted back. You rubbed your eye as you hit send and turned to Clark.

“I didn’t realise it was so late,” you said, “I gotta go.”

“What time is it?” he asked and looked at his watch, “oh.”

He pushed himself to his feet with a grunt and stretched out his arms as he neared. You took your brush and rinsed it in the tinted water in the jar.

“I’ll just clean up as I wait for an Uber,” you said as you let the brush rest in the jar and lifted your phone again.

“I’ll drive you,” he said as he grabbed a rag, “it’s a long way. I’ll hire a driver for you from here on out. It’ll be easier and cheaper.”

“You don’t have to--”

You flinched as he wiped your cheek with the rag. He smiled and showed you the paint on the white cloth.

“I wouldn’t offer it if it was too much trouble,” he tossed the rag down, “and I did have something to talk to you about. The drive will be more than enough to get it sorted.”

“Oh, okay,” you eked nervously. Had you done something wrong? Were you not painting fast enough?

“I’ll meet you downstairs,” he touched your arm gently.

He left you and you finished scraping off the palette and cleaning your brushes. You dumped the jar in the sink just inside the nearest bathroom and rinsed the porcelain back to white. You left everything arranged neatly on the table and descended to the first floor.

Clark stood by the door in a different jacket, his tie gone and the top button undone. He held the door for you and showed you to the garage. There were at least a half-dozen cars inside and he took you to the same silver one he drove the night of the show. You settled in and groaned as the tension left your shoulders.

He started the car as the doors rose behind him and he backed out smoothly. He turned down the long drive and onto the desolate roads of the wealthy countryside. He kept one hand on the wheel and dropped his other to his thigh casually.

“So, your job, you like it?”

“It’s work,” you said, “I get paid to sit at home and type. Half the time, I’m just waiting for an assignment.”

“I asked if you liked it,” he said more pointedly.

“Oh, well, not… really?” you answered, unsure. 

He could be so pleasant and then so blunt. He made you nervous and the more you thought of it, the more you realised you knew almost nothing about this man besides his name. You didn’t know how he made his money or what exactly he did outside of his extravagant mansion.

“If I doubled your fee, would you quit?” he asked without hesitation.

“Quit? This… the painting won’t take forever,” you said, “I can’t really just drop everything--”

“This is an opportunity,” he said, “you could spend your days doing what you love. And who’s to say it’s just one painting? I already have something in mind for the dining room and I have friends asking about you.”

“Friends? Who--”

“One thing at a time,” he said curtly, “I’ll introduce you to them in time. Is it a deal?”

“I… it’s all very sudden, can I think about it?”

He looked at you in the rearview and you caught his eye. For a moment, you were afraid. There was something in his expression that left you breathless. He lifted his hand and stretched his arm between the seats, his fingers gripped the leather just above your shoulder.

“Sure, I’ll give you a couple days,” he said at last.

“I--I’m sorry…” you didn’t know why you were apologizing but it felt appropriate, “I just, I’m tired.”

“It’s fine, sweetheart,” he assured and the epithet hung in the air.

“I have to go to the gallery tomorrow, I’ll get back to you on Wednesday,” you said as you rubbed your chin nervously. Your lips was quivering. He was smiling but you felt his impatience in the small space of the car, “if I… if I say yes, I have to talk to my boss and that might get messy.”

“No problem,” his voice softened, “you take some time and figure it out.” His thumb rubbed the leather seat and he pulled his arm away to grasp the steering wheel, “why don’t you close your eyes. We got some time left.”

You peeked over at him and nodded. 

“Okay,” you murmured and hugged your bag against you as you tried to relax against the leather. You turned your head and looked out the window up at the starry sky. You closed your eyes as the fatigue settled over you but you could only fake dozing as your nerves stormed inside of you.

He was right, it was a great opportunity, but you just couldn’t believe it would last. Was it your own doubt getting to you? Or should you be weary of this fairytale buyer? It was late and you couldn’t think. All those worries could wait until tomorrow.

🎨

You crept into the dark apartment. It was after one and you foresaw a long day ahead of you. You’d get maybe four hours in before it all started again. You put your purse down and went into the bedroom, undressing in the shadows and crawling into bed next to Marcus as the colours of the tv moved around him. The playlist he was casting kept on even as he slept.

He grunted as you laid on your back and he turned to graze your arm with his fingertips. 

“You’re home,” he grumbled and kissed your cheek, “I was worried.”

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, “I… it’s so far out there and it’s a lot of work. The canvas is like nine feet-- I’m sorry, I’ll let you sleep.”

“No, no, it’s okay,” his voice was gristly as he propped himself up on his elbow, “you’re gonna finish the job right?”

“I don’t know,” you said, “I don’t know if I can.”

“Of course you can,” Marcus insisted, “I mean, at that price, you can do anything.”

“It’s not about the money, Marcus,” you huffed, “I don’t know if it’s worth all this. Going back and forth…” you ran your hands over your face, “he wants me to quit my job and just paint for him.”

“You should,” Marcus said blithely, “why not? He’s paying you well enough.”

“And what about when I’m done,” you whined.

“You’ll find more work. Vanessa even offered to take on more of your work in her shows, so what’s the problem? Isn’t this what you want?”

“Y-yeah, it is but… I don’t know, it just seems too good to be true.”

“You do this and we might even have enough for a down payment,” he said, “something had to give after all these years. Why can’t it be this?”

You looked at him and tried to smile, “you’re only saying that because he has a pool.”

“Maybe,” he kidded, “but I also want it for you. You spend all your free time painting anyhow so why not get paid for it?”

“Mhmm,” you mumbled, “yeah, I just don’t know why I feel so… I don’t know. It just all seems off.”

“Sleep on it, you’ll feel better,” he leaned over and kissed your lips that time, “love you.”

“Love you,” you echoed as he grabbed the remote and shut off the tv.

You closed your eyes as the darkness shrouded you and despite your anxiety, you fell into a deep sleep. You didn’t even roll onto your side before you sank into your REM but found yourself caught in limbo. The abstract and intense sensation of paralysis overtook your body and your eyelids flicked open.

It was an awful feeling you knew too well. You knew you were dreaming, you knew it was all in your mind, but your body was filled with sand and your subconscious conjured visions of doom. The tall man stood by the door as he always did and just stared. He got closer, just a little at a time, and you fought to move just a finger and free yourself from the trance.

You felt like you were drowning as your body remained heavy and unmoving. He was getting closer and closer. As he did, his figure changed and his shoulders got wider as his features came clear in the slat of the streetlight that leaked between the curtains. It was Clark staring down at you, his blue eyes sinister and sparkling. 

He reached for you and you woke with a start as your name rose from his lips. You inhaled sharply and looked over at Marcus as he snored. It was only the two of you. You reached for your phone, it was just after three. You turned onto your side but your heart still raced. It always happened when you were stressed, the dreams felt so real that you never really came back down after.

You stared at the wall and curled up under the blanket. You didn’t expect to get much sleep anyway, not with the question on your mind. Should you quit and live your dream or should you kill all hope before life did it for you?

[baecvlt]

Stalker Nagito Komaeda x Milf!Reader

this was requested via my twitter:

“Hey! i’ve seen your works and I’m in love. Can I request smut where a stalker Nagito Komaeda becomes obsessed with a milf reader who moves into the neighborhood who’s like a dom in bed and ya know just large bust and taller than him. Thank youuu🤍”

a/n: ofc. but I have my own idea of a dom which i’ll use involving certain things (heed warnings)

warnings: he is so obviously a virgin in this, degradation, slight masochism, asphyxiation, spit, also Nagito calls the reader mommy (side note: nagito is in his early 20s in this, he lives alone. age of reader isn’t specified BUT I say she’s in her late 20s/early 30s)

• • •

It was a bright day...which Nagito despised. It was summer. He hated the sun, hated the mosquitoes, and the unnecessary humidity. It was days like these he wishes he was back at his university dorm. The A/C, the tall tree covering his window and blocking the sun...it was perfect. Hell, he didn’t even hate classes. Yet, he couldn’t live in the dorms forever. When it came time to buy a home, he stupidly did so in fall, moved in during the winter.

Well, no shit the home seemed perfect then. It wasn’t fucking summer. His A/C decided to break, his windows has a great view of the sun, and most of his friends were out of town (all except Hajime, but Hajime is fucking boring and a bummer). Nagito sat on his couch, watching reruns of old tv shows. He took a sip from his nearby glass (cold water), suddenly hearing sounds of what appeared to be a loading van. He looked outside his window.

A moving van?

Right, that one old man who lived there passed away. Freak accident, by the way. Oh well, may he rest in peace. Meanwhile, Nagito was being himself and trying to see who it was. Pretty much, the dude was being nosy. He saw another car pull up. That must’ve been the family’s car. Out jumped 3 kids, what appeared to be 2 girls and 1 boy. An adult stepped out. Nagito decided he’d get a better look at the situation. He put on his shirt, black jeans, and his green hood.

He was “going for a walk”.

Without being noticed, he made his way to the other side of the street. It was a woman, she was taking boxes out of the truck. The minute Nagito saw her it was if he was stricken by Cupid’s arrow. She was tall and beautiful. Her skin complimented her hair and her legs, he couldn’t take his eyes off them. Her breasts...he needed to stop—

“Hi!”

She was in front of him, a warm and inviting smile on her face. “H-Hi,” he muttered. She didn’t hear him well, so it helped that he waved. “I’m new in the neighborhood. We just moved in,” she added, putting the box down. She stuck her hand out, going for a handshake. He shook her hand, her warm hand against his cold ones. Why are his hands always cold? “I see,” he responded, getting his shit together,“I’m Nagito Komaeda. I live across the street”. She introduced herself and complimented his house.

“What a lovely home. I hope the neighborhood is just as lovely”

“It should be. It’s pretty quiet. There’s not many families here. Say, can I help you pack?”

“You’re too sweet! I’d really appreciate it”

He helped take all the boxes in her home, helping load a couch too, and help with other large objects. They finished in 9 hours, taking a majority of the day. “Thanks for helping out, Nagito”. She made a lemonade, handing him a glass.

“Don’t mention it! Also, thank you”

One of the kids ran in the living room where they sat on the couch. He gasped when he saw Nagito. “Mommy! That man looks dead!!!”. Nagito smiled, but his mom was not amused. “Michael! Apologize..”. The kid kept smiling and said,“Sorry!”. He ran to another room. “I’m so sorry,” she muttered. Nagito shook his head.

“Hey, I’m rather malnourished”

“Ha. On an unrelated topic, are you hungry? I could make us something”

“Oh, I shouldn’t linger any longer. I wouldn’t want to disturb your husband”

She laughed. “I know you mean no harm, but I’m not married,” she added. “Oh,” Nagito muttered,“I’m sorry, I really didn’t mean it in any way”. She shook her head and reassured him it was fine. “Sit, Nagito,” she pulled out a chair,“I’m not letting you refuse having dinner with us. Especially since you were such help”. She rubbed his back before heading back into the kitchen to begin cooking.

She made him a bowl of pasta, adding chicken on the side. Nagito was quite happy. He hadn’t eaten a good meal in so long. Her kids didn’t eat at the table, but on the counter. Meanwhile, she ate with Nagito. Just as Nagito thought he couldn’t grow fonder of her, he did just that. All she did was let him talk about himself.

“Jesus, I’m sorry about your parents? How are you keeping yourself afloat with university and expenses?”

“Academic scholarships”

“Wow, you’re such a smart boy”

The way she phrased it made him flustered. “Thank you for the meal, ma’am,” he muttered,“I haven’t eaten like this in who knows how long”. She smiled tenderly, picking up his empty plate. “Seconds?”. He shook his head.

“No, thank you. I’m already so full”

“I’m glad. You know, there’s always a meal for you in store if you can do me a favor”

“What’s that?”

“My oldest daughter has her final test this week. You think you can help her study? I’ll make you a nice, warm meal every time you come over”

Nagito thought about it. He would also have time around her. Plus, she wasn’t a bad cook. “Of course, I look forward to it,” he told her. “Lovely”. He got up and excused himself to go home. “It was nice having you over, Nagito,” she said softly. He could tell she was getting sleepy. When people are tired, Nagito has noticed that their tone is rather sheepish. She walked him to the door, ruffling his hair playfully and he blushed. “Goodnight, neighbor”.

“Goodnight, you”

Before he left, she stopped him and handed him a paper: (xxx) xxx-xxxx ♡

“Call me when you get home so I have your number saved. Then, I can call you when my daughter, Vanessa, needs help. Take care, okay?”

He nodded.

She closed the door, his thoughts racing on his way home. He picked up some things about her, things she didn’t even tell him. He went home and opened a notebook, writing all of it down. He called her and she answered, her voice as sweet as when he left (only sleepier). “Hello?”. His breath was heavy without realizing it as he spoke. “H-Hey, you told me to call you,” he breathed,“It’s Nagito...Komaeda”

“Oh, hey, angel! I’m not interrupting anything am I?”

“What? No, it’s all good— why’d you think so?”

“You sound like you need to catch your breath, but anyway, thanks for calling me. I’ve saved your number now”

“Oh, great! Well, if that’s all, I’ll let you go to bed now”

“It was. Goodnight, Nagito”

“G-Goodnight”

He hung up, flustered more than ever as he continued to jot down his thoughts on paper. The next day, he woke up at 6am to wait in his car. He knew what he was doing was wrong, but he couldn’t help it. At around 7:41am, his front neighbor and kids headed for their car. Nagito, who had taken a light nap in the driver’s seat, was awoken by the car starting. He waited for the car to drive away just slightly past his house to start his own car, slowly tailing behind her.

He dropped her kids off at the nearby elementary. She got off, kissed them on their forehead (all minus the eldest, who walked swiftly through the gates). Seeing how she cared for them made Nagito feel bad, but all he did was brush that feeling off. Next, he followed her through her daily. As he did, his notes from last night echoed through his mind, adding new detail.

“She works at an office not everyday She doesn’t have allergies but is sensitive to dust Red seems to be her favorite color but always in a darker shade Her daughter is around 10 years old She isn’t vegan but enjoys almond milk Maybe has an issues with abandonment but I can’t assume that either She buys many apples but not the same amount of bananas at the store so maybe she only eats the bananas—”

Just more to add to his notebook.

He got home before she did, writing down what he had learned. His phone rang about an hour later of him getting home. He picked it up,“Hello?”. “Nagito, hi!”. It was her. He started having a mini-panic attack, because why would she be calling him? “H-Hey, how are you?”

“I’m doing alright. I was wondering if you could come over and tutor Vanessa”

Oh, thank god.

“Yes, of course. I’ll be down there right now”

“Great. See you then!”

He was relieved, heading to her home happily. He knocked on the door. When she opened it, she did so with the same warm smile as yesterday. “Thank you for coming over,” she said,“She’s in her room”. Nagito nodded, freezing when she grabbed his hand and took him to the room. Her touch was so soft, noted. They got to the room, where a girl was reading a book on a desk. “Nessa?”. The girl turned around.

“Nagito is going to be here for a few hours to help you out with homework and studying. He’s really smart, so pay attention and be respectful”

“Okay, mom”

She nodded, squeezing Nagito’s shoulder before leaving. Nagito approached the girl, she took her things out. Before he could speak, she stopped him. “Please don’t call me ‘Nessa’,” she whispered,“It’s bad enough my mom does, but not you, Please”.

“Don’t worry. I wasn’t planning on referring to you at all”

“Bastard”

“Nessa”

“I guess I walked right into that one”

Nagito laughed, grabbing a chair and sitting next to her. Her work wasn’t what he expected. Is this what they’re teaching kids now? He could’ve sworn he hadn’t seen this type of stuff until he hit middle school. It wasn’t anything he couldn’t do, but damn. All in all, tutoring went well. Vanessa actually learned something today. “Good job!,” he said. “Thank you,” she smiled and hugged him,“I felt so stupid”.

“Hey, its okay not to understand things”

Her mom walked in. “Dinner’s ready”. Vanessa got up and went to the kitchen. “How’d it go?,” she asked Nagito. “Went well, she gets the math now,” he answered. She smiled, thanking him for his help and asking him to join them for dinner. He’d be foolish not to, so he accepted the invite.

Fish tacos were served tonight with rice and beans, another lemonade made. It was different than anything Nagito had ever had, but that doesn’t equate to bad. He actually enjoyed the meal. The kids sat at the main table today, much more respectful than yesterday. “Michael how was school?”. He put a thumbs up, getting back to eating. “And Adrianna?”. She looked up from her meal and shrugged. “What’s wrong?”.

“I’m tired, but class was okay”

“Oh, okay. When you’re done, just take a quick shower and get to bed”

“Thanks”

Nagito thought it was endearing. Seeing how understanding and loving she was, it was refreshing. The kids all eventually left, Nagito finishing his meal. “Did you like it?”. He looked at her, nodding. “Great! Seconds?”.

“Full again. I don’t usually eat, but your food is always so good”

“Oh, you’re just saying things...”

“No, really! Thank you”

He said his goodbyes to the family, walking back home. It was as if he was falling for this woman more and more everyday. He went to sleep, this time dreaming of her. He never dreams, but this time he dreamt she was on her knees for him. Then, nothing else. It was as if his dream teased him.

The next morning, he woke up to some knocking on the door. He looked at the time. 8:23am. He put on a pair of jeans and his shirt, walking to his door. He opened it and there she stood, wearing a black dress and red heels. He assumed she had work and needed a favor before going. “Good morning,” he said.

“Were you following me yesterday?”

Shit.

“I, uh...,” he didn’t know what to answer. He was indeed following her yesterday. He also liked her, so if he straight up said that he was to following her, it’d ruin things. His face was glowing a shade of pink to a slight red as he thought of the right answer. He was still stumbling over his words. “I think it’s kinda cute,” she added. The fuck? “Huh?”. She pushed him inside the house, closing and locking the door behind him. “When a boy follows someone around, it’s because he wants something,” she added, but her tone was so sultry,“Well, Nagito—”. She pushed him onto the couch, leaning in front of him with her hands on his chest.

“—What do you want?”

None of what was happening felt real. Nagito couldn’t find the words to express what exactly he wanted. This was the first time he’d ever been in a situation like this, it wasn’t a bad one either. He began to panic when she straddled him. “Could it be that you wanted me?,” she asked. He frantically nodded and she laughed as she locked her lips with his. He gasped against her lips, kissing back. She slowly trailed her kisses down to his neck, cupping his jaw while grinding on his lap. Nagito moaned, his shaky hands grabbing her ass. She grabbed his hands and put them away from her. “It’s cute that you’re getting this carried away”.

“I’m sorry”

“No time to apologize. Get on your knees for mommy”

Nagito was about to lose his mind when she said that, but he obeyed. Her presence was domineering as he stood on his knees against his carpeted floor. She spread her legs, noticing Nagito desperately trying to get a look. Her red heel stopped him, stepping on his head lightly. “Am I teasing you?,” she asked,“It’s okay to be honest”.

“Y-You are, but its okay. I want to be teased by you”

“You’re adorable,” she took her heel off his head,“Let’s go to your room”.

He practically ran to his bed. He sat and waited patiently. She entered the room, heading to his bed. She began to take off his shirt, admiring his frame. She then unbuckled his belt and unzipped his jeans. He kicked them off and sat down. She sat next to him. “Give me your hands”. She held them, frowning slightly. “Boo, they’re so cold,” she teased,“I’ll warm them up for you”. Carefully, she grabbed his left hand, putting his middle and ring finger in her mouth. She licked to his fingertips, leaving him tense and speechless. She stopped and smiled at him.

“This is your first time, isn’t it?”

He nodded shyly. “Don’t be shy,” she said,“I’m going to guide you, but I’m also going to have my fun”. He gulped, nodded. She stood up and removed her dress. She wore a lacy black bra and panties. She brought his hands to her breasts, allowing him to fondle them. They were huge in his hands. “You like them, baby?”. “Y-Yes,” he muttered,“Can you, uh, take....the bra off?”. He was ashamed when asking, he felt desperate. She smiled and nodded, unhooking it and allowing the bra to fall to the ground. He gasped at the sight of her tits, grabbing them. She straddled him.

“Do you know what to do with them?”

He nodded, rubbing one and sucking the other. She moaned sweetly, grinding on his lap. He popped his mouth off them. That was when she took the opportunity to knock him onto the bed. She began to make out with him, shoving his tongue down her throat. They lay sideways. Her hand was on his neck, slightly choking him. He couldn’t resist but try to grind on her lap. She laughed. “Look at you,” she mocked,“Humping my leg like a desperate little puppy”. She didn’t let him speak, sitting up and pushing him back down. “I’m going to give you what you want,” she whispered in his ear,“Take your cock out”.

He was nervous as he did, hands shaky. She blushed a bit at his size. “It’s so big,” she said, straddling him,“I’m going to have my way with it”. “Please, do what you want to me,” he begged,“Abuse me, please”. She didn’t speak, sinking down on it. Nagito gasped, she was extremely wet. She began to bring her hips up and land straight down on it, repeatedly. She put her hands around his throat, now being rougher. Nagito gasped for air, grabbing her hands.

That was a mistake.

“Hands down,” she ordered, striking him across the face. “Sorr-”. He was slapped once again. “Only speak when you’re spoken to”. He nodded as his stomach began to cave in. His cock twitched each time she slapped him, making her moan. She leaned forward, capturing his earlobe between her teeth. He winced, his hands tangling in the sheets. He felt as though his entire body was blushing.

“You’re so sensitive there”

She teased him, kissing the skin and nibbling. His hips involuntarily snapped upward, making her whine. “You’re so desperate, baby,” she laughed,“it’s so cute”. He could feel her warmth running along his cock. He bit into his hand, trying to stop himself from cumming inside her. It worked, but she didn’t like him doing that. She grabbed his hands and kissed them.

“Don’t hurt yourself, put them right here”

She placed them on her boobs. He watched them bounce up and down, grabbing them gently. His rather large hands seemed small on her tits. He was extremely flushed. He took them off her and placed them on her hips. “Open your mouth”. He lay back more and did as he was told. She leaned forward, grabbing his jaw again as she spit into it and kissed him. He moaned when she did, his urges getting the best to him and thrusting upward. He hit her cervix every time, causing her to produce the sweetest and sluttiest of moans. Her walls tightened around him and now he was whining. “Are you gonna cum, honeybun?,” she asked.

“Y-Yes..”

“Where do you wanna cum?”

“I wanna cum...everywhere. I want it. I want it so bad. I wanna cum inside and on your tits, on your ass, y-your face..mouth. Please let me cum, mommy”

She motivated him, riding him harder. “Come on, Nagito,” she whispered,“Cum for mommy. Cum all the way inside her”. He lost his mind after that, groaning as he shot his load(s) inside her. He was still inside her as he tried catching his breath. She rubbed his chest, shushing him. “Good boy, you did so well,” she cooed,“Such a good boy.” He was covering his face, embarrassed and still hard. “I wasn’t too rough, was I?,” she asked. He shook his head, thinking,“Not rough enough”. He whined when she got off, revealing he was still erect. She noticed.

“You wanna go again, baby? Kids don’t leave school till 2:30. We have time for an extra fuck”

“C-Can I?”

“Yes, dummy”

She let Nagito choose how to fuck her. He wanted missionary, mostly because he craved intimacy and she did not disappoint. She kissed and praised him, telling him he was good. She held onto him the whole time and cuddled him afterwards. Nagito felt so special, he felt loved. “I can come over when I don’t have work,” she said,“Would you like that?”.

“I’d love that actually”

“You make me happy, Nagito. I could stay here and cuddle all day”

“I feel so lucky”

He yawned, looking at the clock. “Its 10,” he told her. She nuzzled his chest, humming. “Mmmm, let’s take a small nap,” she whispered,“Okay?”. “Okay”. He kissed the top of her head and held her to him, slowly joining her in slumber.

[lumosinlove]

Well, this got longer than I thought it would, so I’ll have to publish in a few parts as I write...

But Happy Birthday, Finn, my favorite :)

Find it here on Ao3

~

Of Silence And Slow Time

part i of iii

~

New York City, 1920

~

Everyone told Finn that the statue looked like him, that he simply must go and see it.

“Really, Finn,” his older brother Alex said. “It’s the eyes, the face, it’s the mouth. It’s uncanny.”

Finn had just looked over Alex and the man and woman he seemed to always have at his side ever since the war ended. Natalie, a nurse whom he’d met in France, and Kasey a Canadian from another unit—they’d ended up in the hospital together.

“It’s in France,” Finn said flatly. “I know you’re forgetting about it all, but I’m not exactly keen on going back there. It took me ages to get home.”

It had taken everything for him to get home.

Alex, to Finn’s relief, nodded at Natalie and Kasey to go get themselves a drink at the bar down the street, told them that he’d meet them there. Finn stared down at the book open and unseeing in his lap. He wasn’t even sure what he was reading, on that he wanted to. His mind didn’t seem to follow him just right these days. Cars became bombs sometimes. Sleep was all dreams.

Alex sat beside him on their parents’ old sofa.

“Fish,” Alex said softly, and moved his hand slow, where Finn could see it, before resting it gently around his shoulders. “You can’t sit here all day. That’s not going to help you, and I know you don’t like it. You’ve never sat still like this.”

“I’m not going back to France.”

“It’s Paris,” Alex said, and gently flipped Finn’s wrist over to reveal the tiny globe his friend Jackson had dotted there with a needle and ink. “You’ve always wanted…don’t let this war stop you any longer.”

Finn stared down at the reminder he’d asked his friend for, ink permanent black. He’d never been farther than New England before the war. Paris, he’d always thought, gazing at his collection of books. Rome. Athens, Barcelona—

Finn swallowed hard. “Looks just like me, huh?”

Alex’s grin was enough to pull one out of Finn, just slightly. “It was bizarre.” Alex squeezed his shoulders. “I’ll even meet you there later if you want, once we’re through with Canada.”

Finn sent a wary glance towards where Natalie and Kasey had left.

Alex raised an eyebrow. “You’d like them. And, who knows who you’ll meet over there. We ran into all sorts of people, people like you’ve never seen. It’s why—” Alex broke off slightly, and looked after the nurse and soldier, too. Finn blinked at the nervous bob of his throat, and then his smile. “There are all sorts of love and art in this world of ours. I know it feels like it’s all war, I felt that too, but it’s not. Please let me help you see that.”

Finn rubbed a thumb over his tattoo, and closed his book.

Everything felt like war. He was so tired of it he thought he’d be crushed.

He looked up at his brother. “I don’t have much money.”

Alex just grinned and slapped him on the back, then pulled him into a tight embrace.

~

Finn arrived in Paris with a lump in his throat. He stumbled through half-French greetings and requests to his taxi, who looked at him sourly and turned out to have dropped him off four streets away from his hotel—maybe on purpose. Maybe because it was barely six in the morning.

Finn was annoyed at first, and then he began to walk.

Paris’ cobblestones were like those in the West Village, only they weren’t. There were glimpses of his home in the uneven tread of his feet, but these stones were darker, as if soaked with more time and more place. It calmed him, while the brief glance towards France’s rolling hills had sent him back to his cabin on the rocky ship, shaking and gasping for air. He’d barely eaten during the entire journey besides forcing down the occasional breakfast sludge, and his legs had wobbled so fiercely upon stepping back onto land, he’d had to sit down.

Finn paused now, closing his eyes and leaning against the nearest building. He’d been so stupid the first time, decked out in his new uniform, eyes on the war like it was some prize to be won. The comfort waned with his scattering mind and Finn tried to draw a steady breath in. The lump in his throat only grew tighter and he squeezed the handle of his small suitcase.

“Monsieur?” came a voice, spilled over with concern.

Finn’s eyes flashed open and he pushed himself straight, blinking through the pale morning light. There was a boy standing there, around his age, with bright blond hair and worried blue eyes. He was tall, with a neat white apron tied around his hips.

“Ça va?” the boy took a hesitant step forward. His eyes glanced towards Finn’s suitcase, and he nodded in realization, then spoke in accented English. “Are you all right?”

Finn looked behind the boy to see the cafe, slowly opening, from which he must have come. There was an abandoned stack of chairs he was putting out for the day, and his apron had an embroidered name at one corner, Finn realized, that matched the sign above.

Le Lion.

“Yes,” Finn breathed, but found himself unable to speak louder. “I’m fine.”

The boy just shook his head, and gestured behind him. “Non. You must sit down. S’il vous plaît. Please.”

Finn didn’t know how to refuse him.

A few minutes later, he found himself stationed at one of the cafe’s tables with a steaming pot of coffee in front of him, a croissant, and a plate of softly scrambled eggs.

“You look like you need more than butter and bread,” the boy had said, wiping strong looking hands on his apron. “You are from America?”

Finn nodded. He had been worried he would be able to stomach the food after the boy went through so much trouble, but upon his first bite of eggs, he felt ravenous.

“Yes,” Finn nodded, brushing his hands off from croissant crumbs. “Sorry, yes,” he held out his hand. “Finn.”

“Leo,” the boy smiled, and took his hand. “It is a pleasure.”

Finn found himself returning that smile with one that, for the first time in a long time, felt like his own. He tried to put coins into Leo’s hand when it was all over, but Leo simply waved him off and said he hoped to see Finn again.

~

The Louvre was more than Finn could have imagined. It was like walking across the ocean floor, new rarities at every corner. And, of course, there was the matter of the statue. Alex had said it would be with all the other works from ancient Greece. He didn’t have trouble following the signs to the correct gallery, walking through the white marble hallways. When he did reach the Greek galleries, his first thought was that the perfectly white statues nearly blended in with everything else, at least until he found a plaque that said it had all been painted once. Finn smiled to himself. Maybe his apparent stony doppelgänger had had red hair, too.

Imagining Alex and his long stride in these halls was easy. And it was quiet here, and distracting, which let Finn close his eyes for a moment, inhaling the scent of old stone, like a church, or a river’s bank.

When he opened them, he had found it. He was staring into his own face. His eyes were blank. He reached up to feel the shape of his own jaw as he looked at the statue’s, on display in the way the head was slightly turned, jaw set, brow low, as if in focus. Finn blinked, pulled out of the daze of seeing it, and his eyes landed on the museum card beside it. There was a word in ancient Greek, said to have been carved more visibly into the bust’s base. Future, it translated to. Thought to be made in the name of a God, though he may be lost now. There is no other surviving work by this artist.

Finn looked back at the eyes, so much like his own he could have seen brown there in the blank irises, and thought about when this strange statue had been carved. He’d always loved the way ancient Greece was sometimes described in poetry. It had gotten him through many long nights in the trenches. Serene, warm, and with nothing to do but lounge in the olive groves. Working the land and coming home at sundown to wine and honey and spiced meat. He’d longed for it. He longed for it still, this simple-seeming past.

The next thing he felt was warm wind. He smelled salt water.

The museum melted around him and his shoes slipped into sand before disappearing entirely.

~

Finn turned around to the sound of someone shouting, worried it was at him, only to find a brunette boy storming towards him—then past him—a foreign language continuing to fly off of his tongue. But more importantly, the boy was dressed in a simple garment of white cloth that left his strong, tanned legs and arms completely bare, and his feet were sandaled. Finn reached down to smooth his suit, only to find it gone, as well, replaced with a similar getup. He stared down at his bare skin, so pale in the bright sunlight.

And then the foreign language morphed, like a scratched record, and became English to his ears.

“—I’m telling you, Leo, I won’t go. Not without you.”

Leo?

And there the blond boy was, sitting in the shade of low trees at the edge of the beach. He was holding some sort of musical instrument, plucking at its strings almost sadly, head bowed.

“You have to,” Leo replied. “The oath says—“

He stopped mid-sentence, having looked up and spotted Finn. It made the brunette turn, and then Finn’s back was in the sand and there was a thin, rough blade at his throat.

Green eyes bore down into his own, a growl ripping from the boy’s throat. “Spartan.”

Finn choked out a breath, his hand going around the boy’s wrist. “No—no.”

“Logan,” came Leo’s voice, and then the knife’s pressure was released, pulled back by Leo, but the boy—Logan—was still sitting firmly on Finn’s hips. Finn felt his entire body flush with the sheer lack of fabric between them, but Logan didn’t seem to either mind or notice.

“I’m not a—Spartan,” Finn managed. “What the hell, I…” He looked to his left, at the sparkling waves lapping there, and then to the two boys looming above him. “Where am I?”

That made both of them freeze, the knife twitching in Logan’s hand.

“Ithaca,” Leo offered timidly, then glanced out at sea, as if that was where Finn had come from. Finn just stared at him.

He was the boy from the cafe. He was sure of it. His blue eyes filled with the same concern as they had on that early morning cobblestone street.

“Are you all right?” Leo asked.

“He is a spy,” Logan said, and went for him again.

Finn was ready this time. He knocked a leg around Logan’s waist, putting him on his back, and then rolled away from him and to his feet, knife in hand. He raised it for the two of them to see and then tossed it a little ways down the beach. “I’m not a spy. I…I’m just lost.”

It was true. In more ways than he’d even thought before.

“Please,” he managed more quietly.

He watched Leo and Logan exchange a look, unsure of what it meant, until Logan turned on his heel and Leo gestured for Finn to follow.

~

“Are you at war?” Finn asked he was led through the city streets. It had been a hot walk up a long road built into a steep hill, all the way up to what Finn assumed was the inner city and acropolis. Water ran along the side of the street—no doubt with sewage—and they crossed via stepping stones, pressing themselves against the walls whenever carts rattled by—carts filled with men with shields and swords or spears.

Logan, who brought up the rear behind him, having retrieved his knife, scoffed. “Aren’t we always?”

“And where are you taking me?”

“Where we take any question we can’t answer,” Leo said from in front of him, golden hair gleaming. “Pascal.”

[burnt-avocado]

Empty Space 5

Empty Space - Chapter Five

summary: chief hopper investigates a call from the high school. mars and eleven reveal more of their story, and nancy is invited to a party. [4.3k]

series tags: canon divergence, slow burn, friends to lovers, fluff, memory loss, [REDACTED]

Chapter Four | Masterlist | Chapter Six

Jim

Jim Hopper needs a fucking cigarette. 

He’s tired and he’s goddamned tense. The search party for Will Byers had lasted all night, Jim leading the volunteers through the woods for nigh on eight hours straight until he’d called it off. There’d been no sign of the boy, and he’d have to go back to Joyce without her son.

Despite the woman’s insistence, Jim couldn’t see a route where he didn’t go after Lonnie. The shitstain hadn’t spoken to his children in over a year, moving to Indianapolis and fucking off to do God knows what, but the damned ninety-nine times out of a hundred.

Jim hopes more than anything that this is one of those times. For Will’s sake, for Joyce and Jonathan’s.

He moves a shaky hand to his breast pocket, where a half-empty pack of Marlboros should be. 

Should be.

There’s a distinct lack of them when he goes to pull them out. And Jim’s glad no one’s remotely close enough for him to throttle. 

Powell and Callahan are thirty feet off, taking a report from a dowdy old woman just outside the Hawkins high school. An office lady named Patt, who Flo had known since kindergarten. Jim had met her once or twice, just like everyone else in this town, but admittedly goes out of his way to make sure he doesn’t have to come by the schools. Not if he can’t help it.

But now he’s sitting here in the Hawkins high school parking lot, it’s six in the morning, and he’s out of goddamned cigarettes.

“Chief!” Powell yells from Callahan’s side, waving him over.

Jim’s jaw groans with the way he’s clenching it. His officers stare over at him in his Chevy. They don’t quit their looking even as he throws on his hat and slams closed his car door. He isn’t very gentle with either action.

“What’s goin’ on?” He calls out, stepping heavily toward the group.

“Oh, Hopper,” Patt, small next to the two men, looks expectantly toward Jim, “These two knuckleheads ain’t worth shit for help!”

Powell rolls his eyes from over her head and Callahan scratches at his temple with his pen.

“What’s this I heard about a break in?” Jim asks, now standing before the woman and settling his hands on his hips. 

Her energy is apparent, with the way her tiny, old frame jitters and how the moist corners of her lips wobble. “Yes, sir. Front office tore up nice and good!”

Behind her is what was once a glass door, now shattered and blinds fluttering in the cold morning breeze.

Callahan gestures to the inside with his notepad, “Hadn’t gotten too good a look at it, Chief, but we figured it’s just—”

“It ain’t just kids, officer!” Patt cuts in, with a grandmotherly scold and a pointed finger. “If you’d listen to me, you’d know the youth ain’t interested in what I got.”

Jim reaches out a calming palm. “Now, don’t worry about these guys, eh, Patt? You and I are talking now. Run me through what you’ve seen.”

“I seen what there is to be seen, sheriff! I arrived here promptly at five o’clock, as I have for twenty-four years, even when ole mister Mallop crashed his truck on the main drag back in ‘72—”

"Chief."

The old woman pauses. "What did you say?"

Jim gives a tight smile. "I'm not a sheriff, ma'am. I was elected."

"Hmph," she sounds, wrinkly lips pouting.

“Yes. Well, what was different about this morning, Patt?” Jim redirects.

She scoffs, shaking her head and the loose skin of her neck with it, “As I’d been getting to saying, I walked on up to the door and happened to notice it was busted in. And when I went to see, the office had been ransacked!”

“You didn’t see anyone unusual when you arrived? No other staff members…?” Jim asks. 

“No, sir! I’m first on campus come dawn, except maybe Claude.”

“Claude?” Callahan quirks a brow, scribbling fast on his notepad.

“Yessir, the janitor. Fine man, Claude Mitchell is. After his wife Linda died, he's been mighty busy here. And the principal won’t get in for a bit, so he ain’t seen this yet.”

Jim grunts in acknowledgment. “Officer Callahan will be sure to reach out to Mitchell today, find out if he happened to notice anything unusual.” 

Said officer peeks over Patt’s head at Jim with a begrudging smile.

If he had his cigarette, Jim would be rolling his jaw with it between his teeth.

“Mind if I take a look? In the office?”

More jittery arm movement as Patt waves to usher the men inside. “Go on, chief.”

Jim does, his boots crunching the scattered fragments of glass beneath his heel. What remains of the door is pushed easily open, revealing the scene. 

It would be easier for Jim to note what wasn’t fucked with when he peers into the room. The front desk has been flipped on its side, drawers emptied onto the floor—and, God, the floor is more trash than carpet. The file cabinets along the back wall have been upturned and their contents spilled. A framed photograph of a previous senior class hangs by one corner above the remains of a motivational cat poster torn to shreds. A plant is completely uprooted and depotted, soil flung across the layer of scattered papers littering the floor’s surface. Every inch of the room looks as if it had been the center of a fucking tornado.

Jesus H. Christ.

“And you’re certain it wasn’t some students that did this, Patt?” the chief asks, not looking back as he circles the office.

She makes a noise in the back of her throat, a hem!  at Jim’s question. “Sheriff, I’m no stranger to practical jokes and teen tomfoolery. This sort of thing ain’t never happened before, not once!”

Jim pulls his hat from his head, fiddling with the brim as he turns back to face Patt and the two officers standing beside her. “You said kids aren’t interested in what you have here. What, exactly,” he motions to the endless sea of scattered paper, “is here?”

“Well, all this should be student attendance records, along with the home addresses and parent information.”

Powell speaks up, squatting down to read over a document, “No grades or nothin’?”

“A bunch of kids could have come in here looking to remedy their lackluster GPAs, yeah?” Callahan adds, jotting down notes as he does.

Patt looks offended. “I’m a secretary, not a counselor. Lord, y'all are balding and brainless!”

It’s the officers’ turn to be taken aback.

Going to ignore that.

“Do you know if anything has been stolen?” he prods, “Is there anything you keep in this office that someone would find valuable?”

“Nothing that I can recall,” Patt shrugs, pulling her pink, fuzzy cardigan around herself and tapping a kitten-toed flat at a sheet of paper beneath her shoe. “I have no way of knowing what could be missing ‘til I get this mess back and sorted!”

Jim’s brows knit together, and a cold breeze travels over him sending papers flapping up their edges off the ground. 

He goes to speak, “Well, Ms. Shipley—”

“Please,” the old woman interrupts, “Ms. Shipley was my mother. I’m not that old!”

“Right. Patt. I’m gonna have Officer Powell here assist you in cleaning and boarding off your office,” Jim can see the man huff and roll his eyes, “hopefully before you get much school traffic.”

“And he’ll send you and your boss to the station where Officer Callahan,” the officer nods, “will help you file a police report. How’s that sound, Patt?”

She pulls her cardigan tighter to her body, pursing her wrinkly lips and peering up at Jim through the glasses at the tip of her bulby nose. “And what exactly are you going to do about the folk who committed this crime, hm?”

Jim can’t help a rueful smirk coming to his lips, responding, “We find ‘em. That’s what we do, ma’am.”

“Like with that boy?” Jim grinds his teeth. “Byers, was it? His brother goes here, you know.”

Jim really needs that fucking cigarette.

Powell clears his throat noisily. “Ma’am, why don’t we go ahead and start pickin’ up?”

“Yeah,” the man says, lowly, the smirk he’d worn replaced by a tight-lipped smile, forced and barely peaceable. “I’ll be a radio away. I’ve got—” Joyce, scared and desperate, “—another call I have to respond to.”

“As you say, sheriff. Let’s hope this man has it in him to clean with purpose,” Patt says, hardly looking affected by Jim’s annoyed expression. Chief. From at her side, officer Powell claps his hands together and then starts to realign the various knocked over furniture.

Jim takes the opportunity to duck out of the office, Callahan stepping out after him and tucking away his notepad and pen. 

Jim doesn’t hesitate, his fingers twitching around the brim of his hat. “Got any smokes?”

“You out, chief?” Jim wants to wipe the smug expression off the younger officer’s face.

“They really made you a cop with you asking such dumb questions?”

Callahan chuckles to himself. He rummages around his pockets, patting over his pants and then his shirt. Jim avoids letting out an aggravated sigh by instead drilling holes into Callahan’s skull with his eyes while he places his hat back on his head.

There’s subdued victory on the younger officer’s face when he finally holds out a pack of Camels. “Need a light?”

“No, thanks.” Jim pulls one cigarette from the carton, immediately placing it between his lips and heading toward the Chevy.

“You really think the kid called his mom?”

Jim freezes.

“Kinda fucked, if you ask me,” Callahan continues. “Missing kid business.”

A deep breath, a shutting of his eyes, and clenching of his fists. There are many loud thoughts banging around his head, overwhelming and angry.

“Going to check in on Joyce,” Jim lets out gravelly and tight, moving quickly to step into his car. 

He’s fast to put his keys in ignition and peel out of the parking lot, even faster to pour a Valium into his palm. It’s a practiced motion, his hand shaking as the other tightly grasps at the steering wheel, the way he tucks the pill under his tongue and shoves the bottle back into his pocket. His cigarette doesn’t remain unlit long, Jim gulping down an aching cloud of smoke.

It doesn’t do nearly enough—not by any margin. But Jim Hopper does his best to relish in the way that the nicotine flitters in the back of his skull and trickles through his veins. It makes it easier to ignore the ever-present images of smoky skies and tiny hands, to focus on the road in front of him.

✦✧✦✧✦✧

Mars

“Dustin,” Mars groans sleepily through her bleary consciousness. There’s an irritating fizz berating her ears, the telltale crackling of static from her cousin’s radio. “Dustin, I’m going to lob my drool at you…”

The sound continues, and Mars sighs out an unhappy moan into the pillow she’s burrowed her face into. 

“Please, just five more—”

More static.

Mars sits up with a tired fervor, ripping herself from the warm blanket she’d been wrapped in, and moves to roll out of her bed and strangle the little asshole who decided to play with his toys at the crack of dawn! 

—But she’s not in her bed.

Cold realization sobers her like a bucket of water, just as well as cracking the top of her head on the table above her. With a pained hiss, she rubs at the ache in her skull. It’s when she opens her eyes that she finds Eleven sitting with a walkie-talkie in her lap, staring back at the older girl bemusedly. 

“Good morning.”

“Shit. Sorry, El,” Mars says, moving to massage the sleep from her eyes, “Forgot where I was.”

A tiny smile pricks at the corner of Eleven’s mouth, quickly returning to fiddling with the device in her hands. Light filters through the sunshine-yellow sheet Mike had used as a wall for their fort, casting a warm glow on the child’s face along with a small night light plugged into the wall. It’s almost peaceful, the two of them tucked close together in the amalgamation of fabrics and bedding. 

Almost.

The events of the night prior slowly creep up again, and Mars can’t help the tears prickling at her lash line, threatening to spill out over her cheeks. 

God, Benny. 

“D-did you sleep okay?” Mars asks, words catching in her throat. Her fingers twist in the quilt between them.

Eleven pauses her toying and unintelligible chattering intermittently breaks through the static, the noise filling the space between this blanketed space beneath a table. “Yes,” she says, after a moment.

“That’s good.” Mars sniffles and moves to wipe away a falling tear with the back of her hand.

A smaller hand meets her cheek before she can. 

Eleven’s palm settles over Mars’ cheek, finger wiping away a droplet falling from her eye. It pulls Mars from her downward gaze. Wide eyes squint beneath furrowed brows, Eleven staring curiously at the older teen.

“Hurt?” El asks.

Mars sucks in a shaky breath, the hot threat of a sob building down her throat. “Um, I-I, no, um—God.”

Something flashes behind Eleven’s eyes, her face twisting into a more concerned expression. Mars finds her mouth pitifully dry, tongue unable to wet her lips when she tries to do anything but weep.

“Just—just sad,” Mars shuts her eyes tight, ushering a new stream of tears down her cheeks. “Yesterday was…”  horrific, nightmarish, unspeakable, traumatizing, “...really scary, El. Those people, the forest.” 

The younger girl is quiet.

“El,” Mars says, still watery but more confident. She opens her eyes, looking directly into Eleven’s stare that has taken on its own teary sheen. “What happened in the diner—with that woman? Those men?”  With Benny. “Won’t happen again, okay? I swear. I won’t let them get you.”

Eleven doesn’t have time to offer a response.

“You are in trouble!”

In a movement that sends light flooding onto El and Mars, Mike Wheeler pulls up the sheet that had enclosed the blanket fort. Eleven yanks her hand back from Mars’ cheek, sitting rigidly under Mike’s attention, the boy having dropped down to his knees.

A lunge of panic hits Mars’ stomach, and she hurriedly scrubs away the moisture on her cheeks.

“What the hell, Mike?”

“Look,” the boy reasons. “I came down to give you guys breakfast, okay?”

“And so you snooped?”  Shit, fuck, ass, shit!

Mike’s freckled cheeks are a little pink. “No! I just happened to overhear; I swear!”

“Mike,” Mars sends the most serious expression she can at the boy, “You can’t tell anyone!”

“You lied, didn’t you?” he says, though not accusatory. “About last night, because El is in trouble! You’re both in trouble, so you made up losing your memory.”

“Yes, I lied! But I’m serious, Mike! We can’t tell anybody, not our parents, not the police, no one!” She’s urgent, near nauseous with unease.

“You don’t want help?” He’s looking at El now, and Mars can see the cogs turning in his head. 

The younger girl shakes her head.

“Because,” Mike’s face slackens with the intensity of his thoughts, “because of ‘those people.’ Who are they? What did they do?”

Mars’ pulse is loud in her head. Fuck. Don’t fucking cry.

The skin between El’s brows creases, her round eyes passing to the floor. 

“Bad.”

It’s all that the small girl gives. Mike’s face twists with concerned confusion.

El turns to Mars then. She searches over her face for a moment, air heavy between them. Then she’s turning back to Mike, raising her hand.

Two fingers brush his forehead, the others folded, and the thumb raised up. A gun. Pointed straight at Mike’s brain. Then Eleven brings it back toward herself, pointing it to the side of her skull. Neither kid breaks eye contact.

Mars feels the promise of bile quirk in her stomach at the sight and hot tears return to her eyes. Fuck.

“Understand?” El asks, with finality. 

A breath escapes from Mike’s parted lips, confusion wiped away and replaced with shock.

The garbled white noise that’s playing from the walkie talkie is once again interrupted by another voice.

“Michael!” reverberates from up the basement stairs. Mike’s mom. 

The boy jumps to his feet, readying to pull the sheet back down. “I’ll be back, alright? Both of you just stay here!”

Mars whips her hand to grasp at the boy’s ankle before he can step away.

“No one, Mike.” The look she sends the boy is desperate, begging, her eyes teary. “Tell no one.”

He nods his head frantically back.

“Oh!” he starts, a light coming over his features like realization. And then he’s tossing the two of them each an Eggo waffle from the depths of his coat pocket. “Breakfast!”

“Mike, where are you? We’re going to be late!” 

“Be back soon!” And he’s gone, dropping down the sheet behind him.

Mars listens as his hurried steps fade, the basement door slamming behind him. She and El are alone again, encased in their tiny hideout, both holding a lukewarm waffle.

When was the last time I ate?

With a shuddering breath and the swallowing down of an anxious sob, Mars lifts up her Eggo. “Bon appétit.”

She allows herself to enjoy the momentary distraction of the reheated frozen treat. It’s a welcome distraction from the barrage of thoughts and emotions and memories that assaulted her senses. When had Mars last eaten? 

Not breakfast, surely. Not that she could remember what she’d had for breakfast yesterday, but who remembers meals? Probably normal people, Mars. Maybe lunch? Something from the cafeteria, since it isn’t cool to bring sack lunches in high school. Yeah, lunch. After fourth period, the designated ‘recover from interacting with Harrington’ class. She’d had a coke and chili dog, sitting alone in the courtyard while rushing to draw up a design for shop class during fifth. There must’ve been a snack once she’d gotten home. Her coming home routine is the same each school day, the way she walks inside and greets the devil cat Mews at the door. She hangs her coat at the front door right after she sets down her bag—

Fuck.

Fuck.

Her bag. Her fucking bag!

It’s a natural movement, built up after months of working for Benny. She’s stepping into the pantry, pulling off her bag and hoodie.

She’d left her fucking bag at Benny’s. Mars had left her bag in that pantry and in it were flash cards with her name on them. And they’d been too busy running for their fucking lives to grab it.

Mars doesn’t know when her hands started to shake, but she registers how her blood runs cold, how she drops the remains of her waffle into her lap.

El’s continued back to skipping through the walkie’s channels and loudly munching on her snack. The noise grates so terribly on Mars’ ears, setting the soundtrack for the absolute terror gripping her body.

I’m gonna fucking hurl—

✦✧✦✧✦✧

Nancy

Nancy Wheeler’s gut is doing cartwheels.

Most likely due to this test coming up in Chem, yes. With it being Kaminsky? Gosh, Nancy thinks she’d have to be lucky to come out with a pass. She can’t exactly afford to think about anything else than, say, how weight is defined as a measure of gravitational pull on matter, but mass is the measure of the amount of matter. Or how during fractional distillation, hydrocarbons are separated according to their boiling point.

Steve had made sure she’d known that.

And that’s exactly what she shouldn’t be thinking about right now, not when her ‘A’ is on the line. She can’t afford to relive the memory of how he’d snuck into her room. Or how he’d kissed her on her own bed, how his fingers came up to unbutton her blouse with his mouth moving against hers, how he’d called her beautiful. Because then she’d have to think about how her little brother came in and interrupted them, blackmailing her to hide a girl in their basement!

No, Nancy would absolutely not think about that.

Gosh, who are you, Nancy Wheeler?

With a deep breath, hoping it will push away those pesky thoughts, Nancy refocuses her attention on the flash cards in her hand. 

‘Mass over volume is the equation for—’

“Density,” Nancy mutters to herself, then flipping to the next card.

‘A “ground state” is—’

“My turn!” Wrong.

Nancy lifts her head. Barb is smiling kindly down at her, acting as the ever-supportive best friend she is. 

“The bell just rang, Nance. Gimme your notes.”

“Oh!” Nancy shakes herself from her fog. Second period English is over, her classmates already filing out of the room. “Yes, please. Thank you.”

Barb rolls her eyes, but it’s teasing and unsharp. “Studying for Chem in El Din’s? A little risky, no?”

Nancy smiles a little shakily back at her friend. “I’d gotten the assignment done already. Figured I needed every minute to get this memorized.”

They’ve both tucked their binders into their elbows, walking out of the class and into the bustling hallway.

“On it.” Barb follows alongside Nancy through the crowd. “What does the letter ‘c’ represent in scientific equations?”

“The speed of light.” No-brainer.

“What is Planck’s Equation?”

Easy as pie. “‘E’ equals ‘h’ times ‘v.’”

“When alpha particles go through gold foil, they become…?”

Not as easy, but she gets it quickly. “Unoccupied space.”

“A molecule that can—”

Out of the blue, a certain boy is yanking the flash cards from Barb’s hands.

“Hey!” Nancy can’t help her whine. She was using those.

And now she and Barb are joined by Steve and his friends, Tommy H. and Carol saddling up alongside him as he holds Nancy’s note cards.

“I don’t know,” Steve says, “I think you’ve studied enough, Nance.”

She sighs, “Steve—”

“I’m telling you, you know. You got this!” The smile that he gives her is award-winning, blue ribbon for perfection. But Nancy can’t bring herself to match it as he tucks her flash cards into his back pocket. 

“Don’t worry!” he continues. “Now, onto more important matters—My dad has left town on a conference and my mom’s gone with him, ‘cause, you know, she doesn’t trust him—”

“Good call,” Tommy adds, smirking widely.

Steve is smirking a little, too. “So, are you in?”

Nancy doesn’t hide her confusion. “In…for what?” 

They’re all looking at her like it should be obvious.

“No parents? Big house?” Carol tries. Her eyes aren’t very kind. 

Oh. “A party?”

Carol’s tone isn’t much kinder, Tommy breathing out a laugh at his girlfriend’s side. “Ding ding ding!”

Nancy’s brows furrow even further. “It’s Tuesday.” 

“‘It’s Tuesday!’” Tommy mocks and Carol lets out a few more laughs. Inadequacy blooms in Nancy’s chest.

Some of that discomfort is eased when Steve bats a hand at his friend. He lightly scolds, “Come on,” and rolls his eyes. “It’ll be lowkey. It’ll just be us. What do you say? Are you in or are you out?”

“Um…” A party? During the school week? She’s not even allowed to leave the house at night, not with—

“Oh, God.” Carol says, a scowl pricking at her features. “Look.”

Nancy turns, following the other girl’s pointed stare.

It’s Jonathan Byers. Hanging up a flier on a bulletin board, printed with pictures of his little brother, ‘HAVE YOU SEEN ME?’ written boldly.

Nancy’s heart drops to her feet.

“Well, that’s depressing,” Steve says under his breath.

There’s a guilt that Nancy feels when she looks at Jonathan. It’s sad and it’s twisting as she recalls how she’d spoken at dinner the night before.

‘This is such bullshit! ...Just because Mike’s friend got lost on his way home—’

“Should we say something?” she asks, looking around the group. 

Barb opens her mouth to say something, but Carol cuts her off.

“I don’t think he speaks,” the girl says, giving a sideways glance at Nancy.

Tommy chuckles darkly. “How much you want to bet he killed him?”

“Shut up,” Steve scoffs, annoyed.

And the guilt twists up Nancy’s insides some more, eyes tracing over Jonathan’s inward posture.

There’s a flash of her memory back to her brother and Mars Henderson standing soggy in her room. They’d gone out to look for Will and she’d snuck in a boy.

Nancy needs to say something. So she does.

“Hey,” she says, softly to Jonathan. She’d broken away from the group to get closer to him.

He’s a little surprised, dark chocolate eyes searching over her. “Oh, hey.”

“I just…” Nancy tries to find the right words, scared to say the wrong thing, “I wanted to say, you know, um… I’m sorry about everything.”

Jonathan’s expression shifts, a little darker, and he looks over to the group she’d left behind her. They’re all staring.

Shit. “E-everyone’s thinking about you,” she tries. Maybe she’s already messed this up.

She didn’t know someone could get so small, with the way that Jonathan seems to curl further into himself under their collective gazes.

“It sucks.” It’s all she can think to say.

Jonathan meets her eyes, dim and blank. Detached. “Yeah.”

“I’m sure he’s fine. He’s a smart kid.” She gives the gentlest smile she can muster.

And the bell rings.  Late for Kaminsky.

Nancy smiles some more, trying her best to not look like she’s in a rush. “I have to go.” There’s a small, awkward chuckle she lets out. “Chemistry test.”

Jonathan shows some mercy, the corner of his lips ticking up in his own uncomfortable smile. “Yeah.”

“Good luck.”  I mean it.

“Thanks,” and he’s turning away from her.

Nancy takes that as her cue, returning to Barb. If Carol and Tommy make any snide comments, she doesn’t hear them. She just needs to make it to Chem and ace her quiz.

Over the announcement that’s begun to blare out over the intercom, Steve offers Nancy back her flashcards. “You’re going to do great!”

And through all her stress, Nancy feels the sunshine from Steve’s smile convince her that she will.

[sweetbunnykook]

Only You (9)

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

Photographer!Jungkook X Noona!Reader

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

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

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

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

He doesn’t take the bait.  

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

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

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

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

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

Yet, life proves to be cruel once again.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hello?”

She leans forward. “It’s me.”

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

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

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

“Excuse my intrusion.”

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

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

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

“Where’s Namjoon?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What do you mean?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That’s…all?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh my god…”

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

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

…

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

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

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

No doubt this conversation is about you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.

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

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

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

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

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

…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Noona…”

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

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

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

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

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

The fridge hums in the distance. You nod.

“Yes…I trust you. With my life.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Back then…when you said you would…”

Kill

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

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

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

“I do.”

“Then I need you to listen to me.”

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

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

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

“And noona?”

You look back up into his eyes.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Kookie…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You nod, keeping your head lowered.

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

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

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

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

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

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

…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jungkook doesn’t answer the question.

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

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

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

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

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

“Wh-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Kookie?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Asshole.

A fucking good-for-nothing lying asshole.

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

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

“Yes, noona?”

“Where are we going to bury her?”

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

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

He understands.

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

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

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

…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why didn’t you say anything, noona?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“My good boy…such a good boy…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Does it taste good, baby?”

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

You can tell he’s tired, having to do most of the manual labor. He winces as you knead his shoulders and it makes your chest ache. Even when he’s hurting, he takes care of you first. Your precious boy.

“Turn on the shower for me.”

Jungkook is aching to be inside you but he obeys, turning away to step inside the shower and twist the silver handle lodged into the tile. You stand behind him, moving away just slightly when the water – steadily turning hot – sprays over his hair and onto your breasts. Just as he’s about to turn around you circle your arms around his waist and reach into his jeans, palming his throbbing cock before pulling his jeans and briefs down his ankles. He steps out of the tight fabric, watching the remnants of Yori’s blood spiral down the drain as you kick the fabric in front of his toes.

The shower hose is harsh on his head but he can’t seem to pull away, one arm holding onto the wall for purchase, when you cushion your knees with his wet, blood-stained jeans. He can’t get any harder watching water drip from the ends of his hair down to your erect nipples, sliding down between the valley of your breasts and onto your soft stomach.

You’re delighted to see his cock twitch, taking your bottom lip under your teeth as you look up at him.

“You want mommy to take care of you, Kookie?”

He nods, exhaling as his abdomen clenches.

“You want to cum all over mommy’s tits, yeah? Make me proud?”

“Unng…” He moans in response, hips bucking forward to slide his leaking tip across your lips. He whimpers when you pull away, your smile twisting when his stomach clenches again.

You massage his firm thighs, gliding over every ripple of his muscles and over to the patch of pubic hair above his cock. When you pass your hands over his belly button, you stretch a palm up towards his face.

“Spit.”

The mole beneath his lips appear as he gathers as much saliva as he can produce on his tongue and spits into your palm. There are some traces of blood in your palm but you pay no attention to it as you place your saliva-coated palm over his cock and make a fist around the length.

“Mo-mmy,” he throws his head back, the shower head coming down his flushed pecs. Your fist begins to move slow but tight around his hardness. “It feels so good. Fuck…unng, mommy…please…”

Jungkook can cum just from your warm breath hitting his leaking tip but he doesn’t. When you lean forward and take his entire length in your mouth, tongue stretched as far as you can as you press your nose against his pubes, his jaw drops. You’re warm, wet, and fuck, so tight.

His other hand combs through your hair, reaching underneath the nape to pull your head back until your half-lidded eyes can watch his skin glisten.

With your hands back on his thighs, Jungkook expects you to move. What he doesn’t expect was you to tighten your throat before swallowing with his entire length in your mouth.

“Fuck!”

You gag around him but repeats, breathing through your nose before letting your whimpers and cries vibrate his cock. He’s about to lose it, his tightening grip causing your scalp to burn.

“You’re so pretty, mommy,” he pulls his length back just slightly to let you suction him back inside. When his entire length is warm and pulsing in the back of your throat, you swallow once more and begin moving up and down, your eyes closing as Jungkook backs your head to the tile and fucks your mouth at a steady pace.

“Wanna cum in your throat, all over you, inside you. God, you’re so perfect.” He chants, abdomen clenching when your throat tightens just right over his pink tip.

You hum, hands trailing behind his thighs and up to his firm cheeks to push him forward. His grip tightens once more when he whimpers your name, over and over again, his cock driving into your mouth with a vigor that’s bound to leave your throat sore in the morning.

The first spurt of his warm cum hits your uvula and you cough just as he slides out of your mouth and pumps himself into his fist. Watching his creamy cum dripping down the corner of his mouth intensifies his high, prompting him to burst onto your shoulder blades and over your wet breasts. He doesn’t wait for you to catch your breath before he pushes you down onto the tile, moving away the wet jeans to a corner before finding safety between your legs. His arms, on either side of your head, allows him to prop himself up to lead his tip towards your entrance.

He’d forgotten all about cleaning the blood on your neck when you’re spread for him, your hands cupping his face in admiration. Your eyes and nose are still puffy and red, but he knows the blush on your cheeks come from your need to have him deep inside until you can feel him against your cervix.

“I love you, noona. So, so much.”

You hiss slightly when he pushes inside, your snug velvet walls engulfing his cock and keeping him where he belongs. His body bows in servitude to the goddess that is you.

“I love you too,” you huff, brushing your fingers over his sculped cheekbones and mandible. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

You let him take you there despite how painful it was to bear him pounding into your walls with the intent to ruin. You’re not sure how long you lay on the tile, how many times he came inside, how sore and painful your insides will be when he’s done. It was never-ending – how Jungkook muffles your wails and whines, how he pumps his cocks while pressing your shoulders down to bury himself deep, how exhausted you are by the time he’s pushing his cum back into your swollen hole. The last orgasm triggers tears to seep from the corner of his eyes which Jungkook kisses away as he reaches up to the shower cloth and waits for you to fall limp before running the soapy cloth along your body.

You’re freezing cold despite the hot water still coming down onto your boyfriend’s body and, from there, onto you. He’s quick to clean you up and wrap you in the same towel he had laid over you the first time you used his studio shower. You can barely move as he carries you to the bed and lays your damp body on the fresh linen. You can hear the sound of him ripping open a thin menstrual pad and placing it in a pair of fresh panties he fished from the shared armoire closet. He slips the panties up your legs, lifting your hips to pull the fabric over your buttocks, flashing his usual charming grin when you murmur a thank you.

He pulls the towel from your body and squeeze out as much water as he can from your long tresses, careful not to tug. It wasn’t ideal to him that you’ll be sleeping with wet hair but you’re beyond exhausted and, to be frank, he is as well. At least he’s heading to bed satiated.

Jungkook slides under the blankets and brings your body closer by your waist. He groans into your neck, his body immediately softening as the warmth of your skin and the blanket brings him the peace and comfort he craved.

“Kookie?”

“Hm?”

It takes a heartbeat for him to sense your sudden anxiety. “…I’m scared.”

“Why are you scared?” He manages to ask although sleep is weighing heavy on his eyelids.

“I don’t know.” You murmur.

Jungkook is too tired to remember if you said anything afterwards for he falls deep into slumber. As for you, your head won’t let you sleep despite your body pleading for rest. Every part of you can feel Yori’s heavy body in the freezer just several feet away. You’re not sure how you’re supposed to feel about tonight or if tonight should have happened in the first place but in Jungkook’s arms, you can’t find the smallest ounce of pity for the woman.

You close your eyes, snuggle closer into his firm chest, and try your best to pretend nothing will change. You try to forget the flash drive sitting in your bag, the possible evidence your mother may have left behind in the villa, the corpse in the garage. Most of all, you try to forget how Jungkook looked at the bottom of the staircase, slipping the corpse inside the black plastic trash bag with such ease that makes you wonder if he had done this before. He surely must have, that voice inside of your head says but you wave it away.

I don’t know.

You lied to him. For the first time in your relationship, you lied without guilt. You do know why you’re scared and it’s not because after tonight every knock on the door will cause your heart to pound.

No. It’s because you know your boyfriend – your sweet, loving boyfriend who cries watching romantic comedies on Sundays – is truly capable of murder.

[wienerbarnes]

A Certain Romance (5/6)

Pairing: Bucky x Reader 

Word Count: 2,039

Warnings: bit of angst

A/N: 👀👀👀 lol

MAIN MASTERLIST | A CERTAIN ROMANCE MASTERLIST

While he’s strapped into the same suit he keeps finding himself stuck in, the night doesn’t seem to be going as bad as he imagined.

He’s waiting for you to finish getting ready, you did your hair and makeup already, you just need to put on your shoes and jewelry, you’d told him.

He remembers how you weren’t one for fancy, over-the-top restaurants; you made it clear that very first date. It comforts him that while you’re always happy to see friends, you’re not exactly thrilled and he can rely on you if he wants to leave earlier rather than later.

He hears clicks down the hall get closer and closer and he glances over to look at you, a pocket of air catching in his throat that he holds back.

You’re wearing white and Bucky thinks you look like an angel. The sleeves are long and poofy at the shoulders, a tight neckline highlighting your cleavage, and a cinched waist that makes the dress look a little shorter than it is above your knees. Your skin is glowy from moisturizing after the shower you took earlier and images of what Bucky imagines you look like rubbing lotion on your smooth legs flash in his mind.

He hopes he’s not drooling.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer, stud.” You adjust a small strap at your ankle and he’s still trying to find something to respond, anything to stop him from gaping like a fish.

“You look beautiful.” Is all that comes out, and he knows it doesn’t do nearly enough justice to describe how you look.

“Thanks, Buck.” You tell him, visibly taken back at the lack of snark. You were expecting a little teasing, a bit of flirting to dip your toes into what the rest of the night will consist of. While Bucky’s never not complimented you, he does it often, as he does to all of his friends, but this was very… sincere. More sincere than usual.

He finally clears his throat to compose himself a little, “Are you ready to head out?”

You give him a nod and a gentle smile, walking with him to the door to exit. The walk to his car a block down isn’t far, and you laugh when Bucky offers you a piggyback ride, not knowing how you can walk in those - referring to your heels.

You can sense Bucky get a bit nervous in the car when the restaurant enters both of your lines of sight. You wrap an arm through the loop his own arm creates with his forearm resting on the middle console, your hand sliding up to gently squeeze his thick bicep, your other arm resting on top of the curve of his elbow.

“Don’t worry, if the place is too lame, I’ll say my heel’s busted and we can try and leave early.”

“Yeah, you’ll cut through that little stick on the bottom of your shoe with the butter knife?”

“Mhm,” You hum, “And leave Sam with the bill.”

He laughs at that, and laughs more when you follow up with, “I forgot my wallet by the way.”

It’s sooner rather than later that the car is parked and you two arrive outside the Italian restaurant Sam picked. He made sure to look it up this time beforehand, with your help, of course, and sees that while the restaurant is still a bit too fancy for his taste, it’s not nearly as bad as the last one he went to where he met you.

“I know you can’t get drunk, but I’m going to play a little game where I drink every time someone in here does something embarrassingly snooty.” You whisper to him, still holding onto his arm, as the waiter leads you two to the table where Sam and his date are waiting.

“You’ll blackout before the appetizer, I wouldn’t try it.” Bucky begins, but after a second thought, “Actually, maybe if you’re drunk we can leave sooner, drinks for you will be on me.”

You giggle quietly into his arm and shut yourself up as you finally arrive at the table, Sam and his date standing to greet you both.

Kisses are planted on everyone's cheeks and introductions are given out as everyone takes their seat. You sit across from Sam on Bucky’s right, his hand holding yours on your thigh. He’s not sure if he’s holding it for show, if Sam and his date can even see them holding hands, or if he’s holding your hand because he likes the feeling of your skin under his hand.

He knows the answer.

The calamari and salads are Bucky’s friend as it makes less time for talking, everyone enjoying the food. While waiting on the main dishes, though, Sam’s date, a very kind and beautiful woman, asks him the question he’s been dreading.

“So, how are you guys? Sam tells me you guys are a new couple, I love all the gushy details.”

The gushy details, she’s perfect for Sam.

“We met on one of Sam’s set-up dates, actually, and just hit it off pretty well. Nothing more to tell.” You answer, thankfully, and keep it short and sweet, hopefully enough information to change the subject.

“Oh, c’mon, y’all can do better than that.” Sam teases, a sly smile on his face.

To him, he’s teasing his friends about finally finding love after swearing against it. But, to you and Bucky, you’re being forced to tell a story you don’t know. You and Bucky should’ve hashed out some details before this, you think.

Bucky’s not the greatest liar, so he just decides to be honest.

“Well, when we met, neither of us were really looking to date anybody. We were both in a place where we didn’t feel ready for a relationship yet, but we gave it a try with each other anyway. And…” He pauses, putting his thoughts together.

“I was surprised. By her kindness, by her humor, by the way she comforts me, by the way she understands me. I expected another failed relationship, another person that either got tired of me or got fed up with who I am and the baggage I come with. But the failure never came.

“Instead I got this amazing girl, who has just as much baggage as I do and I get to accept it with open arms. I got someone who’s healed me a lot more than she knows.”

He’s sweating, and he reaches for the glass of wine at his side, fixing to do something with his hands and his mouth. Your hand is still in his on your lap, grip a bit looser now, though, and he feels your eyes on him. He’s too scared to look.

“See? That’s the kinda lovey-dovey shit I’m talking about.” Sam jokes, a bright smile on his face at the sight of his two friends, raising his glass towards the middle of the table, everyone else’s joining in a second after.

“That’s real sweet,” His date chirps, “You guys really do look in love. I’m happy for y’all.”

The entrees arrive but Bucky’s no longer hungry.

The drive home has been silent. You’ve been quiet since leaving the restaurant and bidding goodbye to Sam and his date, only holding onto his arm until the two of you were out of their sight. Unlike the walk to the restaurant, where you were whispering in his ear, clutching onto his arm, you didn’t even glance his way.

He feels like he’s about to suffocate in the car.

“Are you okay?” His voice breaks the silence.

You’re quiet for a moment before answering his question with one of your own, “What… what was that back there?”

“It was eggplant ravioli, that’s why it looked a little -”

“Bucky.”

He realizes playing dumb isn’t going to work in this situation. Of course it wouldn’t, you’re way too smart for that.

“What you said… seemed a little too... real.” You finally get out.

His mouth opens and closes again when he realizes he doesn’t have a response. It seemed real because it was real. His face appears to give away his thoughts because the second you look over at him, he’s caught. You sigh and raise your hands to cover your face in frustration.

“Bucky, the whole reason we did this in the first place was because we didn’t want a relationship! That was the whole point!” You say, your voice rising.

“I know that was the whole point,” He says, voice calmer than yours, but his resolve quickly fading as embarrassment floods his body.

“Then?!”

“Then, I didn’t do it on purpose! I didn’t mean to catch feelings, but I did!” He yells.

“Bucky, I -”

“Yeah, I know you don’t want a relationship and don’t feel the same. Don’t worry, I’ll get over it.” He snaps, voice harsh, harsher than he’s ever used on you before.

More silence.

He wants to cry. He feels so embarrassed, and so angry at himself. Why did he say that at dinner? He could’ve lied, he could’ve downplayed it a little more, he could’ve not said anything at all and let you take the reins. Instead he all but confessed his feelings for you in front of your friends.

And if that’s not enough, the argument in the car only makes him feel more embarrassed, the conversation playing over and over in his head as a reminder of much you don’t want him; of how much nobody wants him.

His jaw clenches as he swallows the lump in his throat and he sees you in his peripheries sneak a glance at him.

He couldn’t have pulled up outside your apartment building sooner.

“I’m sorry,” He says after clearing his throat. He uses the last bit of dignity he has left to try and mend at least a few of the pieces.

“Can - can we just forget about it? Please?” He asks, his heart begging for you to agree. He can deal with the unrequited feelings as long as you stick around.

“Bucky, I… I just need some time. To think. About all of this. I just - I can’t be around you knowing you’re in love with me. I’m sorry.” You step out of the car before he can respond, and his eyes close as the door shuts, leaving him alone in the car.

He hears the beeps of the buttons at your door and then a distant click, and he doesn’t have to look up from his hands in his lap to know you made it inside.

He doesn’t drive away yet, though. He looks up at the roof of his car to try and stop the watering of his eyes and lets out a harsh sigh.

He eventually puts the car in drive again and roughly grabs the wheel, taking himself home, unaware that you watched him from the apartment building lobby.

The first thing he sees when he steps into his own apartment is a small plant that you brought him a few days ago. It sits on a small table he has by the door next to a dish for both sets of his keys.

In a moment of anger he grabs the potted plant and throws it as hard as he can across the room, shattering against a cabinet door in his kitchen in front of him.

“Shit,” He curses, going quickly to the kitchen to begin picking up the broken ceramic.

He separates the pieces of ceramic and cups his hands around the dirt to try and put it into a pile for him to transfer into another cup of some kind. A tear hits the side of his palm and he scoffs, annoyed at himself.

“Why the fuck are you crying, it’s just a fucking stupid plant,” He mumbles, voice cracking.

He sees the roots untangled from one another and ripped in some places. The plant is going to die, regardless if he puts it in another pot or gives it all the water in the world. No amount of care will save it.

He sniffs and drops the plant back on the ground, slumping back and leaning against the bottom cabinet under his sink.

“Fuck.” He says to himself, hand coming up to his face to wipe away stray tears.

[fanmoose12]

catch me if you can

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

Genres: Mystery / Romance

Summary: The Ackerman duo. Just the mention of this name filled Hange with so many feelings. Mostly, when she reread the files of their cases over and over, until her eyes watered, she felt pricking annoyance. Sometimes, when she stared at the dead bodies of those scarce unfortunates who stumbled upon their crimes, she was filled with hatred and a pushing need for revenge. Hange couldn’t deny, however, there were times when she marveled at the impudence of their crimes. And, when she was investigating the Ackerman’s cases and saw just how meticulously planned they all were, she couldn’t help but feel something close to fascination.No one knew who they were. No one had seen their faces, no one knew their true names. Almost everyone knew of their crimes.Hange was determined to unravel every last one of their secrets. She will put an end to their crimes and then she will get the elusive Ackermans behind bars.

Chapter 6/?

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

The sirens were still screeching, the bright lights of police cars still moving from one neighborhood to the other and Levi’s heart still drumming in his chest when Kenny had grabbed him, pushing him into the dark, empty alleyway.

“What the fuck was that?” he hissed, as he pressed Levi against the rough surface of a brick wall. Even with his mask still on, Kenny’s rage was perfectly visible, his eyes a burning fire.

If he wasn’t so out of it, if he could have shaken off the image of Hange, covered in blood, if he could have heard something rather than her pained scream, the hatred that was radiating from Kenny would have probably scared him.

But now it had a diametrically opposite effect.

“I should be the one asking you that,” Levi roughly threw Kenny’s hands off him. He was shaking, the adrenaline, frustration and fear he had experienced just half an hour ago making an utter mess out of him. He wanted, needed to get it all out of his system. And Kenny’s outrage could be the perfect remedy. “What the fuck were you thinking when you had pointed that gun? Did you want to kill a cop? Do you know what they would have done to us if you got one of their own?”

Kenny’s demeanor changed in a flash – his shoulders relaxed, his breathing slowed down. Patting Levi’s shoulder, he took a step back. With a low hum, Kenny threw away his mask, pulling out a pack of cigarettes.

Lightening one up, he looked at Levi, revealing to him a narrow, foxy smirk. "You're so calm, Levi, so rational. Always know better than your uncle. But when I had that pointed that gun," he pressed a point finger to Levi's forehead, his palm imitating the pistol. "Were you just as rational? Because I swear – your eyes showed the exact opposite."

Levi held Kenny’s gaze steadily, refusing to be intimidated. "I was trying to get our asses out of here."

"Could have fooled me," Kenny chuckled, taking a drag of his cigarette and then blowing the smoke right in Levi's face. "I thought you were distracted by the pretty face of that cop," he looked Levi up and down, his smirk growing wider. His eyes filling with something darker.

"Need I to remind you," Levi waved his hand, getting rid of the smoke. "That we're in this mess only because you were distracted by a pretty face. Or you think that cops busting us was a coincidence?"

"No," Kenny lifted his head, releasing another ring of smoke into the air. The momentary silence was interrupted by return of the sirens. The police was getting closer. And that meant they had to run faster. "Traute will get what she deserves, don't you worry. And I hope, Levi," Kenny put his cigarette out, pressing it against the wall. He gave Levi a heavy, loaded look. "That you won't give me a reason to do the same to you."

***

Levi was a bad person. He held no other illusions regarding that matter.

Thief and liar, he wasn't blind or naive enough to pretend he was anything more.

If he was a good person, he'd surrender to police, confess his and Kenny's crimes and serve his time in prison.

If he was a mediocre person, he'd get on a first plane to somewhere far away and never show his face in this city again.

If he, at least, wasn't a complete piece of shit, he'd leave Hange alone and stop lying to her.

Alas..

Lying to her became surprisingly easy. And a sort of necessity too.

This is the last time, he told himself. The last time. I just need to make sure that Hange is alright.

Alas… Lying to himself was becoming surprisingly easy too.

***

Contacting Hange was even less difficult than he had expected to.

Her face was all over the news, the brave detective injured during a mission – there was no shortage of praise to her dedication and courage.

Something warmed in his chest at hearing these praises.

The feeling was almost enough to make him panic. It was one thing when his heart sped up in Hange’s presence. But now he was proud of her achievements as well? A sure sign that he was getting in too deep.

A sure sign that he had to leave.

The last time, he repeated, as he sent a text to Hange.

saw your sad face on tv. are you alright?

Turned out, it was everything he had to do to receive a photo of Hange, grinning at him from a hospital bed, along with an invitation to visit her.

Levi didn’t allow doubts to take hold of him. Before a logical part of him raised its voice and started screaming at him, he grabbed his jacket and left the house. Thankfully, Kenny was out, probably looking for ways to get his revenge.

Levi didn’t care enough to ask him where he was going. After their last fight, they didn’t talk at all. And Levi was more than okay with it. The lesser they interacted, the lesser chances were of them getting into another fight and possibly reaping each other’s heads off.

If Kenny was busy with getting even with Traute, Levi could take a moment to say a proper goodbye to Hange.

Then, he’d leave the city. For good this time.

***

The hospital – when Levi had entered it – was bustling with police officers.

At first, he almost bolted back home. There were too many of them, and the surge of panic he felt was almost too much.

What if Hange knew the truth about him? Her plan with Traute had failed, but what if she had tried to lure him out here? What if she set another – unescapable – trap for him?

But the police officers didn’t look intimidating. Almost all of them seemed tense – exhausted and worried. But no one had spared him another glance.

And when he told that he was Levi and he came to see Hange, some of them actually smiled.

The blonde woman, the one Levi vaguely remembered seeing in the precinct before, even squeezed his shoulder, as he passed her by. She thanked him for being there for Hange and told him he was a real sweetheart.

Levi didn’t think it was possible to feel embarrassed, ashamed and guilty at the same time.

These feeling grew as he met the tall sniffing giant from before. Was his name Mike? Levi was pretty sure it was. At least, he definitely remembered Hange mentioning some Mike. Most probably it was the exact Mike that was standing before him now. He beamed as he saw Levi approach, beckoning him to come closer.

“Man, it’s so good to have you here,” he said, and the sincerity in his tone almost made Levi wince. He was such an asshole… “Hange had been crawling up the walls ever since she was brought here,” the man appeared to be tired, visibly drained, but beneath the face of exhaustion, it was easy to see the genuine concern. Seemed, like Hange was extremely well-loved amongst her colleagues. “Our sweet Han is terrifying in her anger, but maybe…” he tilted his head, scanning Levi from head to toe. “Maybe, you’ll cheer her up.”

“That’s…” Levi cleared his throat, struggling not to fidget under Mike’s hopeful gaze. God, perhaps it’d be better if they just caught him there. It certainly wouldn’t make him feel so awful about himself. “That’s what I’m here for. Can I come in?”

“Sure!” Mike gave him thumbs-up, smiling in relief. “Hange is just behind that door. I’m not sure if she’s alone, I left her side to get some coffee, but…”

Levi was already on a move, already opening the door to Hange’s ward, and, naturally, he ignored the end of that sentence.

Big mistake on his part.

Because Hange, who was half-sitting on the white hospital bed with a bandage on her right shoulder… Hange certainly wasn’t alone. There was a man beside her, and when he shifted in his seat to glance at Levi, Levi recognized him immediately.

Admittedly, he had never met him in person, all communication was performed by Kenny, but that cropped brown hair, those vibrant blue eyes and stupid, ugly moustache… it was very hard to mistake Rod Reiss for anyone else.

Levi froze, heart in his throat. What was Reiss doing here? Did he know who Levi was? Did he recognize him? The slight uplift of his mouth said that he did.

But, thankfully… Reiss said nothing about it.

Instead, he turned back to Hange, a small smile on his thin lips and his hand pointing at Levi. “Is that your young man, detective Zoe? Didn’t know you were spoken for.”

“I’m not—” Hange flashed, shaking her head rapidly. Despite the tense moment, Levi stole a second to admire Hange’s embarrassed expression. She looked utterly ridiculous, and that served her right, a payback for all the times she was the one to embarrass him. “I’m not spoken for, mister Reiss. Yet, at least.”

Yet, at least.

These words sent a pang straight to Levi’s heart. If only… if only he wasn’t himself, and Hange wasn’t Hange, if only they met at the different time, in different place.

If only. A cruel, painful truth.

“Well, either way, it’s good to know that you have someone who cares about you,” Reiss reached out, squeezing Hange’s healthy shoulder. “Even heroes need that.”

“I’m not a hero.” Hange mumbled, utterly bashful. Levi rather liked that side of hers, he decided he wanted to see more of it. So…

“Don’t sell yourself short,” he grumbled, revealing in a vicious glare Hange sent him. It suited to her red cheeks perfectly. “Your heroic deed is all over the news. Certainly, the news wouldn’t lie?”

Hange’s face screamed ‘stop embarrassing me, you asshole’, but in the presence of Reiss, the only thing she could do was smile and grip the edge of a bed with her healthy hand a little too tightly. Perhaps, Reiss was the only obstacle between him and Hange’s proverbial fury. Still, Levi preferred the old bastard would just fuck off already. And— that he wouldn’t tell Kenny where he had met his nephew.

“It’s time for me to leave,” Reiss stood up, as though he heard Levi’s thoughts. “But hopefully we’ll meet again, detective.”

“Thank you for your visit and your help, sir. I’m sure that once we combine our forces, we’ll catch those Ackermans in no time.”

Levi had caught himself, before his jaw had met the floor. What were they talking about? Catching… Ackermans? Was it another one of Reiss’ schemes? Was it a careful move to boost his reputation? A way to protect him and Kenny? Or… was he covering up his traces? If so, how far was he ready to go to do it? He couldn’t betray Kenny, could he?

“It was nice meeting you,” Levi was so lost in his head, he missed the moment when Reiss approached him. Now he stood right before him, his hand outstretched towards him. Reiss was slightly shorter than Levi, which – in that moment – offered little comfort. “Mister?”

“Levi,” he schooled his expression into something polite and, more importantly, neutral.

“Levi,” Reiss hummed, his eyes narrowing just a fraction. “The name seems familiar. But…” he curled his lips in a smile for no more than a second. It was enough to induce a shiver from Levi. “That’s probably just a coincidence. Have a good night, Levi, and take care of our hero, please.”

“Will do, sir,” Levi promised, squeezing the offered hand just a little too tightly.

He watched Reiss walk to the door, then turn the doorknob, push the door open and then – finally - closed. Only when his short, round stature disappeared, did Levi allow himself to breathe out in relief. He moved a hand through his hair, shaking off the last bits of nervousness. With his heart beating that much slower, he turned back to Hange.

“Is that your new friend?” he asked as he plopped down on a chair Reiss had just vacated.

“Friend?” Hange scoffed. “A rich snob who thinks that money solves any problem.”

“Isn’t he right, though?”

“We’ll see about that, I guess,” Hange lifted her shoulders in attempt to shrug, her face contorting in pain as soon as she moved her injured extremity. Levi swallowed, as he watched her rub the wound gently.

“Does it—” his voice betrayed him, breaking right at the beginning. He cleared his throat and tried again. “Does it hurt?”

“Like bitch,” Hange confessed with a bitter smile. “They give me painkillers, and they help, but… I guess I’ll be away from active duty for a while.”

What happened was the next expected question, a friend ought to ask about that, right? However… Levi wasn’t too keen to hear the answer.

“Your friends are worried about you,” he said instead. He was worried about Hange too, but did he even have the right to be? Even if partially, but he was the reason she had been shot. And he was the reason she was now moping in a hospital.

“Sometimes, they worry too much,” Hange complained. “They don’t even let me work. Mike took my laptop away, and Erwin returned my notebook back to the precinct. I’m dying of boredom here, Levi!” she whined, accompanying that pathetic sound by a petulant kick.

“I’m sure they have your best interests at heart,” he reasoned, doing his best not to laugh. It was his fault Hange was like that, but even so, he couldn’t deny that she looked almost unbelievably ridiculous. And cute, really, really cute.

And… that was another sign that he needed to get out of this city as soon as possible.

“Rest may be good for my body, but it’s bad for my brain.”

Hange fell silent after that. With the thumb of her healthy hand raised to her lips, she stared into nothing. Levi could practically hear the sound of gears turning in her head.

He didn’t like where this was going.

“I know I’m asking a lot…” Hange mumbled, suspiciously avoiding his eyes. “And I’ll understand if you decide to refuse…”

Levi tsked and rolled his eyes. All these dramatics… “Just say what you want from me.”

“Like I said it’s a bit too much,” she began slowly, still unsure. Levi kicked the leg of the hospital bed to speed up the process. It seemed to have a rather positive effect. “But since you’ve already been there and I have the key, could you…”

“Steal your damned notebook for you?”

Hange’s face lightened up as she nodded, and, met with that delighted expression, Levi could only sigh. He already hated himself for it, but… he was a reason Hange was here in the first place, right? He might as well do something to make up for it.

Besides… he really liked that happy smile.

“I’m not asking you to steal!” Hange ardently assured. “You’re not a thief, after all,” she laughed at her own joke, while Levi tried very hard not to cringe. “I’m asking you to deliver my notebook from my office.”

Levi didn’t answer right away, and Hange, probably sensing his doubt, continued, “The precinct is almost empty, since it’s Saturday, and everyone is either here or at home. And even if you do run into someone, just tell them you’re running an errand for me.”

“You make it sound so easy,” he said, shaking his head. He had already decided he was going to help Hange out, but there was nothing wrong with playing a little too hard to get.

“It’ll be easy, I swear! And if you bring me the notebook…”

Hange winked, her smile enigmatic. Levi couldn’t deny, that smile had him intrigued. “If I bring the notebook?”

“I’ll think of a way to thank you for that! Perhaps, when we go on that date you promised me…”

The date on a skating rink, Levi almost forgot about it. But as Hange reminded him, the feeling of regret returned. He wanted to go there with Hange, wanted to hold her hand as they glide through the rink, wanted to see her spin around effortlessly, wanted her to teach him how to do the same, as pathetic as it sounded, even the idea of falling down and freezing his ass didn’t disgust him, if Hange were there with him, laughing her heart out, he probably would forget about the pain and cold. If Hange were with him, perhaps, he’d be able to forget about many things.

And that’s why he had to leave.

“Alright, I’ll bring your stupid notebook,” he conceded, getting to his feet just a little too quickly. Hange’s warm gaze was too hypnotizing. It was dangerous, it was doing something to him, and that something was making it very hard for him to leave her side. “I’ll be right back, just…”

“Stay here?” Hange snickered. “I can’t exactly run away right now, Levi.”

“Right, right,” he nodded, and then, because he was going to enter the police precinct on his volition, because he was doing this for Hange’s sake, because he was the most despicable human being in the world, he reached out and pressed her head to his chest. Hange could probably hear how loud and quick his heart was beating, Hange’s heart – if he deciphered the beeping of medical equipment correctly – was beating almost just as fast. “See you, Hange.”

The softness of her hair was surprising, the warmth of her body was so pleasant, the desire to kiss the crown of her head was almost irresistible, but…

Apparently, he wasn’t a complete asshole.

The hug lasted for no more than a second, but for Levi it seemed like hours had passed. And still, it wasn’t nearly enough.

That step back felt like the hardest thing Levi had ever done. As soon as Hange’s warmth had disappeared, he started to miss it.

“I’ll be waiting,” Hange promised with a smile so gentle, it was…

No. He had already done enough, far more than he should have.

If he did something more, if he kissed her, would he really be able to leave? Levi didn’t want to know the answer to that question. He wasn’t sure he’d like it.

He forced himself to walk away, his stride much swifter than usual. He hoped that breathing would be come to him much easier, when the distance between him and Hange grows bigger.

But apparently… he wasn’t lucky enough.

***

Getting inside the precinct was laughably easy.

The security guy at the entrance had attempted to stop him, but let him pass as soon as Levi mentioned that he was running an errand for detective Hange Zoe.

Either Hange’s name held a pretty significant value around here, or, more probably, the police was full of incompetent, lazy pigs.

Honestly, a middle schooler could infiltrate this place.

Not that Levi looked like a middle schooler. His face was much more mature. If he scowled hard enough. He hoped so, at least.

Just as Hange had predicted, the precinct was mostly empty. He passed a few closed doors that had a narrow ray of light coming underneath, but as he repeated the path Mike had showed him before, Levi didn’t meet a single soul.

The long hallways were scarcely illuminated, and some lightbulbs were flicking in and out, creating an almost eerie atmosphere. The tension in his shoulders grew bigger as he moved further and further... right inside the lion’s den.

Kenny would have called him a fool. Kenny would have called him shit-for-brains, a fucking idiot, a stupid fucker. Kenny, if he had known where Levi went, would have hit him until all his idiocy disappeared.

Although… the idiocy was too deep inside him now, Levi wasn’t sure that even Kenny was up to task of getting rid of it.

Perhaps, if he’d leave… Perhaps, perhaps. He’d had to leave the city first.

He had to leave the city, Levi decided and as he got inside the elevator that would take him to Hange’s office, he took out his phone and booked the closest flight available.

Singapore, awesome. He always wanted to visit.

The floor, where Hange’s office was located, was just as lifeless. All cubicles stood vacant and the rest of the offices were empty too. Perhaps, most of the officers were back at the hospital, watching over Hange. It was a good thing that she had someone to care about her. Hange deserved that, maybe, even needed that. Especially after dealing with asshole like him.

Just before entering the door, Levi paused with his hand on a doorknob. That tense feeling, that premonition returned and intensified. His stomach was in knots, making him almost nauseous.

It was ridiculous, stupid, the whole precinct was empty, he had seen so himself, but… the alarms in his mind were ringing, begging him to reconsider and go back before it was too late. Before it was too late for… what?

Levi couldn’t answer that question, meaning his sudden panic was stupid, and he himself was stupid for being a scaredy cat. It was so unlike him, and it was foolish, the last couple of days were probably just getting to him, making him more paranoid than usual.

Stop acting like an idiot, he chided himself, swallowing all of his worry down. He exhaled, relaxing the tense muscles of his back. With another mental kick, he pressed on a doorknob and opened the door, doing so unnecessarily slowly.

Just as he knew it would be, the office stood empty.

Levi didn’t waste another moment by being a damn idiot, and walked inside, heading to the desk Hange was occupying back when he had visited her that one time. The mess of paperwork, pens, paper cups and empty boxes from takeout food that had accumulated on the desk was a proof enough that this work space had really belonged to Hange.

Now, if only there was just a little more light… Levi located the desk lamp fairly quickly, but where was a switch to that fucking thing? He moved his hand up and down, his fingers searching and searching…

The light turned on before he found the switch.

It wasn’t the desk lamp though, it was a luster right above his head.

Levi jerked, whirling around, to the door behind him.

As it turned out, he wasn’t completely alone in the office. Hange’s boss, Captain Erwin Smith was still at work, despite the late hour.

“Levi,” he started to approach him, slowly at first. But the office was rather small, and, despite a step that Levi had taken back, despite his thigh pressing into the edge of the desk, the distance between them was shortening at a speed he wasn’t completely comfortable with. “I was waiting for you.”

He was? Why? Did Hange tell him something? Did she warn her boss about his visit? Why would she, if Erwin was the one who had taken her notebook in the first place? Something wasn’t adding up, and Erwin’s guarded face, damn that stoic man, wasn’t helping him solve that riddle.

“Sit down,” Erwin walked just a little too close to Levi, and then turned, taking a seat at Hange’s desk. Awkwardly, with his legs refusing to cooperate properly, Levi sat down at the opposite side. “Do you want some coffee? Or tea? Hange mentioned you like it a lot.”

“I’m fine, thank you.”

What was he going? What was Erwin doing here, why was he looking at him like that – like Levi was a test subject and Erwin was watching his every move behind the lens of a microscope. The comparison almost made him squirm.

“I’m glad you showed up,” Erwin had his hands folded under his chin, his eyes never leaving Levi’s face. His gaze seemed just as neutral as his expression, perhaps, even a little friendly, but the premonition had returned, so much stronger than before.

“I’m here because Hange asked me to,” he said, wondering why his voice sounded so quiet, almost shaky. Levi straightened in his seat, meeting Erwin’s gaze squarely. He wouldn’t let this man intimidate him. Unless, of course, Erwin gives him a reason to be intimidated. “She wanted—”

“Her notebook, yes,” Erwin nodded. “I guessed already. And I’m sure you’ve jumped at the opportunity to get inside her office. Isn’t that right, Levi? Or,” he paused, but Levi knew what he was going to say, knew what Erwin knew, could see it in his eyes that now had betrayed his true feelings and looked more like two icy shards. These eyes, they pinned Levi down, he helplessly stared into them, seeing nothing but hatred and disgust. “Or, perhaps, you’d prefer if I called you Mister Ackerman instead?”

Levi knew what was coming, and, still, his stomach fell. Millions of question swirled around in his head, and that was the only thing that kept him from bolting out of his seat.

How did Erwin find out? When did he find out? And most importantly, did he tell Hange? Or… was the she the one who discovered the truth?

All these questions had Levi on edge, but Erwin… Erwin didn’t seem too keen to answer any of them.

“Did you know there are only four men named Levi in this city?” Levi didn’t know if the answer was expected of him, but Erwin didn’t seem too interested in what he had to say, because after a brief pause, he continued, “One of them is a teenager boy, he’s an athlete, who is raised by a single mother. Another one is a middle-aged, bald man with three kids and a wife, the other is an eighty-year old man, who lives alone on the edge of the city. The last one,” Erwin’s eyes flashed, and Levi swallowed. Just like before, he knew damn well what was coming. “Doesn’t really count, I guess. He had died some twenty years ago, along with his mother. Do you, by any chance, know the name of his mother?”

There was a lump in his throat, one that appeared each time his mother was mentioned, one that made it hard to breathe and pressed on his chest, heavy enough to hurt. But Erwin looked at him expectantly, like his question was a test. A test of what, Levi wasn’t sure, but he wasn’t going to show his weakness, not in front of this particular man.

“Kuchel,” he said, his voice as steady as it could be, considering he was shaking from inside. “Her name was Kuchel Ackerman.”

Erwin nodded, his features sharpening even further, turning into a stone mask. “I refused to believe it at first, when I first looked you up after meeting you right in that office. It appeared to be a horrible coincidence, a weird conjunction. You seemed genuinely interested in Hange, not in her work, and I was ready to give you the benefit of the doubt, waiting for a sign that would support or destroy my finding. But last night was enough of a proof.”

Was it? How so? Did Levi make a mistake? If so, then were? And how did Erwin see it?

“Last night Hange was shot,” yeah, Levi was there, and Erwin knew that. What importance did it have now? “But she isn’t dead, not like that politician from a week ago. Your partner in crime,” ah, so Kenny wasn’t yet discovered. Apparently, he wiped the traces of his existence much better than Levi did. “I guess he is the one who usually dirties his hands, and that means he was the one who killed that man. Hange was supposed to die that night too, right? And you were the one who prevented it."

Having said everything he needed, Erwin fell silent. For a long moment, there was no sound, except the tick of a clock, Erwin's calm breathing and Levi's much frantic one.

"So, is my assertion correct?"

Levi said nothing. What was there to say? Say yes and stroke Erwin's ego? Or deny it and look like a fool?

"I'll take your silence as a yes."

His cockiness was irritating, despite it being very much deserved. Still, to be caught by a guy he had seen only once... Levi knew there was a possibility that his involvement with Hange may end with him in prison. He just never imagined that her overprotective boss would be the one to blame for his fall.

"Did you already tell Hange?" he asked quietly, admitting his defeat.

His heart was aching, as he thought of what was awaiting for him next. Was Hange going to be the one to put handcuffs on him? What her reaction would be - would she be gleeful about her victory? Or would that joy be overridden by disgust she felt for him?

"I didn't tell her. She won't know the truth about you. Not from me, at least."

Levi widened his eyes, staring at the man in front of him with shock and incomprehension. Was he... telling the truth? But why?

"Hange would be dead, if it wasn't for you. That's why I'm inclined to give you another chance. Leave this city, Levi Ackerman, and don't come back. Stop toying with Hange's feelings and don’t you dare contact her ever again. She deserves someone much better than you."

Well, in that aspect, Levi agreed with Erwin completely.

"You may bring the notebook to her, but that's it. I'm letting you go not out of kindness, but out of gratitude. Don't make me regret it."

"I'm leaving the city tonight." He promised to Erwin, as he stood up, Hange's notebook secured in his right hand.

Not that Erwin needed to know about it, but he was going to leave anyway. Just in two hours, he'd be on his way to Singapore. If he hurried, he might get just enough time to say goodbye to Hange.

A proper goodbye. He ought to give her at least that much.

He left the office swiftly, before Erwin could change his mind. With his heart still racing after a tense encounter, he ran to the hospital.

***

When he arrived inside, the hospital was much less crowded than before. There was a fewer number of patients and visitors in the main hall, and those who still were present, were much quieter, subdued and exhausted. There were only a few doctors around, and their faces were pale, eyes blinking tiredly, shoulders slumped after a long shift. The only ones who still kept their energy were nurses, who ran from one side of a hospital to the other, calling out to doctors or carrying the needed medicine.

Still shaken after his encounter with Erwin, Levi used that semi-calm atmosphere to take a deep breath and put his thoughts into order. He had – for the lack of better word – an eventful day, and who knew what would happen tomorrow? Perhaps, it was the last moment of peace he would have in a while.

He was starting a new life, but the prospect wasn’t thrilling or exhilarating. The only feelings it provoked was dread. And a bone-deep exhaustion.

No rest for the wicked, or so Kenny liked to say. It was one of the few things he and Levi agreed upon.

The hospital hallways seemed deserted too, only doctors and nurses still roaming the place. The visiting hours were already over, but Hange’s status as a new city hero allowed Levi to convince them to overlook that small detail. He had to lie and say he was detective Zoe’s boyfriend, but well… Hange wouldn’t know about this. Even if she did, Levi was going to be on another side of the world in just a few hours.

However, he had to admit… saying this out loud felt good. Unreasonably so.

Hange’s boyfriend… it had a nice ring to it. Perhaps, in another life…

The ridiculousness of that thought was almost enough to make him chuckle. Clearly, it was the long couple of days getting the best of him. He needed to rest, get his head cleared up, leave this city once and for all.

The hallway that led to Hange’s ward was almost as deserted as the rest of the hospital. The number of police officers patrolling her had diminished significantly, only two of them still present.

Levi was not at all surprised to see that tall weirdo, Mike, slumped down in the uncomfortable hospital chair with his hands folded beneath his head. Clearly, he was one of Hange’s closest friends. Levi took a mental note of that, storing that information in that corner of his mind that was dedicated solely to Hange. That corner was growing bigger, and that was another reason why he had to leave, disappear from her life. Hopefully, then Hange would disappear from his life and his mind too.

Next to Mike sat a thin blonde woman, whose name stubbornly eluded Levi. Nana… something. It didn’t really matter. The woman was asleep, her face pressed into Mike’s big shoulder. The scene was adorable, Levi thought detachedly. These people weren’t his friends, they didn’t provoke an emotional response from him, however… Hange would probably like to hear about them snuggling together outside her ward. Maybe, that would make her smile. Levi liked her smile, along with her deep, strangely alluring voice and big, look-inside-them-for-too-long-and-you’ll-drown brown eyes, her smile took the most of that special mind corner of his.

The first thing he saw upon entering the ward was the sight of Hange’s peaceful, relaxed face. Be it the exhaustion from last few days, the pain from injury or a simple, soothing atmosphere of the hospital, but Hange was asleep, her mouth slightly open in an expression that could be described as ridiculous if it weren’t so endearing. Without the ever present glasses, she looked much younger than she actually was, fragile almost.

The second thing Levi was saw the dusty black coat and the stupid bowler hat. The start contrast between white ceilings, blue walls, Hange’s still pale body and that black form was striking enough to make Levi wonder if what he was seeing was actually true. It was easier to write it off as a visage, an image of his biggest nightmare that was conjured by an exhausted mind.

Kenny shouldn’t, couldn’t be here. But he was. Sitting dangerously close next to Hange, his lips spread into a wide, bloodthirsty smirk, he stared at her sleeping form like it was the most interesting thing in the world.

Levi’s blood turned to ice, his insides twisting painfully. He still couldn’t quite believe it.

Kenny was here.

How did he find out about Hange? Why did he come? What did he want? What was he going to do?

There were so many questions, Levi wasn’t sure the answer to which one would be the scariest.

“You know there are over a million people in this city?” Kenny’s voice was quiet, no louder than a machine that counted Hange’s heartbeats. It wasn’t nearly loud enough to disturb her sleep. “And out of that million you had to choose a fucking cop. Is she that special?” Kenny looked him in the eyes, seeming genuinely curious in his answer. “Or are you just that dumb?”

“Both, probably,” Levi shrugged, marveling at how calm, almost bored his voice sounded. Inside, he was anything but.

Kenny hummed, nodded, expressing his agreement, and stood up, popping the collar of his coat. “Let’s not disturb your sleeping beauty then. Follow me, Levi.”

It wasn’t a suggestion or a request, it was an order, and a clear one at that. Levi gladly obeyed it, because the alternative – whatever it would be – was much, much worse.

Kenny led him out of the ward, they passed through Mike and his friend, who were still sleeping, walked through a long hallway, arrived at the stairwell and then went up to the roof.

Once they were there, underneath pale moonlight and surrounded by bright neon lights of a nearby night club, Kenny punched him.

Levi didn’t even stagger, more than expecting that. He didn’t punch back and didn’t defend himself, knowing that he more than deserved that.

Clearly not satisfied yet, Kenny punched him again, then again, until Levi did stagger and fell on his ass. A thin drip of blood dripped from his lip. Levi wiped it off with a sleeve, briefly wondering if the ache on his cheek would turn into a bruise or not.

Kenny stood above him, his face darker than Levi had ever remembered seeing, his fists trembling from either cold or rage.

“You’re a fucking idiot, Levi,” he spat out, kicking his leg. The kick was light, born more out of frustration than anything else. Levi barely felt it. “What the fuck were you thinking? What the fuck were you doing with that damn cop? Have you lost your mind? Have you forgotten who you are?”

Maybe, Kenny was right, maybe, he did forget about it. Or, maybe, he pretended to forget, letting his heart have what it so ardently desired. But today he was reminded of his place. Several times already.

And he was an idiot, Kenny wasn’t wrong about that too.

He was an idiot, who followed his heart, who chose the one person he absolutely couldn’t have. That choice, although it was only his to carry, wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair to Hange and it wasn’t fair to Kenny, to him especially so.

Levi knew about possible consequences, had expected them, but what about Kenny? Had Levi been caught, had Kenny been caught alongside him, his life would have been ruined too. And if Levi made that choice, consciously, Kenny – didn’t. He would never make a choice like that, one that would jeopardize Levi. Kenny was an asshole, a scoundrel, a thief and a liar, but if there was one thing he treasured, it was his family.

He treasured his sister, and after her death, he treasured her son, even if he never actually showed that.

And Levi had betrayed him.

All this time, he was worried, afraid that Hange would learn about his betrayal and grow to despise him, but he had never even thought that he was also lying to the only person in this world, who actually gave a damn about him, to the last part of his family.

Perhaps, Kenny should have punched him a couple of times more.

“You look like a kicked dog,” Kenny rolled his eyes in exasperation, grudgingly offering Levi to take his hand. “Get up, before you catch some shit from this fucking cold. Doubt they’ll let you stay with that officer sweetheart of yours if you start coughing your lungs out.”

“Fuck off,” Levi grunted, but accepted the offered hand and let Kenny hoist him up. “You were the one to punch me.”

“Was hoping I’d knock out that shit out of you,” Kenny briefly glanced at him before burying his head into the inside of his coat to look for the pack of cigarettes, no doubt. One day, the constant smoking would kill him. Then again – with their line of job – they could die at any moment, anyway. Criminals like them had to treasure every second, before they end up in a ditch or in prison. Wasn’t he doing the same, wasn’t he treasuring every second he had with Hange? Perhaps, he was. And now, it came to an end, disappointingly abrupt. “Did I, by the way? Manage to knock some sense into you?”

Levi thought about a notebook, hidden inside his pocket, close to his heart. He remembered how good it felt to hold Hange in his arms, remembered how light her laughter made him feel.

“I think you didn’t punch me hard enough.”

Kenny didn’t hit him again, didn’t even scold him. It seemed like he didn’t have energy for either. He just shook his head - slowly, wearily, and sighed – in disappointment, not surprise.

He walked to the edge of the roof and sat down, his long legs dangling in the air. Kenny seemed spent, defeated, Kenny looked tired and unexpectedly old, like the weight of his years had finally caught up to him. Levi didn’t quite know how to act around him in that state.

Tentatively, staggering slightly, he approached his uncle and joined him at the edge of the roof.

Kenny wordlessly offered him a cigarette, and Levi took it, thanking him with a subtle nod.

The silence fell over them as they both smoked, their eyes glued to the sky above. It was comfortable, this silence. Levi hated to break it, but there were things he needed to say.

“I’m leaving tonight.”

Kenny didn’t ask where, didn’t ask why, he didn’t seem to care at all. Unfortunately, Levi did care.

“Do you want to leave with me?”

Kenny put a cigarette to his lips, took a long, deep drag, released a fat ring of smoke, watched it disappear into the night. He met Levi’s eyes – for a single moment – and then returned to gazing up at the sky.

“Sorry, kid. Still have some stuff I need to finish.”

Levi didn’t ask Kenny to reconsider, didn’t ask what stuff he was talking about. If there was one thing he knew for certain, it was a fact that Kenny had a lot on his hands – Traute and her betrayal, Reiss and whatever he was planning to do. Levi had a lot on his hands too, and the only way to deal with all of it was to leave.

Kenny obviously had a different opinion. Nothing surprising, there were lots of things they had different opinions about.

“That cop of yours,” Kenny put his cigarette out, flicking the butt down below, and took a new one. He lightened it up, the lighter briefly illuminating his grim features. The shadows on his face were almost frightening. “Does she know who you are?”

“No,” the word came out a little bit harsher, gruffer than he intended. Levi wondered what the cause of it was – shame or regret. “But she’ll find out someday, I’m sure. She’s more than sharp enough.”

“You got lucky then, if she doesn’t know yet.”

Lucky? Perhaps he truly was. Was he lucky because he was leaving before Hange discovered the truth? Was he lucky because earlier that day she was still looking at him with stars in her eyes? Or, maybe, he was lucky because he wouldn’t get to see how those starts turn to disgust and hatred?

“Her boss knows, though. He searched my name after Hange introduced us. Did you know there are only four Levis in this city?”

“Your mother’s fault, not mine,” Kenny shrugged. “I wanted to name you Bob.”

Levi choked, shock and laughter constricting his throat. “Bob?” he hoarsely croaked.

“Bob Ackerman,” Kenny smirked, taking off his hat and putting it on Levi’s head. It fell down, obscuring half of his face. “It has a nice ring to it, don’t you think?”

“No.”

Kenny chortled, and Levi couldn’t keep a smile off his face. It seemed like things between them were returning to normal. Levi was relieved.

And at the same, he was sad. Most of the time Kenny got on his nerves, he constantly pushed all of his buttons, but Levi still loved him. In a strange, bizarre sense, he was the only Levi could look up to. And the only one he could trust.

Levi didn’t want to leave him behind, wanted to listen to his stupid jokes while rolling his eyes and calling him an asshole just for a little longer.

But his plane was taking off in an hour. And there was one thing Levi wanted to do, before he gets out of this city for good.

“Kenny, I—”

“I know,” he cut him off. Kenny looked him in the eyes, and if Levi didn’t know him better, he’d say that the smile on his face was sad. “Young love and all that, right? Go, Romeo. Make sure your Juliette doesn’t put handcuffs on you.”

Levi stood up, hovering over Kenny awkwardly. They never, ever hugged. But in this moment, it seemed appropriate. People did hug, when saying goodbye to your loved ones. It was a totally normal thing. Could he and Kenny be like normal people too?

Bracing himself, Levi turned to face his uncle. He only started raising his arms, when Kenny snorted.

“Don’t make this weird, Levi.”

Apparently, they couldn’t even pretend to be normal.

“And you can keep my hat.”

Levi scoffed. “Now you’re the one making this weird.”

“It’s my old age, I guess,” he said. “Now shoo, kid, you don’t have much time. And remember - whenever you go…” Kenny paused, winking conspicuously. “Stir up some trouble, alright?”

Despite himself, Levi chuckled. “Don’t go around being boring too, old man.”

“That you can be sure of,” Kenny tilted his head, at the last moment remembering that his loyal hat wasn’t with him anymore. “And if you go into hiding, make sure you don’t go too deep.”

“So you’ll be able to find and pester me?”

“You know me so well.”

Levi did. And he was going to miss his nuisance of an uncle. “Thank you,” he said sincerely. “For everything, for—”

“Yeah, yeah, for raising you and teaching how to be so damn good at stealing stuff. I know you love me more than anything and you think I’m the coolest guy ever, Levi. Now stop being an embarrassment and leave me alone already.”

Hiding another smile, lest Kenny would think that his words were actually not so far from the truth and Levi did like him so much, Levi threw another glance at the night city, briefly squeezed Kenny’s shoulder and headed back inside.

The hat kept falling on his eyes, it was clearly a size or two too big, and Levi was sure he looked absolutely ridiculous, but… it brought along a sense of comfort.

When he came back to Hange, two police officers by her door were still sleeping. Levi passed them without a second glance.

Inside the ward, Hange continued to snore too. He had to hurry to the airport, his time was running out, yet Levi sparred a long moment to commit her face to his memory.

His eyes traced every feature – from the wide forehead and closed eyes with long dark eyelashes that fell elegantly on her cheeks, to the curve of her nose that had small dots of freckles and her rosy lips that were slightly curled upwards.

She was probably dreaming of something so pleasant. Levi wondered what that dream was about.

The only imperfection on her face, the one thing he resolutely didn’t like was a lock of hair that fell just over the tip of her nose.

With a feather light touch, Levi brushed the offending lock away, holding it between his fingers just a little too long.

You’re acting like a creep, he chided himself. Besides, he was going to be late to his flight.

With a heavy sigh and lots of effort, Levi took a step back. He put the notebook on the table next to her bed, briefly marveling at the amount of gifts that had already accumulated there.

Apparently, Hange was very well-loved.

Just at the edge of a small table, he saw a pen that was probably forgotten by the hospital stuff.

Overcome with a sudden impulse, Levi grabbed that pen and opened the notebook on the last page.

Since he couldn’t actually say goodbye, he should write a small note. Whether Hange would even see it or not, whether she would understand who he truly was or not… he wouldn’t be there to witness the result, right?

Right, he decided and started writing.

Too bad I couldn’t make it to that skating rink date. But we still had lots of fun, right? At least, I did.

Be good and kick all of their asses. I know you have it in you, four-eyes.

Whether his abrupt leave, the absence of any kind of conclusion was a good thing or bad, Levi couldn’t quite decide yet.

It left a bitter taste in his mouth, made him feel melancholic, lonelier than ever, but… maybe, it was for the best. Levi didn’t like goodbyes, avoided them at all costs. There was only one person he had ever said goodbye to, and his mother never returned.

He hadn’t said a proper goodbye to Hange, didn’t really say it to Kenny too, and perhaps… Perhaps.

As he left the ward, Levi didn’t look at Hange even once. He tried to pretend that he didn’t care, but the truth was he was afraid that so much as a glance would make it impossible for him to leave that what could have been behind.

He made sure to close the door quietly, but somehow the sound managed to wake up Mike.

He slowly sat up, rubbing his eyes and blinking owlishly. “Levi?” he mumbled sleepily. “Are… you wearing a hat?”

Levi had forgotten about that thing entirely. But after Mike had mentioned it, he took it off, hiding it behind his back.

Once that embarrassment was dealt with, he cleared his throat. “Hange is sleeping. She’s fine, as far as I could tell.”

“You’re leaving already? Well, make sure to come back soon. Hange will be so happy to see you again.”

“Yeah,” Levi swallowed, the lump in his throat suddenly becoming too big. “I’d be happy to see her too.”

And at the same time he knew, it’d be best for both of them, if their paths never cross again.

“Tell Hange I said hi. And… that I’m going to miss her.”

Levi ignored Mike’s confused question, he ignored his insistent calls. He took one brisk step after another, resolute and determined.

He had done everything he wanted to. And now it was time to leave this city behind.

Once and for all.

[latte-fairytaekwoon]

𝑀𝑎𝑓𝑖𝑎! 𝐴𝑡𝑒𝑒𝑧: 𝑆𝑜𝑚𝑒𝑜𝑛𝑒 𝐵𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑘𝑠 𝐼𝑛𝑡𝑜 𝑇ℎ𝑒𝑖𝑟 𝐻𝑜𝑢𝑠𝑒 𝑊𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝑇ℎ𝑒𝑖𝑟 𝑃𝑟𝑒𝑔𝑛𝑎𝑛𝑡 𝑊𝑖𝑓𝑒 𝐼𝑛𝑠𝑖𝑑𝑒

Disclaimer: In no way am I condoning, supporting, justifying or encouraging mafia activities or lifestyle. This is all fictional and not meant to represent real life scenarios.

°• ✾ •°𝓚𝓲𝓶 𝓗𝓸𝓷𝓰𝓳𝓸𝓸𝓷𝓰°• ✾ •°

You were currently locked inside a secret room in your mansion. Hongjoong specifically had it made for situations like this. Even though the possibilities of someone finding you were slim to none, you were still frightened. You just wanted Hongjoong to get there as fast as he could and comfort you.

As if on cue, the door opened and Hongjoong appeared. You immediately got up and held onto him as if your life depended on it, the tears you've been holding in now finally pouring out.

"Shhh calm down honey, it's ok. I'm here now, don't cry." Hongjoong ran his fingers through your hair in an effort to comfort you, get you to calm down.

"I was so scared. I kept thinking they'd find me and maybe harm me or our.."

You couldn't finish the last part, but Hongjoong knew what you meant when you placed a hand protectively around your baby bump. He smiled at you softly and put one of his hands on top of yours.

"I promised that I'd take care of you both and I'm not breaking that promise. Don't be scared anymore, I won't let anyone hurt either one of you."

°• ✾ •°𝓟𝓪𝓻𝓴 𝓢𝓮𝓸𝓷𝓰𝓱𝔀𝓪°• ✾ •°

Seonghwa was currently trying to discuss a possible merge with another gang. Things seemed to be going pretty well, both sides satisfied with what the other had to offer. They were finishing up details on the contract when one of Seonghwa's men burst in, interrupting the meeting.

"Sir! Your wife just called! Some enemy broke into your house!" The man exclaimed, trying hard to catch his breath.

Seonghwa completely forgot about the meeting. Not wanting to waste another second, he ordered his car to be ready as he ran out of the room, some protests and groaning heard from the other people in the room.

But Seonghwa didn't care. You and the child you were carrying were his top priority. That's how he went well above the speed limit so he could reach the house in time to save you. Once making sure you were both all right, he started packing a few things.

"I'm taking you to stay somewhere else. I'm not risking anything again."

°• ✾ •°𝓙𝓮𝓸𝓷𝓰 𝓨𝓾𝓷𝓱𝓸°• ✾ •°

At first, Yunho wasn't going to take the call, but when they told him it was you, he immediately took it, knowing you wouldn't interrupt a meeting if it wasn't an emergency.

"Baby? What's wrong? Is everything ok? Oh my god! Please don't tell me the baby is already on the way!" He kept rambling on.

"No, not that. However ..... we have a little problem..." You stated.

"What kind of problem?" Yunho asked.

"Well, I heard glass shattering in the living room, so I went to look-"

"You went to look?! What if it was someone breaking in?!" Yunho scolded you.

"Well you hit the nail on the head, it was someone breaking in." You sighed.

"What?! I'm on my way! Stay calm! I'll bring back up just in case." Yunho was already grabbing his car keys.

"Can you also bring one of the medical staff?" You asked kinda sheepishly.

"Why?! Are you hurt?! Is our baby hurt?!" Yunho felt like he was getting a heart attack.

"No....but the guy who broke in is. You see, I was in the kitchen, so before I went to check, I was holding a frying pan.... and I may or may not have hit him really hard on the head with it and....well he ain't moving." You confessed rather awkwardly.

Yunho stood silent on the other line, trying to process all of this. He didn't know whether to laugh or get mad or just continue freaking out.

"Well I guess it's good to know you can still defend yourself. I'm on my way."

He shook his head as he hung up.

"That girl is gonna be the death of me."

°• ✾ •°𝓚𝓪𝓷𝓰 𝓨𝓮𝓸𝓼𝓪𝓷𝓰°• ✾ •°

Yeosang kept fidgeting his finger on the armrest of his chair. He couldn't concentrate anymore on what was being said at the meeting. His mind was thinking about you, worrying about you and your baby's safety. He knew he could trust the men he sent to go help you out, but he was still worried about you. Perhaps he should have gone himself, he kept thinking that.

One of his men quietly came up to him and whispered.

"Your wife is safe. We found the intruder and we have locked him up. You have nothing else to worry about."

Yeosang released a breath he didn't realize he was holding. He thanked the man before excusing himself from the meeting. He neglected you for too long. Upon seeing you, he ran to you and hugged you tightly.

"Thank God you're both all right!"

You could tell he was becoming emotional so you smiled to ease his worry.

"Yes, we're fine. Nothing happened." You assured him.

He took your hands in his and looked down.

"I'm sorry I wasn't there myself..."

You leaned up and kissed his cheek.

"I trust you Yeosang, you know that. I know that even if it's not you personally, you'll still protect us no matter what. That's why I'm never scared." You confessed.

Yeosang felt immensely happy when you said that. He kissed your forehead and held your growing belly.

"Thank you for never doubting me or my love for you both."

°• ✾ •°𝓒𝓱𝓸𝓲 𝓢𝓪𝓷°• ✾ •°

San burst into the house, not caring that he literally busted his own front door down. He signaled for his men to quietly search around, not wanting you to be more frightened than what you probably already were. He searched in your bedroom.

"Y/N?" He called out to you.

Slowly, you peeked out from underneath the bed.

"San?" You asked.

"Y/N! What the-"

He walked over and pulled you out.

"Out of all the places, you choose to hide underneath the bed? You could hurt yourself or our baby!" He began fussing around as he gently rubbed your barely visible bump.

"Oh relax. I'm not that far along yet, and leave me alone! I panicked and that's the nearest place I could think of." You pouted and crossed your arms.

San chuckled at how cute you were and cupped your cheeks.

"You're so adorable." He pecked your lips.

One of his men interrupted you two.

"Sir, perimeter is clear, no sign of any intruder anymore."

San's smile disappeared and was replaced by a scowl.

"Fine. Search for any clues that could give out their identity. Report back to me when you find something." He ordered.

"Right away sir."

San turned back to you, who was standing with a smirk.

"What?" He asked.

"Your duality seriously is no joke." You teased him.

San giggled and pulled you into a hug, kissing your cheek repeatedly.

"I'm just really soft for you and our little jelly bean."

°• ✾ •°𝓢𝓸𝓷𝓰 𝓜𝓲𝓷𝓰𝓲°• ✾ •°

"Mingi! I think someone broke into the house!"

Your voice echoed through the entire room, as Mingi had put you on speaker.

"What?! What do you mean?!" He asked.

"There's a mess all over the living room and kitchen! The couch is ripped up and several furniture is turnt over!" You were shouting now.

"Oh my god! I just heard some shuffling..." Your voice suddenly went quiet.

"Baby....just stay down and we'll be there." Him and the other members were already getting their guns ready.

"I see something moving in the corner! It's still here! It's it's-"

"Just lock yourself in the safe room!" Mingi interrupted.

"It's a dog?" You suddenly said.

"What?" They all asked in unison.

"Yeah. It's a dog." You repeated.

"What kind of dog?! Does it have a collar?!" Yunho asked happily.

"I think it's a golden retriever, let me get closer."

"No! Don't get close to it! It could have rabies!" Mingi warned you.

Suddenly the sound of something falling was heard.

"Y/N! What happened?! Do I need to call animal control and put the dog down?!" Mingi asked frantically.

"No! Don't put it down!" Wooyoung begged.

Your giggles were heard, making everyone confused.

"It's licking my face! And he's so cute! Can we keep him?!" You squealed.

"If you say yes, can we help name it?!" San asked.

Mingi pinched the bridge of his forehead, trying to calm down.

"Well this was certainly a very entertaining meeting." Seonghwa laughed.

°• ✾ •°𝓙𝓾𝓷𝓰 𝓦𝓸𝓸𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓷𝓰°• ✾ •°

"So uh... don't freak out Wooyoung..." You started off.

"Oh no. Every time you tell me not to freak out, it's cause it's something worth freaking out about. So what is it?" He asked.

You sighed. "Ok. So while I was sleeping, someone broke into the house."

"What?! How?! Do you know who it was?!" He began asking, already gathering some people to go with him.

"No, I was sleeping." You calmly said.

"How could you have been sleeping?!" He exclaimed.

"Hey! Being pregnant makes me tired and when I'm asleep, I'm practically dead!" You defended yourself.

"Ok fine! But are you sure you didn't hear anything?" He asked.

You face palmed on the other end.

"Wooyoung... I told you! I was asleep! I didn't see or hear anything! I only know that someone broke in because the front door knob is broken." You responded.

"Ok that's it. I'm installing better security and hiring someone to watch you while you're sleeping since clearly, anyone can just come in then hurt you and you won't even notice till you're dead." He said, his voice raising 2 octaves.

"No! I won't be able to sleep if I know someone is watching me." You cringed.

"Fine. I'll watch over you and our baby then." He said decidedly.

"That's even worse!" You shouted.

"It's called making sure you're alive! Goddamit woman, stop being so difficult." He screamed back.

°• ✾ •°𝓒𝓱𝓸𝓲 𝓙𝓸𝓷𝓰𝓱𝓸°• ✾ •°

Jongho looked back and forth at you and the man currently tied up to a chair in front of you both.

"Run that by me again?" He asked, unable to believe your story.

"It's simple. I heard someone looking through some documents in the office, so I went to go check-"

"That was already a pretty stupid decision." Jongho cut you off.

You glared at him.

"I took a weapon with me!" You exclaimed.

"Yeah! The expensive vase that my mom gave to us on our anniversary!" Jongho gestured to the broken pieces of porcelain scattered around the floor.

"Well it was the closest thing I had in hand! Besides it worked! Knocked him out long enough for me to tie him up and wait for you to get here." You were actually proud of yourself for being able to handle the situation like you did. Jongho always said you were tiny and couldn't protect yourself, that's why you needed him.

Jongho sighed and looked back at the guy next to them.

"I mean.....I'd asked you to confirm her story, but I think you tied up basically sums it up."

The guy only nodded.

"Are you going to torture me now?" The man asked.

"Listen my man, you got knocked out by a tiny and pregnant woman, you a grown man. I think you've suffered enough humiliation for one day." Jongho snorted, but he was also proud of you for protecting yourself and your child.

Gifs not mine, credit goes to their respective owners.

[lumosinlove]

PREVIOUSLY ON RELIC KEEL:

We get our first glimpse of Finn, who is still in Saint Clair orphanage. Finn has worked out that Crucio is being given to the orphans because it allows them to see their families again and makes them want to stay at Saint Clair so they can keep receiving it—even if it means reliving memories every day that are not their own. Finn doesn’t want that at all, and he’s been in solitary for the last week because he refuses to eat, realizing that the drug is mixed in with the food.

Luke is struggling with his mother, who seems to be delighted that Luke’s father is gone. She has completely transformed into a woman Luke doesn’t recognize, offering him alcohol, and wanting to get rid of Luke’s father’s things. Luke escapes her words, retreating to his father’s study where he can take Crucio and re-arrange the events in his own mind, making it so his father never got taken away.

Remus and Sirius, at James’ house for a movie night, have an awkward exchange in the kitchen. Remus wants to ask Sirius if he wants to go sailing with him, quickly realizing the unexplainable but seemingly unavoidable crush he’s developed on Sirius, but they get interrupted by Saint.

Saint asks Remus to help him sneak into The Hogwarts History Museum, where Remus is working for the summer, but when Remus refuses, guesses he has to take matters into his own hands.

Saint finds Luke on the grasses with the others, watching a movie. Luke wants his father’s watch, which Saint stole, back, but Saint refuses. Luke can’t believe Saint has never seen many movies, but rudely puts it up to Saint’s “fucked childhood.” They argue, and it just makes Saint quietly angrier. Saint thinks more deeply about it than he lets on, though, reflecting on people’s need to control things—a need that Crucio plays on. Saint leaves, but not after stealing the keys to Luke’s car, deciding he can control things a different way—with ancient gold from an ancient pirate ship, perhaps.

Sirius follows Saint out of the house. He can tell that he’s more on edge than usual, that he has been ever since Logan arrived. Saint won’t tell him what he wants from the museum, though—a treasure map to the Voldemort. Sirius is hurt. He’s angry at himself for liking Remus. Both Sirius and Saint, it seems, have a hard time distinguishing pity and friendship.

Leo and Logan are waiting for Saint so that they can all go to the museum together. Leo asks about Finn and finds out that Logan and Finn are in love, that they’re everything to each other. It stings Leo’s slowly developing feelings for Logan.

Remus and Sirius go to the history museum to try and thwart Saint and find out he’s working with Logan and Leo, and that they’re all after The Voldemort. Saint confesses he’s trying to help Sirius, to Sirius’ surprise. Leo wants to finish his father’s work. Logan wants Finn—but no one seems willing to help him bust Finn out. When they find the drawer where the map should be kept in the museum’s archive room, however, it’s gone, having been taken out on loan by Luke’s father, Victor Deveaux. Victor and Luke loved the tale of the treasure, too. Perhaps it has something to do with Victor being sent to jail.

They go to Luke’s house where Saint climbs through Luke’s bedroom window. Saint studies a sleeping Luke, a strange, unexpected constant—a brooding, rude, beautiful one, that is. And oh, how Saint hates letting things surprise him. Saint wakes Luke, who has taken Crucio, and plans to use his father’s watch as leverage to get Luke to help them find the map.

~

*****cw: mentions of drugs, mentions of use of drugs, mentions of past deaths, mentions of past abuse, mentions of blood*****

~

part vii

Luke’s father was standing over Remus’ shoulder, flickering as the Felix wore off, and it was really fucking with Luke’s head.

“Some fellow treasure hunters,” his father said with one of his soft smiles. “Sounds fun.”

“Sober up,” Remus’ voice filtered in. “What makes you sober up?”

“I’m not drunk.”

Luke watched Remus just shake his head at him. His father’s flickering frame was looking closely at Saint, who was picking up everything in sight.

“We both know what you are,” Remus replied. “Now, come on. Coffee? Anything I can do without waking your mom up.”

“She’s not going to wake up,” Luke rubbed his eyes. “She takes these—sleeping things, I don’t know.”

“Well—“ Remus hesitated. Behind him, Luke’s father flickered out.

“I’m fine,” Luke said. “What’s going on?”

“We’re bargaining, remember?” Saint held up Luke’s father’s watch again. “Tell me about your father, Deveaux.”

Luke blinked. “What?”

“Well, Lupin’s already told us a little. You, him, and your treasure hunting days.”

Luke looked at Remus, who looked half-guilty and half-curious. “You mean—like when we were kids?”

Luke didn’t want to tell them about the time he had spent with his father in here, just the two of them, fantasizing about gold and pirates.

“We were at the museum just now,” Remus began slowly. “Your dad loaned out a map…it’s of the Cradle. Of a, what was it, a trading post?”

The tall, blond boy standing in a corner nodded.

Remus looked back to Luke. “Have you seen it? Here?”

“A map?” Luke scrubbed his hand over his face again. “What fucking time is it?”

“Oh, he’s swearing,” Saint said as he opened another drawer. “He’s back.”

“Fuck—” Luke clamped his mouth shut. He turned away from Saint and fully towards Remus. Sirius and another dark haired boy were standing near the blond one. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Treasure?”

Remus winced. “Like the Voldemort.”

“The—what? He was never serious about that stuff,” Luke replied. “It was just for fun.”

“And yet he takes it upon himself to acquire an ancient document,” Saint piped up from behind him.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Luke said again over his shoulder.

“Um—“

Luke looked towards the blond boy, who had taken a hesitant step forward.

“I know what it looks like. My dad had a copy.”

“A true father’s affair,” Saint mumbled.

“What?” Luke asked for what felt like the one hundredth time.

“If we could just look around—” the blond began.

“You come here at ass o’clock in the morning to look around may dad’s study? For a treasure map that your dad has?”

“Used to have,” the blond’s eyes went colder. “His version was lost with him and his boat.”

Luke swallowed, eyes drifting away from the other boy’s blue ones. He looked back to Remus. They used to spend hours playing pirate when they were younger. Remus looked like he was remembering those hours, too.

Luke only had to blink for that golden-edged memory to mingle with the hours Remus had held Luke close in Luke’s bed, letting Luke soak his t-shirt through when they’d taken his dad away.

“Why do you think my dad has it?” Luke said now. “What do you mean loaned?”

“We went looking for it at the museum just now,” Remus explained. “Well—not not we. Saint stole your car—”

Luke looked back at Saint. “I’m aware.”

Saint flashed a smile.

“—and went with Logan,” Remus pointed to the somber looking brunette, “and Leo,” the cold-eyed blond, “to more or less, God, break into the museum archives. If they’re going to find the treasure—which, in my opinion, they’re not—they need—”

“A map,” Luke said, then scoffed out a laugh. “You guys are fucking crazy.”

Remus ran a hand through his hair. “Look, none of this was my idea, but your dad’s name was on the loan card. If it’s here, it's here, and then they’ll take the picture they need and we can all leave. I mean, shit, I have work at seven tomorrow morning, guys.”

Luke let out a long breath. He was tired, from being woken up and from the Felix, and he frankly wanted Saint to stop messing with his father’s things.

He nodded at Remus. “You can look around. And I will. The rest of you, don’t fucking—” he snatched one of his father’s fountain pens out of Saint’s hands. “touch anything.”

Saint just tiled his head defiantly. Luke couldn’t help but hold his gaze for a moment, remembering waking up to those syrupy eyes and feeling—he didn’t know what. Like he was standing on the edge of the Howler cliffs, above a storm-warmed, rough ocean. Saint’s hand had been in his hair, and it had been ever so gentle, unlike the rest of him. His words were tough, and, from what Luke could tell by his own jabs at Saint, so was his skin. He guessed a kid didn’t grow up the way Saint had without at least a little armor—Saint was practically drowning in his own.

As if Luke could talk. Luke looked away and gestured towards Remus. “Let’s get this over with.”

Luke opened drawers and cabinets. He looked through stacks of paper and under dressers. He checked the den, even, just in case, but there was nothing. Everything was orderly—and even more, the police had taken so much. Any paper they could get their hands on. His mom wouldn’t tell him what they were looking for, and neither would the lawyers that occasionally came to the house.

But there was no map.

Luke began to double check, if only at Remus’ insistence, but he was at a loss. There were only so many places—

“What’s your birthday, tweedle?” Saint said suddenly.

“What does that have to do—” Luke began as he turned, but his words died in his throat when he saw Saint.

Luke’s father had had the old map of Hogwarts framed and hanging in his study ever since Luke could remember. He knew its markings as well as he knew the island as it was today. Saint had it tilted to the side, revealing a sliver of sleek steel. A safe.

“I told you not to touch anything,” Luke said breathlessly. He hadn’t known about that safe. He’d stared at that map a thousand times and he hadn’t known. Did his mother know? The lawyers?

“I bet you one of Leo here’s best breakfast sandwiches that the map’s in here,” Saint replied, nodding to the frame. “Little bit of an X marks the spot, don’t you think? Now,” Saint reached for the painting and unhooked it smoothly, setting it on the ground to reveal the neat square metal sunken into the wall with a dial in the center. “Tell me your birthday.”

“Why do you think the combination is my birthday?”

Saint rolled his eyes. “Because you’re his son. Fathers do that. Don’t they?”

Saint asked the last part like he was trying to be sure, but wasn’t.

“January first,” Luke replied.

Saint hummed as he leaned in. “New year, new you, huh?”

Luke just swallowed dryly as he listened to the dial tick. It felt so loud in the room that was now holding its breath. It felt like it lasted forever, but, finally, the safe opened with a gentle click.

“Damn, Saint,” Sirius said softly.

“I know, I’m so good,” Saint said, and made to push the door open when Luke pushed forward and grabbed his hand. Saint’s fingers were warm in his own. Saint raised an eyebrow.

“Like you said,” Luke still felt breathless. “I’m his son. I’m doing this.”

Saint raised his free hand in surrender until Luke let go, and he backed away. Luke faced the safe. He felt the Felix in him all over again, though it was long gone. He felt his father, smelled his cigars. Luke reached for the door, too aware of the four pairs of eyes on him, and pulled it open.

It was relatively empty. There were papers that looked like they had once bound money, but lay ripped and lifeless now. There was a case of expensive cigars.

And there was an envelope with Luke’s name on it.

“There’s a letter,” Luke said faintly, picking it up. “For me.”

He looked up at Remus, and Remus nodded.

“Like the clues he would leave us?” Remus said quietly.

Luke went for the seal—only to have it snatch out of his hands.

He looked up, eyes wide, and found the unfamiliar brunette—Logan, Remus had said—staring back at him, at all of them, with wild green eyes.

“Logan,” Leo said, voice filled with surprise. “What the hell are you—”

But Logan just backed up towards the door. There was a familiar click, and the flame of a lighter appeared in his other hand.

“Hey—” Luke stepped forward, panicked, but Saint’s palm pushed against his chest.

“Don’t,” Saint said softly, for Luke’s ears only.

“That’s mine,” Luke snarled, shoving Saint away.

“Yeah, well I have something I want, too,” Logan snapped, and then looked at Saint. He held the flame closer to the envelope. “You want to know what this says? Then—”

“So do you, Logan,” Saint said. “You need that money. You know you do. The Carrows know it, too.”

“You owe me something first. I want Finn.”

“I don’t owe you,” Saint replied evenly. “I don’t owe anyone. That’s kind of my general idea in life, in case you hadn’t noticed.”

Logan faltered, and the flame slipped close enough to the envelope to make smoke trail, but when Luke stepped forward, Logan took another step back. He looked small, framed by the grand desk and leather chairs. Small and scared.

“You left us in there,” he finally whispered, and Luke thought he heard Saint’s breathing stop and hold, like a punch to the gut.

“He was seven years old,” Sirius growled, and Luke didn’t know what they were talking about, was done waiting.

“Do you know the last time I talked to my dad?” Luke said, voice raising. He glanced upstairs, careful of his mother despite her pills, and dropped it to a deadly whisper again. “He’s not allowed calls. Not until the investigation’s over. This could—” Luke hesitated at putting his wildest, most desperate hope into words. “This could prove he’s—”

“Do you think I give a shit about the last time you talked to your daddy?” Logan snarled just as harshly. “When’s the last time I talked to mine? Oh. Right.”

“Please,” Luke heard the word rip out of his throat before he could help it, but Logan wasn’t even looking at him. Logan’s eyes were on Saint.

“Help me get Finn out. The windows are barred now. There are alarms, I’ve seen them.”

“I didn’t use a window,” Saint replied.

“Then show me how you did it.”

“You won’t be able to get in the way I got out.”

“Then do it for me.”

If Luke was begging, so was Logan.

“Fuck, I’ll help you,” Luke shouted. “Just don’t. Please. My father—”

“You don’t know shit about Saint Clair,” Logan snapped, then looked back at Saint. “We both know where he is. Why I haven’t seen him. Saint—”

“All right,” Saint said, voice calm. His brown eyes reminded Luke of stormy seas, ruddy with stirred up sand. “All right, Logan. Just don’t burn the letter.”

“Promise,” Logan said.

Saint laughed, cold and clear. “What has a promise ever meant to either of us? I said I would. Take it or leave it.”

There was a terrifying moment in which Luke worried that the letter would go up in flames anyway. That he would never know what his father had wanted him to have, wanted him to know. He didn’t know Logan, didn’t trust him.

The lighter clicked off and Logan held out the envelope. Luke took it and gave Logan a shove towards the door for good measure.

“Get out,” he said. “Get out of my house.”

“What does the letter say?” Logan replied firmly. “It could be about the map.”

Luke laughed, and it rang a close twin to Saint’s in his own ears. “You should have thought about that before you held it hostage for your orphan friend.”

Logan took a step forward, mouth opening to protest, but Luke was bigger than him, stronger and taller. He met him chest to chest.

“I said get out.”

“Logan,” Saint sighed. “Listen to him.”

Leo stepped forward then, a gentle hand on Logan’s fiery frame. Logan simmered for another moment, but let Leo lead him from the room, lighter still clutched in his fist. Remus followed them with a whispered, I’m sorry that Luke barely heard.

He faintly heard Saint say something to Sirius, who followed Remus.

Saint, the only one left in the room now, looked at Luke steadily. Luke expected some sort of joke, or a snarky remark about the desperation Luke had shown—something he tried to never let slip through. He didn’t care what it was. He just wanted to be alone, to have this room feel like his father’s again. Instead of a crime scene. Instead of a lead, or a pin-point on a map. Just his father’s familiar room.

Instead Saint tossed him something that shone—his keys.

“Let us know, if you want,” Saint said simply, and held the gold watch out. Luke took it with shaking fingers, watching him go.

Then, he looked down at the letter, at his name in his father’s familiar scrawl. He peeled back the seal with a lump forming in his throat.

~

Remus’ steps slowed to a stop when he saw who was waiting for him at the end of his dock in the five-AM light.

Sirius had his flip-flops beside him, his feet dangling over the edge into the water, the Wolfsbane rocking gently in the early morning waves to his left.

“Sirius?” Remus called, more so that the first thing Sirius felt wasn’t the shaking of his footsteps than anything else.

Sirius jerked around, startled either way, and scrambled to stand.

“Hi,” he said. “Or, morning.”

“Morning,” Remus laughed a little, glancing at the boat. “I…is this you taking me up on my offer?”

Sirius ran a hand through his thick black hair. “Ah, well, I’m here to say sorry about last night. Dragging you into it and all. That wasn’t fair of Saint, but he’s…I don’t know what he is right now. I usually do but…not this time, I guess.”

Remus nodded, trying to buy himself time to figure out what to say. He stepped onto his boat and took a rope in hand, just for something to do. To hold onto. Sirius had spoken the words plainly enough. There was nothing about Saint and himself being together, but Remus still sensed some sort of intimacy that wasn’t quite friendship, just as he had at the museum.

“It’s okay,” Remus said. “All’s well that ends well, right?”

Sirius’ smile was a small, relieved one. “I guess so. Still. He was on some sort of mission. He still hasn’t told me anything, so.”

Remus leaned back from stowing his phone and keys securely in a hatch. “He doesn’t seem like the type of person you can really get things out of.”

“That’s true,” Sirius laughed, and it was easier this time. “Anyway, I’ll let you…I just wanted to say.”

Remus wanted to ask again, if Sirius would come with him, but Sirius was already backing away and so Remus just nodded.

“Thanks.”

He turned after he said it, breathing in the ocean air and trying to still himself, to let the familiarity of his boat and sails wash over him. He would find someone. Maybe they weren’t Sirius Black. Maybe they just weren’t here. Maybe he’d fall in love on the water, or in a classroom, or—

“Can I?” Remus heard Sirius say, and turned to look. Sirius had stopped half way down the dock.

Remus raised an eyebrow.

“Take you up on your offer?”

Remus smiled, even if his hope at Sirius’ words paired with the thought of Saint made his heart a little tender.

“Of course you can,” Remus said.

Sirius jogged towards him with a grin of his own, but he paused before he stepped onto the Wolfsbane, looking down. Remus wondered for a moment if it was the gap over the water, but Sirius had said he sailed, too, he’d said—

Remus understood. He unmoored the nose. “Get that rope back there if you finally want to do something other than watch.”

Sirius jumped to unknot the rope with ease, and then stepped onto the waves beside Remus, using one of his feet to push them away from the dock. Remus let them drift a moment, feeling for the wind. It was quiet for now, but he could see rougher waves out past the point.

“Is it just yours?” Sirius asked as he watched Remus with the tiller.

“Yep, birthday present,” Remus patted the side. “My baby.”

Sirius smiled. “It’s a beautiful boat.”

The wind began to pick up as they got farther from the land, pushing towards the open water. Remus’ heart seemed to pick up with it and, glancing at Sirius, who looked contemplative and—well, beautiful—Remus didn’t think it was merely the sea’s doing.

Remus had never thought too much about Sirius Black. Sirius had been there one day, gone the next, and in the run-ins at James’ house once Sirius had started working there, he had been a suddenly handsome face. Grown into himself and strong from his outdoor work. In turn, Remus always became suddenly awkward around the boy who obviously didn’t like Gods. He and James poked fun at each other, he and Luke were downright hostile, and Remus didn’t know where he fit in.

He hoped the water and the Wolfsbane would do some talking for him, and maybe some listening, too.

They didn’t speak as they began to fly. The pontoons skimmed the waves and the wind would have snatched their voices away, but Remus swore he heard Sirius laugh.

Sirius knew how to sail, too. He breathed it all in, just as Remus did, and they worked together, balancing and pulling and leaning out to trace their fingers along the water’s surface. It felt as warm as a bath against the cool air.

Remus didn’t let them go too far out, he had to be back, but he would have. He would have sailed right to the horizon with Sirius without looking back.

As the wind died down, as they turned around, Remus felt something different. Like a wind change between the two of them. They grinned at each other, flushed with it, and as the wind cut down more, as they past the point, Sirius’ turned self-conscious but it didn’t disappear like before.

The boat settled into a glide towards the shore. Remus let his feet dangle in the water.

“So, the treasure,” Remus asked, because Sirius looked hesitant to talk, sitting there soundly on the other side of the boat. “Do you think it’s real?”

“Fuck if I know,” Sirius replied, and Remus laughed. “But if Saint thinks it’s worth it…I’ll try to go along with it.”

Remus nodded, taking that in. Saint. The mention of him slowed his heart back to a glide along with the boat. Remus cleared his throat and Sirius looked back at him from the horizon questioningly.

“What was that thing with—Logan? I mean, you don’t have to tell me but…”

Sirius took a long breath. “Logan has someone, Finn, inside Saint Clair. Finn helped him escape. And I don’t know if it’s guilt that’s making him help to get Finn out, or something more, but…Saint's the one who can help.”

“Because he escaped.”

Sirius nodded. “Right.”

“Is it complicated?” Remus asked. “Like, is he worried he won’t be able to do it twice?”

Sirius shook his head. “It’s not complicated.”

He was silent for a moment, and Remus didn't want to push him. He waited, seeing if Sirius would continue.

“Saint walked right out the front door,” Sirius finally finished, and looked at Remus. “I think he’s worried because it wasn’t a grand escape, even if he tells it that way. Even if he makes it seem like he climbed walls or something. He’s worried because…because it was a fluke. Sometimes there are doors you can’t walk back through.”

Sirius said the last sentence heavily, as if he had a door of his own. Remus guessed that maybe everyone did.

“So, what’s he going to do for Finn and Logan?”

Sirius just shook his head again. “I have no idea. But I’ll help him in any way that I can.” Half a smile raised Sirius’ mouth. “If he lets me.”

~

“No.”

“Tell me,” Sirius demanded. Saint just rolled his eyes and popped a sweet potato fry into his mouth.

“Tell us,” Dorcas cut in from her place beside Marlene.

“Right,” Sirius said. “Sorry.”

“Saint,” Marlene sighed. “If you’re not going to tell us, it’ll make us think you have no plan at all.”

“Who invited the God?” Saint said airily.

“My girlfriend,” Dorcas scuffed the back of his head.

“Not for long she’s not,” Saint replied, and at Dorcas and Marlene’s expressions, waved a hand. “Come on. She’s going to college, Dor, you’re not…don’t tell me you haven’t talked about it.”

“We—” Dorcas began, but flushed and closed her mouth. Sirius glanced at Marlene, whose eyes were firmly down towards her burger.

“Stop trying to change the subject,” Sirius sighed.

“I’m not, I’m just telling everyone what to expect.”

“Saint,” Sirius leaned forward. “How are you going to get Finn out of Saint Clair? You said last time—”

Saint cut in quickly, “I say a lot of things to you that are just for you, Black.”

“Well, I don’t know what to do with what you said,” Sirius replied. “Come on. Please. Is it because you don’t know? Is that why you won’t say anything?”

Saint stayed quiet, looking down at his food. “I know. We’ll just have to see if it works.”

“Saint,” Dorcas leaned forward and Saint turned his palm up for her hand. He knew they were trying to help. “Babe, we just want to make sure you’re okay.”

“You mean you want to make sure it’s not too insane.”

Sirius nodded. “That, too.”

“Can’t you just rest assured that I’m doing this for myself, too?” Saint said. “I’ll get Finn out, Logan will calm the fuck down, and maybe Luke will let us know about the treasure.”

“Who gives a fuck about this treasure?” Dorcas said harshly.

“It probably doesn’t even exist,” Sirius added.

“You want off this island, like you said? Then you give a fuck.”

Sirius began to shake his head. “It’s not—” he said, but Saint pushed on, voice raising.

“We’ll get Finn out, we’ll get Luke’s help, we’ll get the map, we’ll find my mom—”

Saint stopped talking, frozen by the words that had ripped out of him of their own accord.

Sirius, Dorcas, and Marlene’s eyes were wide. Pity. The word seemed to hang in the air.

“The treasure, I meant,” Saint managed. “We’ll find the treasure and…”

“Saint…” Dorcas said, and when he looked at her…Pity. “Do you know where she is?”

Saint was furious with himself for the slip. He was looking for Sirius. He wanted the treasure for Sirius, he didn’t need it for himself. He didn’t need anything, especially not people who left. Not his mom, not Sirius.

“I don’t need help with Saint Clair,” Saint said and pushed his chair back, leaving them staring at each other across the table.

~

Saint hadn’t let any of them come. He didn’t want anyone here to see him tremble and shake at doing the one thing he had always promised himself he would never do. The one thing he didn’t think he could do.

But, thinking about it, the trick wasn’t getting out. Anyone could walk out the door. The nuns needed it that way, for business. For the appearance of normalcy. The real trick was getting inside without being let in. The way to keep secrets, after all, wasn’t keeping everyone out. Walls begged to be breached. The secret was to filter the truth. Let people see half, a quarter, or different parts at different times. The trick was getting in to see the whole picture.

Maybe Saint was half of Saint Clair, keeping his cards close to his chest.

The offices. He needed to get the the offices, and then he needed to get to Finn. In and out—just not through the door this time.

“What’s the plan?” said a voice just behind him, and Saint closed his eyes.

Sirius.

“I told you not to come,” Saint said.

“And I told me yes,” Sirius parroted. They rolled their eyes at each other even as Sirius rested a gentle hand over Saint’s where it was clenched over his own knee. They crouched beside each other, staring at Saint Clair in the darkness. It was two in the morning, maybe a little past it now, and Saint wanted everyone to be asleep.

He looked towards the chimney. It was wide and old fashioned. It would be too hot for them to be using it tonight.

“Jesus Christ,” Sirius sighed, following his gaze.

“The windows are barred. The doors are alarmed. I’ve cleaned that thing, I know it’s big.”

“Yeah, everything looks big to a seven year old,” Sirius countered.

“Guess we’ll find out.”

“And getting out?” Sirius asked.

“Alarms don’t go off if you open the door from the inside. There’s a kitchen door around the back. We’ll use it. We just have to get in.”

Sirius nodded slowly, and then asked, “Your mom?”

Saint pressed his lips together. He needed to get to the office, and then to Finn, and then out.

He started forward towards the drain pipe, just like on Luke’s house, and didn’t look to see if Sirius was following him.

~

Marlene didn’t like seeing that contemplating look at Dorcas’ face. Dorcas was chewing on her lip, eyes staring at the movie playing on Marlene’s laptop, but she was somewhere else entirely. Marlene put her pencil down at wiggled her toes, which were in Dorcas’ lap. Dorcas blinked and looked at her.

“Don’t listen to Saint,” Marlene said. “He doesn’t know what he’s saying.”

But even saying that ate at her. Marlene thought of the acceptance email, of California and Berkeley, buried in her inbox right now. Tell her, said everything inside, but Dorcas already had that look on her face. The worrying, I-want-everything-that’s-good-for-you-regardless-of-what-it-means-for-me-or-us look.

Marlene didn’t want to see that look. She’d seen it the first time her father had banned her from seeing a Salazar girl. They had been fifteen and Dorcas had offered to stop, and Marlene had kissed the idea right out of her mouth, right out of existence.

This was different. She couldn’t kiss college away. She didn’t want to. But she also wanted Dorcas, and California felt far, far away.

Dorcas chewed on her lip some more, then rubbed a soothing thumb over Marlene’s ankle. “We haven’t really talked about it, though.”

“I know,” Marlene said softly. She pushed herself up and set her sketchbook aside before reaching over to close the laptop, cutting the actor off in mid-sentence. “I guess I’m sort of…avoiding it.”

“We are, you mean,” Dorcas offered her a small smile. “I…I know we said we wanted to just have our summer, and I do want that. But I think I would feel better knowing what you think. About, you know…about when you do start hearing back.”

Marlene looked down as she whispered, “I got into Berkeley.”

A short sucked-out sound of silence filtered in between them for a moment. Marlene looked up.

“I should have said,” Marlene sighed. “I know I should have. I just…”

“Sweetheart,” Dorcas sighed, and then Marlene was pressed back onto the bed, Dorcas’ hard kisses bringing a hot blush to her cheeks. “That’s amazing.”

Marlene hummed against Dorcas’ mouth, a sad-happy sound, and wound her fingers into her hair as Dorcas kissed along her jaw. “It can be as amazing as it wants, but it’s really far away. And you like it here, and—”

“I like you,” Dorcas said, and pushed herself onto her forearms so she could look down at Marlene. “Marls, the question about us was never a debate about you following your dreams and going to college, just like you want. The question lies with me. I don’t know how to pull off following you yet, but I’m working on it.”

Marlene looked up at her and felt tears join the heat within, felt her voice wobble. “I’ll miss you. I want you to be safe, and I want you to be with me.”

Dorcas’ kiss was softer this time. “Me too.”

Marlene enjoyed it for a moment, relief bubbling in her chest, until Dorcas began laughing into her mouth.

“Maybe the boys will find that treasure and give me a piece of it.”

Marlene laughed, too. “God, if that’s our best option…”

They wound tighter together, snuggling down into Marlene’s quilt. Dorcas pressed her forehead against Marlene’s.

“Whatever I can do, I’ll do it,” Dorcas said. “I want you, wherever we are.”

Marlene just kissed her again.

~

Sirius was noisier on the climb than Saint would have liked, but they made it to the slanted roof without trouble, standing on its apex to stare down into the soot-dark.

“Is this really going to work?” Sirius whispered.

“It could.”

“Why not climb the fence? Maybe that door is open.”

“Too loud.”

“Why didn’t you let Logan come with us?”

Saint huffed out an annoyed breath. “Because if this goes wrong, what Finn did was for nothing. If this goes really wrong, at least there would still be one of us on the outside who knows what it looks like inside,” Saint stared out at the trees and bit of coast they could see by moonlight from here. “One of us who doesn’t return every night, that is.”

Saint went down the chimney first, one step at a time. The stones and rusted iron rungs provided easy enough footholds, they just had to hope no one was having a midnight cup of tea when they reached the bottom. He looked up once, blinking through the fine grit of ash that seemed to hang in the air, at Sirius’ face, the silver moonlight like a halo around his dark hair.

And Saint kept climbing down. He went slowly, listening hard. If someone was down there, they’d hear him, and then he’d hear them, and he could scramble back up the chimney and out of sight. Once he was down, however, who knew what they would do to keep him that way. He could practically taste the heavy sleep of Crucio, and his stomach rolled against the images it brought back. The many different families—fathers, siblings, and mothers. So many mothers that he didn’t even know which had been his own anymore.

He hated them for it. He hated them for thinking he wanted that.

Saint’s trembling foot slipped on the last hold and he tumbled out, only barely withholding a cry as the log holders scraped heavily across his side.

“Saint,” came Sirius’ harsh whisper from above him, and Saint waved a hand beneath the flue to show he was okay, then pushed himself up from the now ashy floor, gripping his side.

He knew this room too well. He knew it through the over-active eyes of a five year old. He knew it through the only slightly more alert gaze of his seven year old self.

It was smaller than he remembered. Shabbier than it had seemed then, with its hard couches and children’s books, its desk by the window that still held a letter opener that he had eyed a few times, wondering if he could fight his way out like heroes did in the books he read. Now, he willed all to stay quiet as he walked over and picked up the dull knife. He hated the sight of it.

Sirius came after him, more smartly, landing feet first.

“You could have fucking impaled yourself,” Sirius whispered.

“I didn’t, though,” Saint said, and looked at his ribs. The cuts stung, but the bleeding didn’t look too bad, just enough to dot uneven lines across his t-shirt.

Sirius lifted his shirt to see, and passed a careful thumb near the worst of them, his other a familiar weight on the side of Saint’s neck.

“Let’s go,” Saint whispered.

“Wait,” Sirius said, and turned Saint’s gaze gently to meet his own.

“We don’t have all the time in the world,” Saint began, but Sirius just shook his head, silencing him.

“Listen to me,” Sirius whispered. “All right? Just this once. Just listen to me.”

Saint closed his eyes briefly. “We don’t have time to talk.”

That only succeeded in bringing Sirius’ other hand to his cheek. “If something goes wrong, you just run.” Sirius reached down and took the knife, setting it back on the desk. “Don’t think about me. They can’t keep me.”

“They’ll give you to your parents,” Saint warned.

“I don’t care,” Sirius said. “They can’t keep me. They could try to keep you and I won’t let that happen.”

Saint looked up at Sirius. The only person he could ever remember caring. Saint didn’t like that a side effect of being cared about was caring back, didn’t like that risk…but he liked Sirius.

“You’re leaving anyway,” Saint said. “It doesn’t matter where I am.”

“I never said that and you’re wrong.”

“But you will say it.”

Saint turned away, keeping a hand laced with Sirius’ to pull him towards the dorms. He knew the words sounded accusing and regretful, but he only half meant them that way. Sirius deserved to go.

Sirius didn’t respond. It wasn’t the moment, and they needed to listen for other things.

The dorms came up on their left. Boys to one side of the hall, girls to the other. Saint paused, looking in.

You’ll sleep here with the rest of the boys, Sebastian. Be a good boy and make your bed every morning and you’ll get a treat with breakfast. Chocolate milk, how does that sound?

“Was this you?” Sirius whispered, and Saint shrugged.

“I slept all over this place,” Saint breathed to Sirius. “I’d sneak into the other dorms, the attic, the reading room. I was just…” Saint turned away, unable to stand the softly rising and falling chests of the boys within. “I was just trying to find a place where I felt like myself. Maybe it wasn’t the place, though.”

Maybe it was the dreams. Maybe the drug.

“Maybe it’s just me,” Saint said.

Grimmauld was the closest he had ever gotten, the most settled he’d ever felt. He loved the ocean, and his gold draped vanity, and Sirius always beside him. But there was still—something. A misplaced, tweaked something inside of him that was feeling around in the dark for a comfortable position. Saint didn’t even know what he was looking for, but he did know that it was too dark to find it right now. Sirius had been the first gleam of bright, a pin-prick of a star, a friend, a lover, and a safe place. But stars weren’t a moon or a sun. He needed light to see.

“Let’s go,” Saint said. “This way.”

They walked the halls carefully, listening after nearly every step. Saint knew that the nuns slept at the other end of the house, but that they woke to check in on the children. He couldn’t remember when, though. With the Crucio, his young age, and the late hour, the nights had felt the same and endless. He’d shuffled around like a small ghost, trying to escape the unfamiliar dream-faces. They’d only caught him a few times. A slap on the wrist. Solitary.

That’s why he nearly jumped when they heard the first footsteps. He was seven again, haunting this place and being haunted in return. Saint froze, eyes on the bend in the hallway.

“Here,” Sirius whispered, and together they ducked into a room—the offices, Saint realized—and behind the open wooden door. They huddled together, barely daring to breathe as the footsteps got closer.

“Sirius,” Saint breathed, and didn’t realize he was trembling again until Sirius’ arms wrapped around his shoulders.

“Shh,” Sirius hushed him.

The footsteps passed right by them, towards the kitchen, Saint realized, and Sirius pressed Saint against him more tightly, no doubt feeling the dry pants that his breathing had turned into. They would be caught. They would be seen. Saint hid his face in Sirius’ neck.

Don’t be a waste of space, boy. Line up, after number six, come on.

He took up too much space here.

Try that again, Sebastian, and you know what happens.

Saint hated that name. He couldn’t remember who had given him that name. His mother? The nuns? What was a name if it was just a number, too? A way to keep track of him. A way to tell him what he was. Orphan boy. Five. Six. Seven. Abandoned. Good. Bad. Asleep. Awake.

Go to sleep now, there’s a good boy.

The hall was silent again and Saint felt Sirius’ embrace ease, felt his hand running soothingly along his spine.

“I’ve got you,” Sirius said the words so quietly they were barely words at all. “Let’s just go. Let’s get out of here.”

“Finn,” Saint rasped.

Saint looked up and saw the protest in Sirius’ eyes. It was wrong of Logan to make you come here.

“I told him to stay away,” Saint said softly. “I needed to come. I needed to come and get out again.”

Saint needed to get rid of some of this damned dark.

Saint pulled away from Sirius carefully and peaked around the door with a dry swallow before walking over to the cabinets. Records. They weren’t in alphabetical order, though. They were numbered.

Saint fingered his cross, looking towards 1-20.

7.

He traced a finger over a key hole dejectedly, and tried the handle anyway. Locked.

“Saint,” Sirius breathed. “Your mom?”

Saint shook his head, clutching his necklace. “It doesn’t matter.”

“I didn’t know you wanted…”

“I don’t,” Saint snapped. “Let’s get Finn.”

The door to solitary was one that Saint knew well. It was a normal door, and the room beyond was a normal room. It was the memories that made it unbearable to see. Almost every kid Saint had known knew what it meant to be in that room. Alone, the wallpaper flowers withered, the bed turned cold, and the ever-changing family members flickered through your mind without anything to counter it. No reality. There was a glass window with the shade pulled. Saint hesitated for a long moment before lifting it up.

“Finn,” he breathed.

Finn’s red hair was fiery against the white bed spread. He was asleep, and Saint swore he could see Finn’s eyelids flicker from here.

Saint wrapped his fingers carefully around the door. The trick was getting in to see the whole picture.

Everything in Saint Clair felt locked from within. Everything in Saint did, too. It had taken years of wandering around at night for Saint to discover that he could open more doors than he had thought. He was still trying doors eight years alter.

The hinges didn’t so much as squeak, and Saint felt like a ghost again.

“Don’t let this close on me,” Saint whispered to Sirius. His voice shook and just one of his feet just barely breaching the threshold.

Sirius held the frame fast and shook his head, leaning forward to press a steady kiss to Saint’s forehead.

Saint crossed the small room in two slow steps and knelt beside the bed, the motion making the punctures on his torso ache. He pressed a hand to Finn’s cheek and stroked a gentle thumb across the freckles on his skin until Finn stirred.

“Bash,” Finn murmured, eyes barely open.

“Hi, Finn,” Saint said softly and gathered Finn into a sloppy sitting position. “Let’s get you out of here, huh? See if you’re worth all of this fucking trouble.”

“Crucio,” was Finn’s only half-spoken reply. “They make it.”

And then Finn went limp again in Saint’s arms.

~

All Logan could taste was sour guilt, despite the heaven Leo had placed on a plate in front of him not too long ago.

For Saint. For Leo. For the letter and even Luke. For the map. The treasure. The Carrows.

Finn.

His heart ached with the thought of seeing him. Of holding him.

“Why weren’t we allowed to go with him?” Logan asked Leo for what he knew was the tenth time, but he couldn’t help it. “I asked him to help me, not go for me.”

“It’s easier to get one person in and out than two?” Leo said. He was puttering around the small kitchen, had been for the last hour, and the entire house smelled like sugar and cinnamon now, replacing the herbs, lemon, and chicken. He didn’t look at Logan when he said it.

He hadn’t looked at Logan much at all since the night at the museum.

Logan watched him taste a bit of what looked like frosting and wet his lips.

“Are you mad at me?” Logan whispered.

Leo’s restless hands paused. Logan watched his chest rise and fall once.

“I’m not mad,” Leo said finally. The heat of the oven had fluffed out his hair. “I mean, I’m not sure if we reached a dead-end or not…and you could have told me you were going to do that. I said I would help you, didn’t I?”

“I needed Ba—Saint,” Logan replied. “But I also…I should have told you. And I shouldn’t have made Saint go. I just want…he’s my family. Finn is my…”

“I understand why you did it,” Leo cut in softly. “I probably would have done worse if I thought that there was something that could save my dad.”

That just made Logan feel even smaller, sitting at the table. Leo glanced at him, gave him a tight smile, then went to the sink and began scrubbing dishes.

“Hey,” Logan said, then rose and strode over to Leo. “Hey, let me clean up.”

“I just need something to do,” Leo said shortly.

“Me, too.”

They stood, their shoulders pressed together. Logan washed. Leo dried. He slipped cinnamon rolls into the oven and then returned. They kept close to each other at the sink and it felt…so normal. Like a home. Leo felt like a home.

“I never really thanked you properly,” Logan said into the now more comfortable silence. “For letting me stay with you. And—I just want to say, and now with Finn…I understand if you want us to leave. I mean, three’s a crowd.”

“You’re welcome here,” Leo said quickly. Logan watched his throat bob. He was looking away again. “You should do what feels best for you, but you’re both welcome here. Just—”

Leo paused, and Logan found himself suddenly desperate to hear what he had to say. He knew he hadn’t been friendly all the time. He knew he’d been selfish. Leo had been nothing but kind. He was funny and warm, teaching Logan how to weld two pieces of metal, talking about the latest book he was reading while he whisked batter and handed Logan different new recipes he was trying out.

Finn would like Leo, Logan thought, and glanced towards the door. Maybe he was about to find out.

“Never mind,” Leo said, and flashed a smile.

Logan went to protest, but then his phone began buzzing madly on the table and he all but lunged for it.

~

Luke stared down at his father’s handwriting.

Luke, it began. And then there was a name.

Pascal Dumais.

There was no mention of himself. There was nothing. Luke had thought this would make him feel better, make it easier. Only, now, he was frustrated to the point of tears. He couldn’t seem to ease the lump that was lodged in his throat. He clutched the paper in his fingers hard enough to tear, willing something else to appear on it. He thought of Felix.

“Well?” said a voice from his window.

“Oh—” Luke flinched, surprised, then cursed at Saint, who was stretched out on his window sill. “Come on. Are you kidding me?”

Saint’s mouth twitched up in a smile, but it was strained. He was sitting awkwardly, tense rather than his usual languid posture.

“What’s wrong with you?” Luke asked hesitantly, trying to discreetly wipe at his face.

“What isn’t?”

Luke spotted the blood between Saint’s fingers and rose. “You’re hurt.”

“I fell down a chimney.”

“Is that a joke?”

“No.”

Luke blinked. “That’s how you got into Saint Clair? And you climbed to my window?”

Saint pulled himself all the way through the window with a soft groan and Luke walked forward, hands hovering near Saint’s shoulders, unsure if he should help.

“The orphan?” he asked instead, then at Saint’s sharp look, “Finn?”

“Sirius is bringing him to Grimmauld.”

“What’s Grimmauld?”

Saint sat down heavily in Luke’s desk chair, hand still pressed to his side. He had what looked like soot on his hands and face. “A place.” He picked up a book. Jane Eyre. “Didn’t take you for a romantic.”

“You’re bleeding all over my room.”

“Lucky you.”

Luke tucked the note into the pocket of his shorts. “Fuck—come here. Jesus.”

He walked into his bathroom and jammed the light switch up, looking back when Saint didn’t follow him. “Come here.”

Saint rose, still holding the book. “I am coming!” Saint quoted, head tilted in a way that made his neck look long. “Wait for me! Oh, I will come!”

“Very funny,” Luke sighed, but the corner of his mouth twitched. “I wouldn’t have taken you for a reader.”

“Why?” Saint said as he stepped out of the darkness of the bedroom and into the yellow-lighted bathroom. His brown eyes took on the soft yellow, too, and he leaned forward as he pushed himself up onto the counter carefully. “Because I don’t buy my books and,” Saint looked down at the book, flipping through it. “Write all over them like you do?”

“Because you didn’t go to school,” Luke said with a raised eyebrow as he ducked for the first aid kit beneath his sink. It was good to have one near during the lacrosse season—or it used to be.

Saint rolled his eyes. “You Gods and your single paths in life. You’re all stupid.”

“Then why are you here?” Luke asked as he unlatched the kit.

“Because this is the last place anyone would look for me,” Saint replied. “And you’re mean.”

“Mean? Are we in seventh grade?” Luke scoffed as he wet a towel in the sink. “I don’t know if it’s healthy to want to be around people who you think are mean to you."

“I just don’t want to talk about it,” Saint said. “And that’s all Sirius will want to do. And I don’t want to. And we don’t have this shit at Grimmauld.”

“Is that where you live?”

Saint just set the book down and reached behind himself to tug his shirt over his head. Luke tried not to stare at Saint’s smooth, light brown skin. He swallowed, busying himself with the bandages and the wet towel again.

“For all the breaking into places you do, maybe you should invest in some band-aids,” Luke said, and glanced down at the finely woven muscle on Saint’s ribs, at the red edges of the slashes. “If you flinch too much, you’re doing this yourself.”

Saint smiled. “Mean.”

“Fuck off,” Luke said, out of reflex, and then pressed his lips together. Saint laughed and then hissed as Luke pressed the towel to the cut.

They were close like this, Luke leaned in to dab the blood away, and then dot it with disinfectant, all while Saint’s muscles jumped beneath the palm he had steadied low on his belly. He could feel Saint watching him, and remembered waking up to those eyes. Saint’s hand in his hair.

“How did you do it?” Luke said into the small space between them. “Get in and out.”

“The chimney.”

So, he was serious.

“What did the letter say?” Saint asked.

Luke glanced up at him warily, but wiped a hand on his shorts before fishing the letter out of his pocket and handing it over. “Do you know who that is?”

Saint read it quietly, and then met Luke’s eyes. Luke was stuck there, pinned like a tack in a map, marking the place to be.

“Yes,” Saint said, and smiled brightly. “I know exactly who this is.”

[anagentinwriting]

Lifeline - Part 8

Summary: (First Responders!AU) Moving to Los Angeles and living with your brother, Thor, was never part of your plan nor was being a 9-1-1 dispatcher, but plans change when you are faced with your own emergencies. In your case, it was leaving behind a relationship that wasn’t as perfect as it seemed. Will this be the fresh start you were hoping for or will your past find a way to catch up with you?

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Odinson!Sister Reader

Word Count: 3900+

Warnings: Language, car accident, angst, fluff, threats

Lifeline Masterlist / Main Masterlist

You were never the person that loved working out. You hated getting up early and going for a run, having believed that’s what most people did to stay in shape. You never really put much thought into it, but after training with Val, you gained a whole new respect for those who trained people for a living. She would take you through the process of warming up and getting your muscles ready, followed by the hard workout and a cool down. Val has really upped your confidence, too, and she isn’t afraid to push you to your limits and show you what you are capable of. 

“Girl, you’re killing it for only coming here for 2 weeks.”

“Thanks, that means a lot.”

“I remember the first week you came, it was rough, but it usually is for everyone.  Now, I think you could kick a few of my client's asses, who have been training with me for longer than you have. You’re a quick learner, and you listen to what I am saying and want to improve your skills.”

“That’s what I am paying you for,” you chuckled, getting a laugh out of Val.

“This is true,” she nodded. “Heard from a little birdie that you got Steve into bed not once but twice. How was he?” she winked, wiggling her eyebrows. 

“What? Who told you that?” 

“The guys were talking about it at work. Steve got all red in the face. It was cute.”

“Well, I hate to disappoint, but it’s not what you think. We were shopping for a bed, he found a good one, I ended up getting that one, and then I set it up at my place, and we tested it out again. There was no fonduing of any sort.”

“Okay, whatever you say.” She rolled her eyes. “But, if you are interested, Steve is a helluva good guy.”

“I know,” you smirked, staring at the ground and biting your lip.

“Now, if that look could talk.” Your eyes flashed to hers, spotting a knowing smirk on her face.

“I’m done talking about this.” You shake your head. “But, I’ll see you in a couple of days or sooner, depending if I want to take on the punching bag again.”

“We are always open,” she chuckled. You zipped up your bag, giving her a small hug before heading out. “Say hi to Steve for me, will you?” 

“You got it,” you shouted, rolling your eyes and walking out of the gym.

_______

“Have you talked to your girl lately?” Bucky asked Steve as they played pool at the station.

“First off, she is not my girl, but we have texted a few times.”

“Thought you would want to be more involved with her since you got her into bed twice last week,” Sam winked.

“Come on, guys, it's not like that.” Steve shook his head, fighting the smile on his face as he leaned against the pool cue.

“You're right, it's more than that,” Bucky smirked, lining up for a shot, but missed the pocket. 

“Says the one dating…”

“A woman,” Bucky finished for Steve, glaring at him.

“Wait, you’ve been dating someone?” Sam asked, crossing his arms and narrowing his eyes at him. “And this is the first I am hearing of this.”

“It’s only been for a little while.” Bucky shrugged, watching Steve hit his ball into the pocket. “She’s great; super quick-witted, a spitfire, and a badass.” Bucky smiled to himself, making Sam roll his eyes. 

“Happy for you man, I can't wait to meet her.”

“Really?” Bucky seemed taken aback.

“Yeah because then I can ask her why she is with you? Doesn't she know there are more options besides you in this world.”

“Yet, you still don't have a girlfriend with all the single women in LA.”

“I am waiting for the right one.”

“But, she'll never come”

Steve closed his eyes, letting out a deep breath when the station alarm started ringing. Everyone dropped what they were doing, suited up, and got into the truck to head to the scene.

“We have a car accident involving a Honda CRV off Topanga Canyon Boulevard. The call came in via the Hondalink after their car went off the road and slammed through a guard rail. With the heavy rain happening, it’s not surprising,” Carol stated into her headset before giving orders to the team.

On-site, Sam and Val got to work on helping the victim. She was still breathing but was unconscious. Bucky got the jaws of life and was able to get the door open as they pulled the young lady out and onto a stretcher. Val grabbed her purse from the car and followed behind Bucky and Sam as they carried her to the ambulance. 

Danvers stared at the old Chevrolet car, rubbing her lips together, trying to process something.

“You alright, Ace?” Steve asked.

“This isn’t the right vehicle. This isn’t the car that called in.”

“But this vehicle went over the guard rail on the same route as the dispatcher mentioned,” Bucky added, pointing at the car. “What are the odds two cars on the same route experienced the same accident?”

“Not likely, but the call came in via Hondalink from a Honda CRV. This car is too old to be equipped with such a system, and it’s the wrong make and model.” 

“What are you saying?”

“We have to split up and find the other car. I’m going to get in touch with dispatch and see if Hondalink has GPS coordinates for the CRV and get another ambulance here. Thor, go with Sam to the hospital and leave Val here in case we need a paramedic. Now let’s split up and search.”

Steve and Bucky started down the hill, taking each step with caution as the ground continued to get slippery from the pouring rain. Steve stumbled over a tree root but caught himself on a tree. He looked to his right, seeing a flowing river and something that shouldn't be there. 

“Buck-” Steve pointed at the river.

Bucky stopped behind him, looking out to where Steve was pointing. “How did the CRV end up…” Bucky started to say, but Steve was already stumbling down the hill, rushing to the bottom. At the edge of the wide river, Steve noticed how the whole back half of the vehicle was underwater, and if he didn’t look close enough, he would’ve missed it. The hood was visible as if it was caught on something and sitting at a slant, keeping the passenger and driver side windows afloat. 

Steve didn’t waste any time, tossing his jacket and boots alongside the riverbank, jumping in. “STEVE, WAIT,” Bucky called, reaching the bottom, fumbling for his radio. “Ace, we located the CRV in the river. We’re gonna need assistance, but Steve and I are heading out to the vehicle now.”

“We are on our way,” she replied. “Be safe.”

"GODAMMIT, STEVE, WAIT UP," Bucky shouted, noticing Steve halfway to the car already. “You and your damn impulse decisions.”

The current was stronger than Steve was expecting, but he wasn't sure how much longer the car would stay in place. "Hello, is anyone in there," Steve called, swimming up to the vehicle. He quickly assessed the situation and realized the car's front tires were braced against a rock bed. How the vehicle ended up like this; he still wasn’t sure. He looked around at the landscape, noticing a busted guardrail not far from them.

"HELP, WE’RE IN HERE," a male voice screamed.

Steve swam to the driver's side door to see a man with an unconscious teenage girl in the passenger seat, he could only assume she was the man’s daughter. There was still a big enough air pocket that they could breathe, but the water level was rising, and the current would continue to pull the car farther underwater.

"I'm Fireman Steve Rogers from the LAFD, and we’re gonna get you out of here. Are you hurt anywhere?'

"I'm fine, but I don't know about my daughter. Please help her first." 

Steve nodded as he swam over to the passenger side. He reached up to check her pulse and realized it was weak. "She’s breathing, must’ve got knocked out after crashing through the guard rail, right?"

“It all happened so fast. One second I could see the road, but then the next second, it was as if it disappeared, and we were sliding over the cliff and into the river.”

“It's okay, help is here, just stay calm for me,” Steve reassured, looking over the hood of the car to see Bucky approaching and he tilted his head to the driver's seat. 

"Hi, sir, I'm Fireman Bucky Barnes, what’s your name?”

“Adrian, and that’s my daughter Liz.”

“Okay, well, we are going to cut the seat belt from you…”

“What about my daughter?”

“Steve will do the same for her.” Bucky nodded at him. “We are gonna work together and try to get you both out at the same time.”

“Oh okay, but....” Adrian's voice drifted.

“Trust us, okay, I know it’s hard because we just met, but we’ll get you both out.” Bucky nodded his head a bunch, hoping to calm Adrian down. “We're gonna cut these seat belts and pull you both out to safety, okay?”

“Okay,” he said with tears peaking at the corner of her eyes. “Promise me, that you will get my daughter out.” 

“We promise,” Steve replied with a reassuring nod.

“And if I don’t get out of here, tell her and her mother, I loved them both.”

“You can tell them that when we get you both out of here.”

“Okay, okay, okay,” he sighed, squeezing his eyes shut.

Steve looked at Bucky, counting to three, and in unison, cut the seat belts. Steve was able to pull Liz to safety and keep her head above water. The car shifted slightly as Steve glanced to the driver’s seat to see Adrian still inside.

“I guess this is the part where I tell you my leg's pinned, and you tell me that you’re not gonna be able to get me out,” Adrian breathed, shaking his head. 

“Steve, get her to safety, and I’ll figure this out.”

“Don't do anything stupid until I get back,” Steve replied, swimming her to the shore where Val, Carol, and another paramedics team was waiting. 

“Her pulse is weak, but she's breathing. I don’t know if she sustained any other injuries, but she’s been unconscious since they hit the water.”

“Thanks. We got it from here,” the woman whose nameplate read Mantis answered while the big guy beside her nodded at him. They got her onto a stretcher, and Steve looked back out to see the CRV still afloat.

“Steve, you okay with getting back out there to help Barnes, or should I send Val.”

“No, I’m good, I’m good,” he breathed with his hands on his hips. “I got this,” He nodded, diving back into the water and swimming back out to the car. 

The rain started to come down harder, forcing him to squint his eyes, unable to see Bucky by the driver’s side door. He swam a little farther, and all of a sudden, the car was out of his view. “Crap.” Steve swam faster, yelling Bucky’s name, but no one responded. Once he got to the rock bed that held the car in place, he went under, but he couldn’t see anything under the water. He resurfaced for a deeper breath and dived back down. 

Swimming further down, he could see what looked like headlights on a car.  He swam closer to the front end to see Bucky working from inside the car to get Adrian’s leg free. Steve swam towards the driver's side when Adrain pushed himself out the window. He started swimming up, but Steve noticed how he wasn’t moving one of his legs. Bucky swam out the window, shooting Steve a knowing look before resurfacing. Adrian coughed, trying to stay afloat when Bucky grabbed him and started swimming towards shore. 

"You had to do something stupid, didn't you," Steve asked, swimming next to him.

“Can’t let you have all the fun,” he smirked, forcing Steve to shake his head.

________

“911, what’s your emergency?”

“I’m at Gas and Grub on West Florence Avenue, and a man is robbing the store.”

“Sending a unit to your area now.” You switched over and signaled the closest officer nearby. “I need all available units at Gas and Grub near West Florence Avenue. There is a robbery in progress.” 

“10-4, 1578 in route to Gas and Grub,” an officer replied as you switched back to the caller.

“Units are on their way. Is everything okay? Are you safe?”

“Yes, I am hiding on the end of one of the aisles,” the voice replied. “The man is wearing a mask, holding a gun, and yelling at the cashier.  He’s asking for all the money in the register, some cigarettes, oh a bottle of Jack, too.”

“Okay, just stay where you are until help arrives.”

“I will,” he breathed. “Shit, the cops are coming in now. Damn…they were fast.” The caller hung up, and the line went dead.

“At least this one ended on a happy note...I think,” you sighed, stretching your hands over your head. You didn’t think you would be this sore today after working out, but you were wrong. Every movement you made sent a numb throbbing pain to that area. Val really did a number on you. You took a quick sip of your water and got resituated when another call came in. 

“911, what’s your emergency?” 

“My neighbor is listening to rap music, and I can’t hear myself think. It’s getting really annoying.”

“Have you tried going over and asking them to turn it down?”

“Well, no.”

“Why don’t you try that and then call the non-emergency line next time. No sense in calling 911 if it’s not a life or death situation.”

“Okay, I guess I’ll go talk to them.”

“Good luck,” you sighed, rolling your eyes and hanging up. “Fucking nuisance calls.”

“Hey, YN,” Bruce greeted, coming over to your station.“We have a caller on the line asking for you specifically. Are you available to take it?”

“Yeah, of course, put them through.” He nodded, typing on your computer, and you hit the spacebar. “Hi, this is 911 dispatcher YN, how can I help you today?”

“Hi, YN, it’s Nat.”

“Why are you calling through my 911 line and not my phone?” You nodded to Bruce, silently saying, you got it covered, and he walked away.

“It’s kind of a tricky situation, you see. Um…can you just come to 1917 Grand Boulevard when your shift is done, in like ten minutes? It’s important.”

“Is everything okay?

“Yeah, it’s fine. It’s not an emergency emergency, but more a friend asking a friend for help, and the only number I have memorized these days is 911, hence why I called you.”

“Yeah, I’ll head that way when my shift is done.”

“Thanks, the spare key is under the plant by the front door.”

________

You pulled up to the address Nat gave you, seeing a two-story modern chic house with black and wooden accents. You walked up to the front door, tilting one of the plants, and grabbed the key attached to the bottom. You opened the front door, and the first thought that came to you was a bachelor pad, but it wasn't sports memorabilia hanging on the walls, no. It was NASA and Star Wars memorabilia. Who the hell was Nat ‘hanging out’ with?

“I’m here, where are you?” You shouted through the empty house.

“Upstairs and the second door on the right,” she called back.

“Who’s house is this? It’s like a major nerd bachelor pad. Does this guy work for NASA or something? I never considered planets to be art, but then again...” your voice drifted off, looking at some more space art on the walls. 

You pushed the second door on the right open, and your eyes widened, seeing what was in front of you. One of Nat’s hands was handcuffed to one of Bucky’s, and it was wrapped around the headboard with no way of getting out. They were both still covering the goods, but Bucky’s shirt was off, and Nat was just in her bra and underwear. 

“So, I’m a nerd fanboy with a terrible taste in art?” Bucky inquired, narrowing his eyes at you.

“Don’t you dare laugh,” Nat said, glaring at you.

Your whole body started to shake, trying to keep from laughing and only nodding your head, but you couldn’t hold it in any longer. You bent over, hands on your knees and started laughing. “I thought… I thought you two hated each other,” you wheezed between breaths, pointing at them.

“Until she realized she wanted my…”

“Don’t you dare finish that sentence,” she threatened, covering her hand over his mouth. “And if I remember right, you came onto me.”

He scoffed. “You wish.”

She rolled her eyes. “Can you grab the key from my belt, right there?”

You shake your head, digging around in her police belt. “How long has this been going on?” You asked once you found the key.

“Not long, maybe a month or two,” Nat answered with a half shrug.

“A month, really? So, when you guys were yelling at each other at the bar, you were…”

“Call it foreplay,” Bucky winked, forcing Nat to smirk.

“Does Steve know?”

“Who do you think we tried calling first?” 

“Oh, so I’m second best.”

“We didn’t call Steve, YN. I don’t want his judgy eyes on me for this.”

“Yeah, we didn’t call him,” Bucky confirmed. “But, I texted him.”

“YOU WHAT,” Nat yelled, giving him a hard glare.

“He won’t care. He's my best friend; besides, he’s gotten me out of similar situations before.”

“That’s not helping your case right now,” she sighed, crossing her arm across her chest.

“Hey, Buck, is everything, alright?” Steve asked, walking in as his eyes grew wide. “When did--” he cleared his throat to keep from laughing “--when did this happen?”

“A month or so ago,” Bucky answered. 

“Nat is the woman you have been talking to me about for weeks.” Steve put his hands on his hips, shaking his head.  “Wow, I never would have guessed this.”

“You told him about us?”

“No, I just told him I was seeing this woman and how I might have a thing for her. It’s nothing.” Bucky shrugged like it wasn’t a big deal, making Nat smirk at him.

“Alright, so let’s get this awkward situation over with and get you two unlocked then.” You walked over with the key in your hand, but Nat stopped you.

“Oh no! I didn’t say unlock us. I just want them in my reach. We aren't done yet.” Nat winked at Bucky, and his face lit up like a Christmas tree. 

“Okay, I see how it is,” you smirked, setting the key on the table. “You two kids have fun now.” 

“Don’t speak a word of this to anyone, either of you.” Nat pointed at you and Steve with a harsh glare. 

“Scout’s honor,” Steve signaled with a soft laugh.

“No promises,” you smiled with a chuckle before walking out the door with Steve in tow. You closed the door behind you and followed Steve down the stairs.

“I will say, I didn’t think I’d see the day those two got together,” Steve added, shaking his head as he reached the bottom of the stairs.

“Yeah, me either,” you shrugged. “Here I thought,  Nat hated him.”

“Same.” You two walked in silence to the front door. “Doing anything fun tonight?”

“No, I think I had enough excitement for one night,” you chuckled, locking the front door and putting the key back under the plant. “You?”

“Ah, no. Heading home to watch a movie with Cosmo.”

“Ahh cute, how is the doggy doing?”

“He’s getting better, not as skittish anymore, so that’s an improvement.”

“That’s awesome. Well, don’t let me keep you away from your date. Besides, I have a long-needed shower and a Netflix browsing session to get to.”

“Browsing session?”

“You know when you just scroll through everything and can’t find anything to watch, but you find some other things to watch that get added to the list, but nothing like I need to watch this now, kind of movie.”

“Haha, I have those nights sometimes. Happy browsing, YN.”

“Bye, Steve.” you waved, getting into your car. 

_________

After a long day at work and a much-needed shower, you sat down on your couch with a bowl full of popcorn and a glass of wine in hand and turned on Netflix. You clicked through your list a few times when your phone started ringing. Glancing at the screen, you didn’t recognize the number, but it was a California area code, so you figured it was someone from work. “Hello.” 

“Hey.” 

“Who is this?”

“YN, you know who this is.” Once he said your name, you recognized his voice. You could feel your heart start to race, sending the increasing rhythm to your ears. Your breathing grew heavy and shaky, and it did very little to calm your racing heart. 

“How--” you gulped “--how did you get this number?”

“Does it matter? When are you coming home?”

“I’m not….I’m not coming home.” Your hands started to trumble, feeling tears well up in your eyes.

“YOU DON'T GET TO DECIDE THAT. I DECIDE,” he shouted into your ear, forcing you to squeeze your eyes shut, causing a few tears to slide down your cheeks.  “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have shouted. I miss you, and so do all our friends here.” You shake your head, trying to steady your breathing. “They keep asking me where you are, and all I can tell them is that you went on a little vacation with Loki, and then they ask why I didn’t go with you,” he sighed. “You made me feel like an idiot because I wasn’t with you and didn’t know where you were. Do you know what that feels like?” You gulped, trying to find the words to say something, anything, but they never came. “I’m your husband, and I deserve to know when you’re coming back.”

“I told you, I’m not,” your voice cracked. 

“So, that’s how it’s gonna be. I do this for a living, remember YN, what makes you think I don’t already know where you are?” He went silent for a moment, adding to your frightened state. “When I do come for you, you better hope I am in a better fucking mood because, right now, I want to fucking kill you!”

You hung up, throwing your phone on the couch. The hair on your arms stood up, and your hands were shaking. You pulled your knees to your chest, crying. You felt so small and weak. It felt like all the progress you made up until this point didn’t matter because once you heard his voice, you were right back to where you started; stepping on eggshells, watching what you say, trying to be the perfect couple in everyone else’s eyes. 

Someone knocking on the door makes you jump and stare wide-eyed at the door. You sniffled, wiping the tears from your eyes, and slowly stood up. The knocking continued to get louder, sending a dull ringing in your ears. You went to the hall closet to grab the wooden baseball bat and went over to answer the door. This is when you wish the door had a peephole or that there were windows by the door, so you could see who it was, but there was nothing to see who was on the other side. You took a deep breath and opened the door with the bat ready to swing.

________

AN: Thanks for reading Part 8, and talk about a cliffhanger! Any ideas who may be behind the door? 🤔 And what about that little phone call from her ex right before? Coincidence or am I just messing with you all!? Hahaha! Also, I hope you all are enjoying the Sam and Bucky banter, literally can't wait to get more of it once their show starts! And, finally what did you think about the little predicament Nat was involved in?! 😂😂 Anyways, I hope you all are enjoying it so far, and likes, reblogs, and comments are always welcome. Thanks again!