#me when i am destined to die on my dad’s kitchen floor

[wrathposting]

but i always knew that, in the end, no one was coming to save me.

[doyumacy]

FALLOUT |LH| SEVEN

*gif not mine

PAIRING: donghyuck x reader bodyguard!donghyuck

WARNINGS: mentions of yuta, taeyong, jaemin and jeno. swearing, hospital, gunshots, handguns, stabbing, falling down the stairs, blood. character death

WORD COUNT: 3K

You didn’t even hear what Donghyuck had to say.  You burst out running from his place and you fell when you were running and landed your knees and you thought you might have bruised something. You were in pain as you struggled to stand.

You can't run fast but you counted on his knowledge of you to carry you to where you know you should go. It took you a little over one minute to get to your destination, your house. You would be safe there. With Yuta.

As soon as you got home, you felt someone grab your arm so you whirled around to punch them. Taeyong clutched his nose, cursing as he felt blood gush out of his nose. You had one hell of a punching arm if you asked him now.

"Oh my, God," you covered your mouth, startled. "I'm sorry, Taeyong. I thought you were Don-"

"(Y/N)?" Yuta called you from behind.

You turned and ran to his arms. "I'm sorry. I should've listened to you. I'm sorry, Yuta."

Yuta wrapped his arms around you. "What happened?" He whispered to your ear.

"Donghyuck," you cried as you tightened his grip, not being able to say more.

Taeyong glanced at Yuta and Taeyong frowned looking at your knees that were bleeding.

"Put her in her room and send the medic there as soon as possible," Taeyong said.

Yuta nodded and took you in his arms, carrying you to your bedroom. When he put you in your bed, you grabbed his hand and looked him into his eyes. "Don't leave me alone, please. I'm scared." You whispered.

Then Yuta knew you knew, and for a moment thought how much you knew, but seeing you like that, asking him to stay then it meant Donghyuck didn't tell you about him. And that relieved him since he could finish what Donghyuck couldn't.

"I'm here, doll," he ran his fingers through your hair, "I won't let him get any mile close to you. I promise."

You nodded and you turned on your back, sinking your head in the pillows. You were shattered. You felt betrayed and so stupid. That was his plan; making you fall in love with him and killing you as if you were nothing but a piece of trash.

The next morning, Taeyong knocked on your door and let himself in after you did not respond. He shut the door behind him and sat next to you in the bed. (Y/N)? You have to eat something.”

“I’m not hungry,” you said, with your eyes still closed.

Taeyong sighed. “What happened?”

You gulped and sat on the bed. “Donghyuck…” you closed your eyes, trying to hold your tears. “He was all of this.”

“What?” Taeyong stood up, upset. “I’m gonna kill him. Son of a bitch.”

“Taeyong,” you cried. “I need you, please.”

Taeyong lay next to you and hugged you. “I’m here and I won’t let anyone hurt you, you understand?”

You nodded, whipping your tears. “I feel so stupid. I was so easy to fool.”

“Hey, don’t do that,” Taeyong pressed his lip against your temple. “You’re a good woman and sometimes people will try to take advantge of that, but that doesn’t make you stupid.”

“I’m not defending Donghyuck, but he was just doing his job, which is disgusting and you don't know how bad I want to beat the shit out of him.”

You sighed, maybe for the fiftieth time in the morning. “Whatever. Sometimes I wish he would just finish it with this.”

“That’s something selfish to say, you know?” Taeyong looked at you.

“I know, I’m sorry,” you cried again. “I don’t know what to do.”

“I’m here and if all you wanna do is to cry in bed then I’m laying in bed with you all day.”

“And  what was your plan?” Jeno looked at Donghyuck. “How did you even think she was going to react?”

“Jeno, I really don't need this right now,” Donghyuck glanced at him and growled. “She didn't even let me explain everything.”

“What are you gonna do now? Jeno sat next to him.

“I’m sure Yuta will take advantage of this and finish it,” Donghyuck stood up walking around the living room. “I need to get her away from him. He 's dangerous.”

“Maybe you should… kidnap her?”

“Are you out of your mind? She hates me enough, I don't want her to hate me even more. She’ll despise me.”

“Right,” Jeno grimaced, “what about her friends? You should talk to them and warm them about Yuta so they can keep an eye on her.”

Donghyuck nodded. “Taeyong won’t listen to me and neither will Lena, maybe Jaemin. He seems more… flexible.”

“Then we should get going.” Jeno threw him his car keys and his black jacket.

Donghyuck and Jeno arrived to Jaemin’s restaurant and after a long battle with the host, she finally let Donghyuck talk to him. Jaemin tried to shut the door in front of him and threatened him to call the police if he didnt leave.

“Give me five minutes, that’s all i ask,” Donghyuck begged him and raised his arms. “I’m unarmed, I promise.”

Jaemin stared at him for a couple of seconds and then nodded. “Five minutes, that’s all you’re getting.”

“Thank you.”

Donghyuck didn't sit and  just stayed standing up in front of him. “You need to talk to Taeyong and tell him Yuta is dangerous. He’s planning on hurting (Y/N).”

Jaemin laughed and looked at him astonished. “You have some balls to show up here and talk shit about the man who’s been there for her, protecting her. Fuck you.”

“Jaemin, listen to me. Yuta along with her father is planning on killing her so they can keep her company. She’s a threat to them, that's why her father hired me.” Donghyuck approached him a bit. “As I got to know her, I realised she’s just… amazing. I fell for her. I could never hurt her. All this time I planned something so she could make it out alive.”

Jaemin furrowed his eyebrows. “What plan?”

Donghyuck pulled out two fake passports and placed them on the table. “I was planning on leaving the country under a fake name with her for a couple of days until I could get all the proof against Yuta and her father to the police. Including me.”

Jaemin grabbed the fake passports and stared at them for a couple of seconds. He then looked up to Donghyuck. “Promise me you’re not bullshiting me.”

“I am not. I love her, Jaemin.” Donghyuck looked right into his eyes. “I will die for her if I have to.”

Jaemin squinted his eyes and then stood up. “I have a private jet that will take you anywhere you want. I’ll try to talk to her and take this,” Jaemin wrote something on a piece of paper and handed it to him. “Here’s the address where I keep my jet. Be there on Saturday at midnight.”

Donghyuck nodded. “Thank you, Jaemin.”

“If I find out you’re lying about this, I swear to God I’ll destroy you, Donghyuck,” Jaemin warned him.

“I know,” Donghyuck nodded.

Later that day, Jaemin went to your house and brought you your favourite food but you weren't hungry and excused yourself early. Jaemin and Taeyong stayed in your living room and Jaemin unbuttoned his shirt. “I saw Donghyuck today.”

“And why would you do that?” Taeyong stared at him.

“He told me everything and even told me…” Jaemin made sure they were alone in the living room. “Yuta is behind along with her dad.”

“What?” Taeyong frowned. “That’s bullshit, I mean, her dad maybe but we’ve seen how Yuta behaves with her.”

“And we also saw how Donghyuck behaved with her,” Jaemin raised his eyebrows. “ Anyways, I’m gonna help him.”

“You’re gonna help Donghyuck?” Taeyong laughed. “Have you lost it?”

“Hear me out, okay?” Jaemin looked at him and Taeyong rolled his eyes.

“Fine.”

“Good afternoon, Yuta,” your father greeted him and poured some whisky in his glass. “Have you found Lee Donghyuck? I need him dead along with my daughter.”

Yuta shook his head. “We haven't been able to track him, but I will find him. Luckily, your daughter refused to listen to him and she doesnt know we were the ones who hired him.”

“Great, that gives us more time,” your father sat down on his leather couch.

“We should not wait.” Yuta licked his lips. “I’m gonna do it tonight.”

“Rushed, but okay. The sooner the better I guess,” your father shrugged. “Call me when it’s done.”

Yuta came back to your place and for the first time, you got out of your room and ate something. You missed Donghyuck so much, his touch, his kisses, his smile, his smell… everything. But you were hurt. More than hurt.

The next day, you woke up feeling worse than other days and took a long bath. Maybe that would help you feel better, but it didn’t, so instead, you spent the whole day zapping, not really paying attention to what was watching on the tv. In the night, you went downstairs and frowned not seeing any guards in the front door or the yard. Maybe Yuta had changed his mind about the security.

You entered the kitchen and opened the fridge watching all the things you got and spotted the food that Jaemin had brought you a night before. You grabbed the food container and put it into the microwave. You sighed waiting for the food to come out and leaned against the counter.

BEEP BEEP

You turned and got the food out from the microwave putting it in a plate. You decided you would watch something and zap again. You turned to go to the living room and you dropped your plate when you saw a man dressed in all black wearing a black ski mask. Your heart fell down to the floor, freezing.

That was it. That was how you died.

But a voice inside your head screamed at you to run or at least to die fighting.

“Listen,” you began in a quiet voice, trying to reason with him, “—I whatever they're paying you I can give you twice the amount, but please don't hurt me.”

The man in front of you didn't say a thing and he pulled out a gun and propped it his hand. He made a few steps getting closer to you and you were quickly enough to grab a knife. “Don’t move— don’t you fuckin’¡g move. I swear I’ll stab you, I’m not afraid to do it!” The man stopped.

You walked backwards until you were cornered in the sink and you cursed at yourself. The man made quick movements and in a matter of seconds, he had his hand around your neck, choking you. You tried to push him away with one of your hands, the other smacking wildly at his face and chest. He just got his other hand around your neck, making more pressure. At that point, you were gasping for air, you were not going to give up.

Your hand tucked into his ski mask and after pulling it a few times, you finally saw the man behind it: Yuta. You couldn't breathe and it wasn’t because of Yuta’s hands around your neck. Donghyuck was right. You should have never trusted him.

You even didn't think twice, you stabbed Yuta -or that’s what you thought, - in the chest and he released his hands growling. You pushed him aside and ran to the front door trying to open it but it was locked from the outside. You saw Yuta running to you and whined running upstairs to lock yourself in your bedroom and call the police. Unfortunately, Yuta made bigger steps and as you were about to reach the second floor, he grabbed your wrist. "Let go off of me," You tussled with him and tried to push him so he could fall down the stairs.

But Yuta was stronger and pulled you with him making you both fall down the stairs. Your foot went down for your third step it continued to fall, your eyes filling with fear as your lips parted.

It seemed like everything was going in slow motion.

Your body started to slip back as your arms went to the sides. The right hand landed on the wall but you continued to slip back, the other grabbing for the railing that wasn’t there. Your back hit the stairs and you screamed out, your eyes closing as you slid down. Your head hit the wall at the bottom of the stairs loudly, and time sped up again once Yuta fell beside you.

Every part of your body ached and your muscles weren't responding to your brain's signals to run and hide. You felt a warm liquid dripping from your forehead and you pressed your fingers on it. Blood. You were bleeding from your head. You turned your head slightly to see how Yuta stood up, groaning from the pain.

"Stupid bitch," he hissed between teeth and bent over to grab you by your hair making you stand up. "You've given me enough headaches. I'm gonna fucking kill you."

You whined from the pain when he clenched your jaw, tightening it. "Get on your knees."

"Yuta, please," you cried. "I'll give you everything, but please don't kill me."

Yuta pulled out a silencer and attached it to the handgun. He looked at you and smirked. "You already gave me what I wanted. No need to beg."

You cried again and Yuta finished loading his gun. "You won't even feel a thing. I promise, doll."

You closed your eyes and you heard a gunshot, you prepared yourself for the pain and but then opened them but you heard Yuta growl. Did he shoot himself? Yuta was bleeding from his stomach and he pressed a hand against his wound. "Fuck. He's here. Shit."

Who was there? The police?

You tried to stand up but Yuta was quick and hit you with his handgun making you fall. "Goodbye, (Y/N)." And then, you heard nothing.

“Hey, hey, don’t close your eyes, love. Look at me. Look at me, (Y/N) -”

Yuta was dead. A bullet to the heart, not even 6 feet away, and you tried to replay the events that had led up to it but you don't remember a single thing after Yuta hit you with his gun.

Then you were shot.

“Hey.” You vaguely registered Donghyuck calling for medical in the background, but all you can focus on was him. His hands were pressing down on the hole in your chest, and he kept looking between it and your face like you’ll magically disappear if he looked away for more than a few seconds.

Something in the corner of your eye moved. It was Jeno. Taeyong and Jaemin, kneeling down beside you, faces contorted with shock. They looked strange, like you’re looking at them through glass. Blurry, steadily dimming…

“Stay awake,” Donghyuck urged, hand slapping the side of your face gently. “C’mon, love, you can do it. Don’t fall asleep on me.”

“But I‘m… tired,” you slurred, whining with another twinge of pain. “Ah... my chest hurts, Hyuck, it hurts-”

“I know, love,” he’s gasping it out, he was holding back tears, you realised, and you couldn't fathom what for. “You’re doing so well, okay? Medical, where’s medical?!”

“They’re on their way,” somebody said.

“What’s taking them so long?” Somebody else exclaimed.

“I… I…” You couldn't speak. You couldn't. You were too tired, your lips almost refused to move, and it was getting harder to formulate words.“Donghyuck, I… love you… and I... forgive you okay…?”

The panic in his voice increased “Hey, no, don’t-”

But against your will, your eyes rolled to the back of your head, and the world faded to black.

The journey to the hospital passed in flashes. The ambulance ride was a flurry of hushed talking between paramedics, the siren numb and shrill in the back of his mind. You were too still. Too grey-looking, too pale, and he knew the image would stick with him.

He walked with you as far as he could. Donghyuck had one bloodied hand on the side of your stretcher until one of the doctors who’d gathered around you kindly told him that he couldn't be past this point because you were going to have surgery. You were going into surgery because you got shot in the chest and your blood was all over his hands and he was still got his bulletproof vest on and

“Donghyuck, you need to clean yourself up.”

The rest of the guys arrived maybe10 minutes after he did. Donghyuck registered them walking towards him, registered the way they stopped and stared. He guesses he made an image, sitting with his elbows on his knees and his head bowed, blood up to his forearms. He told them what the doctor had said, word for word, but that wasn’t much — and then he didn’t say much afterwards, either. Just sat and stared at the ground, mind moving too fast for him to keep up with.

The third hour in, though, Jeno leaned over, a firm hand on Donghyuck’s shoulder. “C’mon. We’ve got you clean clothes. Go and change.”

Donghyuck wanted to say no, but he and his clothes were a mess and that was the last thing you needed to see. In case you'd wake up.

[smoochkooks]

—it’s december (and i still want you) | m.

⇢ pairing: kim namjoon/reader

⇢ genre: smut, angst, fluff (the holy trinity)

⇢ word count: 16.7k

⇢ warnings: explicit sexual content, fingering, oral sex (f receiving), unprotected sex (be safe kids!), dirty talk, just good, ol’ emotional sex

⇢ summary: as the final farewell to your soon-to-be-ex husband namjoon, you spend with him one last christmas in your parents’ cottage far away from the city, reflecting on your life together before you will part your ways for good.

a/n: omg guys!! i’m so excited to post this, you have no idea:( i’ve been working on writing this for a whole month but i had this particular fic in mind since last year so i can’t believe i actually managed to finish this before christmas like i had planned. i hope you will like this. i’m sending you lots of love for the new year! xx, julia.

For how long you could remember, you’ve always adored Christmas.

There’s something discreetly magical in this time of the year, no matter if it’s an unique aura or the fact you’re the family type of person, Christmas used to hold a special place in your heart, spread a distinctive kind of warmth in your body that made you feel calm and loved. 

This year though, it's different. Not because the weather doesn’t suit the occasion and instead of snowing, the sky is cloudy. The very reason is on your kitchen table, next to the big cardboard box you’ve scribbled ‘xmas decorations' on in black ink. There lay neatly folded in manila folder documents, untouched for about a week since postman delivered them. Your future is inside, just above your signature. You know those papers are not going to be read through anytime soon, that the blank space next to your name will be crystal white until the very New Year.  

You know he won’t say a word about it unless it’s necessary. He won’t plead, beg, ask for delay. He’s accepted it. Deep down you wish he put up some fight, resisted, fell to his knees in front of you and counted all his mistakes promising it won’t happen again. But it’s your decision. And he has never denied your choice. 

You’ve always loved Christmas. Family gatherings by the table, the smell of cinnamon in your mum's famous rolls, the colourful lights on the Christmas tree your dad never stops complaining about when he’s assigned to put them on. 

This year however, Christmas is nothing but an unceremonious reminder that it’s going to be your last celebration spend with your soon-to-be-ex husband, Namjoon.

Statistically, the younger you get married, there’s a higher possibility of having a divorce with your significant other. The shorter the period between engagement and wedding is, you’re most likely going to survive approximately three years as a married person. You feel like you’ve never fitted into any statistics and algorithms better than now.

You were twenty one when you first met Kim Namjoon. The only thing you knew about him before seeing in person was the size of his family's wealth. Your mother told you he’s a good man, same age as you, majoring in business and economy tall, blonde fella. You, on the other hand, were just a girl in red pristine dress and uncomfortable high heels, with dreams to trivial for her parents liking.  

The place you first met him was beautiful. A big ballroom in downtown with gleaming chandeliers, filled to the brim with people you wholeheartedly despised sipping on their Dom Perignons, a clique whose money combined together could easily build a few hospitals in Africa. You remember your mum patting you on the back, hissing to your ear to straighten, but you knew it was more an encouraging act of hers than a real reprimand. You remember your dad, laughing at something with mister Kim and from the volume and tone of his voice you knew it wasn’t genuine.  

You also remember Namjoon, good-looking and smart and so sophisticated in his manners and words he could put into shame any college jocks or obnoxious fratboys you’d met so far during your studies. Namjoon with his exquisite demeanor and handsome face that drew attention from every young lady in the ballroom. You felt small standing next to him and it wasn’t just because he towered over you with his height. For the first time in your life you were in front of someone who was absolutely out of your league.

When your parents decided to leave you two alone for a while, Namjoon let out a long sigh, like some weight was lifted off his shoulders and he finally could breathe properly. He smiled at you, two cute dimples adoring his cheeks and said, ‘’Fuck, I thought they would never leave.” gulping the rest of his champagne smoothly.  

You remember how your eyes widened after hearing him speak informally like that, to the point it probably must have looked comical because he chuckled as soon as he saw your puzzled expression. 

“Want to get away from here for a while? I know some place upstairs where we can talk without being watched by all those tight wads.” Namjoon asked you then.

This time, no matter how shocked you were, you manage to keep your true emotions at bay. You smiled at him, nodding. “Lead the way.”  

Namjoon seemed to know this place by heart, easily navigating through long corridors until he found what he was looking for: a large balcony with a view to the whole city. He motioned for you to come closer where he stood, leaning to the rail and fishing out of his jacket's pocket a pack of cigarettes. With one between his plush lips, he extended the rest towards you. 

“I don’t smoke.” you said curtly, probably too abrupt but he didn’t notice, or simply didn’t care. 

“Well, I do,” he murmured, lighting up his cigarette and taking the first drag languidly. “Dad's a heavy smoker. He’s been telling me my whole teenage years not to be like him but here I am,” He smirked almost cynically, fuming the poison. “Like father, like son.”  

You didn’t exactly know how to react to that, choosing to stare at the city covered in darkness from a distance instead. The summer was in full bloom, night almost stuffy it made you feel hot. Your feet hurt from the uncomfortable shoes you wore and you wondered for a moment how would Namjoon react if you decided to take them off.

It was still annoyingly mute, you started thinking that maybe he was waiting for you to continue conversation somehow. Why did he even want to bother spending time with you here? Why did he want you to keep him company when you couldn’t hold a proper conversation? God, you were awful at smalltalks. 

Luckily for you, Namjoon always knew what to say. 

“So, Y/N,” he began, your head turning to the side to have a look at him. He was beautiful like this, you had to admit to yourself, dressed in black suit with a cigarette caught between his slender fingers and suddenly a vision of marrying him wasn’t that surreal anymore like you thought at the beginning. “I know what your family business is, I know you’re the same age as me and you don’t smoke,” he listed, gesturing with his occupied hand for emphasis, “but I still don’t know what you’re studying.”  

Apparently you weren’t only bad at communicating. You were also terrible at holding eye contact but Namjoon from the very start of your acquaintance didn’t want to let you go that easily, keeping his gaze fixated on you the whole time. It made your cheeks blush and you prayed he didn’t see that in dim lighting. 

“I am majoring in fashion design and marketing. I want to start my own brand in the future.” you replied. Namjoon hummed, flicking his cigarette with his thumb and ring finger. “My parents don’t really like this idea. They probably wish I worked as an accountant in their firm or something,” You laughed and to your surprise, there was a smile dancing on Namjoon's lips as well, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“I am destined to work for my father from the moment my mother found out she was pregnant with a boy,” he said, voice laced with strange kind of melancholy you hadn’t heard from him since you two met. “I will take over his business after his death and work there until I die.”  

“What about your other siblings then?” you asked.”

“I’m the only child.”  

“Oh.” 

Namjoon chuckled. “Yeah. ‘Oh' it’s a good word to describe it.” He took one last drag off his cigarette and discarded it carelessly somewhere on the floor. For a moment you thought he was reaching to his pocket for another one, but he faltered. 

It was quiet for a few long bits of time, until Namjoon broke the silence again.

“It looks like they want us to get married, Y/N,” he said suddenly and you nearly jumped in place hearing his deep ramble. “What do you think about that?” You turned to look at him, only to find his eyes already trained on you, expression smug. 

You shrugged. “I don’t have much say in this.” 

Namjoon’s eyebrows furrowed like he was genuinely surprised with your answer. “Why is that? Aren’t you the daughter who disobeys her parents by pursuing the career they don’t want for her?” he asked almost mockingly, taking a step towards you. “You can say no. You can dump me and find some guy who would be much better husband than me, or maybe you have someone like that already, don’t you?”  

“I don’t.” You didn’t even know why you needed to clarify this so fast, you could have played along and fool him, yet here you were. 

“You don’t have a boyfriend?” he concluded.  

You shook your head. “No.” 

“Well, I don’t have a girlfriend either.” 

You sighed. Was this out of relief or because he was now much closer than you considered appropriate for your personal space? Still staring at you with observant eyes, gaze vibrating, plush lips opening to say, “It’s kind of weird for me that you don’t date anyone.” 

You scoffed. “I could say the same about you.”  

“Not exactly, darling,” he disagreed, leaning his body to the railing so he's back was facing the city, head turned to the side to have a look at you. Your cheeks heated at the term of endearment he used, yet you rolled your eyes anyway. “I don’t do relationships. I was never in one, in fact. But you,” he trailed off, licking his lips, “you look like someone who has dozen of guys lined up to be your boyfriend.”  

You were laughing. An authentic, breathy laugh that made Namjoon smile like fool and he didn’t have anything in his diffence because you were just really pretty in your red dress, standing on the balcony and giggling. He wanted to tell you this the whole night, no matter how lame he probably sounded. 

“God, that was so cheesy,” you groaned. “Thank you for your subtle compliment. You aren’t so bad yourself.”  

Maybe Namjoon was actually content too in this moment, that you didn’t have anyone to come home to as well. Back then he thought it was good because it didn’t complicate things more than that already were. Truth to be told, it was just a disguised excuse. 

He didn’t expect you to ask next question, yet your lips somehow formed words on their own. “If you don’t do relationships, why are you okay with marrying me?” 

He was so close you could count his eyelashes, you could see that little mole on his chin. You could reach and touch the sharpness of his jaw, smooth the crease between his brows that had formed after hearing what you had said. 

“I just have a feeling it might work.” he answered simply. “Will you try making this work with me?”  

You smiled. The thought about being wedded to someone like him at the ripe age of twenty one wasn’t that scary anymore. There was a long way before you two but you were in for a ride. Because it could have been anyone, and it was just Namjoon. Just him and above all him. 

“Only if you promise me you will quit smoking.” you said.

Namjoon reached to his suit jacket's pocket, pulling out the pack of cigarettes and dropped it to the floor. “Your wish is my command.”  

He didn’t laugh it out, didn’t make some snarky comment about you already wife-ing him up. 

Because Kim Namjoon has never disrespected your decision.

Few months later, you got engaged. Officially, on family gathering with your closest relatives, as a symbolic agreement made between two wealths. But in reality, you and Namjoon were never the so called ‘traditional’ type of couple. He proposed to you a week earlier, after taking you out on a bike ride by the river. There was no caviar, fine wine and crème brûlée when you both sat together on a bench, inhaling autumn air. There was no hushed whispers and clears of throats from the family, no glass clicking to get attention because he had something important to say. No practiced speech with Shakespeare’s quotes (love is a smoke made with a fume of sighs, actually a very accurate one).

It was you, no make up and grey sweatpants and him, favourite khaki jacket and stuttered words when he took out of his pocket a pink, plastic ring, like those ones they add to candies. Just you and Namjoon, the whole world, reasons, what ifs and doubts disappeared. 

He wanted to tell you how much he had fallen for you these past months. That he didn’t believe in love from the first sight and God, yet Lord only knows how he had been a goner from the moment he laid his eyes on you in that stupid ballroom full of materialists. He wished to say he would do anything in his power to make it right, to have you call him your husband proudly while standing hand in hand in front of his future business partners, friends and family. 

He did none of that. You didn’t let him to.  

Your lips were on his and the words will you marry– died on his tongue when yours touched his bottom lip. You were kissing him, deep and intoxicating and he wanted this brief moment of sweet halcyon to never end. Because he was young, foolish and so in love that he could for once be egoistic enough to say the world was at his feet while you were in his arms smiling into the kiss and mumbling those stupid three-letters-long word. 

And you said it again and again. Repeated it when you were home, pinned by his body to the wall of his old apartment while his cold fingers danced on your sides underneath a sweater. You chanted it when he stripped you bare and fuck you silly, no making it even to the bedroom because you were young, impatient and in love. 

The wedding was in Spring. You got married when cherries started to blossom in whites and pinks. On the wall in front of you there’s still hanging your favourite photo from that day. Your sister took it with her phone, not some photographer Namjoon's mum had hired to photoshop your faces afterwards. It’s black and white, a little blurry and you’re laughing at something Namjoon had told you seconds before Soojin tapped the button on her phone.  

You wonder what will happen with this picture and many others after everything will be done. 

Sighing, you open the cardboard box with Christmas decorations. You still have a tree to carry upstairs from your basement but you don’t think about it now. Normally, Namjoon would do it. But you know he will be back by the time you will be already at your sister’s home, eating dinner. 

You hear door lock rattling and instantly annoyance flashes through your whole body. If that’s your mother, asking you to come home today and nag you to change your mind again, you swear you’re going to snap real hard this time.  

But it’s not your mother. She doesn’t have keys to your apartment. She doesn’t own a briefcase and that’s certainly a noise of it being thrown on the floor next to the shoe case. And she for sure doesn’t sound like your own husband, greeting you during lunch hours on Christmas Day. 

‘’God, I was held up in a traffic for an hour. If that’s how’s it going to be for the next days, then I’m not leaving the house,” Namjoon says, walking past you. He pours warm coffee you had made earlier into his favourite Captain America cup right away, and sighs deeply. 

You haven’t seen him in the morning. He had already left to work when you opened your eyes, which is not anything new recently. It feels like he’s avoiding you purposely after receiving divorce papers. Almost as if he’s been growing distant to give you even more reasons to end things with him for good.  

His eyes trail from the kitchen counter to you, still holding a golden Christmas tree chain in your hands. He hums, gulping another sip of his coffee. ‘’Oh, you brought decorations. Remind me to go for the tree to the basement later.”  

You’re irritated. You don’t even know why. Probably because he’s so normal and casual about this. He’s still doing all this domestic shit, keeps up appearances and acts like everything’s totally fine. Except one thing: the lack of intimacy. He stopped calling you baby, giving you good morning kisses and goodbye hugs. He doesn’t touch you anymore, barely talks about anything that isn’t some topic he’d heard in news. He’s become now the stereotypical version of husband every woman wouldn’t want to have. It’s frustrating. 

“Why are you home so soon?” you blurt out before you could stop yourself. 

Namjoon places his cup in the dishwasher (he never does that and you have to remind him to do it every time) and crosses his arms over chest. “It’s Christmas and I’m the boss. I wanted to leave early, so I did.” 

You hate how cynical he sounds. He says it like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, like he’s not been coming home like that every day just because he can, because he’s entitled to work young economist and businessman who gives himself days off to please his wife.

“I’m not staying here for dinner.” You don’t like how formal your voice sounds. It’s the voice you use while talking with clients on the phone. Two can play this game. 

Something shifts in Namjoon's expression. He clears his throat awkwardly and still, the first words come out hoarsely. “You’re not staying home for Christmas?” 

Home. This shared apartment bought with Namjoon's money is still yours too. Until it won’t be anymore. 

“No. I’m going to Soojin's. She’s making a dinner for her boyfriend and his parents and she invited me as well.” 

You don’t know why you feel like you need to explain yourself in front of him. Namjoon nods his head sheepishly. You haven’t seen him look like that for a while. If anything, he looks disappointed. Something aches in your heart at the sight.

“Is something wrong?” you ask, irritation long gone and replaced with something you could mistake only with genuine concern. 

Namjoon cracks a smile. “No, it’s just… I thought we could eat here, alone. You know, since it’s our last Christmas together,” He's speaking more quietly now. Almost like he’s afraid of even approaching this topic aloud, choosing the words carefully yet they sound uncertain anyway. “Mom is on Maldives right now with her new guy.” he adds after a while.

“Oh.” 

Namjoon scratches the back of his head. “I guess I will spend some time alone, then.” He chuckles but you know it’s not an honest laugh. Namjoon loves Christmas just the way you do, though he will never admit it to anyone and the thought about him being in your own apartment probably even without Christmas tree because he’s too clumsy to decorate it himself, makes your insides clench uncomfortably.

You look at him now carefully for the first time in weeks. He doesn’t look like the confident, snarky businessman he aspires to be sometimes. His hair has grown longer, his skin looks paler, there are bangs underneath his eyes and you wonder if he gets any sleep. He used to cuddle you up during night hours when insomnia kicks in, because he says your body's warmth helps him relax. He doesn’t do it anymore from the day he had read the papers. He lays next you peacefully every night and even if he itches to touch you, hold you, caress you, he won’t.

Namjoon looks lost and perhaps he is, he’s been like that since his father died for lungs cancer over one year ago, leaving his business in Namjoon's hands hence he's the only heir to the empire. It was all too sudden and before you could do anything in your power to help mister Kim recover, the disease had progressed to the point of no return, taking his life away few months after he came to the hospital. 

Namjoon hadn’t smoked a cigarette since the day you asked him to quit. He broke that rule once, on his father's funeral day. You found him on the porch in front of his family’s estate, so sad and broken and with a grey smoke swirling around his features. He was crying. You had never seen him like this before. He used to say tears were the luxury he couldn’t afford.

“I’m sorry.” he said to you, voice rough and strangled because there was another wave of sobs forming in his throat. 

“It’s okay. There’s nothing to apologize for,” you assured, coming up to him. He gave you the half-burnt cigarette without a word and you throw it away. “It’s going to be okay, Joon.” He crashed his body into yours, straining your black dress with sadness and grief he was always so afraid to show while you were around. You held him like that, rocked him like a baby until eventually his breathing slowed down to normal.

He put his chin on your shoulder, still hugging you tightly, like he was afraid you were going to evaporate and asked, “Do you think I will be able to do it?”

You knew he wasn’t ready for that. Every twenty-something guy wouldn’t be. But you believed in him like he never did in himself. You had all your hopes in him, signed your future with his name, the name of the boy who let go of his beloved addiction just because you said so. Namjoon might have been entitled to marry you but you weren’t obligated to fall for him, yet you did.

Namjoon has always been the strong, monumental fortification that kept you safe in. And together you’ve made home.

Placing your hands on his chest, you pushed him away slightly so you could look him in the eyes. “You won’t be alone,” you urged firmly. “I am here. You’ve got your father's coworkers who put their faith in you.”

“What if I fail them? What if they don’t see me as someone responsible enough to be in charge because I’m some young shithead who had inherited this business from his father?” 

“Then you have to prove them you’re worth it.” 

“Easier said than done.” 

You shook your head, your palms coming up to cup his cheeks. “Kim Namjoon,” you began, “I’ve never given a fuck about economy but when you rant about it over dinner I find it interesting, because you can make it seem like that,” He smiled lightly and your mirrored his gesture. “And I know your views about business. It’s not some liberal shit that’s actually well disguised capitalism. You are more than that, Joon. Don’t you dare ever put yourself down.” 

And then he was kissing you. It was more a simple smooch than anything else but it felt right to do so. To stand on your toes and capture his lips in yours. When he broke off after a moment, he placed a fleeting peck on your nose. It made you smile silly and he was smiling too, despise the situation. 

“I love you.” Namjoon breathed out, leaning his forehead into yours.

In that particular moment, on a porch of his family's old manor, you were certain you were going to survive every storm when he was by your side.

“I love you too.” 

It’s been two years since that day. A lot has changed, hell, both of you have changed. But looking at Namjoon right now you start questioning yourself again, whether this storm is worth letting the ship sink without trying to at least reach the land. 

One last Christmas together, he said. Nothing more and nothing less beside two married people biding farewells before they part their ways for good. You owe him that much.

“You don’t have to stay here alone. We can go to that cottage my parents have. You know, the one where we spend my dad's birthday in January.” 

If Namjoon is surprised with your sudden statement, he hides it pretty well. His eyebrows raise with interest. “Is that okay for you? I mean, you’re already invited to your sister's and she’s probably waiting for you, she made a whole dinner and–”

“Joon,” you cut his rambling off. Joon. You haven’t called him that in a while. He smiles bashfully and you can faintly see pink tingling the apples of his cheeks. “It’s fine, really. Soojin wouldn’t mind, I’m sure of it. But, uhm–” You clear you throat awkwardly. “–we have to buy some groceries if we want to actually eat something for the dinner.” 

Namjoon's brows furrow. “Do we have time to cook something for ourselves?” he asks.

You open your mouth to object but all arguments die on your tongue. He’s right. You don’t have time to do it on your own. Well, fuck, you want to say but then, an idea pops in your head. 

“I’ll take care of this.” 

You’ve always loved Christmas. Never had you thought about spending them with your soon-to-be-ex husband, though.

Namjoon has always been a convincing person.

You think this side of him comes from the field he works in. When you’re standing in the middle of Christmas market down your street, he analyzes the problem of buying a real Christmas tree like it’s another deal he has to sell to his future business partners, listing you all the pros and cons and transforming them into an excel chart in his head. 

He doesn’t even know why you’re here. One minute you were driving to your sister's house after dropping by grocery store, and the second you told him to pull over and wander with you through the numerous stalls with Christmas decorations.

“Why are you so determined to buy a real Christmas tree?” Namjoon asks astonishingly.

You sigh, sending the seller in front of you an apologetic smile. You’ve been standing there with Namjoon for a few solid minutes now and you can sense the man's impatience. You shrug simply in reponse. “Because I’ve always wanted to have one.”

“Yeah, but,” Namjoon pauses when you click your tongue in irritation. Now it’s his turn to sigh. “We are going to be in that cottage just for one night. We can take our Christmas tree from home with us and decorate it there.” 

Upon hearing that, you take his wrist and walk a few steps from the seller. That’s it, Namjoon thinks, you’re going to pull another card now. You’ve always been persistent when things you want are in the game and Namjoon is terrible at saying no to you. The evidence stands in your living room, an old Chinese vase that doesn’t suit the design of the room at all but you insisted on buying it. No matter how much he tries, Namjoon can’t help but fall for your pleading eyes every single time, like he did when you pursued him to spontaneously purchase plane tickets for the romantic weekend in Paris across the globe, when you asked him to quit smoking. Or when you stabbed his heart with paper dagger filled with words he will eventually sign because that’s what you want from him.

So he won’t protest either when you’re about to buy a real Christmas tree although there’s absolutely no need to do so.

Namjoon knows he’s been gone since the moment you attempted to puppy-eye him. Nevertheless, for the sake of hearing you trying to convince him with sweet words and maybe some PG-13 arm brushing, he tongues his cheek in faux annoyance.

“Come on, Namjoon,” You elbow him playfully instead. “Don’t be like that. We’ve never had a real Christmas tree before.” 

And after that holidays, we will never have an occasion to buy another one together again, he wants to tell you. It’s ridiculous how both of you still sound so normal and domestic when your marriage is yet to be terminated few days after New Year. Maybe it’s just an act you put up for audience.

“Please?” you try once again and yes, there it is. Your hand brushes lightly his biceps.

Namjoon exhales loudly. Then, he points his index finger at the seller. “Give me the biggest one you have here.” 

And fifteen minutes later, you’re driving to Soojin's house with a 5’6 Christmas tree on the roof of Namjoon’s crystal black SUV. 

It’s awfully quiet between you two, mostly because you’ve been wondering for the past ten minutes how to break the awkward silence and ease the tension. Looking through the window, you try to locate any familiar spot on the streets that could tell you how far from your sister’s house you are. When you pass the Japanese restaurant with big koi fish in the logo, you estimate you’re up to five minutes from Soojin's. 

“Does she know you’re not coming for Christmas dinner?” 

You’re so deep in thought you almost don’t register Namjoon's talking to you. “Huh?” you mumble dumbly. 

“I asked if you already texted Soojin you won’t be on her Christmas dinner.” 

In the corner of your eye you see the sports equipment shop. Three minutes to go. “No, I didn’t. I will explain her everything in person.” 

Namjoon nods, stopping the car at the red light. You curse in your head. One more minute longer. “Do you think she really won’t mind? Knowing your sister she’s probably going to be pissed off you’re making a fuss in her well-planned schedule.” he says, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel. Maybe he’s impatient too.

Instantly, you chuckle at his words. Namjoon’s right. Your sister is a control freak. She doesn’t like last minute changes and sudden cancellations. You’re more than aware of that. But this time, you know she won’t have anything against your sudden outburst.

“Have a little faith in her, would you? It’s Christmas.” you reply teasingly.

The light changes to orange, then to green. 

“I really want to but I can’t help but think how she almost beat the shit out of me when we both overslept that one infamous morning and you were one hour late to your branch.”

“It was a day after we got from the honeymoon. She hadn’t seen me for almost a month back then.” you point out, although not to justify her. 

Namjoon snorts. “She came to our apartment that morning and gave me a lecture when you were showering,”

“Yeah but–”

“She told me, I’m quoting: ‘You had a whole month to yourselves and you decided the morning I was supposed to have a branch with my sister is the best time to bang’.” 

You’re fully laughing now, cheeks red from embarrassment because apparently, Soojin was partially true back then. You did wake up that morning around eight to get ready for the meeting, but you were too distracted by the feeling of Namjoon's morning wood poking you from behind. And when you unintentionally moved your body so your ass rubbed against his stiff shaft, the groan you heard in response and a muscular arm sneaking around your waist and pulling you flush against his chest prohibited you any kind of protest. 

Your face goes hot at the memory. And by the slight blush adoring Namjoon's cheeks, you know he’s thinking about the same thing as you. 

He clears his throat. “So yeah. Your little sister scares me.” 

The car pulls in the familiar neighborhood of akin terraced houses, the one in which Soojin lives with her boyfriend standing at the end of the street. 

“Even though she’s younger than me, she’s always had in herself to protect me at all costs. She really likes you though, Namjoon. She did from the very beginning. It was just her weird way of keeping things in control.” you say and that effectively puts and end to the conversation.

Namjoon's SUV stops in front of the gate and you see him smiling in the corner of your eye. “I know,” he breathes out. “Don’t be there for too long. We still have a Christmas tree to decorate later.”

You don’t know why you’re beaming like a teenage girl when you slam the door behind yourself and walk to your sister’s house.

Soojin, as Namjoon has predicted, is displeased. But apart from everything else, she’s mostly confused, standing in front of you in yellow apron with hands on her hips and raised eyebrows.

“What the hell are you doing here already, Y/N?” 

You sigh loudly, taking off your coat and stepping off your boots. You feel your younger sister’s eyes piercing through your scull yet you don’t falter. Straightening your back, you greet her, “Hello to you too, Soojin-ah.” You hear her scoff in response. 

“Hi, Y/N! What’s up?” Taehyung, Soojin's dear boyfriend shouts from the living room. He’s sitting on their couch, fumbling with Christmas tree lights and probably trying to find the faulty one among ninety-nine others working.

“Hi, Tae. Everything’s peachy.” you answer him and the man sends you his signature boxy grin in response. 

Soojin crosses her arms over chest. “Peachy? Then why are you here so early? I told you we start at seven.” 

“Yeah, about the dinner. We need to talk.” 

She narrows her eyes but cocks her head at you to follow after her to the kitchen anyway. There’s quite a mess going on here and from the smell of the pastry lying on the counter you assume she’s making your mum's cinnamon rolls.

“So,” she begins, taking off her apron. “Talk.” 

“Are those cinnamon rolls from mum's recipe?” you quip, trying to avoid her persistent stare.

“Y/N, we are not here to talk about food,” Soojin warns but when she sees you extending your hand towards the plate where warm, already made ones lay, her gaze softens. “I changed the recipe a little bit to make it vegan. For Taehyung.” The corners of her mouth lift up slightly at the mention of her boyfriend.

Taking the first bite of the roll, you hum between chews, “Tastes good. Like the non-vegan ones.” 

“I guess I made a good job then,” Soojin laughs. “But seriously though, Y/N, don’t play coy right now. I saw Namjoon's car on the driveway. Has he signed the papers yet?” she asks.

“Nope.” you respond, emphasizing the ‘p'. 

“Is you being here has something to do with him?” 

“Kind of.” 

You look up to meet her eyes and that’s your first mistake because Soojin has something in them that makes you reveal every secret you hide right on the spot. It has always been like this between the two of you, you coming to your two years younger sister to talk instead the other way round.  You still admire it in her, the determination and persistence she has. You were the parent’s favourite child from the very beginning and Soojin knowing that, was determined to do everything they would have never wanted for her. She graduated college with degree in journalism and writes to the local newspaper, at the same time saving money to publish her own novel in the future. 

Your parents bitterly accepted it, just like your future career path, but they weren’t going to let her be that easily, arranging a meeting with possible husband-to-be a year after you got married to Namjoon. Little did they know she had been already madly in love with Kim Taehyung, the photographer who she met on an internship. And instead of going on a date with Park's youngest son, she proudly sent your parents a picture of her and Taehyung with a caption ‘sry im taken' like she was responding to some horny man on Instagram.

You never keep anything from her. She was the first person you told you were in love with Namjoon and she was the first one to know you want a divorce. 

“It is about the divorce papers, isn’t it? He doesn’t agree to split up? Is he making any difficulties?” Soojin asks question after question, and you shake your head. 

“It’s not that. He will sigh them eventually, I know this.” 

Your sister purses her lips. “Of course he will because he loves you,” she says matter-of-factly. You bite your lips so hard you might draw blood. “Do you want to know what I really think about this whole situation?” You nod hesitantly. “I think you’re making a big mistake here, sis, divorcing Namjoon. And have in mind that I am the one telling you this.” She points her index finger at herself for emphasis. “When you told me about that I was more confused than anything else because who the fuck would want to divorce someone like Namjoon. I wouldn’t.” 

“Me neither!” You hear Taehyung shouting from the living room.

“Shut up, Tae, it’s ladies talk! Don’t listen!” Soojin shouts back. Her boyfriend’s giggle echoes through the house. “Anyway, back to my point. I know it doesn’t always seem like that but I like Namjoon, despite all the banter between the two of us. He’s a good guy and I’m sure he would never hurt you. That’s why it came as a shock to me.” 

You don’t even know how to answer her. Because quite literally, you aren’t so determined about your decision anymore, as you had been just weeks ago. You feel like you’re doing the right thing yet at the same time you can’t help but question your motives. You came here for Christmas food, for fuck's sake, and now you’re having a free therapy session with your little sister.

Last months, of course, has been tough. Namjoon's firm had its first crisis since he’s become the CEO. He was spending most of his daytime at work, sometimes he was at the office even during the night hours, and at some point your shared life at home started lacking of intimacy and affection it'd had before. It felt cold to come back to an empty house and it didn’t use to be like that.

At the same time, your own business began blowing out. More and more people were buying clothes from your online shop and you started thinking for real about opening your own atelier in the city. And ironically, your biggest dream, the thing Namjoon had always supported you in, was the cause of your huge argument that lead to the situation you’re currently in.

It was two months ago. You remember your personal assistant Jisoo calling you and rambling incoherently through the phone. You were only able to make out ‘agreed to rent‘ but that was enough information for you. The developer let you make a studio in the place you had chosen, the place you knew was the best destination possible for not huge amount of money. In that moment, you were on cloud nine. 

You remember Namjoon coming home late as usual that evening. You had already prepared a celebratory dinner, bought your favourite wine, lighted up some candles to make it even more cheesy but it didn’t matter because you couldn’t even recall when was the last time you both spent your time like this. Alone, all to yourselves.

Hearing the jingle of the keys you rushed to the door, wrapping your arms around his neck as soon as he closed them behind himself. He stiffened at your touch but you ignored it, hugging him tightly. Sensing his discomfort, you pulled off, looking at him with a grin plastered on your face. 

You were too lost in your own excitement to notice how sad Namjoon looked. “I did it!” you blurted out. “Namjoon, I did it! The developer said yes. I can start arranging my own atelier!”

You saw a faint smile on his lips, however it didn’t reach his eyes at all. He sighed and when he spoke after, his voice sounded weary. “Congratulations.” He wasn’t excited like you. There was no trace of a man in him who told you to go after your dreams no matter what. He’s eyes looked shallow.

Your brows furrowed. You instantly felt irritation bubbling in your throat. “That’s it? You don’t have anything more to say?” you snorted.

‘I’m happy for you, Y/N. Really.” 

You rolled your eyes. “Yeah. You look so ecstatic,” you said, voice laced with sarcasm.

At that, Namjoon seemed to have lost his control as well. He bit the inside of his cheek before scoffing, “What do you want me to say, Y/N? Should I dance on the table? Open the door to balcony and shout out my immense happiness to the whole neighborhood?” 

You laughed bitterly, shaking your head. “I just expected more support from my own, beloved husband. That’s it.”

Namjoon pinched the bridge of his nose, sighing. “Listen, Y/N. I really don’t want to argue. I had a bad day at work, a whole week actually, and I just want to spend some time alone.” He stormed off the hallway, walking into your shared bedroom.

“Don’t turn your back on me right now, Kim Namjoon!” you shouted after him,  entering the room as well. “We aren’t done yet.” 

Namjoon practically threw his suitcase on the desk, turning to face you abruptly. “I am done.” 

“Everyone has bad days. Me too. You aren’t the only one struggling here, Namjoon. It doesn’t give you the right to act like that.” 

Upon hearing that, he chuckled darkly. You saw him gnawing his bottom lip, as if he was debating if he should say what he was going to. “You’re right. Everyone has shitty days. But for your information, mine was the worst since I’ve started running this fucking business. Do you know what happened?” he asked. “Our main investor retreated his shares from the project. Do you have an idea how much is that? 20 fucking percent. That’s a lot of money when there’s a crisis on the stock market and inside the firm as well. So excuse me, Y/N, but I have too much on my own mind to care about your stupid shop.” He slumped down on his chair and rubbed his temples.

You stared at him, trying to fight back the tears trying to spill from your eyes. You didn’t want to break down in front of him. This was your day. You were supposed to celebrate, not cry because your husband acted like an absolute asshole. Yet the tears started rolling down your cheeks involuntarily.

“I’m sorry.” you uttered, exiting the room.

Namjoon looked up, catching the glimpse of your expression and that was the moment he realised his mistake. He stood up and ran after you. “Y/N, wait! I didn’t mean it like that, shit!” 

You stopped in your tracks to face him. You were fully crying right now and something in Namjoon's chest tightened at the sight. “Don’t say anything, Namjoon. I get it. Your business is more important than my stupid shop. It’s fine, really.” You sniffed, wiping the smudges of mascara underneath your eyes.

Namjoon put his hand on your arm but when he saw you flinch, he withdrew. “Of course you are important, baby.” he said quietly and another fresh wave of tears streamed down your face when you heard him use his favorite term of endearment for you.

“But it doesn’t look like I am anymore, Namjoon. And that’s the problem.” you uttered brokenly. “I think we should take a break from each other. It’s not healthly for us being together now.” 

Namjoon looked anywhere but at you. “If that’s what you want.” 

You nodded. “Yeah. It is.” 

The break lasted two weeks. You spent some time at Soojin's, travelled to Japan. And when you came back you home you bitterly realised nothing really had changed. Namjoon picked you up at the airport, took you for dinner to your favourite restaurant and back home fucked you so hard and unforgiving you couldn’t remember your own name anymore. He said he missed you and counted days to your arrival. Missed your face, your voice, your pussy wrapped around his cock. You climaxed with his name on your lips and with a promise for a new tomorrow that eventually didn’t come because the reality kicked in sooner than you had expected.

“Don’t you think it was a little bit impulsive of you to file for divorce?” Soojin asks, pulling you out of your thoughts. And you hate your little sister so much because she might be right. You’re definitely far from being all-out and determined about everything. “You know I will be always by your side, Y/N. It’s only your decision to make.” she adds after a moment, reaching to squeeze your hand.

“I know,” you sigh, reciprocating the gesture. “That’s why I need you to do me a favor.” 

“I’m all ears.” 

You take a deep breath before explaining your initial motives. “First of all, I won’t be at your Christmas dinner. Stop glaring at me like that!” you wail, seeing her expression. 

“Babe, do you know where–” Taehyung starts, entering the kitchen but he’s quickly cut off by his girlfriend.

“She won’t be at the dinner!” Soojin points her finger at you accusingly while Taehyung tries to hide his amused smile. He probably has overheard your hushed whispers even though Soojin had asked him not to.

“Oh? Why is that?” 

“Because I don’t want Namjoon to spend Christmas alone since he’s mother is on Maldives.” you answer.

Taehyung hums. “Fancy.”

“So you’re spending Chrismtas with Namjoon, right?” Soojin quips, making you nod. 

“I am. And that’s why I want to ask if you might share some of your food with me?” you hesitantly wonder and Soojin raises her eyebrows. “We are going to our parents’ cottage and we don’t have time to cook for ourselves.” you explain. She eyes you carefully and you know it’s seconds till she softens. “Please?”

Taehyung nudges her side. “Come on, babe. Let them eat something delicious before they eventually fuck as a final goodbye.”

“Taehyung, that’s not funny!” Soojin protests but her boyfriend only giggles in response. There’s a small smile dancing on your lips and when she locks her eyes with you, she reciprocates it. “Okay, fine. What do you need?” 

“What do you have?” you ask.

Soojin gestures for you to come closer to the kitchen counter and opens the fridge. ‘”I've already made bulgogi for Taehyung’s parents so I can give some of it to you. I also cooked kimchi and sweet potatoes. Oh, and those vegan cinnamon rolls. I will pack you a few.” she lists, while taking out the clean food containers from the cupboard.

“Thank you so much.” you breathe out.

“No big deal,” Taehyung assures, sending you a wink. “Although I’m a little bit sad you won’t come for the dinner. Maybe you should just take Namjoon here.” he suggests.

You shake your head. “No, we should spend some time alone, talk through some things and… stuff.” you trail off.

Taehyung wiggles his eyebrows. “And stuff,” 

“Jesus Christ,  Taehyung, let them be!” Soojin grumbles, packing the last container into a paper bag and handing it to you. “You owe me something huge for this.” she mumbles but you know she’s just bickering with you. Taehyung hugs her waist tightly from behind, placing his chin on her shoulder and you can help but coo at them.

“Once again, thank you for saving my ass. I gotta go now. Namjoon's waiting.” you say.

“I will walk you to the door,” Soojin proposes, unwrapping herself from Taehyung's arms.

“Bye, Taehyung. Merry Christmas!” You wave at him.

“Bye, Y/N, Merry Christmas! Say hi from me to Namjoon. Oh, and remember: use protect–ouch!” His words die on his tongue when he’s effectively nudged into his stomach with Soojin's elbow. 

Giggling under your breath, you shuffle into the hallway. You could sense your sister's eyes on your back while you’re putting on your coat and the moment you turn around, you find her staring at you with puzzled expression.

She sighs before saying, “Y/N, you’re my sister and you know I want the best for you and I will always support your decisions–don’t roll your eyes! I’m having an emotional speech right now,” she huffs, coming up to give you an affectionate hug. “Just please, promise me you won’t do anything reckless or stupid.” she mumbles into the material of your coat. 

You shut your eyes tightly. “I promise.” 

Soojin clears her throat and pulls away. She looks like she wants to say something more but chooses not to. You’re thankful for that. “Bye, big sis.” she says.

You smile. “Bye, kid.” 

You make your way to the car quickly, apologies already on your tongue when you shut the door behind you. “I’m sorry you had to wait so long.” 

Namjoon shakes his head. “It’s fine,” he assures. “How did Soojin's interrogation go?” 

“Surprisingly smoothly,” you answer. Smooth is an exaggeration here. It was bumby, with a lot of twists and turns but you made it through with even more conflicted mind and a bag full of food. “She gave me bulgogi.” you add, knowing pretty well what kind of reaction would it elite in Namjoon.

“God, please don’t say things like that. We still have some time before the dinner and I’m already salivating.” 

“Let’s go then.”

It’s been quite some time since you’ve been in your parents' holiday cottage. 

You didn’t have time to visist it during summer since you were too busy with setting up your own showroom in Seoul and Namjoon… Namjoon was always too caught up in work to have a free weekend. So the last time you’ve had a chance to spend time in their cottage was almost one year ago, in January, on your dad's 52th birthday. 

The road to the cottage takes about thirty minutes from the city. It’s situated near the small lake, hidden in a valley surrounded by forests from every side. You’ve always found the place charming and beautiful, ever since you were little with Soojin, when your parents decided to buy land there and built a small house on it. 

Your parents visist the cottage regularly, checking out and looking after everything. You had your eighteenth birthday party there. And your bachelorette night was also held there. 

You’re halfway through the distance when Namjoon decides to play some music. 

He turns on the radio connected to his spotify account and puts it on shuffle. When the first tunes of the song start playing, your face instantly flushes in pink.

It’s one of the songs you both included in your ‘sexy times' playlist as you jockingly named it back then when you lived in Namjoon's old apartment with walls too thin to properly mute the sounds of your moans and whimpers of pleasure which were by any means subtle while Namjoon was having his way with you during late hours of the night.

In the corner of your eye you see that Namjoon is as flustered as you are, quickly reaching to change the song but you stop him. “Don't!” He falters. Fucking hell, why did you say it so abruptly? Your blush deepens. “Leave it, please.” So he does. 

It’s a sensual melody, one of your favorite songs in general but you’ve never actually played it for yourself since you moved out from that apartment. It brings too many memories because if anything, sex with Namjoon has never been unsatisfactory and plain vanilla. He’s never left you unsatiate and thinking about those lustful moments makes you squirm in your seat, familiar butterflies flattering in your lower stomach. 

And from the clench of Namjoon's jaw and his tight grip on a steering wheel, you know he thinks about the same things as you do.

You wonder what flashes behind his eyelids now, because for you, it’s always him hovering above you, chest sweaty and heaving with every ragged breath he takes as he fucks you deep and with purpose. He’s rough but you like him that way, when he loses himself in you. It’s his hand on your throat, on your hips, bruising as he takes you from behind; marred in red skin on your asscheeks when you haven’t been behaving good enough. 

It’s him between your thighs, lavishing your cunt with his tongue until you're writhing and begging him to stop but he never listens, bringing you to immense ecstasy until tears well in your eyes and your voice is hoarse from screaming. 

It’s his hushed whispers in your ears leaving you bothered and breathless when you’re on some public event together, flithly promises he’s going to fulfill once you're home because the waiter was too flirty and you smiled at him too courteously. 

It’s him standing above you, pulling the belt from the loops until it lands on the floor along with his pants and you on your knees, taking his cock in your mouth to please him the best you could. It’s his fingers tangled in your hair, praising words on his lips because you’re such a good girl, always so good for me.

It’s Namjoon and his hands placed securely on your waist, chest flushed to your back when he spoons your spent body after another round of love making. It’s his soothing and calming voice in your ears when you drift off to sleep with his love confessions and gentle touches on your bare skin.

It’s him and you’re scared it will always be only him. The song changes into another and you hope he doesn’t hear the shaky breath you let out. You don't say anything else for the rest of the ride.

“And here we are.”  

A thirty minutes long ride has never been more drawn-out than now. Exiting the car, you promise yourself you’re gonna do everything in your power to make this twenty-four hours bearable and not as awkward as your drive here was.  

Once the car is parked, Namjoon opens the trunk and takes out your bags from it along with the cardboard box with Christmas decorations. You scurry to help him but he sends you back with a small smile. “It’s okay. Go and open the door, I’ll get this.”  

Inside the cottage you’re immediately met with chilly air so the first thing you do after putting Christmas food from Soojin on the kitchen counter is taking care of the fireplace. It’s a new addition to the living room's design, your parents new investment in biofuel energy, or something.  

Glancing through the window, you see Namjoon carrying the Christmas tree into the house and soon it’s standing right in the middle of the room in its full glory.  

Namjoon claps his hands. “Let’s do it, shall we?” he asks, reaching to the cardboard box and pulling out the first item that caught his attention: a golden, glass bauble. But before he could hang it on the tree, it slips from his hands and lands on the floor, shattered into pieces.  

“Shit,” Namjoon mutters, crunching down to pick up the mess he’s made.

“Don’t touch it, you’ll cut yourself!”  

He stops abruptly and you can clearly distinguish the redness on his cheeks. “Yeah, you’re probably right.” he says sheepishly.

“We should start with the lights,” You take them out from the box and start to untangle. “Okay?”

There’s a small smile on Namjoon lips when he nods his head and helps you put them on the tree. Half an hour later, your collaborative job on decorating the Christmas tree is almost done. The final touch is the golden star you’re trying to attach to the tip without success, until you feel a strong pair of arms wrapped around your waist and lifting you up.  

You let out a surprised squeak at that, putting the star quickly on it’s right place. Once your feet touch the floor, you turn around just to be met with Namjoon smiling down at you softly. “Good job,” he comments, pointing at the tree. If he sees your flustered state, he doesn’t let you feel it. “We should prepare for the dinner. It’s getting late.” he adds and before you could say anything else, he exits the room and disappears in the hallway.  

“Y/N?” Namjoon calls out, entering the kitchen. You whip your head to look at him and can’t help but stare. He’s wearing a plain, blue button-up shirt which sleeves are rolled up and revealing his forearms. He must have taken a shower because his honey blond hair still looks a little bit damp at the roots and when he comes closer to you, you feel the unmistakable musk of his cologne. It’s still the same one he uses after you bought him it some time ago.  

“Yes?”  

You’re dressed in red just like you were three years ago when you first met in that damned ballroom and it’s really ironic, he thinks. Your probably last civilised meeting being like this, a celebratory Christmas dinner made by your sister in a holiday cottage away from the town.  

Whatever he wanted to ask you dies on his tongue the moment he hears your phone buzzing on the counter, your mum's contact number popping up on the screen.  

You exhale loudly. “God have mercy,” you mutter, picking up the phone. “Yes, mom?” you say and instantly roll your eyes at the sound of your mother’s rambling from the othe side. We'll talk later, you mouth to him, leaving the kitchen.

Namjoon curses under his breath and against every fiber of his being, he takes a few step closer to where you stand in the hallway, staring out of the window, back facing him.  

“No, mom, I’m not at Soojin's,” you say to the phone. “I’m with Namjoon. We are having a Christmas dinner at your cottage.”  

You’re silent for a moment, listening to whatever your mum is telling you but Namjoon, even in the dim lighting illuminating from the living room could see you’re tense.

“On Maldives,” you answer. She has probably asked you about his mother, as he supposes. “Mom, I told you to stop asking me this. It’s not your decision to make.”  

You take a deep breath before adding, “It’s Christmas. I don’t want to talk about this right now, please.” He knows what you mean by ‘this’. He doesn’t want to think about what future is going to bring either.  

Your mother can be too much sometimes and he knows it. He’s stood up and defended you in front of her more than once. Responded cleverly and calmly to her every question about kids. And when she met him for a coffee to talk about the divorce, he simply said he didn’t plan to get you in the way, which probably wasn’t the answer she’d wanted to hear.

“Okay,” you breathe out, nodding. “Love you. Tell dad I love him too. Bye.”  

You hung up with a sigh.

Namjoon quickly shuffles to the living room, fishing out his phone and pretending he’s been scrolling through it the whole time. When you enter the room, he’s eyes look up at you.  

“How was it?” he asks matter-of-factly.

“You know how my mother is sometimes,” you trail off.

“Yeah,” Namjoon nods. ‘’Too much.”  

You smile and Namjoon could actually seen in you right now the girl he’s fallen in love with three years ago. You glance at the clock hanging on the wall and say, “I think we can begin.”  

“Do the honors.” 

The dinner has gone by smoothly. You felt normal, like nothing ever happened and you start wondering if Namjoon isn’t doing all of this just for old times sake. He can’t be, another voice in your head is saying, he isn’t doing anything extraordinary for him: he’s just him, the same guy who proposed to you with plastic ring and quit his beloved addiction so you could agree to marrying him.

You’re sitting on a couch right now, your favourite Christmas movie (it’s Holiday; your love for Jude Law has never died down since you were a teenager) playing in the background. It was your silly tradition, to watch them every year like those basic couples do. You both know by heart the ‘to me you’re perfect' scene from Love Actually and it never fails to make you laugh when Namjoon recites the lines so dramatically.  

You’re sitting so close to him you could feel the warmth radiating from his body, your shoulders brushing with every breath or chuckle he lets out and you find yourself wanting to lean into him more. You wish he wrapped his arm around you, pulled you closer, kissed you on the temple and assured everything would be perfectly fine. But it isn’t.

Nicole Kidman has already landed in Los Angeles when you feel Namjoon shifting next you. He takes something out of his pants' pocket, nudging your side in process so you peek at him. You know he wants to say something but doesn’t have an idea how to start, you’ve been with him too long not to recognize the way he wets his lips and rubs his hands on his thighs as the sign of his nervousness. Which makes you jittery as well.

When he finally decides to shoot, Cameron Diaz meets drunk Jude Law for the first time.  

“Y/N?” he says to get your attention because he doesn’t know you’ve been more than aware this whole time.  

“Yes?”  

You’re breathless and you don’t even know why. It’s Namjoon, for God’s sake, your own husband, who won’t be one soon, the voice in your head adds.  

“I know we agreed on not giving gifts to each other for Christmas but this isn’t actually a gift. I mean… It was a gift once but now it kinda isn’t so technically I’m not breaking an agreement,” He's rumbling. A sight he’s definitely on edge.

Before you could stop yourself, you place your hand on his thigh. It’s a gentle manner, an affectionate touch meant to soothe his nerves. He raises his eyebrows at that, staring at your hand absentmindedly tracking patterns on his leg. You withdraw your hand awkwardly.

Your gaze lands on Namjoon's palm. He’s clutching something in his fist. With a deep exhale he opens it and then you see it: the charm you lost some time ago and haven’t found till now.  

It’s a simple, cheesy infinity sign, a gift from him to you. He decided to give it to you this when he saw the bracelet on your wrist and ask you what’s the story behind it, so you told him. Your parents gifted the piece of jewelry to you on your 18th birthday. Then they, including Soojin, bought you charms to complete it. A clover from your dad, a heart from your mum and a star from your sister. And a few days after you shared this with Namjoon, the infinity sign has found its place on the bracelet.

One day you realised the piece he gave you is missing. You searched through the whole house but you couldn’t find it. Ironically, everything seemed to crumble down from the moment you had lost it. And here it lies now, on Namjoon's open palm.

“Cleaning lady found it in my office. It was underneath my desk.”  

“I don’t know what to say,” you blurt out.

“It’s okay, you don’t need to say anything. You can wear it or not, I just wanted you to have it back.”  

He lays the charm on your palm and for a brief moment you hesitate before asking him, “Can you–?” gesturing to your wrist.  

“Sure.”  

He attaches the piece to your bracelet in it’s former, rightful place and there’s a soft smile dancing on his lips. It’s laced with melancholy, making your insides clench uncomfortably. On the screen Graham and Amanda make out and you know there’s something heavy in the air, unspoken words and conversation you should hold but don’t know how to start.

It’s Namjoon who takes the mattress into his own hands this time.

“Do you think we could be friends after all of this will be done?”  

The question surprises you. You don’t have a clever answer for that because the future is always uncertain. You don’t even know if you’re making a right decision. You just believe you do.

Maybe joking isn’t the best thing to do now but it’s your shitty defence mechanism against facing the true. You decide to play it cool. “I don’t know about us but I’m sure my dad won’t stop inviting you to play chess with him.” You chuckle.

It doesn’t seem to amuse Namjoon much, his smile doesn’t reach his eyes. You clear your throat, avoiding his persistent gaze. That certainly hasn’t been a good thing to say to ease the tension.  

“Your mum insisted me for a coffee two weeks ago. To talk.” he says suddenly.

You purse your lips. “What did you talk about?”  

“About us. About the divorce,” The movie is playing in the background but you don’t pay attention to it anymore. What’s the most crucial is right here in front of you, in the person of your future ex husband. “She asked me to convince you not to do it. Said you’re irrational and mentioned something about you always making important decisions hastily.”  

You roll your eyes. This is so typical of your mother to say something like that. “And what did you say to her?” you ask, afraid of his answer.  

“That it’s only your choice to make and I’m not going to stop you if that’s what you want.”  

Your breath hitches. Some part of you really wants him to put up a fight. You spent countless hours wondering why isn’t he doing that until it finally hits you like a whiplash: Namjoon has never, ever in his life disrespected your decision. He might not be on the same page as you but he will never beg you to change your mind. That’s his manifest of the love he has for you.

“Namjoon–” you begin but you don’t even know what you’re going to say to that. Fortunately, he cuts you off.

“Don’t pity me right now, Y/N. Let me talk, please.” He's never addressed the divorce directly and even if you’ve been dying these past weeks to find out what’s on his mind, right now, sitting in front of him when you’re both vulnerable, you aren’t sure of anything. “When I read that papers for the first time I thought it's some kind of a cruel joke, you know? But then the seriousness of this hit me and I was like: fuck, it’s really happening, isn’t it?” he says, chuckling bitterly to himself. “I knew it was bad but I hoped that we could figure it out together somehow and the sun will rise again as it always does after the storm. But I guess I was wrong.”  

He pauses and you looks down at his hands. They’re shaking and you fight an urge to take them into yours. “So at first, I was mad at you. I was so, so angry I couldn’t even think straight and I started blaming you for this. I bought a pack of cigarettes and lighted up one but I never finished it. I threw the whole pack into the trash can.” He lets out a long sigh. You’re feeling like the whole air has been sucked out of this room, your heart racing with anticipation of his next words.  

“A part of me wanted to pick the sword and fight. But then, one night a few days after I read the papers, I was in my office. I sat there staring at the wall and thinking through everything. And that was when I decided it’s all my fault we are in this kind of situation. You laid it all in front me and I still couldn’t fucking believe I am the problem.”  

You’re shaking your head because no, it’s not like this, it isn’t only his doing, but he doesn’t let you speak. “You’re so special, Y/N. You make the world revolve around you. I envy you,” Namjoon says, making you furrow your brows in confusion. “You’re pursuing your dreams and you managed to do all of this on your own. There was no family business you were destined to run like I am. All I do is sit in my father’s chair and try not to fuck up everything he’s built so far. And you, Y/N,” He faces you fully, staring at you with so much love and adoration you want to look away. But you can’t. “You’re so much more than this. And now I know I was just holding you back. But I love you enough to let you go.”  

You’re loss for words. Before Namjoon could register what is happening, your hands are on his cheeks and you’re kissing him.  

You’re kissing him until you lose you breath, until you both can’t think straight and you’re drinking from each other’s mouths like you’ve been thristing for it for years. Namjoon tastes like the red wine you drank earlier and something only akin to him.  

He’s surprised at first, not really comprehending it’s your mouth slotted over his, your breath mingling with his. It takes a sharp intake of air from you to him to sprang into action. He kisses you fiercely, like he’s been dying and your lips where the only cure which could heal him. He sighs into your mouth like he’s finally feeling relieved. Like you’re his savior.  

When his hands find purchase on your waist, you feel like you’re grounded after floating in the air for so long. Kissing Namjoon feels like home and you’re scared you will never going to experience this kind of halcyon ever again.  

It’s Namjoon who breaks off the kiss first. He’s breathless, panting against your swollen lips and his eyes are shimmering. “God, Y/N,” He sounds pained, like he’s holding onto the last straw of his sanity. ‘’Please, let me have you one last time. I need you so bad, baby.”  

He never begs but here he is, shaking and vulnerable, with his hands gripping you so tightly like he’s afraid you’re going to disappear the second he’ll let go. You’re nodding frantically at his words and he dives for your lips again. He doesn’t ask you to use your words like he usually does when you’re both in the mood to play. It’s raw and pure passion when he opens the seam of your mouth with his tongue, when he urges your body to lay back on the couch so he could hover over you.  

It’s been long, too long, since he’s seen you like this; keening when his teeth graze your throat and whimpering when he sucks the skin in between harshly and you know it’ll blossom rich red the next morning.  

Your hands move on their own accord, reaching to fumble with the buttons of his shirt to feel the warmth of his skin underneath your fingertips. When the garment pops open you can’t help but run your palms over smooth expanses of Namjoon's chest, digging into every ridge and deep of the flesh so you feel him tense under your touch.  

He detaches himself from your neck and takes off the shirt, dropping it carelessly on the floor. Sitting on his knees and straddling your waist, he looks down at you with hooded eyes. “Take of your dress,” he commands and you hurry to obey him. You missed this side of him, his deep voice that never fails to make you squirm in pleasure and anticipation of his next move.  

You get up from the couch, pulling the zipper of your dress down and letting the material fall to the floor with light thud. You don’t know why you’re suddenly feeling self-conscious, standing in front of Namjoon only in your linegerie. He’s seen you exposed like this many times before yet something about the way his eyes roam your body makes you bite your lip. It’s an expensive set and you’re suddenly aware he was the one who had bought you it. You wonder if he remembers that.  

He gestures for you to come closer and with an unexpected boost of confidence you step out of the dress pooled around your ankles and move to straddle his lap. His hands immadietly find purchase on your waist and you wrap yours around his neck, leaning to kiss him.

He groans when your teeth graze his bottom lip and you feel him squeezing your sides tightly. “You’re so beautiful,” he mumbles into your mouth, making the corners of your lips lift up in a smile. “Let me take care of you, baby.”  

Something swells in your lower regions at that. A sheer want and crimson desire for him to claim you as his for the one last time.

Namjoon reaches to unclasp your bra but he stops with his fingers brushing just underneath the material. “Can I?” he asks gently. No matter how many times he’s fucked you, how many times he's brought you to the brick of pleasure until you were screaming, he’s always waiting for you to grant him consent first.

“Yes.” It’s the confirmation he needs to unclasp it, letting the straps fall to your shoulders and free your breasts to his wandering hands.

One of the things you’ve learnt about Namjoon during years of sleeping with him is that he’s boobs man. So it doesn’t come as a surprise to you when his palms engulf your mounds, squeezing them gently.  

Soon he’s leaning closer, taking one of your nipples into the hot crevice of his mouth and bitting down on it so you let out a small noise of content. The angle is awkward but he doesn’t seem to care, sucking the hardened bud until you’re writhing in his lap, threading your fingers through his hair and tugging slightly on the roots.  

“Namjoon, please,” you whimper, feeling his fingers brushing the waistband of your panties. You’re rubbing yourself against the bulge that has formed in his pants, needing more, always more of him because you know he’s up to please.

He pulls out from your nipple with light pop sound. “What do you want, baby?” he prompts; the chilly air in the room washes over your bare body and you shudder from the sensation, your core getting wetter with each passing second.

“Want you to touch me.”  

“Yeah? Want me to touch your pretty pussy with my fingers?”  

You nod, shutting your eyes tightly when his palms find the inside of your thighs where you need him the most, where you’re throbbing with the desire for him to touch you.  

He runs his index finger through the material of your underwear where you’re sure a wet spot has formed already. “Answer me,” Namjoon demands and his other hand squeezes your hip harder. There’s a part of you wanting to play with him a little, push his strings to the point he has no choice but put you in your place, bend carelessly over his lap and make you count till he forgives.  

But today, it’s not time for that.

You whimper. It’s actually funny how single touch of his combined with his autorative tone can make such a mess of you in span of minutes. “Joon, please,” you moan, bucking your hips into his hand. ‘’Touch me with your fingers.”  

Namjoon smirks in response. “Open your legs wider for me, baby.” You do as you’re told, exposing yourself to him. He hums, pulling the material of your panties to the side. “Fuck, you’re dripping. Is this all for me?” A part of him is disgusted for wanting you to know he’s the only one who can make you like this. It’s ugly possessiveness but he needs you to say it. Needs you to admit it.

“All for you. Always for you, Joon–please,” It’s a breathless plea on your lips that makes him dig his fingers into your wetness. He runs his long digits through your slick folds, thumb circling your clit and you mewl, biting your lip in favor to contain yourself from moaning shamelessly aloud so soon. Namjoon however doesn’t like that idea.  

“Don’t hold back, baby. Let me hear you.”  

His middle finger prods at your entrance and you gasp when he pushes it inside, immediately adding second to the mix and curling them up just right, making your walls clench around them. His thumb still abuses your sensitive nub and you’re whimpering incoherently as he toys with your pussy with practiced ease.  

You open your eyes to look at him but his sight is solemnly focused on the way his fingers are sinking into your cunt, bringing you closer and closer to edge until you are actually feeling the coil in your lower stomach tightening. But when you’re about to cry out in pleasure, it all stops abruptly.

Namjoon withdraws his hand from your pussy, placing a small kiss on your pouty mouth briefly, as if he’s apologizing for you denied release. You watch him bring his fingers to his pillowy lips, groaning as his tongue tastes your juices.

“Fuck, you’re so sweet, baby. Wanna taste your pretty pussy.”  

Your face grows hot at his dirty words. Namjoon's filthy mouth is something that never has never failed to turn you on. He knows what to say to get you going, to make a shiver run down your spine and insides tighten.

He mannevrous your body so you’re laying back on the couch again with him hovering above you. He takes off your soiled panties and tosses it on the floor.

“Spread your legs.”  

You oblige, revealing your dripping center to his hungry eyes. You don’t even have time to shy away from his intense stare because he wastes no time and dives in, lowering himself to bury his head between your thighs. He licks the first strip up your folds and locks his clouded in lust eyes with you. You almost come right there on the spot just from the sight of his plush lips covered in your slick.

He eats you out like a man starved, teasing your clit with the tip of his tongue and sucking it into his mouth obscenely loud, making you moan out  in pleasure. You aren’t even holding back now, lifting your hips to chase your high but he effectively pins you down in place with his palms sprawled on your hips.  

He laps up your slit, tongue dipping briefly inside your hole and causing more of your wetness to gush out. “Fuck, I could eat you out all day. You taste so good, baby.” he groans, sinking two of his digits into you until he’s knuckle-deep, hitting your sweet spot with every scissoring movement of his fingers.  

You cry out, lacing your fingers through his locks and tugging harsher than you’ve anticipated when his tongue flicks your clit. “Joon, fuck–please, wanna cum.” He starts pounding his fingers lewdly into you faster at that, dragging it through your velvet folds until you're writhing. “Oh, God. P-please.”

“You’re so perfect, baby. Such a good girl. Let go for me.” he murmurs against your pussy, pushing you into your upcoming release.

Your vision blurr and you’re coming undone on his fingers and tongue, breathing heavily. Namjoon doesn’t stop though. He wraps his lips around your abused clit again, lapping your wetness greedily until you’re shaking from oversensitivity.

“N-namjoon–stop, I can’t,” you whine, shaking your head. Tears well in your eyes, hands fisting by your sides.

But Namjoon's doesn’t listen to your pleading cries. He’s ravenous and loves seeing you desperate like this more than anything. “Give me another one, baby. I know you can,” he breaths out. “Show me this pussy belongs to me.”

His onslaught on your cunt and crude words push you over the edge for the second time and you’re spilling all over his mouth again, screaming out his name.  

He waits for you to calm down from your high, rubbing soothing circles on your sides. When you finally open your eyes, you see him smiling down at you, lips and chin covered in your juices he messily wipes with the back of his hand. He leans to kiss you, tongue lacing with yours until you’re tasting yourself on it. He swallows your moans, reaching to fumble with his belt buckle.

Pulling back from the kiss, he stands up to discard the rest of his clothes on the floor. You can see him in his full glory now. You take him in, from his neck and collarbones, through the taunt muscles of his abdomen and prominent v line to the trimmed hairline where you see his cock, hard and leaking precum against his stomach. Your mouth salivates at the sight.

He crawls over you, pumping himself as his eyes roam your nude, pliable body. Your hand stretches to replace his with your own and he lets you do it.  Smearing his creamy release all over his length, you keep stroking him like this. Namjoon groans at that, throwing his head back.  

You sit up on your knees but before you could take him into your mouth, he stops you. “As much as I want to see you with my cock in your pretty mouth, I need to be inside you now.” Buds of sweat dribble down his forehead and you know he’s holding himself back from flipping you on your stomach and fucking you into next week.

You scoot back and lay yourself, watching as he runs the tip of his dick through your dripping slit. He hisses at the sensation, looking up at you, pupils blown out with lust. “Beg for it, Y/N,” he says, voice deepening. “I want to hear you begging for my cock.”

“Please, Joon,” you mewl, moaning when his tip taps your clit.

He doesn’t seem to be satisfied with your answer, biting the inside of his cheek. “Please, what?” He leans closer, until his forehead is touching yours. “Say it.” he demands.

“Please, fuck me,” Your palms cup his cheeks, breath fanning over his parted mouth. It’s pure desire mixed with desperation when you utter your next words. “Fuck me so hard I can’t think straight, make me forget all of this. Please, Namjoon.”  

He doesn’t need to hear anything more. He pushes himself inside you until he’s buried to the brim; your warm, wet walls letting him slide into you easily. You gasp, eyes squeezing shut.

“Shit,” Namjoon curses, closing his eyes as well. His face confronts in both pleasure in pain and you know he’s trying hard no to pound into you. He waits few bits of ragged breaths for you to adjust and starts moving. The first drag of his cock through your walls sends you into frenzy and you moan wantonly when he hits you right there when you want him the most. “You’re so tight, baby. So good, just for me, yeah?” he slurs, picking up his pace.  

You nod, lips choking out, “Just for you.” and eyes rolling back in pleasure.

He groans at your words, hands fighting purchase on either sides of your head. You feel so fucking full, his cock plunging into you faster and faster with each passing second. His eyes dip down where his body ends and yours begin, watching himself disappear into your cunt.  

“God, I’m gonna miss this so fucking much,” he blurts out before he could stop himself, in a moment of careless ecstasy he’s delivering to the both of you. It slips from his lips roughly and hits you right in the guts but you can’t let yourself dwell in this. Not now.  

Now it’s just you and him fucking you into oblivion you’re oh so much craving.

His face falls to the crook of your neck, kissing, biting and sucking every inch of skin he could find as if he’s trying to embed his mark on you forever. Like he foolishly thinks you’ll stay his and only his after all of this will be done.

Namjoon speeds up, thrusting his dick into you in what seems as an animalistic pace now, hammering into your sweet spot with every slam of his hips, making you see stars behind your closed eyelids. He lift up his head to stare at your face.

“Look at me, baby,” he murmurs, engulfing your cheek in his palm. His thumb traces your bottom lip, your eyes snapping open at his command. Your tongue laps at his finger until he pushes it inside your mouth, groaning when he feels you sucking on it. “You’re so fucking beautiful like this, so hot–fuck. You take me so well.” he nothing but growls, sliding his hand from your face down your body, until it reaches the apex of your thighs.

Fingers finding your clit, he smirks when he hears you moan his name. “You like that?” he asks, voice sounding almost mocking but you’re keening, nodding frantically. “Want me to make you cum?”  

“Yes, yes! P-please, Joonie,”  

“I got you, baby. Come for me.”  

You’re orgasming the third time this night, even harder than before, clutching onto his arms like they’re your lifeline. He fucks you through this, pushing you past the uncomfortable oversensitivity. You feel his hips loosening their rhythm, thrusting into you sloppily and chasing his own high.

He drops his forehead onto yours, lips hovering inches from kissing yours. “I love you so fucking much,” he chockes out and you feel something wet staining your cheek. Looking up, you find him staring at you with the same kind of fondness he’s been giving you during these past years. It’s Namjoon, your Namjoon who’s never disrespected your choice, who always gives you the part of himself he’s afraid to show to the whole world.

Before you could register what’s happening, you’re sobbing into his mouth, “I love you too,” and kissing him to the point you’re both breathless. You feel his dick twitch and then he’s spilling inside you, coating your walls with his seed in white.

You stay like that for a while, basking in post-orgasmic bliss. You’re rubbing soothing touches on Namjoon's back till he eventually pulls out from you. His cum dribbles down your thighs and you wince when you feel him cleaning you up with your ruined panties. Then, Namjoon puts on his boxers and helps you wear his dress shirt and button it up.

He picks you up from the couch without a word and carries to the bedroom. He lays you down onto the mattress, taking his place behind you. He throws the comforter over your bare bodies, snuggling closer to your back. You feel his breath on your neck, warm and comforting.

He places a small kiss on your shoulder and exhales shakily. “You’re the best thing that have ever happened to me, Y/N,” he whispers hoarsely. “I’m gonna miss you so much.”  

You don’t answer him because you’re afraid of what you might say. Your throat constricts and tears involuntarily spill from your eyes, coating your cheeks in wetness. Namjoon's arm tightens around you and for the first time since you’ve given him those damned papers, he’s laying next to you like this, chest pressed flush to your back.

When his breath slows down after a while, you let yourself cry to sleep. You dream about a boy smoking a cigarette on a bench in front of an old manor.

It’s the sunshine who wakes you up the next morning.

The first thing you think about his that someone has seemed to forget to shut the curtains out for the night. It’s definitely too bright for your liking so you narrow your eyes as soon as they're met with the light.  Blinking heavily, you realise where exactly are you. You don't remember you walls being wooden. It’s not your apartment. Which means you're in one of the many rooms in your parents' holiday cottage.  

Turning away from the window, you’re faced with Namjoon's bare back. He always sleeps without his shirt on, no matter how cold sometimes it can be. He’s like a human equivalent of a heater. You observe the steady rise and fall of his body and listen to his quiet snoring. It’s something comforting in this and you find yourself seeking his warmth. You shuffle closer to him but then you stop abruptly.

It all hits you like a tsunami.

The dinner, your talk about the divorce, heated confessions and whispered I love yous with tear strained cheeks. His body against yours as he fucked you hard and unforgiving. It was silly for you to let yourself indulge but you couldn’t help but grant his one last wish. His arms around you when you were drifting off to sleep, his pained voice when he was murming sweet nothings to your ears.

And now he’s right next to you, as he’s been there forever, deep in unaware slumber where the reality of your life is nonexistent. You’re wondering what he dreams about.

Suddenly you’re brought back in time to one morning three years ago when you were still newlyweds, still trying to get used to being tied together for life. It was one of your last mornings in Namjoon’s old apartment. After a round of passionate love making, both of you laid in each other's arms on the bed. Young, foolish and so in love you’ve never wanted to leave the embrace of his firm and protective hold on your body.  

“Can I ask you something?”  

Namjoon hummed hearing your voice, fingers brushing your shoulders with absentminded, affectionate manner and pressing into tight knots from time to time, easing the tension.  

You took a deep breath, your digits playing with your wedding ring underneath the sheets. “How do you think our first big argument will look like?” you asked.

You felt Namjoon's body shaking with laughter as he hide his face in your hair, inhaling the sweet scent of your shampoo. “Why are you even asking me this? Do you want me to get mad at you? Do I have a reason?” There was a slight teasing lilt to his voice and you knew he was smirking.

“Namjoon,” you whined.  

“I know I have to put the dishes into the dishwasher after using them. And I swear I’m not going to use your hair conditioner ag–‘’

“Joon, I’m serious.” you huffed and he stopped because of the seriousness of your voice.

“Okay, okay. Go on, elaborate on that.”  

You sighed, scrunching your eyebrows. You didn’t even know how to vocalize your thoughts. A part of you was aware how irrational and probably ridiculous you sounded but it was Namjoon. He was the closest person to you. He would never judge you and always listen to what you wanted to say.

“You know, recently I read those statistics about people under twenty five getting married…”

“Oh, God, Y/N. I’m someone who deals with statistics on daily basis. How many times do I have to remind you they’re not always relevant?” Namjoon interrupted.  

You elbowed his side. “Let me finish!” you pouted, earning a kiss on your crown in response and muffled ‘sorry, babe’. “Basically they say the younger you get married, the possibility of having a divorce is higher.” you explained.  

“So you’re trying to say that we fit in those statistics?”  

“I didn’t mean that!” you protested. It wasn’t the case. This stupid article was just a something that made you start wondering.  “It’s just… I’m scared, Joon. Of our future, what it will bring to us. We got married so early and I know the first crisis will come to us eventually but what will we do then?” you asked, voice quivery.

Namjoon was silent for a moment, until he spoke again. “Are you asking me what would I do if we got into an argument?”  

You nodded shyly. 

Namjoon squeezed your hand as he was saying with it he was here to hold onto when you needed him. “It’s okay if you’re scared, baby. I am too. But I can assure you that no matter what happens between us, I will do everything in my power to fix that,” he said. “I love you, Y/N. Back then in that ballroom when we first met I knew you were going be my wife one day. And I promised myself that if I ever felt like I was hurting you, I would let you go and be free.”  

You pouted. “I don’t wanna lose you, dummy. Stop saying you will hurt me!”  

He chuckled. “There are always good and bad days when you’re in love with someone. But they say the sun will rise again even after the biggest storm, right? If you love someone enough, you will overcome all those crisis you were talking about. And change the statistics. ” he said, making you chuckle at his last remark. “I can’t ask you to never leave me but promise me you will always do whatever makes you happy. Okay?”

He lifted his pinky finger and you brought yours, linking them together in a cute, silly manner. “I promise.” you murmured.

Now, laying on your back and staring at the ceiling,  you realise how wrong you were this whole time.

It’s Namjoon who’s making you happy. You can’t let your first, big crisis take him away from you because he thinks you’ll be better without him. Fuck the statistics, fuck everything honestly. You’re having the world by your feet when he’s with you, and you’re not going to give up on that so easily.  

He is your first love and you’re not letting him leave you so easily.

Standing on wobbly legs from the bed, you make your way to the kitchen. You have a plan in your head and you hopefully will manage to succeed.

You stop in your tracks by the mirror hanging on the wall, staring at your reflection. You definitely like you’ve had a rough night. There are smudges of mascara underneath your eyes because you haven’t removed your makeup before going to sleep and your hair’s a mess. There are splotches of red and violet covering the skin of your neck and cleavage and you’re more than aware now that Namjoon's shirt you’re wearing isn’t buttoned properly.

After washing your face in the bathroom, you enter the kitchen. You pull out from the fridge all the groceries you bought yesterday with Namjoon with purpose to make a breakfast the next day after Chrimstas Eve and start cooking.  

You’re going to make your husband's favourite French toast.

Both of you have never been master chefs at cooking, in most cases choosing to eat out in the city or simply order something for dinner but breakfasts have always been something you are celebrating together in your house. And you can proudly admit you’re better than making them than your dear husband.

However, stress is a factor that makes you feel paralyzed in various kinds of situations so before you could blink an eye, you’re smelling something burning. You jump in horror, dropping the teaspoon on to the floor with loud clicking sound. There it is, Namjoon's French toast laying on your pan utterly inedible.

“Fuck!” you curse, sitting on a stool by the kitchen island and burying your face in hands.

Tears well in your eyes. For once you’ve wanted to do something right and here you are, crying over burnt toast because you have no time to make another one and Namjoon's probably already up–

“Good mornin–baby, what’s wrong? What happened?”  

Namjoon's soft, a little raspy voice startles you. Your heart swells hearing the petname he's addressed you. Lifting your face up, you’re met with his worried expression.  

He looks so normal. Like in every single morning you’ve spent together. He’s wearing his favourite, blue pajama pants and a plain, white tshirt. He hasn’t even put on eye contacts yet, choosing to wear his glasses instead that have successfully made you feel weak in the knees a few times before.

“Why are you crying?” he asks. You sniffle, gesturing with your hand to the kitchen counter where still lays the burnt toast. Namjoon follows your line of sight, furrowing his eyebrows. “I don’t understand.”  

You let out a shaky sigh, trying to calm down your breathing. “I wanted to make you a b-breakfast. And I fucked up as always because I burnt your favourite French toast.” you stammer out before another fresh wave of sobs racks through your body.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Namjoon crunches down in front of you, placing his hand on your bare knee and rubbing the skin in soothing manner meant to calm your nerves. Just like you did to him last night when he tried to confess his feelings about the divorce. “It’s okay. We can make another one together.”  

“But I wanted to do that just for you!” 

Namjoon shakes his head and you could see a small smile dancing on his lips. “Silly, why were you so determined to make me a breakfast?” 

“Because that’s what you deserve,” you say firmly.

“I deserve to have a good breakfast?” he teases. 

You angrily wipe the tears off your cheeks. “You deserve everything!” you exclaim, making Namjoon raise his eyebrows in confusion. “You’re always so good to me, Joonie. This Christmas made me realise just how much you care about me. I can’t let you agree to the divorce so easily,” 

“What do you mean?” 

You stand up from the stool and he follows you, towering over your form. You feel small but in a good way. You feel safe. “There will be no divorce. I’m not going to leave you.” 

Namjoon cups your cheeks and he’s grinning like a fool but he needs you to say it. So he begs. “Please, tell me why is that.” 

Your lips are already touching his when you whisper, “Because I love you. And I don’t think I will ever find someone quite like you, Joon.” 

And then he’s kissing you. Your teeth clash but you don’t care, standing on your toes to mould your mouths together in better angle. He lifts you up from the floor with ease, swirling your bodies around. You’re laughing together and he isn’t even ashamed there is a tear or two running down his cheeks.

When he places you on the ground again, he knows he isn’t dreaming. He’s just living his dream life, with you by his side. 

“I love you too.” 

And just like that, your history together starts again.

Bonus: 

“We made up with Namjoon.” 

You hear your sister shriek on the other side. “Oh my God, I can’t believe you actually banged. You’re nasty, Y/N.” 

“It wasn’t like that! I’m telling you we aren’t getting a divorce and the only thing you can think about is us having sex?” 

But Soojin isn’t listening to you anymore. You hear her shouting, “Taehyung, they fucked and now they aren’t getting a divorce!” 

“Soojin-ah!” you wail.

Taehyung's faint voice reaches your eyes. “I told you they would make up. You owe me fifty!” 

“You made a bet?!” you exclaim.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. Ghhh-shh. The connection is-shh-bad! I don’t hear-shhh-you! Bye!” She hangs up before you could say anything else. 

Entering the kitchen, you’re met with your husband, casually sipping on his coffee. He lifts his eyebrows when he sees you and asks, “How's your little sister? Is she planning to rip off my balls?”  

“Nope. But I’m changing my statement about her. She’s evil.” you say, sitting on a stool next to him.  

“Glad we’re on the same page, baby.”

[sambergscott]

your son is going to love you

Summary: Peralta dads are cursed, destined to have terrible relationships with their sons. When Jake finds out *he's* going to have a son, he spirals. Amy helps.

goes without saying that if you haven’t watched 7x10 yet maybe don’t read this

She wakes up at 2am needing to pee.

She’s been waking up needing to pee a lot lately.

It’s like their baby has no respect for her sleeping pattern, perfectly honed over the years to maximise productivity, while still fitting in the full 8 hours of sleep needed a day. Their baby doesn’t care about the 8 hour recommendation, he laughs in the face of scientists. With the bad back and heart burn and constant kick, kick, kicking of her bladder, she’s averaging 4.7. She thought babies didn’t start keeping you up all night until they were born but, oh, how wrong she was.

She pats her husband to wake him up and come keep her company. If she’s awake because of their baby, then damn it, he’s going to be awake, too. But he’s not there, leaving her hand awkwardly patting a bare mattress.

“Jake?” She murmurs groggily, sitting up and switching on her bedside lamp. She’s half-expecting him to be sitting in the armchair playing Mario Party on his Switch (he has become a little bit addicted in the last few months and it wouldn’t be the first time she’s found him trying to beat Wario in the early hours of the morning) or have left a note beside her bed that he had a lead on a case and needed to go in with a scribbled ‘love you’ underneath and a lopsided heart. The armchair is empty, but there’s a light on down the hall and since there’s no way she forgot to turn it off before bed (she triple checks), she figures that it must be Jake.

Forgetting the whole reason why she woke up in the first place, she grabs Jake’s hoodie from the floor for warmth and pads into their living-kitchen-dining area. It’s the open plan-ness that made her fall in love with the apartment upon first visit and submit all her paperwork as soon as she was out the door. It’s the open plan-ness that would make the Property Brothers proud and the dumb people who go on that show foam at the mouth with jealousy. It’s the open plan-ness that allows her to see her husband straight away, snacking on the unfinished party food.

(Apparently people don’t feel like eating after a man cuts his thumb off and spurts blood everywhere. Who’d have thought?)

There’s a weird, pensive look on his face that draws her towards him.

“You OK, babe?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine,” he responds. He pops a tomato from the salad bowl in his mouth, then another, then another.

She narrows her eyes. He never eats tomatoes unless they’re in ketchup or on top of a famous Sal’s pizza. Something is wrong.

She thinks back on their day, mentally rewinding the events from waking up to the morning briefing to their private sex reveal in the break room and finding out they’re having a boy (the empty cake box and blue frosting around Scully’s mouth was very surprising indeed). They were both floating on Cloud 9 all afternoon, came home and Zoomed the entire family, falling asleep on the couch around 9.30pm because pregnancy is exhausting.

Nothing particularly awful stands out.

Unless...

“Are you thinking about your Grandpa?”

He’d been so excited to see him again, so excited to reunite Walter Peralta  with Roger, The Admiral with the Captain. To be honest, Amy was less than impressed. He’d been nice enough to her, asked her about her job, about the baby, small talked about the weather. But he never asked her about Jake, probed about the 20 odd years of his grandson’s life that he’d missed out on. Which is frustrating because she has a lot of embarrassing stories ready to tell and a whole photo album of Jake on her phone. He couldn’t care less about Roger or Jake, storming out of the sex reveal party after calling his son a screw up and turning off his phone so they couldn’t get in contact with him. He’s a selfish dick and her husband deserves better. Still, he won’t be thinking about what a monster Walter turned out to be, he’ll be finding ways to blame himself that yet another father walked out of his life again.

He nods silently and she leads him to the couch.

“Talk to me, Jake.”

He releases a shaky breath. “The Peralta’s are cursed.”

“With devastatingly handsome good looks?” She half-jokes, trying to lighten the mood. Because, hello, her husband is hot; she constantly overhears other women in the precinct talking about his glow up and it would be impossible to ignore the female attention he gets in bars and even just walking down the street before he scratches his face to show off his wedding band and wraps one arm proudly around his wife’s shoulders. She’s seen the pictures of a young Roger Peralta, too, and with that charm smile... she gets it.

“Thank you,” he smiles briefly, “but no. Peralta dads are cursed with terrible relationships with their sons.”

“That’s not going to be you,” she says without hesitation, without a shred of doubt.

“How do you know?” He launches into a scathing personal indictment that leaves his cheeks stinging with tears. “I’m immature, obsessed with my work, messy, always late. My dad was never around when I was a kid. I don’t even know what dads do with their sons! And what if it’s in my genes? To be a crappy dad, abandon my kid like a dozen Peralta fathers before me. Your parents still don’t think I’m good enough. You didn’t even like me at first. It only makes sense that our baby would hate me, too.”

“Woah, babe. Slow down. Let’s unpack that one at a time.” She wipes away his tears with his hoodie sleeve and squeezes his hand. “First of all, you are way more mature now than you used to be. We bought a family friendly Sedan. You read parenting books. You were eating fruit, like, two minutes ago.”

“Tomatoes are fruits?”

“What? Yes, how do you not - not the point.” She shakes her head. “And so what, you enjoy your job. That’s a good thing, Jake! Do you understand how rare that is? You’re doing the thing you love while providing a decent income for our family. And besides, I’m way more obsessed than you. I have FOMOW, but that doesn’t mean I won’t love our kid more than anything. And as for the messy, late thing, if I can look past it because of how much I love you, so will our son.”

“Love you, too,” he mumbles.

“Now onto your point about not knowing what dads do, that is a straight up lie and we both know it, Peralta. You’re always hanging out with Charles and Nikolaj and Lord Knows Terry doesn’t shut up about all the activities he does with his girls.”

“I know what they do when I’m around, but what do you do when it’s 5am and they won’t go back to sleep?” He frets. “At what age do you introduce them to Die Hard? In Cry Hard With A Vengeance,” he quotes the parenting book she originally bought him as a joke but has kind of become his Torah, “Bruce Willis says right away, but what if he’s not ready to understand the complex plots? What if he prefers Timothy Olyphant to William Atherton? Oh my God, what if our son doesn’t think Die Hard is a Christmas movie?”

He’s spiralling and it’s a good job he’s with the only person who can truly calm him down.

“I think Bruce Willis is just trying to promote his franchise and that we’ll be watching more Paw Patrol than Die Hard for the next few years, babe, but I’m sure when he is old enough, he will love the movies as much as you.”

“Right,” he agrees, “you’re totally right. Action thrillers aren’t very baby friendly. I’ll just watch it on mute with subtitles.”

She laughs, her eyes crinkling in the corners. She loves him so much. Which segways them nicely onto his final two points.

“My parents do love you. Sure, they’re critical, but that’s just the way they are. They’re the same way to all of us. My mom complains to everyone she meets about how I can’t cook, how Tony hasn’t settled down and made her any beautiful grandbabies yet, even Perfect David faces her wrath when he goes a week without phoning her. If the worst thing my mom has to say about you is that you’re below average in height, you’re doing OK. And as for me apparently not liking you at first, I did like you.”

He furrows his brow. “But you said you found me annoying and difficult to be around.”

“Yet I didn’t ask to switch desks, continued working cases with you and went to Shaw’s whenever I was invited.” She stares at him pointedly. “If I really found you difficult to be around, I wouldn’t have stayed. I thought you were cute and funny and good at your job and yeah, you were annoying too, but,” she shrugs, “it never put me off.”

“So what you’re saying is that you had a crush on me first,” he grins.

“No. You obviously had a crush on me back then, too. What I’m saying is that I love you, our son loves you and you’re going to be a great dad.”

He blushes, ducking his head. “My dad said the same thing. About our son loving me.”

“He’s right,” she replies. “I feel him kick every time you get home from work, every time you sing to Taylor Swift in the car, every time I mention your name. Why didn’t you believe him?”

“I don’t know, still nervous about the curse, I guess.” He twists his wedding band on his finger.

Amy bites her lip. “Are you not excited about us having a boy?”

She has to ask. His excitement looked genuine in the break room, but it’s no secret that he was hoping for a girl. A mini-Amy, he said. While she’s always been more accustomed to boys considering the Santiago’s have, like, a million of them, Jake couldn’t get over the image of a little girl in dresses and doing ballet and with long, dark hair that he eventually learns to braid.

“Of course I am,” he’s quick to assure her. “Stupid excited. Never been more excited for anything. Not even the Ninja Turtles reboot. But still... nervous.” He rubs his hand over his face, muffling his voice. “Everyone is assuming what kind of dad I’m going to be. Whether I’m going to be good at it or not. To be fair, the only person who doubted me is that murderer I arrested last week, obviously not my biggest fan. Everyone else is convinced I can do it. What if I can’t? What if I’m genetically wired to be a bad dad? What if I disappoint you and our baby and Charles who has been dreaming about this forever?”

“Jake,” she softens her voice, pulling his hand away from his face, “the fact you are so worried about being a bad dad proves that you will not be one. Nor could you ever disappoint us.”

“But you’re my wife. You have to say that.”

“I would never have married you and become your wife if I thought you were the kind of person who could abandon your kid,” she promises him. “You have been perfect so far, dealing with all the vitamins and over-scheduled sex and washing my clothes when I sweat through them and holding my hair back when I’m being sick. You’ve been to every doctor’s appointment, read every binder, bought me every weird food craving. You hang out with the bump every night, talking and singing to it. I know you’re going to be a great dad, Jake, because you already are one.”

She kisses him and it’s soft and tender and filled with love, only interrupted by the kick, kick, kicking of their son.

“Hey,” Jake says in his best authoritative dad voice/John McClane dealing with German terrorists voice (he’s been practising in front of the mirror following Bruce’s advice), pointing a warning finger at the bump. “I’m going to kiss your mom as much as I want, Peralta. I loved her first.”

Amy giggles, stroking her fingers through Jake’s unruly curls. His bedhead is always wild and it’s maybe her favourite thing in the entire world. She silently sends a message of her own to their son to inherit his dad’s hair. And eyes. And handsome smile.

He kicks again as if to say ‘OK, mom’.

And then she really needs to pee.

[twoidiotwriters1]

July 5th, 1981 (WITT One-Shot)

A/N: It’s my birthday but so is Mel’s!! I wanted to post something, it also works so you guys can know Matthew a little better, I’m gonna do more extras like this for sure, but it might be a while before I post another. -Danny

Words: 2,688

Warnings: It’s not proof-read bc it’s my birthday guys I don’t have the time jsdsfjs also this has a sappy ending, sorry not sorry

Series’ Masterlist

July 5th, 1981.

It was quiet, this wasn’t how she had pictured her daughter’s first birthday would be. 

When she was younger, her parents would always throw the biggest parties, that stopped once she went to Hogwarts, but they would always send howlers singing ‘Happy Birthday’ and she would always die of embarrassment. Now she would give anything to receive one again.

‘This is not about me’, she quickly corrects. ‘Today all that matters is that we’re together.

Emily was nervous though, James and Lily were supposed to remain hidden but they had found a way to convince Dumbledore to help them get to Matt and Em’s house so they could celebrate both, Mel and Harry’s first birthday together.

Harry’s birthday was actually way after Mel’s, but is not like they could really be moving places all the time, not when they knew there was so much at stake.

So there she was, nervously waiting for Lily and James to arrive with their son, Matthew and Sirius escorting the family to give extra security.

“Em, if you keep messing with Mel’s ribbon she’ll bite your hand,” Remus warned her calmly. “They’ll be here soon, don’t worry.”

“I don’t worry about them being late,” She said, putting her daughter back in the playpen. “I worry about… you know, the journey.”

“They’ll be fine,” Remus shook his head. “Didn’t Matthew just got promoted to Head Auror?”

“Yes, and if you ask me that’s the biggest nonsense I’ve heard.”

“Is it?” The man raised a brow. “Thought you’d be happy.”

“I am,” Emily brushed it off, “you know this didn’t make Matt happier, every day he talks about murders, accidents… Now I understand why my mother hated so much when my dad would talk about that in front of me.”

“Listen,” Remus stood up and put a hand on her shoulder to stop her rambling. “There’s someone at the back door…”

Emily ran to the kitchen then, she walked in the exact moment James and Lily were taking off the cloak, little Harry clinging to her Mother’s neck.

“Where’s Matt?” Emily asked a bit too frantically.

James let out a short, sarcastic laugh.

“We’re happy to see you too, Mily.”

“Don’t be mean, you’d be asking the same thing if it were me the one who left hours ago to pick up some friends,” Lily scolded him, then she turned back to Emily. “He’s with Sirius making sure no one followed us, they’ll be here in a moment.”

“Okay,” Emily nodded, though she still looked nervous.

“Hey!” Remus walked in, he was holding Mel and the little girl was playing quietly with the hem of his sweater. “Thought you might want to say hello to the birthday girl…”

“Hey there, little Em!” James was the first to stir into action, he quickly made his way over to the baby and stole her from Remus grip. “Blimey, I saw you last week, but I could swear you weren’t this big!”

“She looks so much like you, Em”, Lily smiled, walking over to her husband and holding Harry a bit more closer to his father so the babies could see each other.

“Only on the outside,” Emily shook her head, “She’s all her father, that one. Trust me, she’s so quiet I barely register when she’s around.”

“Give her time, once she learns how to speak you’ll have her giving out orders like the bossy girl she’s destined to be, just like her mother–  aren’t you, love?” James smirked, tickling the girl’s belly.

The little girl laughed, Harry’s attention was inmediately drawn to the sound and he reached out to touch the girl’s face. Lily pulled him back with a laugh.

“Easy there! We don’t want you fighting like last time”

“Fighting?” Emily asked, her attention abruptly leaving the window and turning to face the young couple. “Matthew never mentioned they fought”.

“Well, that’s cause it’s a baby fight, they don’t count,” James explained.

“Are you talking about the time you and Sirius got mad for a day because you stole his chocolate frog?” Matthew walked in, followed by Sirius. “Cause that sure was childish.”

“Newsflash, asshole. We were children,” Sirius hit the back of his head.  

Matthew walked straight to the faucet to wash his hands, but just as he was about to start, Emily let out a loud, exasperated breath.

“Matt!” Emily rushed over to her husband and gave him a firm kiss on the cheek, she cupped his face with both hands and examined him carefully, causing him to laugh.

“I left for just an hour love, I’m all right…”

“She knows that, she’s just checking if you finally got some brains inside that huge head of yours,” James teased.

Matthew threw him the cloth he was using to dry his hands and James yelled.

“Hey! I’m holding your daughter!”

“Not anymore!” Sirius quickly took the baby in his arms and started to twirl around the way he knew would make her laugh non-stop. “How’s our little Em doing, huh?”

“She has a name, you know?” Emily said, crossing her arms.

“Right, a name that’s derived from a nickname Matthew gave you in school,” James shrugged. “So it’s the same.”

“Enough, give me my child, Sirius,” Emily huffed.

“No!” Sirius held onto the baby tighter. “This is the first time I see her in weeks, give me a moment.”

“Who knew Sirius would turn out to be such a fan?” Lily laughed. “Never thought I’d see you grow attached to a baby until Mel and Harry were born.”

“Not me, that’s certain,” Sirius raised a brow, his eyes softening at the way Mel would giggle.

“Shall we start the party, then?” Remus asked. “I’m starving.”

“Unexpected,” James snorted.

“Shut up, Prongs.”

Most of the group moved to the living room, Emily stopped James and Lily at the doorframe.

“Sorry for not saying hi,” Emily sighed heavily, “It’s just… waiting has never been my favorite hobby.”

“Tell me about it,” James said, she knew he hated having to stay at home instead of fighting along his friends, but his family came first and Harry was in danger, Emily was feeling exactly like him, having to stay so she could take care of Mel while Matthew was out…

Emily hugged both of them quickly before guiding them to the living room.

“Okay, but which one do you think will be the real trouble maker?” Sirius asked to the group.

He was sitting on the floor right next to Harry and Mel, who were playing loudly, unaware of what the adults were saying.

“Oh, Harry for sure,” Emily said, at the same time Lily replied ‘Mel, certainly.’

“What?” They asked at the same time.

“What makes you think my daughter is the right choice?”

“What makes you think my son is?”

“Oh, are you about to fight? Should I take the kids upstairs?”

“Shut up, Sirius!”

“I think you’re both wrong,” James replied. “You think that with a mother like Lily and a father like Matt our children have any chance to misbehave?”

“Oh, you think that with a mother like Emily and a father like you they won’t be tempted to go behind our backs?” Matthew raised a brow. “That’s bollocks.”

“You know, as long as they don’t set their rooms on fire or something, I think we’ll manage,” Lily said with a shrugged.

“What if they start dating?” Sirius asked excitedly.

“I mean, eventually they will–”

“Hold on, who said anything about dating?” Matthew perked up. “My daughter has no reason to be thinking about dates until she’s nineteen, eighteen at best.”

“Shut up, Ruddy, you asked me on a date when we were fifteen.”

“Yeah, and how did that turn out, huh?” Matthew asked pointedly.

“Dunno, with you marrying the girl of your dreams?” Emily teased him.

Matthew’s cheek reddened, a knowing smile on his face.

“Yeah… but that’s not the point! You’re cool with letting some boy take advantage of Mel?”

“Not if we raise her right, no boy will have a chance.” Emily smirked.

“What if it’s Harry?”

“What?”

“What if Harry’s the one who asks Mel on a date?” Remus asked.

A heavy silence fell onto the group, everyone looking at Remus as if he’d said something crazy.

“Oh c’mon,” The young man rolled his eyes. “Don’t tell me this is the first time you think about the possibility?”

“You know what?” James said from his seat. “That’s not such a dreadfull idea, is it?”

“What?” Matthew’s head turned so fast Emily thought he’d hurt himself.

“Think about it, Ruddy!” James laughed openly. “Are you saying my boy’s not good enough for your baby?”

Matthew opened his mouth and closed it again, he looked at Emily looking for support.

“That’s an lovely idea, actually,” Emily grinned. “We know Harry’s parents already, so that’s one thing we don’t have to worry about!”

“No, that’s exactly the thing that we should worry about,” Matthew raised a brow.

“I could say the same,” Lily said, shaking her head in disbelief. “I still remember that time Emily put blue dye on my juice just because I called her lazy.”

“That doesn’t mean Mel would be the same!” Matthew defended.

“Thanks for that, love,” Emily scoffed.

“What about James?” Sirius offered. “He’ll tell Harry all about our outings and Harry’ll get ideas.”

“Padfoot!”

“Guys, guys,” Remus stopped them, regretting being the one who had caused the argument. “Calm down, this is all just in our heads, there’s no way Mel and Harry will end up together– Merlin, I mean, they’ll grow up like brother and sister!”

“We can take care of that,” James suggested. “You know, just don’t let them get too comfy around each other…”

“If you want them to date shouldn’t it be the other way around?”

“Listen Prongs, no offense but I’m with Remus here, there’s no way my kid will end up falling for your Harry, she’s too smart.”

“She’s a one-year old baby that can’t eat on her own, what are you talking about?” James argued.

“I bet ten galleons Mel and Harry end up together,” Sirius interrupted.

The group fell silent one more time.

“Ten that they won’t,” Lily said suddenly.

“Evans!” James exclaimed in outrage.

“I’m in!” Emily said. “I’m with Sirius on this one.”

“I’m with Lily,” Matthew replied, giving his wife a look she knew was meant to be challenging.

“Okay then, I’m with Mily and Padfoot,” James huffed. “And you two are nasty traitors, can’t believe you don’t want us to be one big family.”

“We already are, Prongs,” Remus smirked. “Look at these lovely little siblings,” He pointed to the babies.

“So you’re with Lily, are you?”

“Obviously,” Remus snorted.

“Can’t believe you’re Mel’s Godfather,” Emily said dramatically. “You clearly don’t want what’s best for her.”

“Awwe, thanks, Mily.”

“No problem, James.”

“You two are unbelievable,” Lily rolled her eyes, standing up.

“Where are you going and can I go with you?” Matthew asked, giving his wife a playful, angry look.

“To get a drink, if I have to spend a whole afternoon with Sirius, James and Emily planning my son’s wedding, I won’t do it sobber.”

“Well, Happy Birthday Mel, I guess I just got you a husband!” Sirius chortled.

“Wait for me!” Remus said, quickly following Lily and Matthew to the kitchen.

“We had a great time, really,” James said, holding a sleeping Harry in his arms.

“Even if your wife revealed she doesn’t want us to be part of the same family?” Emily teased.

“Oh, she’ll end up loving the idea, trust me,” Jame said with a smile, “just wait for them to start school, she’ll be begging us to set them up.”

Emily laughed.

“I’m just teasing, but I mean it though, I know your Harry will be a great boy.”

“I know, and Lily thinks your daughter will grow up to be amazing, you and Matthew are great. And you know Harry adores Mely, Lily sees that.”

“Yeah, well… she’s the only other baby he knows.”

“Not for long though,” James sighed, staring down at his son, a worried, yet hopeful look on his face. “Soon all of this will be over, won’t it, little guy?”

“Let’s go James!” Lily called from the door. “Harry needs to sleep!”

“Coming!”

When Emily and him arrived, Sirius waited until Lily and Emily said their goodbyes and then covered the Potters with James’ cloak.

“I’ll go with Sirius, you can stay,” Remus assured Matthew, when the man started to argue back, their friend shook his head. “Stay. Emily needs you, Sirius and I will make sure James and Lily get home safe, right Paddie?”

“Sure thing,” Sirius winked. “See you next Sunday!”

“Thank you,” Emily held onto her husband’s hand, squeezing lightly. “Thank you for everything.”

“It’s nothing,” Remus brushed it off. “Next year, Mily. You’ll see…”

Next year. It felt so far away, so fragile to be an actual promise. Next year everything could be different, yes. That didn’t mean it’d be better, but it didn’t mean it’d be worse either.

Once they were alone, Matthew and Emily sat on their bed, a sleeping girl between them. Mel hadn’t been sleeping in her own room since Matthew started to watch over the Potters’ house. It gave Emily something to hold onto, Mel was her hope of a brighter future.

“You’re so good to Mel,” Matthew said suddenly, bringing her back from her swirling thoughts. “She… I know it’s hard, I don’t like being away most of the day, but you know… they’re my family too.”

“I know,” Emily smiled, reaching out to hold his hand. “That’s why I don’t ask you to stay, so you don’t have to choose.”

Matt stared for a long time at their sleeping baby before quietly replying.

“I would choose you in a heartbeat,” He swallowed the lump on his throat, feeling terrible for admiting that out loud. “You know I would.”

Emily sighed.

“Of course I do,” She replied quietly. “But then you’d never forgive yourself if something were to happen them. I’ll never force you to pick a side, Matt. We’re all fighting in our own ways, as hard as we can. We’re all doing our best.”

“Next year this will all be over,” Matthew put an arm around her shoulders and pulled her closer, careful so Mel wasn’t uncomfortable between their bodies. “This will all be a bad dream.”

“Please,” Emily blinked back the tears, “don’t give me hopes, Matt… I know you want it to be true, but please…”

“She’ll be safe,” He cleared his throat. “Mel will live through this, and she’ll grow. I promise you that.”

“What about you?”

“Me…” She couldn’t see his face, but she was almost certain Matt was crying. “Well, if I don’t make it, tell Harry he’s got my blessing to woo Mel all he wants.”

Emily laughed, it came out a bit drowned, but it still sounded like a happy one.

“I thought you didn’t want that for our girl?”

“It doesn’t matter what we think though, does it?” Matthew sigh. “They’ll grow up and eventually they’ll fall in love– whether if they fall for each other or a total stranger, that’s out of our control. Whatever happens, I hope she finds someone who will love her the way I love you.”

“I that case, I pitty the kid that will have to endure that job,” Emily raised a brow, “they’ll have to chase her around for six years and then wait that one day, maybe, she’ll agree to date them.”

“Any Sultens girl is worth the wait,” Matthew squeezed her shoulder lightly, a loving gaze adorning his features.

“And any Dumbledore is worth the trouble,” Emily teased, then looked down at her daughter, who was peacefully sleeping beside her. “Happy Birthday, little one.”

Matthew brushed a lose strand of hair away from his daughter’s face and beamed at how tiny her hand look above his.

“Happy birthday, love.”

Taglist.

@tiphareth2018​ @vampiregirl1797​ @siriuslysirius1107​ @celestialhayi​ @mikariell95​ @omiwashere​ @thesuitelifeofafangirl​ @tomshollandz​ @steve-thotgers​ @kylosleftbuttcheek​ @reverse-hxlland​

[katehuntington]

Title: Changes - part one (prologue) Word count: ±1750 words Summary “Changes”: Huntress Zoë Sullivan (OFC) crosses paths and swords with the Winchesters, when the brothers stumble on a case that she’s already working. When complications arise, they are forced to work as a team. Summary part one: Disaster hits the Sullivans, devastating loss ripping the seemingly perfect family apart. The oldest daughter, Abigail, fights to survive the demon attack, all while trying to save her possessed sister.  Episode warnings: Dark! NSFW, 18+ only! Angst, gore, violence, character death. Description of blood, injury and medical procedures. Demon possession, supernatural creatures/entities. Smut, swearing, alcohol use/addiction. Kidnapping, mentions of torture and murder, illegal/criminal practices. Mentions of nightmares and flashbacks.  Music: Child In Time - Deep Purple  Author’s note: The maiden voyage of Supernatural: The Sullivan Series, and I couldn’t be more excited to share it with you. There are quite a few people I want to thank. @coffee-obsessed-writer, @girl-with-a-fandom-fettish, @winchest09, thank you for helping me with this story and for taking it to a higher level. Everyone who encouraged me to go for it, you are awesome!

Supernatural: the Sullivan Series Masterlist 01x01 “Changes” Masterlist

     Los Angeles, California      July 21st, 2001

     Screams. Horrific, tormenting screams. The kind that causes blood to run cold and hair on the back of the neck to stand up. Desperate cries for help, coming from a broken soul, barely a woman, but certainly not a child anymore, especially not after today. But it isn’t just the pained voice that echoes through the mansion in Brentwood, on the west side of the City of Angels. There are no angels here. On the contrary: the sounds mixing with the anguished voice, is one that comes from the deepest foundations of Hell.       “Abi! Where are you?!”       The call-out is gut-wrenching, and Abigail Sullivan presses her mouth closed firmly, biting on her bottom lip in order not to answer her little sister. She has her back against the French doors between the dining room and the kitchen, a line of salt on the marble floor connecting the frames.      The voice doesn’t sound like Zoë’s. She’s speaking in tongues, pure evil tainting her speech. The battle inside her own body is one she’s destined to lose, but man, she is putting up one hell of a fight. Demon possession is usually pretty straight forward. Black smoke, black eyes, and the host is all but a marionette. It’s rare that someone is able to break through the solid concrete walls that captivate them, but apparently Zoë is giving the bastard some serious competition. Abigail sniffles. That’s my girl.

     Trying to calm herself, the older sister leans her head back against the polished wood, listening to the raging demon. She has to fix this. She has to find a way to expel that thing. This family has lost enough.

     Determined, Abigail moves towards the kitchen cabinets, opening them and looking for anything that could be useful. She clears the storage area under the double sink and pulls up the lid over a secret compartment, exposing a 9mm, several knives, and jars that contain ingredients for basic spell work. Among the items is a flask of Holy water, which she shoves down the front pocket of her jeans. She doesn’t bother to take the handgun or the weapons; she would rather die than have to shoot her own flesh and blood. A bullet or a knife wouldn’t do a demon harm anyway, so instead, she takes a frying pan. It won’t kill anyone, but at least it will slow the son of a bitch down.

     “Oh, Abi…”      Abigail freezes. The trace of Zoë that was audible a minute ago is gone now. It’s the demon who is taunting her, its voice amused, almost singing.      “We used to play this game all the time when we were little, remember?” the dark voice muses.      “You are not my sister, you sick fucker!” she barks back, as she approaches the doors.      “Oh, c’mon. Don’t be cruel; humor me,” the demon tsks. “Come out, come out, wherever you are.”

     Abigail takes a deep breath and closes her eyes, listening to the sounds in the other room as she leans against the door again. Her heart is beating out of her chest, as if it seems to realize it might stop moments from now. The thing is waiting, and it will rip her apart once it gets the chance. She has to get to the office; it’s her only chance for survival. Dad’s journal and address book might be a way of sending out an S.O.S. signal. There’s a devil’s trap under the circular carpet at the entrance too. If she can capture the demon, they might live another day. Both her and Zo.      With her weapon in her left hand and Holy water in her right, the older Sullivan sister swallows thickly, fearing for her life. The brave young woman takes another second to collect herself. and prepare for what is on the other side. Senses heightened, she waits for the footsteps to pass.      3… 2… 1…

     With a fierce kick, Abigail slams the French door into the intruder’s face, giving herself a small window to make a break for the rotating stairway. With panicked breath, she conquers three risers with each stride, pulling herself up by the guard rail. She almost makes it to the second floor, before a force that defies physics pulls her from her feet and smashes her into the wall. Plaster crumbles on top of her when she hits the ground halfway down the staircase, a jolt of pain cutting through her hip when she lands on the edge of one of the steps.

     Biting down a cry, she pulls herself together while retrieving the Holy water from her pocket, frantically screwing off the cap. Just in time, because the demon that has nested in her little sister’s body, towers over her, a chilling laugh that is anything but human erupting from Zoë’s throat. Blood has smudged her summer dress, dark red sprayed across her chest and neck. The expression distorts the twenty-one year old’s gentle features beyond recognition and her eyes fade to black.      “Hello, sis,” the demon coos.      Abigail’s lip twitches angrily, opposite of the pain in her teary eyes. “Get out of her, you fucking bastard!” 

     She throws the contents of the silver flask into the demon’s face, exposed skin sizzling when it comes in contact with the fluid. It staggers back, hands going for its face as it screeches in agony. Abigail knows this might be the only opportunity she will get and doesn’t waste a second. As fast as her feet can carry her, she gets up, ignoring the ache in her side, and hastens up the stairs.        This time she does make it to the corridor, dashing towards the office at the far end. She is flanked by walls painted in crimson handprints, puddles of blood staining the polished wooden floors. As she passes the master bedroom, she doesn’t glance inside, not wanting to carve even deeper scars into her heart, but the image of the massacre pushes its way to the foreground anyway. She can’t afford to slow down, though, because she can feel the temperature of the warm Californian home drop at least twenty degrees in a matter of seconds. 

     With her fingers still clamped around the handle of the frying pan, she swings on pure gut, her hunter instincts - which she buried not so long ago - kicking in. The flat surface of the pan hits her demon-infested sister square across the jaw, breaking the skin, and for a moment Abigail feels guilty for hurting her sibling. Drastic measures; it’s all about survival now.      Not daring to look over her shoulder, Abigail rushes into her father’s office, able to tell by the sound of firm footsteps that she’s mere inches from getting tackled. The demon is right on her tail, but when the dark entity is about to cross the room, it runs into an invisible barrier. Confused and frustrated, the creature tries again, without result. Then it scoffs, the mimic so different from Zoë’s.      “Let me guess.” The demon tilts its head, staring down the other Sullivan sister. “There’s a trap underneath this ugly rug, isn’t there?”       “Good luck getting out of that one,” Abigail returns, a trace of victory pulling at the corner of her mouth.       “Oh, I don’t need to,” the demon chuckles, as it begins to stroll along the edge of the cage. “Seems like the only way out is through this door behind me.”      Trying to mask the shake in her limbs from anxiety, Abigail sits down in her dad’s leather office chair, rolling closer to the desk. “We’re on the second floor. I’ve done bigger drops.”      “I bet you did. You’re quite the hunter, aren’t ya? You’ve sent many of my kind back to the basement.” Bitter, the demon narrows its eyes, glaring at her.       “I’m one of the best,” Abigail counters, before she pulls out a drawer and takes out a black leather journal.      “Are you?” the evil creature questions. “Are you really going to leave poor little Zo all alone?”

     The older Sullivan sister tries to ignore the words, but she feels the sharp sting anyway. Focusing on the task at hand, she leafs through the notes in search of a number.      “She’s awake in here, y’know?”      Abigail stops.      “She’s crying hysterically, begging you not to abandon her,” the demon elaborates, clearly enjoying the sight of the hunter crumbling. “Begging me not to rip you to shreds and decorate the chandeliers with your intestines.”      “Shut the fuck up,” Zoë’s sister warns, snapping her fiery eyes at the creature.      But the demon doesn’t yield. It has both ladies right where it wants them.       “Let’s face facts here: you’re as trapped as I am. You’re not gonna leave your only family. And you don’t have what it takes to exorcise me. Not without killing her.”      “Maybe I don’t,” Abigail agrees, picking up the phone on the desk. “But I can call the cavalry.”

     Her finger has stopped at two initials, scribbled down on one of the first pages by her Dad. He never wrote down hunters’ names, not wanting to expose them, should the book fall into the wrong hands. Several numbers of old burner phones are crossed out, but the last one isn’t. It’s the number Abigail dials. Without giving the demon the satisfaction of witnessing her despair, she prays for the call to go through. The phone rings three times, four times, causing her to swallow apprehensively. Goddamnit, pick up the phone.      “Hello?”      A sigh of relief slips from her lips. “It’s Abi. I need you to drop everything and get to L.A. as fast as possible.”      “What’s going on?”      “It’s my sister, Zo, she’s–”

     She glances over the desk, watching the person in question staring back. For a second, Zoë seems to be fine: smiling eyes, bright and full of life. Like nothing happened, like their lives are exactly the way they were an hour ago: carefree, peaceful, optimistic. No tears on their faces, no blood on their hands. But then her Zoë’s mouth pulls into a smirk, a smirk that isn’t hers. Her baby sister laughs then, the sound of several dark voices erupting from her throat. Her brown eyes flick to black and little Zo is gone. Goosebumps run up Abigail’s arm and settles in the back of her neck, tears threatening to come down her cheeks.      Abigail tries to compose herself, making sure the words will come out steady when she speaks again. But watching the definition of evil taking full advantage of the person who occupies such a huge space in her heart, is crippling. Acknowledging her family will never be the same again causes her voice to waver.      “She’s possessed, John.”

Thank you for reading. I appreciate every single one of you, but if you do want to give me some extra love, you are free to reblog my work or buy me coffee (Link in bio at the top of the page)

Read chapter two here!

[fandom-necromancer]

Let’s write together: Heart Reset

Chapter 1 - Substitute Detectives

Featuring:

@aurea-b with “Don’t tell me you watched me sleep all night.” @thetruefor3stspirit with “Not gonna lie... I’d die for these soft tiddies.” @rufina72 and Spirit with “Gavin’s cat” & “Reed900 cats” A baguette with “Ralph” @sparklingrainbowdragon with “Ralph/Jerrys” An anon with “Connor/Chloe” (more of them in chapter 3) an anon with “Gavin accidentally puts salt into his coffee. Drinks full cup without flinching” an anon with “Maybe an old friend/ ex from Gavin or Nines appears and causes drama™️” (more of him throughout the story)

Thank you all  so much for participating!

[Chapter 2]

-

Gavin was awoken far too early by his alarm clock. He pulled a grimace and groaned: ‘Phhhck.’ Without looking he tried to slap the damn thing off, only succeeding in weakly flopping his arm on his bedside table, annoying the cat sleeping on his chest. Still, the alarm stopped right then. ‘I love to watch your praised Detective brain work’, came the chuckled comment to that from his side. ‘Hey, tin-can, if you can hack my clock, why don’t you wake me up instead?’ ‘Oh, that’s an easy one. I love the way you scrunch up your face being all grumpy.’ ‘Hmm, yeah, I know I’m pretty.’ Gavin smiled sleepily, still not wanting to open his eyes. ‘You do that a few times in your sleep too. It’s cute.’ ‘Hmm, yeah, I’m phcking cute- wait what?’ That made him sit up and actually look at the android next to him. The cat, finally irritated enough, ran off towards the kitchen ‘Don’t tell me you watched me sleep all night.’ ‘Am I not allowed to admire my perfect human?’, Nines asked faking his hurt. ‘Nah, you are allowed to. Just don’t be creepy.’ ‘Oh yes? Well, if I may remind you of the time I was in stasis and you woke me up hugging me and telling me-‘ ‘No, I don’t want to hear it!’, Gavin laughed, covering his face in embarrassment. But Nines knew no mercy. ‘Telling me, and I quote: Not gonna lie... I’d die for these soft tiddies ?’ ‘I was super drunk this evening coming home from the bar with Tina, okay? Alcohol does these things to you.’ Nines just shrugged and got up. ‘Come on, we have to go to work.’ ‘Don’t remind me…’ ‘I’ll make you something to eat.’ ‘Thanks.’

They got to work perfectly punctual, as always. Ever since Nines took over their schedule, they wouldn’t be a minute late unless something happened. He had argued with Gavin so many times, he was tired of it by now and just complied. The toaster had good intentions after all, and Gavin knew he just liked to complain. The downside of this was that people knew when they would arrive and especially those earlier than them seemed to love bothering them when they just got there. One of these people was Connor.

Gavin had just put his jacket over the back of his chair while Nines downloaded the latest progress, when he practically felt the RK800’s eyes fall on him. ‘I’m off to the breakroom, puppy is coming and I need my coffee before that.’ Nines looked up and saw Connor stand up. ‘I’m coming with you.’ They escaped the android for approximately one more minute by this manoeuvre. Gavin had started filling the machine with water and waited for it to cook, while Nines watched him. ‘Ah, good to see you! Good morning to you two! I actually searched for you.’ ‘You mean you waited for us to arrive and the moment we were at our desks you struck?’, Nines corrected him, making Gavin smile to himself. ‘Maybe? Anyways, I need your help. So, me and Hank got this case and…’ Gavin sighed as Connor rambled on, pushing the button of the machine that made it spit out his life elixir, only half-heartedly listening. It was still too early in the morning for such talks. ‘and we have reviewed all evidence, we know nearly everything already, we only need to arrest him when we have enough evidence. And both of that will be possible a days from now, at the theme park just outside Detroit. I planned talking to some contacts at New Jericho who worked there, then plan a trap, but…’ ‘But?’ ‘Well, me and Chloe have our anniversary on that day and… Well I promised her to be there. Why did Browns have to choose that night for it?’

That made both Gavin and Nines give him his full attention, as they both asked simultaneously: ‘You are with Chloe?’ ‘Browns? Jayden Browns?’ Connor looked at them a bit surprised. He answered Nines first: ‘Well yeah, we met at Kamski’s villa before the revolution but after that a few times more and it just worked.’ ‘Honestly I thought you would tend more to Hank…’ ‘Wha- No! I see him more of a dad, I think. And yes, Gavin his first name is Jayden, how did you know?’ ‘Oh, nothing’, he brushed it off, taking his cup and taking a sip just to nearly spit it out. His eyes darted to the two shakers. Were they… Yes. Who the hell had switched sugar and salt around? But damn it, Connor was here, looking at him. And Gavin would never admit and error to the android and pointedly drunk the whole cup without flinching. ‘Old friend of mine’, he choked out. ‘Really? Well, that’s even better then! Because I really need you to take this case over for me.’ ‘What?’, Nines asked. ‘Why?’ ‘My date with Chloe? Also, you are way better suited with Gavin knowing our suspect! Come on, I’ll owe you one. Please?’ Nines looked over to Gavin, who nodded. ‘Fine, we’ll help you out. But just so you know, we’ll take all the credit, too.’ ‘Yes! Thank you so much! I’ll transfer all data we have so far to you!’

And with that he was off, leaving both of them standing in the breakroom. ‘Why did you accept?’, Nines asked. ‘We don’t have an active case at the moment. Also, Connor owing us? Can’t let that chance pass.’ ‘Quick thinking. Did you know you poured salt in your coffee?’ ‘I know.’ ‘Did you know Connor saw it too and chugging it did nothing to mask the error as we are not human?’ ‘I know!’ ‘I admire your stubbornness.’ ‘I know. Come on, let’s go read up on our new case.’

-

New Jericho, the apartment complex given to Markus after the revolution, wasn’t that far from the precinct. The drive there still felt overly long with the lingering silence neither of them knew how to break. It was Nines in the end, who prodded: ‘Who is the suspect, your “old friend”, really? You know him well.’ Gavin ducked his head. ‘Urgh, he’s an ex of mine. Don’t ask. I had a bullshit taste before you came along. Just… I mean I knew he could easily turn to illegal stuff, but mostly with androids and I didn’t care about your kind back then and-‘ ‘It’s okay.’ ‘It really isn’t, I should have turned him in earlier, even if it was just for property damage. But I was more focussed on getting away from him I guess.’ Nines could tell his human was uncomfortable talking about it. ‘He really wasn’t a good pick when even I realised it back then…’ ‘Well, you get your chance to arrest him now’, Nines said, trying to be comforting. ‘Yeah, right. Still can’t believe the idiot made it that far.’

It was impressive really. Jayden had been many things, but not intelligent. According to Connor’s research though, he had gotten his hands on data that could threaten all of androidkind. They didn’t know what it was exactly yet, but every goon they had managed to catch and interrogate had made a point in bragging about what was coming. Apparently, it would change the world as they knew it. Knowing the man, Gavin was sure though that that was an exaggeration. Maybe Jayden was convinced of it, but if he got his hands on it it couldn’t be that much of a danger. Whatever it would turn out to be though, Jayden was trying to sell it to the highest bidder and from what Connor had found out, the sum that was offered could make a man rich easily. The data would be handed over at exactly seven pm in tomorrow over at ArcaneWorld, a closed amusement park. The website stated it was closed for renovations, but Nines had found out the site hadn’t been updated in three years and the park had lost all investors. The owner had vanished mysteriously, likely because of the amount of debt the park had collected. But that would be a case for another time, now they needed to find out where exactly their suspects would meet on the roughly twenty-thousand square metre big areal.

‘You know, on a completely other point, I have never been to New Jericho. Do they even accept humans?’ It was meant as a joke, but Nines answered seriously. ‘There are certain areas you won’t be allowed in, yes. Although the majority is, not all androids have deviated yet. Some will never need to, being given freedom simply by prohibiting people from ordering them around. Those that do naturally without being converted mostly break their chains by trauma. Most connected to humans. You understand you won’t be let in there?’ Gavin laughed nervously. ‘Yeah, I understand that alright. Damn it, with the amount of hate-crime receding to the, well, to the normal levels, I thought that wouldn’t be that much of a problem anymore.’ ‘It got better the last years’, the android answered. ‘I think nowadays it’s just one floor that’s prohibited for humans. When I was awoken, there was only one floor humans were allowed to enter.’ ‘Shit…’, Gavin hissed, looking up towards their destination. The building could already be seen, although it would take a few more minutes to get there. ‘Our contacts, are they-‘ ‘No. One of them spent a lot of time away from humans, but he got better with time. I actually met him in my time there. The others never had a scarring experience with your kind, although maybe that’s also due to their programming. They are designed to be patient, easily forgiving and caring. No matter how drastic deviancy can change us, a few traits stay.’ ‘They?’, Gavin asked. ‘Just one person or how many are we speaking with?’ ‘Two persons’, Nines answered and smiled. ‘Roughly a hundred units. No one really knows how many there are.’ ‘Excuse me?’ ‘They share a hivemind. It was an interesting thought of Cyberlife as that made sharing information in a theme park much easier.’ ‘You androids are weird.’ ‘Says the human that is partially controlled by his intestine’s flora.’ ‘Yeah okay, point taken.’

They parked the car and went inside. Nines connected to the apartment buildings android network and announced themselves to the other androids. Nearly instantly he got an invitation back he translated for Gavin. ‘They are waiting for us in the gardens. They ask if you need anything.’ A bit phased, the human shook his head. ‘No, I’m good, thanks. Kind of forgot you can simply do that…’ ‘Believe me, it feels strange even to me. I prefer talking, too.’ They moved through the hallways towards the back exit and Gavin was surprised to see how many androids there were. It was normal to see them on the streets now, but without any humans around it still felt weird to him. Some of them didn’t wear their skin, all of them were openly interfacing on a regular basis. Still throughout it all, they acknowledged Gavin’s presence, some even waved or threw him a polite smile before going on with their day. It was so different to what Gavin had experienced with the human-only neighbourhoods that had formed after the revolution and androids had needed police protection entering. Gavin remembered the people living there just too well and how they reacted to Nines as the only android with them.

He honestly had thought of this to be similar for him.

Nines opened the door for him to step into a huge atrium mostly filled by a huge park-like area. ‘Over here’, Nines said, leading Gavin to where and android sat, plucking weeds. As they approached, he stood up, clasping his hands. His face was heavily damaged, Gavin could see that even from a distance. But the other android’s eyes were fixed on Nines, before he awkwardly waddled over. ‘RK900! RK900 is here, Ralph is happy to see you!’ Gavin watched his partner as the damaged android ran at him just to hug him. ‘I’m happy to see you too! Although my name is Nines now.’ ‘You got a name now? That’s good! Ralph likes it, it is a good name.’ ‘My friend here gave it to me’, Nines chuckled and laid an arm on Gavin’s shoulder. ‘Oh, you found a human? The one from the file you told me about?’ Nines blushed a little, refusing to make eye contact. ‘Yes. It all worked out.’ Ralph held out a hand for Gavin to shake. ‘Hello, friend! Ralph knows Nines from when he first got here. We are good friends.’ ‘I’m Gavin’, he introduced himself, not quite sure what to make of the android. Nines had never mentioned him after all. ‘I’m also a… good friend of him, we met at the DPD.’ ‘Oh! Ralph knows! You came hear to ask questions about the case, yes, Connor told me! But Ralph doesn’t know much, he just met Jerry there. Jerry can tell more; Ralph will call him!’

He did not call him loudly, but immediately five androids perked up, all looking exactly the same. They looked at Ralph, then each other, before three of them dropped their tools and came over. One went over to Ralph to hug him, while the other two looked curiously at Nines and Gavin. ‘Hello! Our name is Jerry. It’s a pleasure to meet you. Connor said you needed help?’ Gavin nodded in the general direction, not quite sure which unit to address. But Nines turned to the one who had just spoken, so Gavin followed his example.

‘Do you know the theme park ArcaneWorld?’, Nines asked. ‘Connor told me you would be the best to ask this.’ The unit in front of him nodded. ‘Yes, we were property of the previous park. Pirate’s cove was abandoned but gained the attention after we were found after the revolution. We were happy to leave the place, but we keep it in good memory. We liked working there and making people happy.’ ‘I’m sorry, but how are you an expert on ArcaneWorld when you worked in the previous park?’, Gavin asked. ‘We used the unique android network there. It helped us keep ourselves and not be lonely, much like the one installed here. But we have never been disconnected. And the person who bought Pirate’s cove after the revolution demolished buildings and attractions but kept the network to run the new park. We received regular updates until it closed again, including a detailed blueprint of the entire park and surveillance. Just a moment, please.’ Multiple other Jerrys approached them, pushing their hands together. Gavin had seen the holographic screen Nines and Connor could produce, but never something like this. Every individual screen connected, forming a map of ArcaneWorld. ‘There. What do you need to know?’ ‘We have to intercept a criminal selling off valuable data. We know it happens at seven, but not where in the park.’ A few of the Jerrys nodded in unison. ‘Well, the park is partly still functioning. The whole area here…’ a huge part of the map was marked. ‘This whole area isn’t safe. A huge ride there had been closed due to safety reasons and had to be renovated. That never happened, so now the ride has long collapsed. The old area of Pirate’s cove is still functioning, as well as the main attraction of the new park, a large area of medieval themed rides. Maybe that narrows it down a bit. Oh, and another thing, the surveillance cameras in a large part of the medieval area were shut down lately. May only be a coincidence, but when there are still some working in the collapsed ride, we don’t think this simply happened because of decay. We would search there.’

‘Sounds good to me’, Gavin shrugged. ‘As good a place as any to start.’ Nines nodded. ‘Thank you, Jerry, you helped us a lot. Do keep an eye on the park though and call us if you see anything.’ ‘Of course. Best of luck!’

Nines and Gavin left New Jericho shortly after that. Nines had stayed a bit longer to download the map from Jerry and gain access to the network, but soon they had taken their leave. ‘An old friend, huh?’, Gavin smirked as they walked towards the car. ‘Anything I need to know?’ ‘They really are just friends I made, unlike our suspect’, Nines shot back though. ‘Ralph had been with Jerry from the start.’ ‘Err.. what? How is that even… nevermind, I don’t wanna know.’ Nines looked at him, clearly disappointed. ‘Gavin, please, don’t try to judge them with human terms. I keep one of my processor cores reserved just for you, always. Jerry does the same, but with interchangeable units. It’s not that difficult to understand.’ ‘I said I didn’t want to know that, Nines. If it works for them, fine with me.’ ‘Good. That being settled, let’s get back and find out everything about this park.’

[>next Chapter]

[ohdearhiddles]

TITLE: Angel of Death

CHAPTER: 3/? (Chapter Masterlist)

CH. SUMMARY: Loki wants nothing more than for you to be free.

WORD COUNT: 2998

AUTHOR NOTES/WARNINGS: Hello hello!! It's been a week (I think?) since I last updated, but trust me I was mostly brainstorming away. It's like every time I tried to focus on this chapter, my brain went "OH HEY BUT HOW ABOUT THIS IN THE NEXT CHAPTER" and so it took a bit longer than expected. This is partially unedited, but I hope you enjoy it all the same x (AO3 LINK)

TAG-LIST: @inumorph @literally-anythin​

Monsters. What is a monster? You wondered, eyes trained on the vulnerable man before you. Was a monster an eight legged beast with fangs dripping with venomous fury? Was a monster the shadow lurking beneath the children’s beds, waiting for the moment they can steal them away? Was a monster the murderous fiend that you had been accused of being? Was a monster Loki? Or was a monster just a normal person, hiding in plain sight, ready to attack at any given moment?

If all of these were considered definitions of monsters in some form, then doesn’t that mean no one was safe? Does that not mean that every living being is considered a monster? 

For the first time that night, you felt a weight come off your shoulders like a demon who had lost interest in its prey. Suddenly, you were not alone. This moment, this vulnerability, this exchange was a taste of freedom that the both of you had longed for.

“No,” you whispered. “You are not a monster, Loki.”

His eyes that were once filled with worry now contained galaxies of unending gratitude. The words the god had longed to hear had finally come forward. He stepped forward, his eyes boring into your own. “And you are no more a monster than I, Y/N.”

You shook your head, refusing to believe him, but Loki only continued.

“If I, a tainted god that has been burdened with his past, can be forgiven by a mortal who resides in a city I nearly destroyed when I am not worthy of such forgiveness, then why must you be a monster? You have done nothing but mourn over events that are not your fault. Do you not think that you have punished yourself more adequately than any other mortal could have?” The backs of Loki’s fingers brushed against the skin of your cheek, and your eyes fell shut at the calming touch.

“Have you not punished yourself enough, little one?” Just like before, his words made you feel small. Not small as in inadequate. No, Loki’s words made you feel like you were cared for despite all you had done - a lost child with no path besides the one fate had made for her. As the words faded, you felt yourself growing inexplicably tired at the soft touch of the God of Mischief. Within seconds your world went black.

***

The music played as the double doors began to open. The light was incredibly bright, emphasizing the shadows of at least a hundred individuals. As you came into their view, the shadows stood up, wide glistening smiles on their indistinct faces. It was terrifying almost. It was almost as if you were about to walk into a room filled with dozens of cheshire cats that had been waiting patiently for your highly anticipated arrival. Footsteps resonated around you, coming closer with every passing second, and before you knew it there was a man standing by your side.

“Shall we?” He asked, his wide smile the only visible feature on him.

Even without knowing who the man was, you followed his movements. He offered you his arm, and as you grasped it, a familiar warmth overwhelmed you. It took a minute to process why it felt so warm, so familiar. You and the strange man walked into the room, looking at all the smiles around you all the while.

It was so strange. The music was strange, the people were strange, and when you looked down to see an ivory white ball gown adorning your body, you realized that you were also very strange. Before you knew it, you were standing in front of an altar, the man beside you now holding your hands tightly. When you looked up to gaze at his face, it was a face that haunted your memories and dreams.

“Dad?” You whispered, your eyes already brimming with tears. His eyes were cold as he looked at you. The grip around your hands tightened as he frowned at you, mouth opening as he began to speak.

“You plan on marrying him?” He seethed, eyes glancing at an unknown presence behind you. “Are you going to seal the future with a kiss and kill him in the process?”

The tears began to fall freely as he spoke. You shook your head, a sob escaping your lips, “Dad, I’m so sorry.”

“No, Y/N, I’m sorry,” your father glared. “I made you into a monster.”

Your father turned away, walking to an empty spot among the many faceless shadows. His features slowly faded into black, and you found yourself attempting to remember every small detail of him. Watching him fade was almost like watching him die a second time. Part of you yearned for him to stay even if that meant he hated you until the end of time. 

A hand rested gently on your shoulder. You turned quickly, eyeing the suspicious stranger. Is this who you were meant to marry? Is this the man cursed to be with a monster? When he fully came into view, you were confused. The man was still only a black shadow, but you could see him slowly fading into something more. It was as if everything came into focus from the bottom to the top.

The mysterious man’s body was covered in black leather with gold accents, an emerald green cape flowing freely down his back . It was attire that you had never seen before, and you were quite certain no one in their right mind would wear such clothing on this planet. His figure was lean yet intimidatingly strong, and you could feel your heart race as if you had loved this man all your life. As his face began to reveal itself, a loud hum began to emit from the ground. The hum only grew louder as the two of you stood at the altar, and pretty soon, the mysterious man turned to you completely, his face still too dark to truly recognize. His lips moved, and his grip tightened, but you couldn’t hear him at all. The deep hum within the earth began to vibrate your surroundings, threatening to break apart the terrifying paradise around you. You shut your eyes tightly as you felt the man’s hands tighten around yours. The hum only grew worse with every second, almost as if you were about to become deaf from it.

Suddenly, it stopped. You opened your eyes to see darkness. The darkness was as black as the shadows that once surrounded you. In fact, darkness didn’t seem to fully describe it. No, this was more of an endless void. It felt like nothing. There was no warmth, no chill, no presence discernable in it. If you were honest, it felt like the absence of everything - light, sound, feeling, and life.

Your hands were still in someone, or something’s, grasp. You looked up, frantically searching for the source of the pressure holding your hands in place. It was right then that you saw the glowing sea green eyes of a man you had come to know. The void overwhelmed you and him until all you could see was the man in front of you among the infinite darkness.

“Loki?” You asked, watching as his eyes widened in fear. He took a step back, his hands flying up to grab hold of his neck. There was no sound, but you could see him gasping for air. His skin began to turn blue, ridges and veins clearly visible on his hands and his face. He took one glance into your eyes before collapsing to the ground, his once vibrant eyes dimming.

“You killed him,” a voice whispered.

“You murdered him,” another yelled.

“You ended his life,” a third voice called from the darkness. The area around you illuminated with wide cheshire-like smiles. Each word they said felt like weights crashing down on you, pulling you down into the fiery depths of hell. 

“I trusted you,” a chorus of voices spoke from all around you. When you looked around, twelve sets of eyes surrounded you. Twelve men. Twelve victims. Twelve dead. 

Twelve murders.

***

You shot up in bed, forehead glistening with sweat as you analyzed your surroundings. It was outrageously dark - too dark. Were you not just in your living room moments ago? For a brief moment, you believed you were still in your dream. Perhaps the voices, the men you had harmed, had come back for you. Perhaps they would end you like you ended them. Fumbling for your phone on your nightstand, you glanced at the time.

03:33.

Sighing, you sat up. As much as you wanted to believe that the timing was far too convenient to be coincidental, you let yourself brush the thought aside. The last thing you needed was to feel spooked during witching hour. You began counting in your head while staring off into the corner of your room.

Minutes passed as you steadily realized that sleep would continue to evade you. You swung your legs off the side of your bed before stepping onto the cold floor below you. The world swayed as you felt blood rush to your head and you found yourself stumbling a bit to counter the gravity that had befallen you. You walked the few steps it took to get to your bedroom door before slipping out. As you walked to your kitchen, your senses began to heighten. Every sound outside as well as inside made you jolt in caution as if you were waiting for a vengeful predator to make its presence known.

The walk to your kitchen had never seemed so long before, yet here you were, walking infinitely slow just to get to a room down the hall. When you finally reached your destination, you decided to pull a mug out of a cupboard. If you could just make a nice cup of tea, maybe sleep would welcome you back with open arms. 

You hauled yourself on top of the counter, swinging your legs like an innocent child as you waited for the hot water to finish boiling. Every couple seconds, your feet would tap on the cabinets below, causing a startling bang. The water had just begun to boil when you heard someone clear their throat. Turning immediately, you met the curious gaze of Loki.

“What are you doing?” The god asked, an eyebrow raising.

You jumped down from your position, eyeing him suspiciously, “I could ask you the same thing. What are you doing here?”

Loki stood still, eyebrows furrowing as if he either had no idea why he was there or he had no idea why you would ask such an absurd question. Without looking at what you were doing, you reached for the pot holding your now steaming water. A sharp pain jolted through your hand as you glanced down to see that you had grabbed the hottest part of the metal. You cursed under your breath, holding your burnt fingertips to your mouth before turning to run some cold water on the affected area.

The God of Mischief was quick to come to your aid. His hand encapsulating yours while he held your hand up to see the damage. “You asked me to stay, do you not recall?”

Confused, you pulled your hand away. Had you really asked him? Seconds passed as you tried to remember asking him to stay the night, but nothing came to mind. If you weren’t shuffling through your memories in order to find the moment such a thing occurred, you would have noticed the soft green glow that surrounded your entwined hands. You would have noticed the soft kiss Loki left on your fingertips after the glow subsided, and you most certainly would have noticed the lack of pain pulsing through your hand.

When you finally finished trying to remember, Loki’s face was very close to yours. Too close. You could feel his cool breath on your cheeks as he seemed to slowly inch closer until his lips were less than a centimeter from your own. Your eyes widened in shock as your hands flew up to cover your mouth. 

“What are you doing?” You asked, stumbling backwards until your back was against the counter. Loki made no movements towards you; instead, he shook his head and turned off the running water. For a moment, you could have sworn you saw a pained look on his face at the sudden rejection.

“Nothing,” he responded, still facing the faucet.

“I don’t remember asking you to stay tonight, Loki,” you said. Every second you thought more about it, the more you realized that you couldn’t even remember getting to bed. You were still wearing your dress from earlier, and you weren’t the type to fall asleep in your day clothes - ever. “I don’t even remember going to bed.”

You heard the god sigh with his back still turned to you. He turned slowly, meeting your cautious gaze, “I put a spell on you.”

“A spell,” you stated. It was by no means a question, not now when you knew he was capable of such magic. “What spell?”

“I simply put you into a deep sleep. For days you mentioned that you were not able to sleep well, and now that I know why, I decided to do what needed to be done,” he spoke, arms crossing against his chest. It was at that moment that you realized that he was still wearing his suit. No wonder you hadn’t seen him when you walked into the room - the god was dressed in complete black. He was practically dressed as the darkness itself.

“So,” you started, an eyebrow raising in scrutiny, “You put me to sleep without even asking, when we were talking?”

“Yes,” Loki answered.

“Don’t do that.”

“And why not?” The God of Mischief took a step forward. “If I were to have let you continue on the conversation, leaving shortly after, would you have slept?”

You stood silently, knowing very well that you would have tossed and turned throughout the night like you had for the past six years.

“I saw a window of opportunity, and I took it.” He continued, the silence answering his previous question. “Better for you to fall asleep in my company than in the company of your personal demons. If you were standing in my position, you would have noticed how undeniably exhausted you were. How was I meant to let you push me out the door when I can clearly see how much you needed rest without interruption, without fear of being dragged into your past?”

You hesitated. Glancing at the sincere look in his eyes, you sighed in defeat. 

“Just,” you started to say, waving a hand in the air, “Don’t do that without asking first next time, okay?”

Loki nodded, “As you wish.”

You kept your distance as Loki poured the hot water into the mug that you had placed on the counter. He grasped a tea packet from a jar next to your stove before handing you the warm cup. As you took the mug from him, you smiled. Loki, God of Mischief, had just helped you make some tea. If that wasn’t the most absurd thing to have ever happened in your kitchen, then you weren’t quite sure what was. 

“Would you like some?” You asked, holding the cup slightly higher to indicate that you were speaking about tea.

He shook his head, “I’m not overly fond of tea in the middle of the night.”

The two of you stood in awkward silence before you motioned to the couch in the adjoining room. Loki nodded, following behind as you made your way over to sit down.

“Is it normal for you to wake in the early hours like this?” He inquired as you sipped on your tea. 

“Unfortunately, yes,” you responded, placing the mug on the table. “I don’t sleep peacefully anymore.”

Loki nodded in understanding. He, too, was plagued by nightmares. He dreamt vividly of the events that he had taken part in, and with every passing second spent asleep, he was only ever reminded of his repulsive status among those around him. However, as the god watched your shaky hands reach for your mug again, his eyebrows furrowed in concern. There was something about you that made him protective, and he could not be certain as to what that was, but he knew that you were a being to be watched over.

Loki knew the pain of being riddled with demons, and he knew how hard it was to sleep with the voices telling you that there would be no greater monster than yourself. He understood the torment and the endless waking hours. He could recall all the nights in which the cold sweat dripped down his neck as he woke from the unspeakable just to find that the nightmare never ended. Loki knew far too well, and although he recognized these troubles as something he would give away in a heartbeat, he found himself wanting to take away your pain and make it his own.

In his mind, he could not fully understand why you, of all people, were plagued with such abilities. You were kind. You were forgiving. You were everything the god considered himself not to be, and that in itself was the reason he could not understand. Loki could understand and relate to everything you were going through, but he could not fully comprehend why it was you that met this fate. He did not want to see you suffer or for you to be afraid that someone would come around to drag you away. No, Loki would not allow those thoughts to plague you. He needed to protect you.

And for the first time in a long while, Loki found himself wanting to save someone. He wanted to save you from yourself even if it meant that it could be his downfall.

(Chapter 4)

[miyiee]

“TOMINO”

“TOMINO”

Written By: Miyie 〴

(Disclaimer! Please do not read if you are someone who is easily disturbed, make sure you are over 13 to read this content may include violence, alcohol, abuse, and blood, Thank you!) This is not your typical horror genre, it truly describes real-life “horror.” I really wanted to bring out these situations, as there are many out there who suffer from these.) -Miyie 〴

It’s only imaginary, it’s something so forfeit, something you cannot deliberately see.

………...See, I once had this friend, it was only engraved in my mind, not necessarily sincere nor significant to me, someone that was so authentically cruel, but yet I followed…..

A bird caged-girl, as she started to plug her ears to block out the interphone chime, I am fighting with an enemy I couldn’t even see, even till the end I was leading myself to a truly unseemly thing. A leash clings on my neck, each step, each walk, each breath I took. I am always being watched by someone, something.

Who, you may ask? My imaginary friend. “And, it has been that way for years.”

“Free me, lift me from my guilt.” If it were only so simple.

1/2/1981

Ever since the day I was born into this world, I have always been those principles of innocence, my mother, my father always checked up on me to make sure I wasn’t doing anything bad and they would always find me quite strange for a child. You see, I was always talking to the wall, in the same position. “Look! Mommy, isn’t he nice?” Yes. Tomino loved me deeply, there was no doubt, but you see, this love was a strange one and cannot be explained. “Sure, whatever you say, Hika.” She leaned down and pet me on the head. Of course to her extent, mother would never believe such nonsense...I always thought Tomino was there, someone everyone else could also see…...

Not just me.

…...

2/18/1988

One day as my mother was going out to head for groceries, I stopped her, no Tomino stopped her, he

told me to.

“Please just don’t go today, I would like you to just stay with me.”

  The day after, it was reported, documented on the news of an incident that happened to be the same street my mother was just going to head to, xxx street of Zemark, a shooting happening between two drunk white men, about 12 people had either died that day, 9 injured within that store. These sorts of incidents would occur several times after then on any random day. “That excuse again?” Tomino this, Tomino that.” Mother would often say to me out of frustration. She couldn’t understand why her daughter was acting this certain way after all. 

Was I really that childish or…. Did I speak the truth?

But, you see, such kindness comes with a price. 

A promise that was forged. 

I spend the days with Tomino, we play together, talk together for hours, I drew and wrote on his requests, but one day, it seems he has gotten quite bored of my childish acts and lingers for a little more fun and excitement. He threw my painting on the floor in anger, “So what do you want me to do then?”I asked. I wished I didn’t have asked, maybe then I wouldn’t need to do whatever he said..…. It was a little dark outside for a spring season while taking multiple glances towards outside the window. He told me to “Go outside and stab this helpless squirrel with a kitchen knife, smear its blood around in a circle on this painting, and to finally make a box around it in the sand with a stick.” When I declined, he would get mad at me and would not talk to me for hours, doesn’t help me anymore, so I did it, I obeyed him like a dog.

Mother tried ever since, to cure me of this disease, this illness. She looked for any doctors, psychologists, psychiatrists, etc. “Your child is perfectly healthy,” they said. Not even the best professionals figured it out. Tomino was always mischievous, mysterious, secretive, smart about where he moves each of his pawns. To him, this was no more than just a game.

My father abandoned me because of this, well partly. He cheated on her, secretly, but it was funny since father still had this small affection for mom, so instead, he told her a white lie. I knew all along because Tomino tells me about these things. 

I was only left with my mother. “Why me?” Why can’t I have a normal child?,” I would often hear mother mumble under her breath. My mother was no longer the kind mother I knew. It wasn’t a surprise she has become an alcoholic soon after.  

“What are you looking at? You pathetic little brat, this is all your fault!”, mother said.

“I REALLY HATE THE SMELL OF ALCOHOL.”, I screamed at her.

Miza peered in on us in the corner, she came to my house for the project.

I knew,.... She knew.

……….

Tomino would often come to comfort me when I cry, although sometimes he is upset himself and never comes, he said it wasn’t my fault. “It was Okaa-san’s fault for not understanding us enough.”

School was no different. 

“No wonder her parents abandoned her..”    

“What a spoiled child.”

“Ewww, stay away from me….”

“Manipulative bi**”

“This is all your fault!”

I have always given in the efforts to redeem myself, but they were all main just seen as an unless waste of time.

“I’m not your friend anymore! How could you do such a thing?”

Wait- KI! Wha-what about you Miza, are you going to leave me too?, I asked. Deliberately. 

She looked at me sadly but she said nothing “...........”, as she just walked alongside her other friend.

I was always the one left out. It wasn’t my fault, was it?

I had to transfer to many different schools after then. 

“Ugh, isn’t that disgusting woman her mother?”

“Why would you raise such a slut?”

It always ended terribly. 

Tears were wiped with sleeves. I weep.

So then...

9/16/1990

Mother became even more so tired of all this as each day passed by. She dressed up, packed up. Slammed the door on me.

Unknown: “Wait! What about-!”

She left me…...

 “I don’t need her anymore, I should’ve never given birth to you.”

“Don’t leave me, I promise I will do all my chores, I would never cause you any more trouble ever again, please mother!”, I layed on the floor, begging.

But, that was the last sentence mother said to me, the last she spoke to me, the last time I saw her.

“Ojii-san, Do you think it's my fault?”

Unknown: “It’s going to be okay, Hika, come with me.”

….

Years passed then, it was hard to believe. 

“Hika, breakfast is ready!” “Coming Okaa-  Ojii-san!”

“What a weird grandchild I have.”   “hahaha, Ojii-san that’s mean!”  “Come eat, child.”

“Itadakimasu!”   If you couldn’t tell already, living with my uncle was nice and comforting, for once.

“Okay, I’m off, see you Ojii-san!”

It was only us two that lived together now after dad had left us and mother had disappeared off to somewhere. Ojii-san was the only person I have now, although he is growing quite old as days pass by.

Thing was, we are tight on money. Ojii-san tries his best to reassure me and tells me to just focus on my studies but I know about our financial problems.

The only other major reason why we had food left on our plate was that “Tomino” still exists, he protects me, this was part of our agreement. I thought for sure Tomino would get bored of me soon when I grew older, but he stayed and waited for the promise we made till the very end. It seems like Tomino never really ages and he just stays the same size every day even after years. Things just stayed the same. 

Tomino grants my wishes. But, that’s it….

….

11/7/1994

I walked between pebbles, between bridges, and on bridges. Tomino follows me wherever I go. It's like he’s a stalker, but I'm used to it. "I'm fine today, Tomino, how are you? You know, I know you're there..." "Yes, whatever you say.", he replied. He raised strange doubts when I was a child, but I loved him. It was my friend after all. He was the only person who knew me well. Tomino seems to look old these days, but not so deeply.He still seems to have stayed the same even after years.

As my walk almost reached my destination, I was in the middle of walking passed the archway of the two buildings as a shortcut followed by my upperclassmen.

"Ah, isn't that Hika Normanashi?"

Please, keep in mind that……..Nobody really knows my surname. It was a secret because of family issues. Tomino also knows. And since then I haven't trusted enough people to tell them anything. It wasn’t particularly very nice to see someone expose my surname.

I felt a hand grabbed me by my wrist as they proceeded to push me against the wall as the dude kept mocking my body.

Girl 2: "Hey, knucklehead! This is it! I brought over her here."

Unknown: “This little one doesn’t seem to scream much so it’s fine boss.”

As they threw me onto the ground below them, Grabbing me and pushing my head against the wall.

"S-STOP IT! RELEASE ME!"

Girl 1: "Hey, so what are you going to do? Get your boyfriend to protect you or something?"

“……… ..!”

"Wait! Tomino, don't!"

Soon, the blood of two young girls spilled under me, on the concrete under my feet. I was soaked in blood. The young man looked at me in shock of fear as if I were the murderer.

"Y-YOU MONSTER!", he screamed.

I looked down at my bloody shaking hands. The knife Tomino has given me…...

The young man tried to resist me as much as possible, but Tomino also fled before him and overwhelmed over him. I knew exactly what Tomino wanted me to do. Through the man’s eyes, I could see what it felt like to die, the terror. "Sorry, but you’ll have to die for me, it'll be fast, I promise." I closed my eyes. I took a breath. I wondered how just how many more people do I need to kill? There was no point in arguing with Tomino. This is his identity. I’m sorry Ojii-san………. The next thing I saw when I opened my eyes were two stranded dead bodies tied onto the tracks, two trains which ran at full speed in seconds over them. The man's body was specially cutaway where the organs were visible, but Tomino did not kill him yet. It can be said that Tomino threw him most. I knew about this, the way this guy died was exactly the same as a few years ago. "........ First, a small lead ball creates a large, deep bruise and breaks on subsequent hits. Finally, the skin on the back hangs on a long ribbon and the entire area If the prisoner determines that the prisoner is dying, an unrecognizable chunk, the strike will be stopped. "

I know I'm a murderer ... my feet move suddenly. But in the wrong direction. I could not stop sitting on my lap on the lawn and staring at the dead man.

His face stared at me and wanted to return, in hopes of revenge, I knew deeply.

But, Tomino doesn’t. 

No matter how many following attempts there were, Tomino always got away with it, dragging me along. When the news of these three students was blankly announced, the whole classroom began to place the blame on me. No one dared to approach me after that. I was invisible. It was an inevitable fate.

I couldn’t bring myself to believe my fate.

I couldn’t bring myself to believe Tomino was so cruel. 

I couldn’t bring myself to bear this anymore. I only have hidden the truth. I knew what he meant, by those silent words.

I planned my defeat. If order to win, 

You must lose. 

To bring illusion to reality, how do you do that exactly?

How can you eliminate something you loved so much in the world?

Without a doubt, I am always attached to Tomino, I believed there was always loyalty that has existed between us.   

Tomino made me feel emotions, of all kinds. 

The emotion of being valued, the emotion of being appreciated, and emotions of hatred. 

It was only that I could never tell what his objective was, nor who he was anymore. I cannot recognize him. I cannot be an attachment. I cannot be the one to ‘change’ him. We are like the strings of, the lines, the blinds between the lies. I cannot be there for him, I must stay away father always told me. 

“One day, he would ruin you. Do not be fooled easily, do not be influenced by terrible people easily. Keep that in mind, Hika. ”

…..

Friend, a person whom one knows, likes, or trusts. 

Was there ever trust that has enveloped in this relationship. 

“Let’s stay togeth-er forever, Tomino.”

smiles*

Hey…..., that warm smile you gave me just there…..

Was that a lie…. Or was that the truth? 

Was it a sad one or was that a happy one?

Call me an idiot, although I always have the ability to read people’s expressions…..

 I could never tell Tomino’s. 

I have never thought this day would come. 

I have always thought, it was the truth. 

How could he speak so falsely?

What did you mean exactly? 

….

12/24/1995

“I’ve grown tired of you, Tomino.” , I’ve had enough.

“Kill me, how are you going to kill me?” Tomino mocked me.

” I’m sorry, Tomino.” 

And within that, the only thing that can convince us of their love for each other is the truth. 

“I cannot ever get rid of you until I die, right? I wish you the best in the afterlife ...really.”

5/22/1985

I remembered the day we met, 

The garden was so beautiful, the pond filled with koi fish were so lovely, the flowers were all so pretty, the bridge above it was so clean, but it was all so lonely. I sat there walking and running around playing by myself until I grew tired. Where you came into existence ever since. Then, we would always be together. Where he was always quiet and kept to himself, but I didn’t mind.

 “Ne-ne! Tomoi-no!.....”  “Hi-ka!”(learned each other’s names) I wrote down both of our names and embraced it with a heart, the poor boy seemed so flustered for some reason. 

“Promise me that you would always stay by my side, never leave me, alright?” He seemed hesitant at first but then offered me his pinky.

 But that wasn’t the promise, Tomino hid the truth, he wanted much more. He just wanted to take my white soul.

Thank you for your company. Your kindness, no one can pretend. The flowers were never too strong to sustain itself, and the petals would eventually overtime fade out. The grass are cut away little by little by the humans because they hate how it was. The trees are brought down by the people in order to feed them. But, these were all often done without anything in return. I didn’t want to leave because I have faith in Tomino, but that would be selfish to say that, that was the only reason why I have lived. I wished I hadn’t agreed upon our promise.  I don’t want to stay, because it would mean I would still have to call Tomino a friend.

“I have more than once tried to deceive you, but you will feel that I am now speaking falsely,” Tomino said. 

 Tomino could never touch me because he isn’t real and because he cannot touch me, he cannot stop me. I wanted to cry, but nothing came out. 

 12/24/1995

I feel the breath of life taken away from me by the multitude. 

It was getting harder and harder to breathe as each second progresses. I have always tried to kill myself before. Standing at the edge….. I was a coward I could never face death. 

“Why? All you have to do is just to “jump”? It’ll all be over, right?”

  But, one day I found myself hung.. “I’m sorry.”

And then, everything just blacked out. The man in black disappeared, everything disappeared. There was no “Tomino”. There was just a little boy, all alone forced to carry out his duty.

“Goodbye ..old friend” 

“goodbye,'' he once said.

I could almost hear him saying in response...

12/25/1994

A woman in a black dress came to settle down a few white flowers as she prayed her hands together, she spoke only three words…..,

“I love you.”

….

And soon,

 a few more and more,

 flowers were placed.  

“Happy birthday, Hika.” , Tomino smiled.

“Here’s your present!”, as the young boy cheerfully places down a small box with a little teddy bear sitting on top. 

=//[For anyone confused]// “TOMINO” is her teddy bear, a stuffed animal^^

Well? Where’d do you think Hika has gotten her present from[Teddy Bear]?  

[romerona]

To protect and serve.

Book: Ride or Die: A Bad Boy Romance 

Pairing: Logan x MC(Tessa) 

Rating: +18 cursing, NSFW

Summary: Logan’s POV with Tessa when she told the crew about her dad 

 Note: takes place in chapter 4, it’s base on the book but I change somethings. 

 Characters belong to Pixelberry Studios

Since Tessa found out that I was in Mercy Park Crew she told me she needed time to think and to process it, I can't blame her really, image learning that the person you are hanging out with is part of the crew your dad has to put to jail, I'll probably do the same if I didn't already know about her dad… but it's been 2 days, 2 days without information, 2 days been clueless about the case, 2 days without… without hearing from her… I just hope she contacts me soon even if it's just to tell me she doesn't want to see me again, but for some damn reason the thought of never seeing her again make chest ache. I brush it off when Kaneko calls Mona and me to his office.

Kaneko- Tomorrow morning around 8 the three of us are going to sell the Sodertalje Mona brought a few days ago so don’t make me wait. ”

Mona- to whom? ”

Kaneko- Anonymous buyers.” he said and starting to look back at his work.

Logan- where?”

Kaneko: underground parking lot at the pavilion.” He said without looking at us meaning he is done talking.

Mona: sure thing boss.”

I just nodded and make my way out of his office when Toby calls me.

Toby: Logan! Hey, can you pass me the tools they are at the kitchen? Oh, and how was Tessa's driving lesson?  I haven't had time to ask you about it.” He signaled the kitchen to me where he was under the car he's been working on for some time.

Logan- Sure and she is good, she learned fast” I go to the kitchen and bring the tools to Toby

I go back to work for a few more hours before going to my loft, I take a shower to take the sweat off me changing into my gray sweatpants I make my way to bed, it isn't late so I lay on my back and grab a book trying to get my anxiety in control. It's a book with different poems, I found it at Vaughn’s place last week he let me have it since his ex-girlfriend left it there months ago and hadn’t come back for it, I like to read... occasionally when I have free time and don't feel like using my phone, even if it's a poetry book, I have read worst back when I was on the road. It calms me, makes me feel less alone. I push myself up so now I'm sitting with my back against the headboard and open the book on some random page and start reading poem after poem, it actually makes me forget about everything for a little while until I came across a poem.

~We are not destined I know we are not. I am damned but she is not. She will save me, She always saves me.~

Rolling my eyes I put the book down and grab my phone, my finger hovering over Tess number thinking if I should text her or not…

“When she is ready she will text me hopefully soon” So instead I set the alarm to an ungodly hour and kept reading for a while but fell asleep shortly after.

The next morning I wake up to the sound of the fucking alarm, yawning I make my way to the shower and start getting ready to meet Kaneko downstairs. On my way to meet him and Mona my phone buzzes in my pocket, I took it out to see who the hell is awake and texting me at this hour. I let a small chuckle seeing who it is  “ Of course it's her” but it's the feeling it's quickly replaced by uneasiness, embracing myself for whatever is on that text I begin to read it.

Tessa- Hey. Can I see you?”

I let out a breath of relief and answer her.

Logan- Busy this morning. Got something with Kaneko at the Pavilion. Text you later?”

Tessa- Are you getting up to trouble?”

A small smile plays on my face.

Logan- Nothing I can't handle.” I answer while walking downstairs.

Once I got there I jump on the Sodertalje and make my way to the mall. We park on the underground parking lot, there aren't any cars at these hours so we have it all to ourselves. After a while of being there and the buyer is yet to show up, Mona starts complaining, but thanks to God it wasn't long before a black SUV shows up. Two guys come out of the car that in my experience are some type of gangsters make some stupid comments and after that, we finally go down to business. At the corner of my eye, I see something moving, I  look at the direction of the movement and my stomach clenched.

Is that Tessa??! What the fuck is she doing here? Fuck! this is dangerous, she will get hurt if they spot her, I can't let that happen”

I look back at the gangsters praying that they hadn’t seen her, but to my fucking luck they do and pull their guns out, I quickly disarmed them the way Vaughn had taught me back in Detroit, I know it was a stupid move of my part but Tessa is here and one wrong move and everything can go to shit, I rather prevent that.

Still, why is she here?”

After some rambling between Kaneko and the gangsters I finally got my answer.

Tessa- No! Forget the stupid deal! The cops are coming! We need to run!”

“Shit”

Mona and the gangster we're freaking out, Tessa was trying to explain that we need to get out of there, that we just have to trust her, I know that she is trying to hide the fact that her dad is a cop and probably knows that they are coming from him, but there is no way she… I'm pulled out of my thoughts by Tessa’s voice.

Tessa- I… I know because… My dad's a cop!” she said looking nervous at us.

Did she just… ” I’m taken back by the fact that she fully admitted that her dad is a cop just to make us trust her and get us out of here knowing what that can cost her, I look back at Kaneko, he has the same expression as me, neither of us was expecting this .

The gangsters are the first ones to flee, leaving us there, Mona is still freaking out about the fact that Tessa's dad is a cop but Kaneko brush it off in a hurry to leave  and starts to get to his car, but the Sodertalje is still here and full of evidence Kaneko wants to leave it behind because he thinks that there is no way to take the car out of here but I know I can take it out, Tess said she was coming with me and I’m not totally sure but I don’t put resistance either.

And like Tess said the cops soon arrive… I managed to avoid them but they catch up, in one of the cars from the cops was Tessa’s dad, I believe that she saw him because when I swerve she pulls the lever of her seat and drops flat on her back to hide from him, still knowing about it I pretend to be shocked when she confesses.“God I'm such a piece of shit”

Tessa- Logan, you can't let him get hurt.” she said to me pleadingly.

Logan- I’ll try.”

I move around between the columns of the mall trying not to scratch the car since it’s a very narrow place attempting to put some distance between us and the cops when one of them opens their window and shoots a fucking GPS tracker, those are such a pain. I have to take the fucker off. I tell Tess to hold the wheel and she panics about it with my foot still on the gas I grab her hands and put them on the wheel and tells her what to do while I try to take the tracker off, at first I couldn't reach the tracker but I move slightly and got a bit closer but still not enough,I incline a little more when Tess calls my name in panic,  there is a solid wall a few meters of us, “shit, I just need a little more…” I finally reach the little shit and remove it just in time to drive the car and slide between the columns and the wall. Soon after we lose the cops from the parking lot but there are more blocking the ramp, Tess suggests to go to the loading dock… I floor it to get there fast but when we got there, the trucks were blocking the path except for one… I reversed it and park in it, getting out of the car to close the doors of the truck. Now we are both sitting here in the dark and it hits me… She put herself in danger to help us, she went against her dad to help me get out of here with the car. 

“Why  would she did it? Could it be that she did it for me?”

Logan- Listen… Tess… thanks. For warning us. For helping me get this car outta there. Why did you? Why would you risk so much?”

Tessa- Maybe I just wanted you to own me one again” she explained with a goofy tone.

Logan- Well, I'm in your debt. Your wish is my command.”

Tessa- Don't tempt me” she said smiling but soon it's gone. “I don't think Kaneko is going to be too happy with me, anyway. My dad-- ” she trails off but I interrupt her.

Logan- I don’t care what Kaneko says, and I don't care who your dad is. I'd never let anything happen to you” I said to her looking straight into her eyes trying to make her understand that every word is true. She told us about her dad, she came clean about It and what did I fucking do? put her in more danger by letting her come with me but this is the last time…  I won't let her be in danger anymore not if I can prevent it.

Tessa- No need for declarations now” she said with a smile.

Logan- Can't help myself.”

“I really can't Tess... not with you and that scares the fuck out of me.”

I gawk at her, her eyes, her nose, her hair, her lips… Those lips that I been craving since the first time mine meet hers.  I noticed that she is leaning towards me so I give into my impulses and cup her face in my hands and kiss her hard, desperately, my tongue begs for an access and she obliges, our tongues crash into each other I savor her sweet lips wishing I could just take her here, an overwhelming feeling came over me, my heartbeats become faster and beat harder, I try to pull her closer to me, my need for her is insanely big, like I have never felt before,but suddenly the trucks started to move and tess broke the kiss.

Tessa- what's happening?” she asks surprised.

I'm still dumbfounded by the kiss so it took me a few seconds to understand what she was talking about.

Logan- I, uh… think the truck started driving.”

Tessa- What do we do?”

Logan- What do you mean? We do nothing… and let ourselves be chauffeured away from the crime scene.”

Tessa looks at me but then lower her eyes and giggles, my heart started to beat rapidly again.  

”I swear I haven't heard a laugh that beautiful in my entire life…”

What the hell is she doing to me, first I'm nervous about her not texting me back then I’m dumbfounded by her kiss and now her laugh makes my heart go crazy… But the weirdest thing about all of this is that I don't have the willpower to stop it and even if I could I don't think I want to.

“Fuck, I’m losing the fucking head for her”

Later we are talking about the car and other stuff I feel relax and happy… when I hear the sound of the driveway and I know our time in the truck is over and I can't help but feel a little disappointed.

I got a text from Kaneko, we go to the garage. When we got there the entire crew is around the kitchen table already yelling over each other about tess, I stay on my feet but Tessa sits on the kitchen chairs, taking a look at her I notice a guilty look on her face.

I guess she finally understand what she did… 

After the crew discussion and Tess explanation, Kaneko laying against his car acts like he’s thinking about letting her stay but I know for a fact that he will, it was his plan all along, make Tessa trust us enough to do things like this.

Putting the… Feelings… aside it's a fucking great plan. Colt hasn't said much about it, but of course he couldn't keep his mouth shut any longer and start snapping at Tessa and I didn't fucking like it one bit, he and I begin to argue when the motherfucker uses her against me and with that I swing at him connecting my fist with his face we begging to wrestle to the floor until Tessa's voice cut in calling Colt.

Colt- You're always around to save the day, aren't you?” 

Tessa: You're really lucky I am, Colt.” she said glaring at him.

And finally, Kaneko agrees to let her stay and left but not before giving colt an ear full…

Colt- How exactly do you think this is gonna end? This double life of yours won't last, Tessa. It can't.” he let out while wiping the blood from his lips and making his way to his motorcycle. I walk to sit next to Tessa with pain under my eye but all I can think of is her.

Logan- You alright?”

Tessa- I'm fine. You look worse than wear thought.” She mumbled raising a hand to touch my cheek, I lean a little into her touch but not enough to make it noticeable.

Logan- Doesn't it make me look tough?” I said pulling away from her hand trying to look like it.

 Tessa- A little”.She giggles but then she looks at me embarrassed. “Listen I own you an apology. I'm sorry for hiding who I was.” 

Shit Tess, you are not the one hiding something that is worth an apology”

Logan- You didn't. Who your parents are isn’t who you are. So, apology not accepted, got it?”

Tessa-... Got it.” she said with a smile.

Still, my mind went to what happened today, it was a close call we need more information and now that she openly admits her dad is a cop we can get more. But it feels wrong I don't know if I can continue…. “Fuck men pull yourself together this is your job and you barely know her.”

I take a deep breath trying to shake that feeling off.

Logan- But your dad… I mean, this is crazy. How long has he been after us?” As soon as those words left my mouth I felt nausea…

 ”Clearly taking a deep breath didn't help for shit”

Tessa- Just a couple of days. He just got assigned to you.”

I nod… pushing the vomit back down. 

I laugh this time.

Logan- Small world, huh?  Listen… do you want to leave? After today, I'd totally understand if you never wanted to see any of us again” Those words create an ache in my chest like the one I had  yesterday. 

Tessa- Honestly, I don't know. I know that I shouldn't be here… but I also know that the last week has been the most freeing, most unforgettable week of my life. So maybe I'll leave and never see you again. “That shit hurts” But I don't want to make that call just yet.” 

I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding.

Logan- I don't want you to make that call yet either”

I grab her waist and pull her to me, she cups my face between her small hands and kisses me softly like trying not to hurt me because of my wounds, I don't care about them I just need her close but before I could deepen the kiss, Toby clear his throat, and we separate from each other.

Toby proposed to offer Tessa a car ”built” by him, getting up we make our way to the cars and shows her the cars we had that no one uses Toby shows her the Shokai and then the Triple-nine the crew begins to talk about cars and how different they are but her eyes landed on one that is covered and hasn't seen the light of day in a long time, it's actually a shame the panther XX it's a beautiful car, without taking her eyes off the cover Tess ask about it, I told Toby to show her the car, as soon as he did it I saw the way her eyes light up and I knew that she found the one, she makes her way to the car with a smile, I stay back watching the way she moves around it, the way she lightly touches it, the way her eyes glowed, it's fucking sexy, in an attempt to distract myself from the bulge that is begging make my pants uncomfortable I begin to tell her about the car and so does Toby.

As I expected she chooses the panther and hops in, a smile is placed on her face until she saw the clock and freaked out about school and some test she has. 

Tessa- Wait… should I drive there in my car?” 

I laughed, she really is a troublemaker…  she just doesn’t know it yet.

Logan- You're a long way from getting your license, troublemaker. I'll give you a lift.”

In our way to school I keep thinking about what Tess said. 

“Did she really thought she could drive her car barely knowing anything?”

Logan- Tess, would you really try to go to school in your car?” I ask curiosity tainting my tone.

Tessa- I mean I you thought me the basic, it can’t be that difficult”

I snorted.

Logan- you're cute sometimes.”

Tessa- gee, thanks.” she mumbled rolling her eyes

Logan- I mean that in a nice way, like sometimes you do cute things.”

Before she could answer we arrived at the school she thanked me and gives me a quick kiss on the cheek and rush to the school, I chuckled a little and take off. When I arrived at the garage Kaneko calls me to his office.

Logan- Boss” I greet him and close the door behind not wanting the crew to listen since I'm fully aware why he called me.

Kaneko- Logan, now we have the upper hand, you saw what happened today it was a short call if it wasn't for her we would be at jail right now you need to continue with whatever you're doing with her, understood?”

I think for a few seconds…  this is your job and you have only known her for a few days… you can’t be feeling guilty. No, you can't be feeling anything at all, end of fucking story”

Kaneko- Understood? He asks again getting irritated by my lack of response.

Logan- yeah I… I Understand.” 

I made my way out of his office but still kept thinking about Tessa and this fucking job,We fucking have what we needed the job is practically complete and I’m ready for it to be over but what I’m not ready for is her, I mean obviously I care about her, more than I would like to admit. I just have never cared about anyone before so I didn't realize it would have this much of an effect on me. I thought it was something I could easily overcome, I thought people who gave up everything for the ones they cared for were just too weak to overcome it. I thought it would be easy for me to give them up if needed but now it scares me that this girl could be my undoing because I can't even imagine me just sitting back and letting something happen to her.  

*****

It's been a couple of days since Tess came clean about her dad, each day she has come to the garage for a drive, I can't say I mind having her with me actually kind of I like it... a lot but it’s always the same I should take her somewhere else…

Laying on the kitchen couch I put my phone out and send her a text.

Logan: We still on for driving tonight? I wanna take you somewhere.

Tessa: Yeah! Almost out of school for the day… Tessa: Can't wait to get behind the wheel!

I laughed

Colt- Why are you grinning like an idiot? I mean you are but you cover it more, wait no, you can't cover that, it's just your face” he said behind the front desk.

Logan- Fuck off dipshit” I rolled my eyes at him.

Colt- Oh… I know… Is Tessa texting you? I bet she is, I thought she was a smart girl but apparently not so much if she keeps hanging out with you” he said with a smirk.

Logan- Oh really and who should she be hanging out with… You? Please, she barely likes you.” I let out with a scoff.

Colt- I know she doesn't currently like me but soon enough she will realize what a moron you are and then I will be the one she wants to spend her time with and let me tell you I can't wait to have her with me. That is if I get to her before Mona does.”

Mona gets out of under a car.

Mona- He is kind of right I will definitely want to have her with me and for myself, I mean who wouldn't want to?”

Colt- A good girl with a wild side plus she is stunning and that body…” he said closing his eyes and biting his lip.

My blood boils just to think about Colt or Mona touching Tessa’s body, it makes me sick, I don't want them touching her the way I do it… I don't want anybody else doing it.

Logan- Colt! I swear to god if you don’t shut the fuck up…”

But before I could finish I got another text from Tessa, I immediately calm down, knowing that I'm going to see her soon.

Tessa: Change of plans. I have an idea…

Logan: what is it?

Tessa: Do you want to have a study double-date with my friends?

”Study date… how could I be helpful? Still, I prefer to spend time with her than being here with this asshole.”

Logan: Sure… Where is it? Want me to pick you up?”

Tessa: No need, is at Riya’s house she will take me, I'll send you the address when we get there.”

Logan: Sure, see you soon troublemaker.”

I felt a little disappointed, I wanted to take her to my “special” place but is okay as long as I'll get be with her.

As I put my phone down I take a deep breath preparing myself for some snarky comments from Colt but fortunately for him (because my self-control was on the edge of collapsing) Colt was already minding his business, so I do the same walking to my car before he could start talking again.

Tessa sends me the address and 10 minutes later I'm parking in front of a fancy house in some fancy neighborhood… Damn, her friend is loaded I hope she isn't like Brent and be all full of herself…”  thought I don't think Tessa will hang out with people like Brent.

I knock on the door and Tessa figure appears in front of me, my heart starts beating fast ” MEN CALM THE FUCK DOWN”  I kiss her cheeks and follow her to the kitchen where her friends are.

After a quick presentation and a good cup of Lemonade, we sit around the table, I ask about the project, as soon as I hear what it is about I thank whoever is out there that I read a biochemistry book before and I could actually help her with something today. It's some simple mechanical model one look at it I already know what's wrong with it.

A few hours later after learning, working on the model, a small awkward moment when I confess some truth about myself and quick kiss from Tess, we go to the diner Tessa and her friends go to every week.

“They are not bad, I like them, being here with them feels good but dangerous…. like the life I once wished I had.”

We order some fries and milkshakes and start talking and joking around when I find myself dancing “Jailhouse rock” in the middle of the diner…  my idea, not hers which is surprising for me.

Logan- Is this what it’d be like? If I went to school? If I were a regular guy?” “Hang out in diners with you and Riya and Darius and fix DNA models?” I ask her trying to sound and feel indifferent as possible but deep down I know there is a bit of anxiety.

Tessa- I know it’s not a glamorous life I of money and thrills…  but yeah.”

Logan- Pretending to be normal feels surreal. It feels… dangerous.” I confessed feeling the anxiety coming out to take advantage of a situation I never thought I'll put myself in to.

Tessa- Normal can be overrated. Just look at me. I was living the same old boring life I couldn’t wait to get out of every day until I met you.”

“Boring life is not so bad at least it kept you safe… until you met me.”

Logan- How do you like me as a normal high school guy?” I tease her as I make her spin.

Tessa spins and then kissed me, I didn’t expect a kiss but it’s always welcome especially from her, the kiss holds for a moment and then she pulls away, her kiss taste like the milkshake we just had, sweet, delicious and like I want another one.

Tessa- Does that answer your question?”

Logan- Not completely sure. Maybe answer it again so I can make sure I get it?”

 I wish we could be alone… maybe I can take her where I planned this afternoon I know it’s late but… 

Logan- You Know, if you’re not too tired, we can still get you behind the wheel for some practice after this.”

Tessa- I’d like that.”

We continue dancing to some sketchy song, my eyes fixed in nothing but her, everything else dissolves around… it’s just us she in my arms and me in hers. It feels right. Later after we leave the diner and said bye to Darius and Riya, Tessa and I drive around for some time.

I park at the beach, and we get out of the car sitting on the hood of it and listening to some song the radio is playing, we enjoy the view, well as enjoyable as it can at night we started talking and somehow this girl makes me tell her what this place means to me, what it have meant for the past two years I’ve been in L.A, that makes me feel vulnerable as fuck but for some reason bringing Tess here it and tell her makes it a lot better.

Logan- How do you keep seeing light in me when there isn't any?” I question looking into her eyes with my full sincerity.

Tessa- There is plenty. And you'll see it, too. Someday.” she told me glowing eyes. She smiles and presses her lips against the corner of my mouth and smiles again before pulling away and gaze back at the ocean.

Warm fills me, my heart is pounding like crazy I have never had a feeling this intense before with anyone else, like I want to be the version of myself she thinks I am.

Logan- I hope you are right.” I whisper so quietly that she didn't hear me.

I stood up and look at her.

Logan- How about we take a swim?”

Tessa- What?” she asks in shocked.

Logan- Why not?” I told her as take my clothes off.

Tessa- First of all I bet it's freezing and I don't have any clothes… Logan!”

I start making my way to the water and hear Tess scream my name.

Logan- You can use my shirt.”

Tessa thinks it for a hot minute not looking convince.

Logan- Come on troublemaker, we spend the entire afternoon working you deserve to relax a little.” She finally agrees and start to make her way to the shore with my shirt on hand.

Tessa- Don’t look.”

I roll over and cover my face with my hands to humor her.

Tessa- Okay, done.

I look at her, damn, the way my shirt looks in her it's fucking sexy.

Why did I think it was going to be a good idea.”

She then joins me in the water, we started swimming around, talking, laughing, splashing water to each other. We soon get out of the water and face each other, no sound but the waves, and my own damn beating heart. She looks up at me with an innocent expression on her face,  and damn that look makes me lose control.

I grab and kiss her hard for one long, blissful moment, I drank in the softness of her lips and her floral, woodsy scent. She smells impossibly good— like amber and gardenia.She kisses me back, sweetly and tentatively, and I find myself utterly lost. I kissed her harder, threading my fingers through her hair, both hands around either side of her neck. She gasped, and I took the chance to dart out my tongue and taste her.

Fire raced through my veins. I increased the pressure of my grip, tilting her head towards me as I explored her mouth. She wrapped her hands around my waist, pulling me closer. My hands skated up and down her body, the touches are growing bolder and more frenzied as if any moment would be our last. Tessa breaks the kiss when she needs air, I press my head to hers taking deep breaths.I feel the goosebumps on her skin over the places my hands have been.

Logan- Have you been touched like this before?”

Tessa just shook her head and kisses me again but I slowly break the kiss and my touch becomes more subtle.

Tessa- Why did you stop.” she said so quietly that  if we weren't this close I wouldn't hear it.

Logan- it's cold I don't want you to get sick  and… we have time.”

Looking at her I notice a blush creeping on her pretty face I smile to myself knowing I’m the one who cause it, giving her one last kiss I give her, her clothes back she just giggles and and signals me to turn around.

Tessa- don't peek.

Logan- I won’t .” I tease

She is awfully confident to think I would sit there and stare at her. Well… okay, I probably would especially give that she's wearing my shirt that it's wet and it's hugging her body in a damn nice way. But I know I can't…

Later I left Tessa at her house and go back to the garage and thanked God there is no one on-site, I make my way to my loft. I turn the shower on and get in, as the hot water running down on me comfort fills my body. I keep thinking back at Tessa at her body the way it looked at the moonlight so soft and perfect, and so fucking clean, compared to the scars covering mine and in nothing else but my shirt. I can feel myself getting harder the more I think about her, I can't hold it any longer so I took myself in hand, I start stroking myself thinking of her hand on my cock, gradually growing the pace, now her mouth is around me going up and down consuming all of me my mind think of how tight and good she would feel around me, and that does it for me… I came hard, harder than ever before I have masturbating. I start getting down the highs and open my eyes, this is getting fucking messy. It wasn't supposed to be messy. I wasn’t supposed to crave her mouth and her mind equally. I wasn’t supposed to think about how tight she would feel around me as I rock into her soft body. I’m not supposed to get off, imagining my hand is hers.

[chuffyfan87]

Hiding. Part 75c (NSFW)

"They said they'd confirm at my next appointment."

“I think you should have the c-section. It’s definitely safer.”

"I thought you'd say that."

“Anything to minimise the risk of you dying on me.”

"Yeh, I'd rather that didn't happen." She shuddered.

“Sorry.” He rubbed her back, “Like I said, I have a good feeling.”

"You and your 'feelings'!" She smiled indulgently.

“We were clearly destined to have a final child.” He replied.

"Even out the numbers."

“Exactly.” He smiled. “Duffy?”

"Yeh?"

He met her gaze and smiled shyly, “I love you.”

She tweeked his cheek. "You're such a soppy sentimental old fool!" She giggled, blushing.

“I am. But I think it’s important to always remind you just how much I love you.”

"I don't think I'll ever tire of hearing you say it."

“That’s good.” He stroked her cheek, “Because I’ll never, ever stop.”

"Sometimes I can't quite believe all this is real."

“That we’re together and have a family?”

"Yeh, part of me thinks that one day I'll wake up and it'll all have been a dream."

“Not a dream darling. Just our reality and life.”

"I always dreamed of living somewhere like this when I was little. Never thought it would actually happen!"

“And guess what? It’s all yours.” He kissed her tenderly.

"Wait til mum sees it!"

“You think your mum will like this?”

"She'll think you've committed a crime to afford it!" She laughed.

“It wasn’t that expensive actually. Slightly more than what we paid on the last place.”

"Really? When we first looked at it I was sure we couldn't afford it."

He just grinned.

"I don't want to know do I?" She sighed with a grin.

“I haven’t done anything.” He smiled.

"I'm not sure I believe you but we need to get on so I'll leave it for now." She chuckled.

“We couldn’t afford it at first. But I pulled a few strings.”

"A few strings..?" She asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Yes. But don’t worry, they were all legal strings.” He grinned.

She shook her head indulgently as she headed back out into the hallway.

Oli ran out of the living room and collided with his mum’s legs. He had no trousers on or a nappy.

"Oh Oliver, you monkey!" She sighed, attempting to pick him up but he kept running.

He was squealing and giggling. Charlie caught him in the kitchen. He gasped. “Where are your clothes?” He asked him.

Oliver giggled loudly wiggling his legs and bum in the air.

“Let’s cover your willy up. You’ll get cold.” Charlie told him.

"Weeee!" The toddler giggled.

“Wee? You need a wee wee?”

"I'm not sure he understands what you're saying." Duffy chuckled from the doorway. "I'd get a nappy on him fast though if you don't want to get a shower!"

“I’ll take him to the toilet.” Charlie did and sat Oli on the toilet. “Have a wee wee?”

Oliver just stared at his father giggling.

“You’re such a big boy now, aren’t you?”

Oliver continued to giggle.

"I'm not sure he gets what he's supposed to do." Duffy smiled.

“Probably not.” Charlie laughed. “Oliver, have a wee wee on the toilet.” He encouraged gently to no avail.

Just as Charlie picked Oliver back up he decided to wee all down his dad's tshirt.

Duffy couldn't help but laugh.

“Thanks for that Oli.” Charlie laughed gently and kissed his head.

"I did warn you." Duffy laughed smugly.

“Yeah you did.”

"I'm not sure where in the bombsite that is our new bedroom our clothes are so good luck!"

“I’ll have fun trying to find a new top then.”

"I'm half expecting to see you come down in one of mine!" She giggled.

“Makes a change from you wearing mine I guess.”

"Its not my fault that most of my clothes no longer fit!" She pouted.

“No that’s my fault.”

"I'm glad we understand each other on that." She smirked.

Charlie kissed her lips just as Oliver began to wiggle again, wanting to get down.

"What is it with our kids and interrupting?" Duffy sighed, rolling her eyes.

“I know right?” He laughed gently, kissing her again. Oliver began to babble.

"Don't get too close though, I don't want to get covered too!" She wrinkled her nose.

“Sorry.”

Duffy went up to sort out the room that Oliver and the new baby would be sharing whilst Charlie went to get himself and the toddler changed.

“You are a messy monkey, aren’t you.” He kissed Oliver’s nose as he sat him on the bed. Oliver stared at his dad and continued to babble.

Duffy smiled softly as she took in the two cots that had been set up already in the room. Even though the baby wasn't due for a couple of months they'd thought it best to get Oliver used to the idea of sharing.

They eventually managed to get the house in some kind of order just before it was time to pick up the younger kids from school. It was beginning to look and feel like home.

A little while later Peter arrived back from college. He felt daft knocking on the door but his parents hadn't given him keys yet.

Charlie opened the door. “Hi son.”

"Which room's mine?" Peter asked.

“Second floor, third one on the left.”

"Thanks dad." Peter replied and headed straight upstairs.

“How was college?”

"Alright." Peter shrugged.

“You sure?”

"Yeh." Peter replied from the top of the stairs before heading into his room.

Charlie sighed. It was getting harder and harder to talk to that boy. He knocked on his son's bedroom door.

"What?" Peter sighed through the closed door.

“Can we talk?”

"If we must." Peter replied though he made no effort to open the door.

“Can I come in?” Charlie asked.

"If you want to."

Charlie nodded and opened the door. “You sure you’re alright?”

"I've just had a busy day." Peter replied though he didn't meet his dad's eye.

Charlie sat on the edge of Peter’s bed after he’d closed the door. “There’s something you’re not telling me.”

"You get everything moved over OK?" Peter asked, changing the subject.

“Yeah it wasn’t as much of a nightmare as we’d anticipated.” Charlie smiled, “You’re more like your mum than you realise.”

"That's good. You managed to convince mum not to overwork herself I hope?"

“Of course.” Charlie smiled. “Now are you going to tell me what’s wrong?”

"There's nothing wrong."

“Yes there is. I know you remember. Have you had an argument with Sarah?”

"No. Me and Sarah are fine."

“College? Are you having a hard time at college? Your exams?”

"No. College is going alright. We don't have any exams til January."

“Are you worried about your mum and the baby?”

Peter looked away. Bingo!

“Oh son. Come here?” Charlie held his arms out towards Peter.

"The closer it gets the more I can't stop thinking about last time." Peter mumbled.

“Are you having flashbacks? Being unable to sleep?” Charlie asked as he hugged his son.

"I don't understand how you're both being so calm about it."

“You think your mum and I are being calm about it?”

"I've been trying to work out if it's all an act or you both have actually lost your minds completely."

“At why we’re so calm?”

"Yeh, it's freaky."

“We don’t want to scare you. So we pretend we’re calm when really we’re not. Not inside anyway.”

"I get you not wanting to scare the others but I was there."

“Do you want to know how I truly feel?”

"You want me to be honest so it'd be nice if you did the same.

“I’m terrified.”

"That she's gunna die?"

Charlie nodded, “I’ve never met anyone quite like your mum before.”

"I would say the world couldn't cope with two of her but, well, there's Tilly..."

Charlie laughed gently, “Tilly is the spit of your mum.” He smiled, “Your mum just understands me so much. So easy to talk to. Infuriating and yet so damn beautiful. I’m scared I’m going to wake up and never have that again.”

"That's nice, if a tad pukey..!" Things were getting a bit deep so Peter decided to try and deflect with humour.

“Yeah maybe it is a bit pukey.” Charlie laughed slightly, “Your mum and I thought long and hard about this baby. And what we were going to do. It wasn’t something that was taken lightly.”

"Really?" Peter's tone suggested he wasn't entirely convinced.

"She wasn't going to tell me originally." Charlie admitted.

"How was she planning to pull that off?" Peter asked, confused.

“It doesn’t matter.” Charlie smiled sadly, “I want you to know, your mum and I are both just as terrified about something going wrong.”

Peter peered at his father with curiosity and a little annoyance. His dad had clearly said more than he intended. What were his parents keeping a secret now?

“If I tell you, you’ve got to promise never to be angry with your mum?”

Peter looked concerned. What the hell..? "Um... OK..."

[merrykidgemas]

sdhffhdadf I wrote this last night so i’m still in the process of “did just write that-” bUT hERe, foR yOu gUyS *shoves fic into your hand and runs away blushing like an anime girl*

“Do you think they noticed yet?” Pidge raised a brow in amusement at Keith whose feet were crossed on the floor near the hem of her dress.

“No way!” the male chuckled as he loosened his bow-tie before taking another bite of pizza. “No one’s going to find us out here.”

As to appease a grand-aunt that Pidge had on her father’s side of the family, an engagement party had been added into the complicated equation of life after Keith had proposed a few months prior. It was not as if debates has not been made but it was her “dying wish” just in case she didn’t make it to the real wedding day. Even Krolia took pity on the woman; Keith never could really say no when she beamed so proudly at her son for “partaking in Earth customs” like a parent at “Bring-a-Parent-to-School-Day”. Unfortunately the hours of smiling, standing up and sitting down, shaking hands, and draining small talk that made walking on eggshells seem like a breeze made the couple stop and think.

Was it really worth it?

Somewhere between tearful speeches and games, the two had slipped away. Pidge practically threw the keys at Keith who was sprinting down to their car at lightning speeds. No words were said. They knew where to go.

Neither of them didn’t really fit into the current scene like the previous one. Fancy tables with white tablecloth were replaced with plastic round ones and instead of a velvet carpet were beige floor tiles. Not your usual hideout but the pizza was heavenly.

“You know,” Pidge sighed as she grabbed another slice, “They’ll never let us get away with this on our real wedding day. My mom is dead set on having a whole album.”

Keith stopped mid-munch. “You’re letting your mom take pictures?”

“That or she was going to call cousin Meryl to plan the wedding,” she winced.

“Who is that again?”

“The big-haired on-”

“No wait, actually stop right there. I’d much rather take pictures than wear a flamingo-patterned tux while cutting a neon pink cake,” he shuddered as Pidge struggled to breathe and she chortled with a bite of pizza in her mouth.

“Maybe we should just elope? We still have the lions so we could just find a nice planet to spend a few weeks until everyone forgets about us. Okay maybe not the guys but they’ll understand right?”

Pidge didn’t expect her fiance to stay quiet but she knew those slightly creased brows meant he was thinking seriously so she resumed to taking another bite. It was until a few moments later she heard him speak up again.

“My mom, she uh, she found my father’s sister from oversees.” His tone was so neutral like he was reading from an instruction manual that it made Pidge sit up a little more and nodded quietly for him to proceed.

Picking an olive from the plate he continued except this time his voice lowered and he started wringing his hands. “Her family hasn’t seen my dad in years and they probably don’t know that he’d passed away either… So my mom was thinking we could invite them so they could visit him, attend the wedding, and have a long discussion about the past decade. Point is, it’s weird.”

“What’s weird?”

“The fact that I’m technically an uncle to three kids? "Keith jested as he suddenly broke into a smile that made Pidge’s heart flutter. Sometimes he did that out of nowhere, making her wonder even more what he was smiling about. It was probably a tactic to keep him on her mind all day.

"I thought this was a serious conversation!” she pouted, earning a laugh from Keith.

“I am being serious! It’s just that ever since dad died I thought– I believed I was destined to be alone.”

Suddenly everything became silent. The same buzz of conversation from other customers and kitchen noises was still there but the two didn’t hear it.

“But that isn’t true anymore,” Pidge whispered as she broke the silence. Again that smile.

“Yeah I know,” Keith whispered back as he slid his hands over the table and folded them over hers, brushing over the ring on her finger. “I have my space family, I have my comrades, I have your giant crazy family, I have family that I have yet to meet, and I even the Garrison of all people.” He paused and lifted his head to look into her eyes which were tearing up a bit.

“Pizza makes us so emotional, I swear,” Pidge laughed as she squeezed her hands back.

“Sheesh Pidge, let me finish will ya? Or else you’ll ruin my once-in-a-blue-moon corniness. I was going to say that I have you too, forever. Which is unbelievable. Okay now I’m really done,” he mange to dodge before she could whack him.

“Ugh what are we going to do if our true corny selves are caught on camera for all the world to see?”

“Great! Then the whole world will know that we’re together until we die.”

“Oh no he’s back!”

Both burst into laughter, practically hanging onto each other across the table if that was even possible. There was a certain magic to them. To other people passing by, they were just two dorks in way too fancy clothing in a corner of a restaurant. But if anyone knew any better, they’d know just how absolutely in awe they were to find someone who could make them that happy. Of course no one said this out loud but there was no need to. They could feel it anyway.  

Breaking the silence was Pidge’s ringtone and just like that the magical moment was gone as both paled in horror when Shiro’s name was displayed on the screen. She answered the call and put it on speaker mode so both she and Keith could hear.

“–Hold on Mrs. Holt. Yes. Alright I’m giving you guys ten seconds to explain. WHERE ARE YOU GUYS?!”

The two grimaced at the tone of the voice. Pidge was the first to recovered so she chuckled sheepishly over the receiver.

“Haha uh hey Allura–”

“Don’t ‘hey Allura’ me. Answer the question.”

It was Keith’s turn to respond as he cleared his throat and leaned closer to the phone. “The pizzeria downtown?

"You guys are so dead,” she huffed as the two heard the sound of keys jingling and a car door slamming before the call ended.

Keith and Pidge turned to each other with a knowing look and nodded. They didn’t make a elope plan for nothing.

[rogersgirlfriend]

Traveling at the speed of light (part three)

IF YOU DON’T KNOW WHAT’S GOING ON CLICK HERE FOR PART TWO

A/N: HELLO EVERYONE I'm so sorry it took so long but there it is, part three! I had a few problems in this weeks and I couldn't concentrate on writing. However I hope you like it and leave some feedback, that really means a lot to me! Enjoy the reading 💕

Pairing: Roger Taylor x Female Reader

Warnings: none, science (fan)fiction

Plot: after discovering that the reader is from 2019, her and Roger decide to go back to the future to get some information about what to do next from the reader's father. When they come back in 1974 the reader finds out that Roger did something very stupid.

“I promise you we’ll find a way to make it through it, all right?”

The next day you woke up in Roger’s arms as you did for the last two months. You took a moment to admire him while he was asleep. A few of his blonde locks covered his face and you gently moved them to look at him better. You wanted to kiss him really badly but you didn’t want to wake him up. Then you felt him move and hold you closer to him.

“Stop staring at me babe, you’ll make me blush!” he said with a raspy voice slowly opening his eyes. A little laugh escaped your lips as you leaned to place a chaste kiss on his lips.

“So, are you ready to see the future, blondie?” you asked him getting up from bed and heading to the kitchen for breakfast.

“I don’t know, am I?” he laughed getting up and following you in the kitchen.

The day before you both agreed to go back to the future to ask your father some questions. You knew he would probably be very upset about all the mess that you made, but you were sure he’ll find a way to fix everything. Hopeful that you wouldn’t have to say goodbye to Roger. The thought of losing him made you feel devastated, you really loved him and you would do anything to be with him.

After you finished breakfast you both got dressed. You were really nervous, you were worried about how your father would react to the disaster you made, especially now that you were taking Roger to the future with you. You reached your closet and grabbed your time machine that you carefully hided from Roger. You didn’t need to hide it anymore.

“That is it? I thought it was something more complex than just a box!” the blond said looking at the machine sceptically.

You rolled your eyes.

“It’s not ‘just a box’ Roger!” you replied to him setting the date of your destination. 31 March 2019. You knew in the future just a couple of minutes had passed since you left so you were sure no one noticed you weren’t in your room anymore.

“Come here.” You said taking Roger’s hand and placing it above yours. You looked him in the eyes smiling at him trying to calm him down, you could feel he was nervous.

You pushed the button and the spinning sensation caught you by surprise, you almost forgot how it was to travel time. After a few seconds once again you felt the pain of getting pushed to the ground, you and Roger arrived at your destination.

“Fuck!” you cursed opening your eyes. The colours of your room greeted you, a little pat of you had really missed the future and the advantages of it. The first thing you did after getting up was checking your phone. As you expected just two minutes had passed since you left to go to the past.

“Is this your room?” Roger’s voice distracted you from your phone, you almost forgot he was there. You turned to saw him looking around. Your laptop suddenly got his attention.

“What is this?” he asked genuinely curious pointing at it.

“It’s a computer” you replied smiling at the amazement in his eyes.

“What does it do?” he asked again taking it in his hands.

“Well I use it for multiple things, I’ll let you see later.” You explained reaching him and removing the laptop from his hands.

You put your laptop back on your desk and headed to the door of your room, but before closing it you turned to Roger with a warning look.

“Stay right here and don’t touch anything!” you said marking the words you pronounced. You exited your room and looked around the house to see if your father was home. You found him sleeping on the couch, the TV was on.

“Dad…” you gently shook his shoulder. He slowly opened his eyes and gave you a confused look seeing your nervous expression.

“What happened?” he asked sitting up. You sighed and started to explain everything to him accurately leaving the part where you took Roger with you in the future, scared of his reaction. You watched his expressions changing from confused to angry to resigned.

“(Y/N) I can’t believe you! I told you to be careful with that machine, I thought I was clear! I thought I could trust you!”

“I said I’m sorry dad! You’re right, I should have been careful, I’ve committed a mistake but please I know you can fix this…”

Your dad sighed again and stayed silent for what it looked like an eternity while he began to search for a pen and a piece of paper. He started to scrabble something.

“Okay listen carefully sweetie” he said raising up the paper showing you what it looked like a circle with two lines. “When you got caught you caused a split in this universe creating a new universe where Roger met you and saw his future self, even if it was just pictures. You’re lucky that the machine worked and took you here in this present universe. Where is it however? Let me see if you could use it again or if it’s broken.”

You had no idea that all of that happened because of a single mistake, now you understood why you shouldn’t had to play with time travel. You didn’t even know that the machine could’ve not work. You instantly went to your room to grab the time travel machine but when you entered a little laugh escaped your mouth.

“What are you doing?” you asked watching Roger trying to understand what he had in his hand. Apparently he found your phone on your bedside table.

“What’s this?” he asked amazed.

“It’s a phone” you said smiling and reaching the time machine.

“A phone? But it doesn’t have any buttons! Why is it so small?” he asked again.

“Rog I thought I told you to not touch anything!” you said taking your phone from his hands and putting it back where it was.

“But I’m bored!” he whined.

“Just wait a little more, please..” you reassure him.

“Fine” he muttered rolling his eyes and crossing his arms. “What’s the point of visiting the future if I can’t touch anything?”

“I already told you, you can look but you can’t touch!” you said while he snorted and you exited your room to go back to your father who was now sitting at the kitchen table.

He grabbed the machine and started to check it.

“It seems alright, but how were you able to come back here in this universe?” he asked more to himself than to you. You watched him study the machine but he didn’t understood how was it possible for you to be there. But then he find it. Under the box there was a very small green button, he recognised the work of one of his co-workers who wanted to use the machine also for traveling across the universes. You had no idea how your father team made all that work but you were happy they could do it, thanks to them you met Queen and now you had Roger by your side.

“(Y/N) are you here?” speak of the devil. You heard Roger’s voice coming out of your room, panic starting to take over you.

The blond entered the room and reached you as you became more tense. Your father raised his eyes and saw Roger passing an arm around your shoulders. He was speechless and now more mad at you.

“You took him here!? Are you out of your mind!?” he told you putting down the machine for a moment.

“I thought there was nothing wrong with it!” you replied.

Your father sighed strongly. He couldn’t believe you.

Roger started to feel a little uncomfortable and the tips of his hears became slightly red.

“I thought you told him I was here…” he whispered to you.

“No I didn’t! That’s why I told you to stay in my room!” you whisper-yelled at him.

Your father got up from his chair and turned to look at the both of you.

“You need to go back to the past, to your past. Roger can’t stay here for too much.” He said handing you the time machine.

“(Y/N) please be careful this time…” he gave you a hug and smiled warmly at you. “Oh and about you Mr. Taylor!”

Roger gulped and widened his eyes. You tried not to laugh at his intimidated expression.

“Please take care of my princess…” your father said lowering his voice and smiling at him.

Roger smiled back at him calming himself down.

“You can count on me, Mr. (Y/L/N)!”

You took Roger’s hand and pressed the button again as you did before.

When you got back in 1974 in Roger’s apartment you heard him curse.

“Does it always have to push you on the floor this hard?” he whined.

“Yep, unfortunately.” You replied rubbing your butt as you got up.

“So, how does it work?” Roger asked curious. You turned to him with a confused look only to find him holding your phone with the charger still attached to it. An horrified expression formed on your face.

“ROGER FUCKING TAYLOR!” you roared feeling the anger growing.

“Hey! My middle name is ‘Meddows’!” he joked trying to calm you, but seeing that you started to walk over him he sprinted towards the corridor as you began to chase him.

“PLEASE DON’T KILL ME I’M TOO PRETTY TO DIE YOUNG!”

TAGLIST: @xgoingdownx @borhaprogerina @drummerqueenrmt @westansstuff @clara-who @crazy-little-cool-cat @violetpond @rogertaylorin1976 @lynxinapackofwolves @blackmambaxnx@theglowissodivine @sweeterthancheese @justgivemethekeys @x5vale @mrswinterhater @cosmicsskies @deardeacy @lacontroller1991 @5sos-wdw @bookish-oreo @butterfliesflewaway @rebelrebelyourefaceisamess @esthermeddows @rogertayolr @pietrorunsforme

[def-ace-ing-it]

Safe and Sound

Pairings: Platonic Logince (though it can be read as romantic)

Summary: Logan walks out into the middle of a snowstorm and makes it to Roman's house, who fusses over him for the next few hours.

Warnings: Mentions and references to verbal/physical abuse, hypothermia, cursing (you can blame Roman for this), death mentions (nobody dies), food mentions (Tell me if I need to add anything else!)

Author’s note: Considering it took me three days to make, I'm really proud of it.

Word count: 2200

***

He knew it was a stupid idea to go outside. He knew that his actions wouldn't have affected anyone but himself. He knew his parents wouldn't go looking for him, they were better off without him as they said. He knew it was going to snow. He knew a thin jacket wouldn't protect him, but did he listen to logic at that time?

No, Logan did not.

He drew what little he could of his thin, red jacket that was a few sizes too big around himself as he trudged through the ankle-high snow. Another round of shivers wracked his small frame as the wind continued to howl, the snow landing on his glasses made it hard to see. Logan couldn't tell how long he had been walking in the snow for, he didn't really have a destination, but he really wished he did know beforehand. Maybe he wouldn't be out here, in the cold. Maybe he would be in his warm room, with his warm blankets, in his warm bed. So what if he was beaten worse than he was currently, as long as he wasn't in the center of a fucking snow storm like he was now, he would gladly take the bruises and the small cuts over the sharp pangs of the cold on his face.

He let out a sharp and shaky breath as another burst of freezing wind assaulted his exposed skin. He curled in upon himself, trying to pull as much of his skin together to keep as much heat as he could, which was rapidly leaving his body.

“Shih…” Logan slurred out, shivering more than he has been in the past few minutes. He looked up, trying to see if he saw any form of shelter, he would take anything at this point, a cardboard box sounded very welcoming. Though his vision was heavily obscured by the fluffy onslaught of snow, he could faintly make out the beginning of a street name.

‘Pasrose lane… That sounds familiar- wait, Roman lives here!’ Logan quickly lit up and attempted to walk faster. Which lead to him slipping on ice and scraping his hand. He hissed out a few select words, before slowly limping toward the house that felt so familiar to him that he may have just lived there his entire life. He almost slipped up the stairs as he made it to the porch. He raised a shaky hand and knocked on the door. He stood there for a second, hands curled tight around his middle and wincing as the wind pushed at his form, wrapping him in a bitter and chilled embrace.

The door made a few clicking sounds before opening partially, revealing a very groggy and confused Roman.

“Hello?” Logan leaned over towards the opening, letting Roman see who it was. His eyes went from confusion to concern, then panic, “Lo?! What are you doing here! Did you walk- no, never mind, get the fuck in here-” Roman opened the door further, letting both Logan and the cold air into the expanse of the living room. The moment Roman looked back at Logan after closing and locking the door, Logan had already collapsed onto the ground, shivering up a storm. Roman picked up Logan into his arms and carried him into his room, setting the smallest of the two on the bed as he sorted through his drawers.

“Here,” he held out a pile of clothes, that were much drier than what Logan was currently wearing, “it's not much, but it's better than the soaking ones you're wearing. I'll go get some blankets and stuff, you stay here. Alright?” Logan mumbled out a soft reply, making Roman frown slightly before he left the room.

Logan sluggishly changed into the warm and soft clothes that Roman handed him. He almost melted into a puddle as the warmth from the clothes sunk into his skin that desperately craved it. He didn't notice when Roman had entered the room until he felt something being sat in his lap and something being wrapped around his shoulders, “Here we are, you should warm up in no time!” He reached down and messed with the cord to the thing on Logan's lap, clicking a button a few times before leaving it be and sat on the bed beside him.

The next twenty minutes or so were silent as Logan slowly melted into the warmth surrounding him and Roman fidgeted with the plush he grabbed off his desk. It wasn't long until Logan started to shrug off the blanket cocoon he was swaddled in. Roman jumped to his feet and started messing with the blankets he shrugged off, “No, no, you are not taking these off. I am not having you die on me.” Logan frowned.

“Roman, I am fine. My temperature is back to normal, there is little to no chance of me dying. You're exaggerating beyond the realm of current possibilities again.”

“You could have though!” Roman took a deep breath, “Just… Stay here, please? I'm going to go get you a drink, a hot one, don't you dare move.” Roman didn't look up from the ground and just walked out of the room.

Roman trudged down the hall, clenching and unclenching his fists. He let out a sigh and reached into the cabinet, pulling out a container of hot chocolate powder. He scooped some powder into a mug then put it into the coffee machine and poured water into the top. He sat on the counter, putting his head in his hands and sighed. ‘Why is he so goddamn stubborn?’ Roman dragged his hands down his face and looked at his palms, ‘Who am I kidding, of course he is. This is Logan we're talking about.’ He got off the counter, grabbing the mug and a spoon and started to stir as he walked back to his room.

Logan was still in the same spot when he came into the room, which Roman as grateful for. "Here, be careful, it's very hot.” Roman handed the drink to Logan, who took it and set it on the desk for it to cool.

“Thank you, Roman, I really appreciate this.” Logan made eye contact with Roman, who responded with a sound from the back of his throat. They sat there in a somewhat uncomfortable silence as Logan sipped at the hot chocolate, he was the first to break the silence, “I mean it, Roman, thank you, for everything.”

“It's fine, lets just go to sleep, alright? We'll deal with everything else when we wake up.” Roman removed the blankets from Logan's shoulders, tossing them into a pile on the floor and pulled back the covers. Logan begrudgingly got under the blankets and curled up into a ball. He jumped as he felt something touch the top of his head, “Shit, sorry, that was me.”

“It's alright, I just didn't realize it was you, as ridiculous of a notion that it is.”

“It's not ridiculous, Pocket Protector, I should have warned you.” Logan huffed in response, rolling his eyes, “Also,” Roman reached over Logan's head again and pulled off his glasses, “you forgot to take these off. Again.”

“What if I wanted to keep them on?” Logan shifted, turning to face Roman, who was smirking at him.

“You wouldn't do that. It would be-” Roman cleared his throat, shifting around until he was sitting up slightly, with the straightest and most monotone face he could manage, “-highly illogical, why would I possibly do that, blah blah blah.” He lifted the glasses to his face then stuck his tongue out before bursting into his loud and booming laugh.

Logan struggled to keep a straight face, “I absolutely despise you.”

“Sure you do.” Logan let out a small chuckle and scooted a little closer to Roman, who wrapped an arm around him, “Let's get some sleep, okay?” Logan nodded and scooted even closer to Roman’s chest, pressing his ear close enough to hear the other’s heartbeat. The soft ‘bu-dum’ slowly lulling him into a deep slumber.

Roman awoke to a lack of warmth in his arms and the smell of something cooking wafting through the air. He slowly slipped out of bed and padded his way down the hallway. He leaned on the framework of the kitchen, looking in on whoever was cooking. Logan stood there, messing with something on the stove, and if Roman listened closely, he could've heard a faint humming from him. Roman moved himself so he was in a more visible spot in the doorway. Logan turned his head slightly in acknowledgment of the other, “Good morning, Roman. I presume you slept well?”

Roman hummed, crossing his arms before responding, “Morning, I slept fine, a little disappointed when I woke up without a certain sleeping nerd, y’know, like he should have been.”

“You are, quite literally, a human space heater. If I were to stay there, I'm very sure I would have melted.” Logan quipped, giving Roman a playful glare, “Besides, I didn't get the chance to eat much last night before I walked here, so I was quite hungry.” Roman furrowed his eyebrows, frowning a little.

“You know that you could always just stay here, permanently, right? I could go get your stuff for you and bring it here, it's not like you don't already sleep and eat here most nights. My dads wouldn't even notice the difference!”

“Roman… You know I can't do that.” Logan looked down at his feet that were covered by fluffy black socks.

“But why not?” Roman questioned, “You always say that it's because of your parents, but, listen, Lo. They let you walk into the negative sixteen degree snowstorm in just a thin jacket that I gave you! At this point, they may as well just be called your ‘birth givers’! They barely do jack shit besides beat you-” Roman shuddered, “-and put you down, they aren't anything like what a parent should be. Hell, Patton is a better father than yours is, and he's the same age as us!” He let out a shaky breath, forcing back tears, “I don't know if you know how scary it was, Logan. To see you out the snow, looking deader than a decaying corpse, practically dead on your feet and being pushed around by the wind. And you just looked so cold, Lo, you crumpled to the ground out of pure exhaustion the moment you stepped into the living room. I was genuinely scared, I thought, if I hadn't heard you knocking on the door, you could have died. Hell, I still thought you were going to die even when I put you under as many blankets as I could.”

Logan was stunned into silence, looking up at Roman. His shoulders drooped and he started to shake a little bit, “I-... I’m sorry for worrying you, Roman, I just… Just-” He clenched his eyes shut before opening them, a single tear escaping his eye, “I don't know anymore.” The floodgates burst and Logan was sobbing, collapsing to the ground for the second time in the last twenty four hours.

Roman immediately rush over and knelt in front Logan, drawing the other one into his lap, back pressed up against the cabinet, “It's okay, Logan, just let it all out. I'll stay right here.” He reached up and brought a hand up to the back of the others head, slowly moving it to the crook of Roman's neck. He started to run his fingers through the hair Logan had pushed back, messing it up slightly. Logan shuddered at the caring gesture, the tears flowing a bit more. The whimpers that drew from his mouth became few and far between. His tears tampered off as the the toxins left his system.

Roman spoke first, “You feel any better?”

Logan nodded, “Yes, I am feeling much better. I almost forgot how necessary it is for humans to cry.” Roman chuckled and rolled his eyes.

“That is such a you thing to say,” Roman pressed his face into the top of Logan's head, “good to see your back to your nerdy self.”

“I detest your entire being.”

“Sure you do, Specs.” They sat there on the floor, completely forgetting about the food on the stove that was surely burnt, in a comfortable silence, “Logan?”

“Yes?”

“I promise you that I will always be by your side. In face of whatever danger that finds us, I will protect you from as much harm as possible. Whether it may be your parents, or some other foul beast, I will help you get through it.”

Logan tensed a little before relaxing into Roman's grip again, a few more tears escaping. He spoke shakily, not one removing his head from the place it was coaxed into, “Thank you… Thank you so much-” A small and weak sob broke from his mouth, his hand grasped at some of Roman's shirt and held on tight as the second onslaught of tears began. Roman just placed a hand on the smaller man’s back at began to rub in circles.

“It's no problem, Lo. I'll stay here for as long as you need me.”

[werewolfslut]

as life escapes me

I wonder what they’ll say when I die…

           Most will probably shed a sympathy tear, or perhaps two. The news of my passing would travel, person to person, ex-lover to ex-lover, spreading like a virus. My friends would cry, loudly and obnoxiously, letting painful sobs take over their body and reminiscing about times we shared together. This would last for about a week before they eventually remembered weed existed and got lost in a world of highs, losing the memory of me in the smoke. I pictured my mother’s friends gasping, feigning surprise while they shook their heads and said something along the lines of, “That’s too bad, she was so young.” They wouldn’t tell my mother that they had been betting this would happen since I was in high school. My mother would become irate, slammin’ down a shots of Jack at the idea of outliving me.

           But here I am, lying on the bathroom floor, dying. My skin felt dry. I traced my fingers along the inside of my elbow, dancing around the blend of fresh, bright red dots and the faded brown ones. Here I am, mourning the loss of my pure skin. I had never become accustomed to flaws, to the sinking and yellowing of my skin, to the scabs, to the decay. I became uncomfortable in my own body. Every night I would fall asleep and expect it to revert back to normal, how it was when a doe-eyed sixteen year old with smooth skin and batting eyelashes. Every morning I woke up with eyes still sunken and face hollow, a skeleton of my former self.

           The bathroom lights were blinding. Or maybe they weren’t, and my vision was just going. Everything’s blurry. I sat there, like a Barbie doll forgotten, against the edge of the tub. My left arm hung limp at my side, while my right hand drew lines on its brittle skin, an attempt at comfort. My legs were sprawled out on the white floor. I could feel the pattern of tiny square tiles pressing against my skin, probably leaving faint red imprints along the backs of my thighs, little squares leaving their temporary mark on me. I was cold. The tiles, the tub, the thin air, all left me with a chill.

           The music that rung loudly in the living room and kitchen dulled through the walls of various bedrooms, and by the time it reached my spot on the bathroom floor it was nothing but a dull bass. I recognized the melody, though. Hot in Here by Nelly. A great song to die to.

           Good gracious, that ass is bodacious.

           This wasn’t what I wanted. It’s not what I always was. I wasn’t always a random girl, dying on the floor in a bathroom, at a stupid party, thrown by some guy. I used to just be a girl. Before the box dye and the piercings and the tattoos and the needle, I was a little girl with big blue eyes and long blond hair my mom pulled into tight pigtails. I wore pink dresses and stockings and pretended I was a princess.

           I was a daddy’s girl; forever vying for the attention of my father, crying when he left for work, and begging him to spend just one more night with me so I would not have to return home to my mother for another five school nights. I used to lock myself in my pink-themed room, holding onto all my stuff animals at once and threaten to run away if I was forced backed to mommy. The threats never worked. Every Sunday night my father drove me back to the one-story home my mother resided in. And every Sunday night I would sit in the backseat and sob, begging my father to let me stay just one more night, just a few more hours.

           They’ll probably talk about my dad when I die. They’ll mention how much I loved and adored him as a girl. They’ll talk about how I watched as he moved away, staring at him as the movers shoved all of his things into the back of a van; how when he took my face in his hands and told me I’ll always be his little girl, I ran away, thinking of his new daughter. At my funeral, they will watch him bury his daughter, and whisper about how they think it’s his fault, about how they think it’s always been his fault.

My dad left and I started the metamorphism into the random dying girl on the bathroom floor some stupid party.

My mother spoke of my father like there was poison on her tongue, spitting out vile words and accusations until her throat ran dry. She told me, with tears still in my eyes, about how much my father loved to fuck everyone that wasn’t her. She hated him, and hated me for reminding her.

She was a rage filled, vengeful bitch and she passed that down to me, like her evil personality was genetic. The introduction of middle school into my life heightened my sense of existential angst and loathing towards my mother. All of my pain mixed together like the most dangerous cocktail, left there to fester.

           I would come home in a stuffy school uniform and scream; scream at my mother about how I loathed the academic world and about how I blamed her for making me participate. She, with a glass of white wine in her hand, would scream back that she needs me to go to school so she could have some fucking peace and quiet, and how much she loathed my father for leaving us. She hated how he left me, the heaviest burden of all, all alone…with her. She would sip her wine, look at me, and pour in a shot of whisky.

           Wine washed down with whisky. That’s the way we coped with our problems.  

           Repressing my problems with more problems didn’t seem like a viable option until I entered high school. I walked down the halls alone, a Jew in a Catholic uniform, feeling the stares of those who know I didn’t belong. I smoked cigarettes in the bathroom during class, hoping that I would get caught by an uppity nun with a strong opinion on my attitude problem and I’d get expelled. That’s where I met Carmen.

           Carmen was the prettiest girl I had ever seen. She had big brown eyes and big pouty lips she covered with layers of cherry lip gloss. Her blue plaid skirt was hiked up past her hips, and instead of the skin toned stockings the rest of us wore, Carmen wore socks up past her knees. The nuns hated her. They screamed at her and tried to force the shame of God onto her chest, but her chest was large enough to deflect any shame thrown her way, even the holy kind.

           She smoked in the bathroom too. We’d lean against the window sill together and take in short puffs, afraid of coughing. “I hate this fucking school,” she’d say to me, letting the cigarette hang from her glossy lips.

           I’d offer a simple, “Yeah,” and we’d move past our shared hatred into comfortable silence. The extent of our conversations was a mutual hatred for our general surroundings. There wasn’t much we connected on besides that, until Carmen brought a little bottle into the bathroom.

           “Cinnamon schnapps,” she whispered to me, pushing the small bottle into my hand instead of our usual American Spirits. There were three substantial things I remembered from my first encounter with liquor: it burned my throat like liquid fire, it didn’t taste like cinnamon, and I fell in love with the way it made me feel.

           This was how we bonded. Carmen would bring in a new tiny bottle of whatever liquor she had the most access to. We’d lean against the window and throw it down our throats with uncertainty. Experimenting. The addition of alcohol brought upon new conversations. We discussed boys, I talked about my dad, and Carmen questioned whether or not I thought about kissing her and her glossy, cherry flavored lips.

           Our bathroom activities made it easier for the nuns to hate us. Loud boisterous, and holding hands in the hall, we skipped classes and acted drunk, off the alcohol and off each other. We talked back and scared the good Christian girls with long skirts and stockings. It didn’t take long for Carmen and I to achieve our goal of expulsion.

           My mother was generally unhappy with me. However, the expulsion from what she considered to be the one good thing in my life was the last of her patience, and the last time I had spent more than five minutes in a room with her. She looked at me like I was my dad. She didn’t yell, for once, just put my clothes and bags and told me to wear a jacket.

It was cold.

           Carmen said I could stay with her for a bit, while I figured things out. With her meant squeezing myself next to her on the twin sized mattress on the floor of the only bedroom in her friend’s apartment; a bedroom that had two other twin sized mattresses shoved into various corners of the room.

           It was in that room I stretched my legs across the wooden panels and called my father. I called him three times. The fourth time it had occurred to me that his new Jewish daughter probably wasn’t getting expelled from Catholic schools because Satanic homoerotic relationships and underaged alcohol consumption.

           I threw my phone on the ground. The Carmen, the saint, offered me a blunt as consolation.

           That’s how it worked for us high school dropouts. We’d get sad; we’d get high. Whenever the edge wore off, we’d get sad again. Eventually, the high wasn’t enough to wipe away the sadness of failure. It wasn’t strong enough to make us forget that we were destined to sleep on the floor with three other roommates for the rest of our lives. It wasn’t enough to make us forget our minimum wage jobs at movie theaters. We needed to get higher and higher, every single time. Getting high was getting expensive. “You know what’s expensive?” Carmen had whispered to me with cigarette smoke in her breath one night as I counted the few dollar bills I had left. “Young girls with nice bodies.”

           She was right.

           That’s how Carmen and I lived: bouncing through clientele and frequenting street corners in our pushed up plaid Catholic skirts and holey knee-high socks. The wind chill put goosebumps on our thighs. We hopped in and out of cars and threw our syringes in the dumpsters outside the nicer area of the city. We’d blow through men like waitresses did tables but come back to share the same twin sized mattress on the same wooden floor. We couldn’t afford the heat; we pressed our skin together and entangled in only each other.

           Carmen brought me here tonight. She brought me everywhere. She disappeared into the crowd and since then I’ve only caught glimpses and brief moments of her. She knew what I was doing; she had seen me pull the shoelace out of her purse. Still, I must have been gone a while. I had hoped she wouldn’t notice.

I didn’t want her to be the one to see me first. Truly, I wished it could have been my mother, or someone worthy of the trauma. Instead, it will probably be a drunken man with an unbearable need to piss.

           Maybe they’ll talk about that when I die. They’ll talk about how alone I was in this bathroom, how many syringes were littered across the floor, how many were on the cold wooden floor of my apartment. They might talk about how I was barely wearing anything, and that my hair wasn’t the same color it was the last time they saw me. When did she dye it blue? It’s so unfitting on her. They’ll talk about my body, how small and frail it had become. I wanted to know what they’d do when I died.

           I wonder what they’ll say when I die.

[defencelesslou]

Expiration | 1 || T.H AU

Summary: Everyone knows when everyone is going to die. It has been imprinted on our arms since birth. Everyone dies exactly when they are supposed to. Everyone except me and this other guy, Tom. We are passed our expiration date.

Word Count: 980

Notes: This is honestly so bad what am I doing, should I continue?

Feedback is majorly appreciated!!

* - represents a change in POV

Teaser | Two

14th February 2018

I’m going to die tomorrow.

I walk through the halls of my apartment complex running my hands over the walls, the paint chipping underneath my fingertips. The grey walls that made me feel sick. Made me feel as though the whole hallway could collapse onto me in any second, consuming me whole. I fumble to grab my keys out of my bag, dropping them in the process causing me to let out a frustrated groan. Finally managing to unlock the door I quickly walk into my living area, slamming the door shut behind me. I clench my eyes shut, eyebrows furrowing as I rub my face.

Letting out a sigh I walk towards the small area that I call a kitchen, grabbing a bottle of water, taking a sip as I remember the looks I received from the people on the street and in the shops, the small mumbles I hear from people I pass by, “Oh no honey,” or “I’m sorry”, they would say as they catch sight of the date on my arm.

15/02/2018

Rubbing at the clear reminder on my arm I place the water bottle on the counter, slipping off my shoes as I lean down to grab them, walking towards my bedroom, which consisted of a single bed, small desk, nightstand and a wardrobe designed for a small child.

So this was how it was going to end. Alone. In an apartment that I hate, with no one but myself. I never thought that this is how it would go, I believed as a child that I would go surrounded by the ones I know, but that’s just not the case now is it? God knows where the ones I loved are. Not that I care anymore. Running a hand through my hair I sit down on my bed, lying down so my legs are dangling off almost reaching the floor but just barely.

Shutting my eyes for a few seconds I think about how much of life I will miss out on. Having a family, getting married, all that basic stuff. Never was going to happen, not when my expiration date is when I’m only 20. I open my eyes, facing myself towards the calendar that hung loosely on the wall, the paint surrounding it, cracked.

I let out a sigh as I stare at the red circle circling tomorrows date. What have I accomplished? I graduated high school, went to university for a year then gave up and got two part-time jobs at two different retail stores. Nothing to be proud of.

Staring at the room around me I blink back the tears. Wishing that I could redo the past 20 years of my life, how many things I would have done instead of messing around, doing things I shouldn’t. I should have focused on the important things. Not people who would talk to me one day then ignore me the next. Focus on doing something with my life, something worth living for.

But what do I have to live for when I die tomorrow.

It’s not fair.

Glancing at the digital clock sitting on my nightstand, I read the time.

8:46pm

So little time left to live my life. So many places to visit, things to see. Holiday destinations. But I just couldn’t afford to go to places, with the income that I earn. People, celebrities I want to meet but never could, the times were never right. I just want more time.

*

“Tom,” I hear Harrison whisper, as he sees me staring at the date marked so clearly onto my wrist.

15/02/2018

I shake my head, quickly wiping away the tears that were starting to make their way down my face, one by one I would wipe them away, but they would just keep on coming and they wouldn’t stop until I was letting out sobs. I hear Harrison move next to me, faintly hearing him call for my family members.

They come in all together, all huddling around me, with Paddy sitting almost on my lap, his small arms wrapped around my left arm. Harry and Sam kneeling on the floor next to the couch I was sitting on, one hand one of my knees. I hear my mum and dad sniffling a meter away from me, holding onto each other for support as they look at me, all of us crying. I feel Paddy shake next to me, moving my arms around to hold tightly as I take in this moment where all of us are together.

“Tom…” My mum says, wiping her face as she moves her way over to me, Harry and Sam moving out of the way, Paddy still clinging to me for dear life. My dad makes his way over as well, both of them wrapping their arms around me as I cry into them.

“I’m- I’m not ready yet mum,” I whisper my voice coming out shaky and not clear.

“I don’t w-want to leave yet I can’t leave y-you all here.” I can hear Harrison turning to face away from me as I say those words, the sobs so quiet but not quiet enough that I wouldn’t hear them. Tears streaming down my face again like waterfalls.

“I know love, I know.” My mum says so quietly that if anyone made any other noise you wouldn’t hear her. Paddy lets out a small whimper causing me to hug him tighter, not liking the idea of my youngest brother so sad.

“I don’t want to go dad please,” I whisper into my dads shirt, he inhales shakily, looking down at me, shaking his head in a soft yet calming matter, I knew I had to go, But the thought of leaving my family scared me, and I’m pretty sure it scared them.

I’m not ready.

No one could be.

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