#myself sitting in the middle of moving traffic

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Life in the City 3

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as bad friends, creep behaviour, abuse of power dynamics, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

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

Summary: You move to the big city and find yourself swallowed up by its chaos.

Characters: Clark Kent, Thor Odinson, short!reader

Note: A brief reprieve from the snakish prince.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you. No tag list, do not ask for updates.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

You sleep lightly, A restless night that leaves your skull fragile. You give up your attempts as the sun rises through the windows. You sit up and stretch, looking around the soft hues limning the walls of Melanie’s apartment.

You stand and move cautiously through the space. You change in the bathroom, doing your best not to make too much noise as you go out to grab your bag. You brush your teeth and tidy up. You’ll have a shower when you get home.

You emerge and look around, making sure you haven’t left anything out. You take the time to clean up the snacks from the night before and place everything away in the cupboard. You know Melanie’s on a diet but it feels wrong to take it all back with you.

As you zip up your bag, a shadow darkness the hallway and you look up as Clark tussles his dark hair and stretches. You glimpse at him briefly, mortified to find him shirtless, his hard torso exposed above the low elastic of his sweatpants.

“Morning,” his voice is silty with sleep, “what… are you leaving already?”

“Well, I… I should head off. Get out of your way,” you shrug as you speak quietly, “plus, I got chores…”

“Oh, do you need a ride,” he lets his hand drag down his chest as you shift awkwardly, clinging to your knapsack.

“Um, that’s nice, but I’ll just catch the bus–”

“The bus?” He echoes, “let me throw on a shirt and get myself together. I can’t let you just sneak off.”

“Erm, I guess… I could wait and say goodbye to Melanie, I just thought–”

“Yeah, she won’t be up for a while,” he drops his arms, his chest puffed proudly, “you know, she drank a lot. She wasn’t feeling too well. You didn’t hear her?”

“What? I…” you blink and avoid his gaze, “I was asleep, I didn’t hear anything.”

“Oh, yeah, she was sick in the middle of the night. Pretty bad. I tell her not to drink on an empty stomach.”

“Ah, uh, yeah, that’s awful,” you sputter, “I… I’m sorry to rush out, it’s just I got a lot to catch up.”

“No problem. I’ll save you waiting for the bus,” he says, “won’t be long at all.”

“Oh, okay, but–”

“Really, it’s no trouble. If I don’t wake her up with a real latte, she’ll bite my head off,” he chuckles, “hungover Melanie is not nice Melanie.”

“Right,” you try to laugh but it’s more a croak, “I’ll just be… here then.”

🏙️

You sit in the car silently. The tension is roiling. You don’t know why you agreed. You could have insisted; the bus won’t be long…

Too late for that. You’re stuck now. At least there’s not much traffic. You hug your bag in your lap, anxious to just get home. He drives patiently despite the empty streets, taking his time as he turns onto the next street.

“So, chores, sounds exciting,” he teases.

“Mm, yeah, I guess,” you agree squeakily.

“What else are Saturday’s for? Guess you’re headed back to work on Monday?”

You nod, “mhmm.”

“How is it? Work? You making lots of friends?”

You almost feel like a kid. It reminds you of when your dad would pick you up from school and ask what trouble you go into. You twiddle your fingers against your bag.

“Um, well, everyone sort’ve keeps to themselves,” you eke out, “there’s a lot of work so…”

“You’ll settle in. I’m sure you’ll find lots of friends,” he slows and flips on his blinker, “I mean, you already have.” You tilt your head and glance at him in confusion, “me.”

“Oh, uh, sure, yeah, sorry, I’m tired,” you laugh nervously.

“So,” he rolls into the lot of the Coffee Bean, “want something?”

“You don’t have to–”

“I’m stopping by anyway, no biggie,” he insists, “coffee, tea?”

You pick at the zipper of your bag. He’s so nice. Too nice. But that’s not a real problem, you’re just making it into one. Last night… what did he do so wrong? Pull a blanket over you? It was cold.

“Sure, could I just get an iced green tea, please and thank you?” You unzip your bag and fish around.

He steers into the drive through and puts in his order at the speaker, listing off Melanie’s complicated lite syrup, half-foam, coconut milk monstrosity at the end. You pull out your wallet as he’s directed to the window.

“My treat,” he insists.

“Really, it’s just three bucks.”

“Exactly,” he insists, “you brought all those treats last night, the least I can do is buy you an iced tea.”

“Thanks,” you sniff and look out the window.

“I’ll make sure Mel gives you a call. You two can hash this out,” he stops and waits at the window, “she needs a friend like you. All the others are so… well, they’re not as nice as you.”

“Maybe, I… if she wants to call. I don’t want to bug her.”

“Bug her? Oh, sweetie, she doesn’t deserve a friend like you,” he says, “but I’m being selfish and I think you’d be a good influence.”

You nod again, put off by his tone. It’s like he’s a parent the way he talks about Melanie. Almost like he’s trying to mould her into something. Someone like him, with his name and his looks, you’re sure he could find someone who already fits right in.

The window opens and he takes the tray of drinks. He hands you yours before sliding the other two into the cup holders. He flings the cardboard tray onto the backseat and continues through the exit. He idles at the signs.

“I forgot, which way am I going?” 

You point him in the right direction, nearly sighing in relief. You’re almost home. You just want to hide away in your shame and never be perceived again.

🏙️

You’re not very surprised when Melanie doesn’t call. Not on Saturday or Sunday. You’re grateful that she doesn’t. You’re trying to forget about the movie night gone wrong. It’s probably better off. You’ve both changed a lot since high school, or maybe you haven’t changed enough.

You go through your usual. You’re not a liar, you do have chores. Dishes, laundry, floors, dusting… You keep yourself busy in an effort to block out the memory of the night. You won’t be watching Never Been Kissed ever again, that’s for sure.

Monday morning greets you with a new start but it all feels so stale. The routine is the same as the weeks before. Wake up, green tea in a thermos, pack your lunch, make yourself presentable, and out the door to catch the bus.

You enjoy the route, letting it lull your pre-work jitters. You’ve been there going on a month and somehow you still feel out-of-place. It’s not like before, where you knew all the people at your work study, or in high school where the associates in the department store joked around more than they ever did the price changes.

You stroll up to the building, slowing behind a pair of men in tailored suits. You feel like a minnow in a sea of sharks. You follow them inside as they drop the door on you. They’re important. They’re chatting about an important meeting and business trip next week. You’ll be dutifully perched at your desk, roving through spreadsheets.

The salesmen are higher up the chain than you in the ecosystem of the company. You’re somewhere along the lower-middle ground, below the lions and the hyenas. You’re off with Timon and Pumbaa, trying not to get eaten.

You step onto the elevator with them, shrinking down. You’re invisible to them. You’re not Stella in her red-soled stilettos and tight pencil skirts, or Ginnifer in her high-buns and sleek pantsuits. You feel like a little girl playing dress up even in your simple powder blue cardigan and flowered skirt.

The elevator bings and the men nearly bowl you over as they brush past you on each side. You get off after them and scurry away to your desk. You see Stella now, sipping a tall latte as she purrs at Tony. She struts down the hall ahead of him as she calls back about some expense report.

You tuck your bag under your desk and get yourself situated. You plunk down your thermos beside your mouse and boot up. You roll your ankles under the desk, your Keds soft-soled but comfortable. You can’t run for the bus in heels.

You steel yourself for another day buried in Excel columns. You sign in and push back the cap on the lid of your cup. Steam escapes and you let the heat escape before you dare taste it. You pull up your inbox and scroll through your emails. Your task list is ever longer by the day.

Your work isn’t unimportant. You give the analytics to the salesman and the big suits. You provide the numbers for their strategy but for them, all that is menial. That’s not the real meat of the company. You and all the other ants in the hill are dispensable.

You push your chair back as you reach into your bag for your notebook. As you do, the back collides with something. You quickly roll back in, knocking your head on the edge of the desk as you do. You rub your brow as you spin to face the obstruction.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” you babble up at the tall man. 

He’s big, blond, and burly, and wears a suit that demarcates him as one of them. You don’t need an introduction, everyone knows who he is. The COO is memorable for more than his title. His booming voice and towering size set him apart from all the other men in their leather shoes and skinny ties.

“I’m sorry, sir,” you stand but still have to crane your neck to look at him, “I wasn’t paying attention.”

“That’s quite alright,” he smiles broadly, “are you alright? You took quite a bump.”

“Oh,” you drop your hand from your head, “yeah, I’m fine, sir. Thank you. I was just… looking for something.”

“So long as you’re alright. However, I am the safety officer, I could have a look,” he offers.

“Really, I’m fine,” you insist, “I didn’t mean to do that–”

“I didn’t mind so much,” he assures you, “I don’t know you. You’re new. Leah’s replacement?”

“Um, I think,” you look at your desk, “I wouldn’t know.”

“Of course not,” he accepts, “Thor Odinson.”

He holds out his large hand. You consider it and give him your own. Your hand is tiny in comparison as he easily wraps his fingers around it. You supply your name with a squeak.

“Ah, I like that,” he praises, “well, you have a wonderful day. And welcome to the company.”

“Yes, sir,” you rescind your hand as he releases it. His cologne wafts towards you, vanilla underscored by something woodsy.

“Thor,” he affirms.

You repeat his name and clutch your hands together. He lingers, looking you up and down, then turns on his heel. You watch him go before you sit.

You want to hold your head and hide. What did he think of you? This girl in her thin wool cardigan and lace-up sneakers. You don’t know why you care so much. He’s your boss but not directly. He’s probably already forgotten about you.

You cringe and swirl your mouse around. Focus. You’re at work. This isn’t high school or college. This isn’t about making friends and all that. It doesn’t matter what he thinks of you, your work matters.

You lean into the screen and squint at the tight boxes, increasing their size as you open a new report. For all your studying, you never saw yourself sitting there fighting with numbers all day. Percentages, rates, medians, mean… how boring.

You jolt as you feel your bag buzz against your leg. You look behind you before you push your chair out this time and bring your bag into your lap. You retrieve your notebook as you remember the cause of your first folly then fish out your phone. 

You bring down the menu and set it to silent. Before you hit lock, you see the message beaming back at you. It’s from Melanie.

‘Hey girl. Let’s talk.’

You frown. You’d already accepted that Mel was done with you. She was always good at holding a grudge, even for the slightest offence. You wonder if Clark really had talked to her. You leave it unread and tuck your phone away, dropping your bag back to the floor and shoving it away with your toes.

As you return your attention to your monitor, you sense something behind it. There, across the room, you meet Thor’s eyes as he stares at you. He has a red mug of coffee in his hand as he sips. He pulls the brim away from his lips and grins, sending a wink in your direction.

You blink and look over your shoulder. Who is he looking at? You turn back to face him again. He’s gone. Ah, whoever it was, must’ve caught up to him.

You shake off the collision and the text message. Work!

[dabisbratz]

FORGIVENESS. — aizawa shouta x male reader

wc: 2.1k

WARNING: dirty talk (sho has the filthiest mouth ever :O), choking (brief), manhandling, slapping, face-grabbing, degradation/humiliation, semi-public sex, frottage, blowjob mention, creampie, ruined orgasm

genitalia terms: dick, cock, hole, cunt, pussy (even though these terms are used the readers genitals are ambiguous)

a/n: UMM I THINK I GOT CARRIED AWAY WITH THE…….. DIALOGUE no one talks about how embarrassing it is to write this stuff outtttt my face is burning

“I just want to know why.” Aizawa says, hunched over with his hands in his pockets. You can see how tense his shoulders are, and the furrow of his brows almost makes you want to get down on your knees and beg for forgiveness. In the middle of Musutafu’s central police station, you sit in an uncomfortably stiff chair that digs into your thighs, the plastic all but holding you in place. It wasn’t even your fault— Okay, maybe throwing the first punch was your fault. And ignoring Shouta’s dire instructions to stay out of trouble. And maybe you deserve a slap on the wrist for instigating….But what was a broken leg to a regeneration quirk?

And maybe the whole argument-in-front-of-the-police thing wasn’t very smart either. So what, you’re a big boy. You can handle yourself, you don’t need Shouta’s saving.

“He’ll live.” Is all you say, watching Shouta’s jaw clench. His adam's apple bobs in his throat as he nods once, crossing his arms over his chest. Through his black shirt, though baggy, you can see the swell of his biceps as they rest on his opposing knuckles. And because you just can’t help yourself, you grumble, “Bitch deserved it anyway.”

“Right..” He laughs, almost in disbelief, as he signs something you can’t quite make out at the reception table. Then he turns to you and grabs your arm, tightening his grip as he walks you out the station. You have the urge to run, to scramble out of his grasp and go as far as your legs will take you. To your left, a police officer looks ready to ask you more questions but he’s interrupted before he can even take an opening breath. “He’s with me, I got it handled.”

You’re fucked.

“Airheaded little boys and bars don’t mix,” He makes a passing comment, opening the passenger's seat to his car and hastily pushing you in. Usually, the casual dominance of his large, veiny hands buckling your seatbelt for you would have you swooning, raising your chin to steal a kiss on his stubbled cheek with a saccharine smile. Instead, you turn your head away, watching Shouta close the door and briskly walk to the driver’s seat, and from there he sits with bristle, moving his hair out of his handsome face. His eyes remain heavy-lidded, dark circles cascading into deep shadows around his tired eyes. “Do you—“

“I know you can’t say the same for yourself, but I handle myself just fine.” You feel quite proud of yourself for that one, crossing your arms over your chest and setting your jaw— just like you’d seen the hero do before.

“Aht, what do I always say about speaking over me?” Aizawa’s grip on your jaw tightens, squeezing your cheeks and pushing your lips together. You look much sweeter like this, quiet and anticipating as you look at him with wide eyes. His dark eyes are even darker, stone cold and unrelenting— but you can see a trickle of red light gleam through them. “Repeat it.”

“‘M’not sh’posed sh’to…” And part of you wants to ignore how the sadistic quirk of his lips upturns as you speak, but the brat in you just can’t let it go. You roll your eyes, averting your gaze as if the traffic lights are the most entertaining things you’ve seen in a while.

“Oh, so you can listen,” You just choose not to. His grip loosens as he pulls out the parking lot, driving in silence.

Save for the occasional blinker signal sound as he drives— wherever you’re going isn’t home, you’d realized after a particularly sharp turn into a vacant lot. During the drive, Aizawa seems to have collected himself, his long, dark hair pulled into a loose ponytail that trickled down his shoulders. Evidently, he didn’t want to drive angry, and most certainly didn’t want to punish you while angry. “Need me to pound some sense into you, baby? Knock those bratty thoughts right outta that pretty head of yours?”

A high whine threatens to escape your throat, Shouta reaching over to grab your throat and nip at your lips, trailing hot, wet kisses and bites down to your chin and throat. He seems to move your body so easily, manhandling you into the perfect position to be used, into positions that have you whining and moaning like a slut. Your legs spread across his lap, and had his seat not been lowered, you’d surely have smacked your head into the ceiling.

It’s embarrassing, all it takes is a few kisses and bites to have you rutting in his arms, desperate to blow off steam and even more desperate for him. Aizawa’s hands rest at your hips, holding you down while he grinds into you slowly, like he’s fucking you, save for the layers of clothes in the way. You click your tongue, fingers exploring the dark sea of hair framing his face. You go to pull, wrapping the locks around your fingers, but your efforts are fruitless.

“You wanna touch? That’s cute. Ask for it, I know you can use your manners, gonna ask to touch me, baby?” He whispers in your ear, his voice deep and gruff and stern. It’s completely rhetorical, he’s demanding you ask. The low purr of his voice sends shivers down your spine, instinctively you move to touch between your thighs, to feel pressure where you need it, but you can’t.

Because Shouta stops you with his stupidly large and strong hands. Because Shouta’s gaze is stern and downright scary. Because Shouta’s dick could be inches down your throat by now, had you just been a good boy, and the promise of that in the future makes you want to pause. Still, you groan, because how dare he deprive you of his dick. How dare he let you sit there, drooling for it and whiney as if that’s not evidence enough.

“You just needed some attention, didn’t you?” Aizawa purrs, unbuttoning your clingy jeans and pulling them past the swell of your ass to place a harsh smack straight across it. You jerk forward, face falling into his shoulder as he laughs at you, condescending and evil and mean. “Needed Daddy to hold your hand, whisper a few pretty words in your ears and give that greedy pussy a stern talkin’ to.”

“Don’t— don’t call it that,” You whisper, weak in the knees and your limbs feel like jello.

“Why not? That’s what it is, isn’t it? Always so ready and pretty, always aching for Daddy’s tongue, fingers.. his cock. Got a perfect pussy on my boy, don’t I? S’a perfect fit.”

His dick springs to life, through the fly of his comfortable pants and twitching against his matching black sweatshirt. Your mouth waters, watching as the brown-pink tip leaks precum, a particularly pretty vein disappearing into the head and wrapping around his shaft. You want to trace it with your tongue, drool all over it and have him force it down your throat while you cry and moan. Knowing Shouta, he’d pinch your nose and watch you struggle to breathe with a sweet smile on his face.

You can hear the faint click of the center console organizer closing, and the loud squelch of lube pouring, but you don’t expect the cool sensation of it being rubbed into your skin. It feels nice against the blazing smack from earlier, but all you can think of is how obscene you must look, whining in your Daddy’s arms while he prods at your hole and squeezes handfuls of your ass. Cool air brushes against your hole, you’re spread out for anyone to see, back arched while you push back on his fingers and moan like a whore.

“Such a greedy hole,” Shouta tuts, smacking your ass once more as a warning to get you to stop moving. You both know if he wanted to he could simply grab your hips, hold you in place and finger your brains out, but he wants you to keep your composure yourself. You said it, anyways. You can handle yourself just fine. “Gonna let me fuck this cunt stupid, baby? Stretch you out like you need it. Don’t rush.”

His fingers curl inside you, moans bubbling in your throat as your hips buck forward, your front clothed and aching. Your eyes roll back, a knot forming in your stomach as your abdomen clenches and his fingers thrust into the same sweet spot over and over and over. You mewl and cry, blabbering nonsense into his ears while he nips at your cheek, calling you a slut for liking this so much, for trying to take his fingers deeper, even once they’ve reached the final knuckle.

“Never. Fuckin’. Satisfied.” He enunciates with particularly sharp thrusts before slowly sliding his fingers out of you, feeling your hole wink around nothing, empty once again. He wipes the remaining lube on his fingers onto your face, watching as your watery eyes blink in delayed confusion. He smiles, sadistically sweet before slapping you across the cheek and pushing his fingers into your mouth, watching your lips curl into a dopey smile. Still, you’re empty.

Too empty.

“Wait.. wait.. Sho’, wan’ more.. c‘mon, give it t’me, please! I can— M’your good boy, m’a good boy..” You sob, wailing in his cock as he pushes his head against your hole. You wriggle down, watching as his strong hands tighten around your waist. He holds you there, thrusting up into your hole to use you like a fleshlight, groaning as your warmth wraps around his big dick, and kisses his tip with velvet.

You squeal, eyes scrunched closed as he raises you up and down as if you weigh nothing, an aching burn in your thighs as you struggle to push down onto his cock.

“Shut up, if they catch you taking a Pro-Hero’s dick like some whore that’s all you’ll ever be known for,” He gasps, spreading your cheeks apart to watch his cock disappear inside you through the side-view mirror. Sticky precum holds you two together, making a particularly sloppy sound when he pulls out completely, then slams back in. “But you’d like that wouldn’t you? Wanna be passed around at an agency, see how many loads you can take in that fuckin’ cunt.”

“M’sorry, Shou— M’sorry Daddy, please..!”

“You’ll take what I give you, brat,” His thrusts grow sluggish and sloppy as you crash into him and pant in his ear, tears streaming down your pretty face as every coherent thought leaves your brain. All you can muster out are jumbled pleas, toes curling as you grab his shirt— how slutty you must look while he’s still fully clothed. “You can handle yourself, right? You’ll cum on this dick with no hands, let Daddy fuck a load into you while you cum since you think you’re such a big boy.”

The knot in your abdomen tightens, your hole fluttering around his cock as Shouta moans, and you feel your body shutter as it briefly goes numb. You’re cumming, your head falls forward as he uses you like a fucktoy, bouncing in his lap with tiny, “Uh, uh, uh”‘s. Your hole grips him like a vice, swallowing his cock impossibly deep until you feel warmth flood your stomach, but before you can ride the high of getting your release, Shouta shoves you down at the hilt of his dick, pumping rope after rope inside you.

You want to cry, ball your hands into fists and beat at his chest because of course, you’re not allowed to cum. Of course, your orgasm is ruined and he gets to huff out satisfied breaths.

So mean.

“I know,” He sighs, breathless and tired as he slowly lifts you off his cock, hissing at the sensitivity. You let him do it, clawing at his shirt with a newfound lack of strength, whining as he catches the cum leaking out of you and pushes it back into your spent hole. He squeezes your ass one last time before pulling your pants and underwear back up, buttoning your jeans as if he didn’t just fuck you within an inch of your life and leave you high and dry. “I’m so mean, so mean. I’ll make it up to you.”

Too fucked out to say anything, you let him situate you back in the passengers seat, watching as he buckles your seatbelt for you. Whining, you grab his wrist, letting a sleepy smile grace your lips as he kisses your cheek. You had a lot to talk about once you got home, but he’d let you sleep for now.

“Brat.” He hums, nothing but love in his voice.

[onabat11e]

can't keep my hands to myself (pt. 2) - lucy bronze x ona batlle

rating: E for Explicit (18+)

warnings: dom/sub dynamic, daddy kink, orgasm denial, mild degradation, overstimulation, strap-ons, spanking, choking, hair pulling, safewords

summary: following ona's inability to keep her hands to herself, lucy decides it's time for a little punishment.

part 1 here - based on this request!

word count: 4.1k

AO3 Link

The Uber ride was silent. Ona could not stop bouncing her leg, nervous about what Lucy would have in store for her. 

“Go and wait for me in the bedroom, Ona,” Lucy instructed, closing the apartment door behind them. Ona kicked her shoes off, scurrying away. When she reached the bedroom, she sat on the edge of the bed and waited for Lucy to join her.

Had she seriously messed up this time? Ona’s hands fidgeted impatiently, mind running through the different scenarios. 

Her head snapped up upon hearing Lucy enter the room. Ona immediately stood and walked over to meet Lucy at the bedroom door, trying to gauge any emotions on her stony face.

“Now,” Lucy started, addressing Ona. “What was up with your behaviour tonight?” Ona was a sputtering mess, fumbling over her words, fingers twiddling together behind her back. 

“I just needed you so bad,” she managed to finally get out, only to be met by Lucy rolling her eyes and crossing her arms. 

“You just can’t help yourself, can you?” Lucy circled Ona, moving to stand behind her. “Thinking you can always get what you want.” Lucy was so close that Ona could feel the breath tickling her ear, causing the hairs on her neck to stand on end. 

“I know, I misbehaved, but-“ Ona tried to explain herself, talk herself out of it - anything. Lucy wrapped her arms around Ona, pulling the girl's body into hers. Her hands roamed down Ona’s curves, causing her to press her back into Lucy. 

“And what happens to girls who misbehave?” Lucy’s question cut Ona off, the darkened tone of her voice seeming to fill the room around them. 

“They get punished,” Ona’s heartbeat was pounding in her ears, and frankly? She could also feel that beat a little lower. She knows she shouldn’t push Lucy, but when this dominance comes out? Fuck. 

“Firstly, you are going to finish what you started,” Lucy stepped back, leading the two to the end of their bed. Lucy reached down to undo her belt. The clang of the metal latch caused Ona to snap into motion, hurriedly to undo the button, fingers shaking as they pulled the zipper downwards. 

“Do you remember your words?” Lucy’s voice softened as she dipped her head to meet Ona’s, bringing a thumb to stroke across her cheek. 

“Yes. Green to go, yellow to slow down, red to stop.” Ona recited the traffic light system they used as their safe words. 

“What’s your colour?” Lucy’s voice was soft, her hands stroking little patterns up Ona’s outer forearm. 

“Green,” Ona confirmed, a slight nod of her head. Lucy’s jaw clenched, ready to assert her dominance over her partner. 

“Good girl. On your knees,” Lucy’s tone was a harsh contrast to her last sentence, pointing to the ground underneath them. Ona complied, falling to kneel on the carpeted floor. She looked up with doe eyes as she pulled Lucy’s jeans down to her ankles. Lucy kicked away the trousers before sitting on the bed and spreading her legs.

“You see what you done to me?” Lucy referenced the wet spot showing down the middle of her boxers, evidence of Ona’s teasing throughout the night. 

“I’m sorry, Lucy,” Ona said quietly, feeling the shame and averting her gaze from Lucy. She felt her body shrink under Lucy’s icy stare. 

“You’re sorry, who?” Lucy asked, the volume of her voice shocking Ona into looking back up at her again. Ona felt a wave of shock flow through her body with the realisation.

“Daddy.” The correction slipped off Ona’s tongue as fast as she could manage it. Ona heart thumped at the slip-up, watching as Lucy’s green eyes darkened with lust.

“Good girl, now I’m gonna need you to make me cum.” Lucy demanded, looking down at Ona between her legs. Ona nodded with a pout, scooting closer to Lucy’s body. 

Fingers tugged at Lucy’s underwear, hips lifting off the mattress to let Ona slide the fabric down her legs. After discarding them, Ona leaned in and started kissing up the inside of Lucy’s legs. She trailed further up to reach where Lucy needed her most. Lucy shifted forward to sit closer to the edge of the bed and give Ona better access. 

Ona made broad licks over Lucy’s pussy, moaning at the taste of Lucy covering her tongue. Her mouth watered, not being able to get enough of the taste that was so uniquely Lucy. Ona’s tongue explored Lucy’s entrance, her nose bumping Lucy’s clit as she probed deeper, leaving teasing circles around the wetness. 

Ona made a slow lick upwards to toy with Lucy’s clit, flicking it teasingly with long circular licks around and over it. She sucked Lucy into her mouth, experimenting with different sucking pressures and playful tongue movements. 

Ona’s hands grabbed onto Lucy’s thighs as her tongue continued to take in the new wetness leaking from Lucy. She wishes she could take her time, drag it out - just kneel between Lucy’s legs and worship her pussy for hours.  

However, Lucy was far too impatient for that and needed to feel control over Ona; Lucy had to remind her who was in charge. 

Lucy grabbed Ona’s hair, using her head as leverage as she rolled her hips forward, moaning at the contact of her clit on Ona’s warm tongue. She continued to rhythmically meet Ona’s mouth, feeling the pressure of her climax building in her lower abdomen. 

“Fuuuck,” Lucy groaned out, letting her head fall back as she shakily rolled her hips into Ona one last time before her orgasm hit her. She slowed her movements, grip relaxing on Ona’s head as she let the girl messily lick up the remains of her arousal. 

“Good girl,” Lucy stroked her thumb over Ona’s soft hair. Ona looked up at Lucy, her pupils blown out, the glistening of cum and saliva spreading across her lips and down her chin. 

“What do you say?” Lucy demanded, looking into Ona’s eyes, hand trailing down and twirling between the strands of the brunette ponytail. 

“Thank you for cumming on my tongue, Daddy,” Ona looked up at Lucy through her eyelashes, wiping her thumb over her bottom lip before sucking it into her mouth to savour the taste of Lucy. She let out a quiet groan at the sight of Ona sucking her thumb, making a show of hollowing her cheeks as she licked the remnants of Lucy off of her hand. 

Lucy pulled Ona up from the floor, letting the girl fall on top of her to straddle her lap. Ona went in for a kiss, immediately meeting Lucy’s hungry lips and frantic movements of her needing to deepen the kiss. 

Ona started to roll her hips, the unrelenting throbbing between her legs begging for contact. Lucy grabbed Ona’s thigh, fingers digging into the soft flesh. Lucy pulled back from the kiss and cleared her throat in disapproval of Ona’s actions. 

“Naughty girls don’t get to grind on Daddy’s lap. Isn’t that right?” Lucy shook her head, eyebrows raised with sharp eye contact. Ona’s eyes widened, her breath getting caught in her throat.

“Yes, Daddy,” Ona swallowed, feeling her mouth dry at being reprimanded again. 

“I’m going to spank that gorgeous ass of yours,” Lucy’s hands stroked down Ona’s back, following the curve down before finding their place over Ona’s ass. She tightened her grip, letting the tips of her fingers dig into the soft flesh that sat atop her. 

Lucy shifted to help Ona move into position, her small frame now bent over Lucy’s lap. Lucy roughly pulled up the sheer fabric of Ona’s dress the rest of the way, Ona’s bare ass now fully exposed, save for the sparse material of her g-string.

“Can you count them for me?” Lucy’s hand stroked over the soft skin of Ona’s backside. “We’re going to do 10.” 

“Yes, Daddy,” Ona’s thighs tightened as her body prepared for the impact. Lucy’s hand came down hard, making direct contact with her asscheek. The sound echoed through the bedroom, followed by Ona speaking.

“One,” Ona counted, jaw clenching at the impact. She arched her back, sticking out her ass slightly to meet Lucy’s next strike.

“En Español, por favor,” Lucy requested before continuing, “Let’s try it again.” She raised her arm again, hand coming down on the same cheek. 

“Uno,” Ona started in Spanish now, per Lucy’s request. The sharp sounds of spanking cut through the thick silence in the room, followed by breathy tones of Ona’s counting. Lucy continued to land flat hits against Ona’s soft skin, alternating which side of Ona she came down against each time.

“D-diez,” the last word was a struggle for Ona to get out, a ragged breath causing her to stutter through the speech. 

“Good girl. You did so well for me,” Lucy praised Ona after the final hit, stroking over the red skin softly, feeling the heat emanate from it. Her hand followed the curve of Ona’s ass before finding dampened fabric between her thighs. Lucy pushed against the garment, impressed with how much arousal Ona had accumulated. 

“You’re already this wet? It’s not a punishment if you enjoy it, baby,” Lucy pulled the fabric to the side, pressing a finger through Ona’s folds to feel the extent of the wetness. Ona whined in something that sounded like a mix of desire and embarrassment, needing more pressure, more of Lucy. 

“Up,” Lucy demanded, watching Ona move to stand on shaky legs, the girl saying a silent prayer for them not to give out. “We need this off.” Lucy grabbed the dress again, helping Ona remove the garment. 

Lucy took a moment to appreciate the matching lace lingerie set Ona wore. Fuck. The older woman kept her face a mask of dominance, not allowing Ona to see her falter at her beautiful form. 

Lucy stood up, removing her shirt before lifting Ona, strong arms around supporting her lower back. Ona’s arms reached around the back of Lucy’s neck, holding on as she got carried onto the bed. Lucy placed Ona further up the bed and placed Ona’s head on the pillows.

Soft lips passed over Ona’s collarbones as Lucy’s hands reached around to unclasp Ona’s bra. Lucy rubbed a thumb over one of the newly exposed nipples, watching as it hardened, begging for attention. 

Nimble hands palmed at Ona’s breast, catching a nipple and squeezing it between her index and pointer fingers. Ona moaned, causing her lips to part just enough to let Lucy in. 

Lucy kissed wetly down the sensitive skin of Ona’s neck, nipping and letting her teeth graze the skin. She left a trail of open-mouth kisses down Ona’s chest, taking a nipple into her mouth for her warm tongue to lick over the tip before circling over it. 

Ona gasped from the new sensation and writhed underneath Lucy, the pleasure from her sensitive chest causing her to arch her back. Lucy let her teeth scrape against the nipple before she moved over to the other nipple. 

Ona felt weak, Lucy’s blown pupils looking up at her as she stuck out her tongue to tease Ona. Lucy sucked gently before releasing the nipple and continuing her path down. 

Lucy continued down, kissing over Ona’s abs, noticing the subtle flex of them under the touch of her lips. Lucy kissed over Ona’s underwear, chuckling when Ona twitched up into her touch. 

“So desperate,” Lucy hooked her fingers under the sides of the underwear, slowly revealing Ona’s pussy. “All of this for Daddy?” Ona flushed red, bringing a hand to her face to try and hide the embarrassment of being this turned on.

Lucy scooped her arms under Ona’s thighs, lifting Ona closer to her before she licked up Ona’s slit, letting the wetness cover her tongue. Her movements across Ona’s clit were fast, her lips suctioning onto the bud. 

Ona whined, feeling the throbbing of her pussy against Lucy’s warm mouth. When her tongue so expertly played with Ona’s clit like this, there was no chance of her lasting long. Ona grabbed onto the bed sheets, feeling the tightness in her abdomen grow further, her body aching with a need for release. 

“So close,” Ona managed to get out, her chest tightening as her orgasm grew closer. Not half a second later, Lucy pulled away from Ona’s core, breathing a laugh onto her twitching centre. 

“Not yet, sweetheart. Did you really think I’d let you off that easy?” Lucy’s words hit Ona directly in the chest, a wicked smile plastered across her face. 

Ona whined at the loss of contact when Lucy left the bed to rummage in their dresser, looking for a particular set of items. A moment later, Lucy pulled out a black silk bag, which Ona recognised as their harness. She also pulled out another bag, which Ona didn’t recognise.

Lucy faced away from the bed as she adjusted her harness, tightening it flush with her body and inserting the dildo. The older woman turned around and walked back to Ona, who sat with wide eyes, waiting anxiously. 

Ona eyed the size of the dildo, it being on the larger size compared to the ones they would usually use. She subconsciously squeezed her thighs together, shrinking into the bed thinking about taking that. 

Reading Ona’s body language, Lucy picked up on the change, walking over to Ona with a look of care in her eyes. She sat on the bed, reaching out to touch Ona’s hand.

“Your colour?” The softness in her voice returned, needing reassurance from Ona before continuing. Lucy smiled at her before she placed a hand over Ona’s to comfort her. 

“Yellow,” Ona said, forcing her voice to remain stable. She knew that she could take it, just not immediately.

“I’ll use my fingers first, baby. Is that okay?” Lucy reached her hand out to stroke Ona’s leg, trailing up to her inner thigh. Lucy felt the tight muscle soften under her hands, Ona relaxing into the touch. 

“Green,” Ona nodded as she confirmed, the word instantly snapping Lucy back into her headspace. Lucy grabbed Ona’s knee, pulling it to the side to part Ona’s legs. Lucy moved across the bed to be beside Ona. 

She slid a finger across Ona’s clit before moving it down to Ona’s entrance. Lucy pushed in, Ona’s heat taking the digit in and begging for more. Ona jerked her hips forward to meet Lucy’s finger curling inside her. 

Lucy added another finger, letting Ona adjust before pumping it, massaging Ona’s inner wall. She could feel Ona’s walls already fluttering around her painfully slow movements of Lucy pressing into her sensitive spots. 

Ona was feeling worked up, her climax nearing again before Lucy pushed a third finger slowly, revelling in the feeling of stretching around them for her. Ona whined as Lucy thrust her fingers, needing Lucy to increase her movements. 

Lucy could feel Ona starting to twitch and squeeze against the strong fingers that were now wholely inside her. 

Lucy pulled out her fingers, Ona crying from the denial and letting her body fall limp to the bed. Lucy made sure Ona watched as she put the fingers in her mouth and cleaned the arousal off, moaning as she pulled the fingers out with an audible pop.  

“Ready for Daddy’s cock now?” Lucy moved to be between Ona’s thighs again, looking down at Ona’s flushed face and the rise and fall of her chest as she panted. 

Lucy applied the lubricant to the length liberally, pumping her fist up and down the shaft. She aligned the tip with Ona’s entrance, pushing against her wetness to tease. 

“Please,” the word breathed out. Ona was desperate, needing Lucy inside of her. Anything for her to finally be able to cum. Lucy ran the tip through Ona’s folds, letting the silky wetness cover the head. 

Lucy inched the tip in slowly, taking caution in letting Ona adjust to the new size. Ona’s body was so needy after the teasing and denials that she took the toy in. Ona groaned when Lucy finally bottomed out, their hips meeting. 

Lucy paused and looked into Ona’s eyes with a silent question. Ona nodded yes to let Lucy know that she was ready for her to start moving her hips. Lucy pulled back slowly, watching as Ona’s bottom lip quivered. 

Ona shut her eyes and let her head fall against the pillows, her body jumping slightly when a strong hand wrapped around her neck, squeezing at the sides. Ona whined at the sensation, feeling her body give up any ounce of self-control she had left. 

Ona could hear and feel the blood pumping under the tightening grip Lucy had around her neck. Her eyes rolled back into her head as Lucy held her throat, hips repeatedly slapping together. 

“You’re such a good girl for me, aren’t you?” Lucy growled, breathing hard as she continued to push her strap into Ona. She released the grip on Ona’s neck, getting her ready for the next demand.

“Get on all fours - I want to take you from behind,” Lucy snarled and watched as Ona eagerly obeyed her orders. Once in the position, Ona looked over her shoulder at Lucy, waiting for her next move. 

“Good girl,” Lucy praised her, pushing her cock against Ona’s entrance again. The sensation of being filled from this angle made Ona’s arms shake, her body weak with the pleasure that Lucy was fucking into her.

Lucy wrapped one arm around Ona’s torso, the other going for Ona’s hair and wrapping the ponytail around her hand once before pulling her up. An unexpected moan escaped Ona at the motion of being pulled up.

The two women’s bodies came flush to each other, Lucy pulling the ponytail again to access Ona’s neck. She kissed Ona's skin, goosebumps arising from the contact with her sensitive skin. 

Lucy’s hips continued their pace, the lewd sounds of skin against skin echoing around them. Lucy took her free hand and stroked down Ona’s abdomen before reaching her swollen clit and pressing circles over it. 

“Need to cum so bad,” Ona whined, feeling a pressure building in her core. “Wanna cum all over your cock for you, Daddy.” 

“Do you deserve to?” Lucy mumbled into Ona’s neck, speeding her movements up to rub her clit faster. Lucy thrust harder into Ona, her body shaking with each thrust.

Ona let out a whine as she felt her abdomen tighten from her climax approaching again. Her breathing quickened, her body preparing for the release. 

Lucy removed her hand from Ona’s clit and dropped the ponytail, causing Ona to fall forward her forearms breaking her fall. Ona’s head hit the pillows before Lucy removed her strap, watching as Ona’s pussy feathered around nothing, so close to cumming but not quite being able to get over the edge.  

“It’s not fun, is it?” Lucy laughed in response to Ona’s disappointed whines and the shaking of her thighs. Tears of frustration prickled in her eyes. “Being teased?” 

“Please, Daddy, I need to cum so bad,” Ona was looking over her shoulder at the smug look on Lucy’s face. 

Lucy swiped up the arousal with her tongue, causing Ona to push backwards into Lucy. Lucy pulled away before Ona could get what she needed, leaving the younger girl whining and bucking against nothing once more. 

“Poor baby, you’re so desperate for Daddy’s cock aren’t you?” Ona felt the words resonate in her core, thinking about the stretch of her pussy around Lucy’s length. 

“I wanna cum on your cock for you, wanna show you how good I can be, Daddy” Ona turned over to face Lucy, looking up at the muscular woman kneeling over her. Ona spread her legs, putting on a show for Lucy. 

“You wanna cum so bad?” Ona whined and nodded her head. “You can just lay there and let me fuck your pretty little pussy into the mattress. Be a perfect hole for Daddy to play with.” 

Every word was sending a shooting pleasure down Ona’s spine. Ona arched her back further, giving Lucy a perfect view of her glistening pussy, which was begging to be fucked. 

Lucy pushed into her again, a deep groan escaping as she watched the toy disappear into the moaning girl. 

Ona was still so close and could feel the orgasm ready to crash into her, her thighs uncontrollably shaking with pleasure. Lucy ignored the moans and kept up her pace, pounding through the resistance of Ona clenching around the strap. 

Ona’s head fell onto the pillow, her jaw slack from her moans as Lucy fucked her through her high, already feeling another start to build up from how sensitive she was. 

Lucy grabbed Ona’s right leg, pushing it up to bend at the knee, opening up Ona’s legs for access to thrust deeper. Lucy grabbed at the red skin of Ona’s thigh, pulling Ona into her to meet her thrusts. 

“You take my cock so well, baby,” Lucy growled, reaching to rub over Ona’s clit. The additional sensation barrelled into her next orgasm, barely being able to hold back her cries, her white-knuckled grip increasing on the sheets as the pleasure spread throughout her body. 

With each thrust, the pressure of the harness against Lucy’s clit was causing heat to tighten in her core. Nothing could stop Lucy’s pace, her grip on Ona’s hips as she used her overstimulated pussy to chase her orgasm. 

Ona lost count of how many times she had cum by now if she had even stopped cumming in the first place. Her face was a picture of total bliss, jaw slack and eyes rolling back into her head. The tears of her pleasure smudged the eye makeup she had put on earlier that night. 

Ona’s body was limp, her moans a continuous string displaying how cock-drunk she was on the feeling of Lucy inside her. Lucy kept up her unrelenting pace fucking Ona into the bed, the younger girl's eyes streaming with tears as the pleasure continued to rip through her. 

Lucy appreciated the visual of Ona looking thoroughly fucked out, her makeup smudged, tear-stained cheeks, and her body limply moving in time with Lucy’s thrusts. Ona couldn’t find the energy to nod or speak, even her moans coming out in breathy tones. 

“Gonna cum in you, yeah?” Lucy rasped, her hips slapping against Ona’s. With just enough pressure, Lucy fell apart, hips jutting as the waves of pleasure spread through her body. Sounds of Lucy panting filled the room, her groans cutting through the breathy tones as her thrusting began to slow. 

Lucy pulled out slowly, falling to the bed next to Ona. She waited until her breathing had regulated itself again before turning onto her side and looking at Ona.

“How are you feeling?” Ona mumbled something back, a broken string of sentences. Lucy got off the bed, quickly trading her harness for comfortable pyjama trousers.

“I’m going to get water - you think you’ll be okay for a moment?” Lucy checked, her thumb rubbing against Ona’s shoulder. 

Ona nodded, smacking her lips together in agreement with the water. Lucy placed a blanket over Ona’s naked body before she trailed off into the kitchen.

~

Lucy walked back into the bedroom with two bottles of water in hand. She looked over at where Ona had now turned over, lying on her back. 

“Drink up, my love.” Lucy supports the back of Ona’s head and tilts the bottle slowly, letting the cool water partially fill Ona’s mouth. 

“Swallow for me, baby,” Lucy instructs, looking down at the heavy-eyed girl under her. A drop of water falls down the side of Ona’s lips, Lucy’s thumb coming to swipe it, caressing Ona’s soft bottom lip in the process. Once satisfied with Ona’s water intake, Lucy slowly placed Ona’s head on the pillow.

“Better?” Lucy asked. Ona, eyes remaining closed, responded with a nod. “Did you need anything else? A snack?” Ona weakly shakes her head no. 

“Just need cuddles,” Her voice is hoarse as she reaches out, beckoning Lucy to cuddle up to her. “Need to be held.” 

Lucy wrapped an arm around Ona, pulling her into her chest. She placed a kiss on top of Ona’s head.

“You know I love you,” Lucy said, hugging Ona closer. 

“Of course. I love you too,” Ona snuggled down further, resting her head on Lucy’s chest. 

Lucy reached across and picked up Ona’s phone to check the time, only to be met with a particular notification waiting for her.  Ingrid: u are SO not sly. good luck - 1hr ago

[captain-joongz]

Abraxas; Act 1, Chapter 2 Part 2

Pairing: mafia boss!Min Yoongi x police office!reader

Genre: enemies to lovers, humour, angst, investigation themes, dark themes, eventual smut, slowburn, some fluff

Chapter summary: As spring time comes, the police station finds itself intensely focused on several cold murder cases linked to the gangs. Amidst this chaos, it's hard to find time for anything else except for grappling with the position in the team and the burning ambition to be accepted, but something lovely might just be awaiting right behind the corner. The complicated relationship with the Min gang continues to get even more muddled.

Chapter word count: 18.3k

Warnings: discussion of crimes and murders, mentions of violence and gore (nothing too graphic, they're vaguely describing a murder scene), general anxiety? (our girl is NERVOUS in this one), Yoongi almost isn't in this chapter, start of reader x OC, gets suggestive at the end (it's not with Yoongi but he IS endgame, dw), also this chapter might be a bit slower and investigation and exposition heavy

Previous part | Series masterlist | Next part

A/N: unexpected sleepover kept me busy most of the weekend but here finally comes the second part of the chapter, i'm so excited for you to read the ending hehehe! let me know in the comments or through asks what you think, i'm curious to know your opinions! <3

The early summer heat was already hitting halfway through May, and as I sat in the station that was barely AC-ed, I suffered like a dog through the sudden and surprising rises of temperatures in between of bouts of rains.

Truthfully, looking out of the window, I wasn’t sure whether I’d rather be sitting here in a half empty dead office with barely anyone present (6 o’clock on a Friday afternoon usually not pulling much traffic around these parts) or sitting in full leather on my bike by some seedy club peeping at what Jungkook was doing this particular evening like a creep.

I wasn’t able to put much time into any extracurricular activities, the current task I’ve been made responsible of forced me to spend most of my time behind a desk, scrolling through endless police reports, paparazzi photos and news articles, taking names of cases and trying to find out what kind of people they were and who they were associated with. And after the hours and hours I’ve spent on this I was truly starting to get sick of it, almost missing the few days I spent watching a warehouse in the middle of the winter only to get trolled by Yoongi. Obviously, I wasn’t made for an office job.

With a sigh I finally gave up after trying to focus on the currently opened case on my table and dragged myself to a bistro on the corner. I’ve been drinking so much coffee these past few weeks I was on the verge of throwing up anytime I just saw a brown paper cup, but I soldiered through for the fresh batch of caffeine that would allow me to die a little slower and more painfully. And as I waited in the line, I dreaded returning to the station and continuing in what’s been my sole purpose in life for days upon days.

Still not being able to move anywhere with Jungkook kind of haunted me, it stayed at the back of my mind practically every day, just calling me to go out there and do something. But I couldn’t exactly spend the whole night chasing shadows when I had to show up to work at 7 am. Sometimes I would wonder what Yoongi thought about my sudden absence, whether he was trying to uncover some mastermind psychological warfare plan while I was really just too busy to do anything other than sit in that damn building and sleep, but admittedly it did always put a little smile on my face imagining him being silly over why I’m not following his every step like before.

Occasionally I would tag along with the team for additional interviews and questionings, stand behind Minjoon and listen and absorb their strategies. Unfortunately, all the people we talked to, all the witnesses who were mostly workers from around the warehouse, they knew very well to keep their mouth shut about anything illegal. In the end we couldn’t get more out of them than them hearing shots and calling the police. Nobody saw anything and heard nothing beyond that, as it seemed.

But we knew we were going to hit the wall here, no one in their right mind would snitch like this, especially if this truly was the Min gang. For all the neutral demeanour and suave charismatic energy, people were still terrified of Yoongi. No matter the image he had right now, no matter how much he tried to situate himself as a businessman unconcerned with the underworld, everybody still remembered how he came up, how much violence it took for him to take his place, how much blood was spilt and continued to be spilt any time someone went against him. You didn’t act up against a man like that.

And given the fact the Kims were somehow involved as well, it was double the risk. A single word could cost you your life, no matter which side the hit came from.

That only left us with carefully dissecting the lives of the victims, trying to find out how they got there and who they messed with to end up massacred on a floor of a run-down warehouse in Incheon, which was a feat in and of itself, but Minjoon and Seungcheol worked on that diligently. I sometimes met him just as he was about to leave to presumably go question someone about them, but I haven’t heard much from them yet. So lately we were all mostly stuck behind our computers.

I shook my head at nothing in particular and with one last sigh I picked myself up and went back to the station coffee in hand, resigning myself to another few hours of ruining my eyesight and back at that stupid little cramped desk. These past two weeks really made me realise just how on each other we were in that little space, and how Park sat comfortably in his office doing god knows what.

When I arrived back, I was shocked to see Minjoon suddenly back sitting by his own desk submerged deep into whatever it was he was looking at. He barely even registered my entrance, and I deliberated on going up to him or going back to my own desk to not disrupt him, but in the end decided to procrastinate just a while longer.

Minjoon looked up as soon as he heard footsteps approaching and we exchanged friendly but tired smiles while he pulled out a chair next to him for me to sit at.

“Doing overtime too, I see,” he greeted me with, eyes once again glued to the monitor. I looked over his shoulder to see him reading up on a report of a crime from two years ago. The name was very familiar to me after all these days. It was one of the guys from the warehouse.

“You going over what Park Doyun was involved in again?” I jumped straight into reading the report alongside with him. It was an armed robbery from two years ago, but due to a mess up in the prosecution they were acquitted on some obscure technicality. It was honestly a huge embarrassment, because there was some good evidence, but it all went down the drain. It was the first thing that really smacked us in the face once we put the guys through the police database, because everyone was talking about it around the precinct and Minjoon immediately made the connection.

“Yeah, supposedly there was a third accomplice, but I can’t find any mention of anyone else being involved,” Minjoon muttered somewhat dejectedly, the exhaustion showing through his expression and posture. I patted him on the shoulder, trying to bring his spirits up while I was just as sick of this as he was. He only shot me a grateful smile over his shoulder and went back into the report.

The Police Academy truly doesn’t prepare you for the hours and hours of just pure research and paperwork, what a lie.

“Is that what one of the people in the neighbourhood told you?” I queried some more, desperate to distract myself from my own tasks long enough to gain some strength to go back to it. Minjoon hummed absentmindedly, but in the end gave up as well and turned to me.

“Yeah, it was the most I could get from this one old lady sitting by a convenience store on his corner,” the detective said around a yawn, decompressing into the chair and letting the day just wash over him. It was obvious that whatever he was doing today was catching up to him, and it didn’t surprise me much given that he was gone for most of the afternoon.

“What do you got so far?” I leaned back on my chair as well and turned so that we were face to face, and we just lounged there for a moment smiling at each other cheekily, “About the whole thing.”

That got Minjoon sighing again, wiping his hand over his face. “Most is the usual stuff,” the man started, launching into another long monologue brought up by my questions, “out of the six victims, two grew up in the same neighbourhood down in Gojan-dong. You know, the same old – not the greatest families, poor backgrounds, started messing around the block and got into a lot of trouble. That’s where the reports start flying in. The other four are from around there as well, but not as close by.”

I sat on the information for a moment, as this was the first time I outright asked about the details. “So they’re all from Incheon anyway?” I ended up saying, and Minjoon only nodded.

“Two of them lived pretty close to each other, went to the same school, and they have that one record together,” he continued talking, “but you know how it gets. The people living around there only talk about how pitiful it is they fell off the good path, and if there is something more organised going on beneath, they either don’t know about it, don’t want to know about it or will never talk to a cop about it.”

“But we can be pretty sure they were already tight back then,” I hummed. Minjoon moved a little on his chair to get more comfortable. I saw his eyes jump to the time showcasing on his computer before he turned back to me and the conversation, and I was suddenly hit with the realisation that he most likely wanted to go home and I was keeping him here.

“Yeah, according to the teachers they were troublemakers and there was some violence happening on other students,” Minjoon expanded on that, “and one also mentioned a kid from a school on another block that they used to hang out with a lot that was also known for trouble, but she couldn’t remember his name. She wasn’t very surprised that they died in a gang affiliated murder though, according to her they were most probably dealing already back then between the peers.”

“That’s tough, that’s real tough. Surviving on the streets like that just gets you involved in all kinds of trouble” the empathetic words spilled from my mouth before I could really think twice about it and I panicked a little. I wasn’t sure how much the people around the unit knew about my childhood, but it definitely wasn’t something I wanted to discuss with any of them, even Minjoon. Some things were just better left in the past, especially since it’d probably make my colleagues dislike me more.

“Yeah, but the worst thing is that I just can’t get the name of that third kid,” Minjoon carried on completely submerged into his own world, “I showed her pictures of the other guys, but she didn’t recognise them. Then I was trying to choke some info from an old lady sitting by one of their addresses, but she only mentioned that there were three boys involved in that robbery but couldn’t remember the third one because he was from a nearby neighbourhood, just that these three were always together and didn’t do anything good.”

“And it’s not any of the other four guys?” I asked once more, just to make sure I didn’t miss anything. Minjoon shook his head and leaned back onto his chair, just watching me with tired but smiling eyes.

“But I think it’s a safe bet that these three must have stood at the beginning of everything, I just can’t get the name of the last kid,” Minjoon finished with a sigh, fingers subconsciously playing with the hem of his shirt, “I don’t know how they got into the big game or where the other dude is though.”

“Do you think there’s a possibility he escaped? That he’s alive somewhere but skipped cities or something to get away from the trouble?” I pondered out loud, as we both exchanged conspiratory glances, but Minjoon just shrugged.

“I mean, anything is possible in this game really,” the detective closed the conversation with a definitive nod of his head. I thought that was my cue to go back to my desk and let him leave, but he surprised me with turning the conversation around on me.

“What about the files? How are you doing?” he asked suddenly just as I was preparing to stand up and go. For a split second I looked at him surprised, and then relaxed into the chair again with a smile.

“Honestly, it’s such an annoying work,” I complained a little whinily, allowing myself to be a little more open with Minjoon, “I have to go through every little article, report and a picture on the internet concerning the victim. Some of them are normal working class people who worked around the docks or clubs, but some are wealthy bastards.” Minjoon chuckled at me, fingers drumming a calming beat into the table.

“Some have no ties to Yoongi at all apart from like eating at his restaurant once or staying at his hotel, but some I think are worth investigating into,” I went on, giving Minjoon the opportunity to just listen to me babble for once and not the other way around, “like some businessmen that have done deals with some of Yoongi’s shadow companies or were frequent visitors of his clubs, there was this one dude that was really closely related to some charity events Yoongi put on. I think it’s worth looking into those.”

Minjoon smiled at me brightly, his whole persona suddenly lighting up at hearing me talk about the case. He straightened up and leaned towards me, hand grabbing my shoulder in a gesture that has become very familiar to me coming from him to a point when I had to fight an embarrassed blush and a smile at the warmth and pride it filled me with.

“Good job, Y/N, good job,” he said earnestly, eyes looking straight into mine until the direct contact got a little too intense and I dodged it, “I knew I could count on you with this.” This time I really did blush, an intense feeling of vindication filling me at finally having someone recognise the work I was putting into this case. I mumbled my thanks to him, too overwhelmed to even look up, but I felt his hand squeeze my shoulder in answer before he retracted it back.

“I put them into different groups,” I jumped back into the explanation to escape the atmosphere change, “the ones that are inconclusive when it comes to gang involvement, the ones that are mostly low-tier workers around the gang affiliated hotspots and the big wigs that died under strange circumstances and most likely were closely related to Yoongi’s business in one way or the other.”

I didn’t even realise I had naturally switched into calling him Yoongi even in front of Minjoon, but thankfully he either didn’t notice or didn’t think it strange. Once I clocked it though, I promised myself to make sure to never make the same mistake in front of Hwang or Park, who I didn’t want to risk questioning me about it. Was I paranoid? Maybe, but I had a good reason for it with my track record.

“Have you looked through all of them?” came Minjoon’s question after a few moments of silence and I startled minutely before shaking my head in response.

“Not yet, I’ve got like a case and a half left,” I answered him truthfully, the distaste over having to go back to my desk and keep researching this file still rotting on my table resurfacing and souring my mood. I had managed to forget I’d still need to return to it once Minjoon left and it had me slumping into my chair.

The man must have noticed my change in mood, since he gave me a small encouraging smile and then leaned towards me somewhat conspiratorially before lightly enquiring “you wanna get out of here and grab something for dinner?”. I visibly relaxed at the offered out and nodded enthusiastically basically before he even finished speaking, making him laugh heartily.

In one swift movement he was standing on his feet offering me his hand. I took it gingerly and let him haul me up, the feelings of guilt that have been eating me away for not dedicating more of my time to the task soothed by Minjoon’s approval of ditching work.

It didn’t take us long to turn off computers and collect our belongings before we both headed out into the still incredibly hot air of the parking lot in front of the station. He must have been just as excited to leave as me, with how gingerly he led us out and towards his car, only stopping when I lightly grabbed his arm. The officer turned his whole body to me, surprise and confusion written over his face at my sheepish expression. I gestured towards the other side of the parking lot where a solitary dark car stood parked.

“I’m here by car as well, we could go to the restaurant down the street so we can both leave by car?” I suggested and Minjoon as quickly brightened up and agreed.

Thus we found ourselves sitting over our respective bowls of kimchi jjigae just a few minutes later. This was a known spot for us, as they fed most of the police force from our station with the homely family run restaurant located only three minutes by foot away from our office. When we walk in, the kind middle-aged lady running it already greets us by our names and knows our tastes by heart. It was such a nice feeling to have a place like that, I had to admit that.

We both must have been pretty hungry, because for the first half none of us even spoke, too focused on our bowls and stuffing our faces like a pair of vultures. Once the dust settled and we were handing the empty dishes back to the smiling woman, we found ourselves once again just looking at each other not knowing how to start up a conversation. After few moments of awkward silence, Minjoon decided to break the ice.

“You mentioned you sorted the cases into three groups, right?” he started off the subject of our work again, waiting for me to nod and then continuing, “Once you get through them all, you should pull out the other cases we have connected to Yoongi and look through them again with the new ones in mind. There might have been things lost or not noticed.”

The feeling of disappointment that hit me was almost palpable in the air, and I felt my expression freezing into an awkward smile trying to not let it show outwardly. I didn’t want to anger Minjoon or make him feel bad about this, and I did realise I was a total newbie to the unit and a newbie to this particular investigation, but I would lie if I said it didn’t hurt that I seemed to be eternally stuck behind the computer while the others actually did all the investigating.

Minjoon still must have felt my lack of enthusiasm, even though I tried to show my agreement as happily as I could muster, and he hit me with another sheepish apologetic smile.

“I know what you’re thinking,” the man begun, hands on instinct raising as if trying to console me, “but this could be your own thing, you know? It would be your call and your own investigation. We could also ask the violent crime team to help you out with questionings.” Now, that did sound marginally better, and I found myself swaying. I mean, I really didn’t have much choice, I would still agree even if I was truly just a glorified secretary to them, otherwise I’d be booted of the team quicker than I could say ‘fuck you’. But like this, it at least didn’t feel like a complete lost.

“So, once I went through the cases, I’d have free range and I could try to investigate and close some of them?” I made sure before I truly consented to anything, and when Minjoon nodded and agreed, I relaxed a little bit.

“Okay then,” finally I accepted, “I’ll look through the old cases too.” That seemed to make him very happy, and he made sure to smile at me brightly and shower me in gratitude and praises, but I couldn’t really help the sinking feeling at imagining myself going through more cold cases. At least there was a clear end to that in sight with these.

After that the conversation shifted slightly to lighter topics and Minjoon ended up telling me some funny stories about our colleagues’ mishaps at work. I laughed at them heartily while feeling this strange rift between us deepen even more, realising more than ever that I was truly a stranger in this unit full of people who actually somewhat liked each other.

I promised myself that this time next year, I will be sitting here with the whole unit and be a part of those fun stories as well.

Later in the evening, as we walked leisurely back to our cars after finishing up at the food joint, Minjoon suddenly seemed a little more hesitant and withdrawn. At first I saw it as a reluctance to part after a nicely spent evening, but soon I came to realise that there was something he wasn’t sure how to tell me. I could see it written all over his guilty unsure face, mouth opening for a moment without words coming out and then shutting again. I waited patiently for him to gather his courage, until the man finally broke the suddenly awkward silence.

“So, we were making some plans with the team,” Minjoon opened hesitantly and immediately I felt a shot to my heart knowing I wasn’t a part of whatever discussion they were having as a team, but I kept my mouth shut. I only hummed in response, encouraging him to go on.

“Well, next Friday we’re going to speak to Ms. Kim,” he finally got out, and I froze a little, “I just felt that a heads up was needed for that particular encounter." And I wasn’t going to lie, there was a little bit of panic that seized me at the mention of her name.

Miss Kim, alias Kim Jiyu, alias the sister of the man currently in charge of Kim Enterprises and any other business the Kim family was running legal or not, was notoriously known in both the underworld and the law enforcement sphere as a very unpleasant and harsh woman that people only ever can have the displeasure of meeting. There was a lot of stories floating around about her, and most were extremely unflattering to her character. All kinds of adjectives were attached to her, from spoiled or mean all the way to downright cruel and heartless.

The meeting with her could mean only one thing – they were trying to get the meeting with the Mr. Kim himself, but as most people, couldn’t get through his sister first, as she acted as a wall between him and the rest of the world. Unless you came with a warrant, the chances of speaking to him alone or at all were very slim, most visitors got handled by Ms. Kim before they even made it through the receptionist.

I shuddered a little bit at the thought of meeting her and doing a questioning against her and the crimes her family was involved in. Allegedly. After this thing was over, I had to go to good old Jungkook and troll him a little over parking tickets to decompress from this whole ordeal.

I turned to Minjoon, taking in his worried face, and I put on my bravest expression, nodding with a gentle smile. We didn’t really speak after that again, both of us just processing the information that was traded throughout the whole evening.

When I got home, I was so exhausted I just wanted to crash into the bed and sleep for twelve hours but sleep just wouldn’t find me until the early hours of the morning, and I found myself lying there with closed eyes, brain overheating with everything that’s happened in the last 24 hours.

I nervously shimmied around, earning another judging stare from one of the maids and a warning shake of head from Minjoon, as we waited in the entrance hall to be accepted by the lady of the house.

When Minjoon mentioned going to interview Ms. Kim, I truly didn’t even begin to imagine we would go into her house. That morning pulling up in front of a huge modern mansion and getting greeted by a chauffeur and a gardener before I even made it halfway through the gate was truly a shock. I don’t know why I was expecting maybe an office or something, given the fact it was one of the richest residential parts of Seoul, but still.

As usual, my nervousness made it that I was there first, way before Sunmi or Minjoon got there, who were the two people assigned to this task, Hwang and Seungcheol trying their luck loitering around the office building where Mr. Kim must have been. It was a tactic that was already well known to me in our unit, fighting on two fronts and then exchanging found out info. In my mind I was transported months back, to the first time I was brought along, the “first time” I officially met Yoongi in the VIP lounge in Pied Piper and how I nervously sat in front of him while he laughed at me like my presence was the funniest thing that’s ever happened to him.

The feelings of unease and queasiness that thinking of Yoongi often brought along manifested themselves and I started sweating even harder, slowly gaining Minjoon’s worry as he looked me up and down. I shook my head to him very slightly, hoping it was seen as a comforting gesture and it wouldn’t make him hover over me in an attempt to shelter me or comfort me.

The silence in the hall stretched for several additional minutes and the three of us stood there awkwardly, scrutinised by every member of staff currently on standby. I felt the scolding gazes doubly, as I didn’t make much effort on the visual front, rocking up to one of the most expensive houses in the most expensive neighbourhood in my worn washed out jeans, a simple black tee and a breezy short-sleeved shirt with an aggressive flower print, hair styled in a way that was the most practical and needed the least amount of time to achieve and a face red and sweating both from the hot temperatures and the nerves, the look finished with a pair of old sneakers basically crying for help.

I couldn’t look more out of place in the pristine light green hall with sleek furniture and floors made from massive marble tiles and I felt properly as an outsider, both from the perspective of a kid growing up in an impoverished block and as a colleague that wasn’t properly informed about the details of the visit. Even Minjoon wore a nicer pair of jeans and a shirt, which he never did, and Sunmi looked as elegant as ever in her dress pants, light blouse and beautiful wavy hair let hanging loose around her shoulders. I swallowed my bitterness and regret at not checking up on the area first and not getting the chance to also dress accordingly. And avoiding looking like a beggar accidentally let in from the streets.

My train of thought was broken by the sound of approaching footsteps, the distinctive clacking of high heel shoes on the marble floors carrying to us all the way from deep inside the house, and I found myself almost letting out a breath of relief, as I would finally be able to escape this oppressive atmosphere and disappear somewhere into a corner of a room and just quietly make notes.

With each clack getting closer to us the tension in the air grew lightly, the forms of my colleagues also straightening out, hands last minute fidgeting around their clothes to gather courage and look as composed as we could. From what I understood, from the people present here only Sunmi had the pleasure of meeting our host before, and it was only twice. Not nearly enough for the initial instinctual apprehension to wear off. Therefore we were all probably experiencing similar levels of unease. Most probably. Hard to say, I was pretty strung up.

Finally, the form of a woman rounded the corner and materialised at the other end of a very long corridor, slowly inching towards us with the elegance and prowess of a hungry lion, her form slightly shimmering. At first I thought my eyes were watering or I was straight up hallucinating, but as she came closer I realised it was because she wore a silvery dress that reflected every light and surface around her.

She was taller than me, quite a bit (not a big feat honestly, I barely grew out of looking like an 8th grader) with a small, graceful face, each inch perfect and carefully maintained. Both her make-up and dress looked very sophisticated, showing clearly that she was a member of the higher class, with her beautiful dark hair pulled into a tight intricate bun at the back of her head. She was absolutely stunning and, to be honest, for a moment I got a little starstruck. It felt like meeting a movie star or a celebrity, she had that aura around her, and for a few seconds I completely forgot why we were there and almost started asking for an autograph and a detailed explanation of her beauty routine.

That all shattered the moment she finally reached us though, as her impassive face suddenly broke into a cruel smirk, venom taking over her dark eyes and she scoffed, looking us over like we were pests about to be exterminated. Before even giving us a chance to introduce ourselves, or really say anything, her focus shifted to Sunmi, gaze burning her down intensely.

“I thought we were over this, detective,” she said in a strong voice, sounding just as annoyed as mean, “There’s no need for you to come over and ask your silly little questions. I told you everything you need to know.” I saw the moment Sunmi steeled herself, eyes hardening, readying to play her part of an unshakable detective. And damn, did she do a great job.

“Please Ms. Kim,” she retorted, her body relaxing a little as she adopted a posture to counter the other woman’s stiff elegant figure, “You know I’ll never have enough of asking you silly questions. Just let us bother you for fifteen minutes and then we don’t have to see each other again for a few months.” There was a little impish grin tugging on her lips and I could notice our hostess was starting to get a little bothered by that, her annoyance slowly running through the roof. I watched on with bated breath, both me and Minjoon just hanging back quietly, taken aback by the sudden change in the air.

Ms. Kim’s face turned into a bitter grimace, the disgust obvious in the downturn of her mouth as she stepped aside and gestured down the long hallway she herself came from.

“Fine, you got fifteen minutes, after that I’m not entertaining any other visits unless you have an arrest warrant,” she bit out almost in a bark, before she turned around without waiting and stomped her way back inside the house. We all scrambled to follow her, suddenly thrust into action after just weirdly hanging about for such a long time. Sunmi took the lead, confidently striding after her, but as she passed me I could hear her releasing a huge puff of air as she steadied herself to carry on.

I gazed after her, taking in her stoney face and confident posture, my respect towards the female detective immediately skyrocketing. If Minjoon told me I was looking at her with hearts in my eyes, I would totally believe him. I liked to pretend I looked similar while dealing with Yoongi, but Sunmi clearly perfected the pest bratty power play that just drove these types up the wall, and I hoped I would be able to learn from her before we all had to go our separate ways again. I’m sure the Min gang would infinitely appreciate it. Especially the maknae.

Miss Kim led us only halfway through the corridor before she disappeared into a room on the right, and like ducklings we all followed inside. Minjoon came through last, but immediately went for the chairs, so I took it upon myself to close the door. When I turned, I was the last one to take the room in. It was quite a standard home office space, with a dark desk dominating the space, some shelves with books and decorations, and of course, the two chairs waiting for visitors to be scrutinised from the high table.

Not wanting to pull much attention to myself, I quickly hurried into the left corner where a lone small armchair stood, sitting myself there. I was already pretty much invisible to them as they sized each other up.

Just as before, Miss Kim didn’t seem overly interested in getting our names, getting straight to business without any preamble.

“I cannot imagine what else you’d like to hear from me, Miss Lee,” her piercing voice sounded through the room, taking on a slight whining voice. I jerked slightly in my chair, head immediately flying up to look at the woman before I realised that me and Sunmi shared a surname and she was talking to her, not me. The relief that flooded me at not having to face her yet was quite mortifying, so I just focused on fiddling with my notepad and pen, waiting for something worthy of being written down.

“A multiple homicide took place on your front lawn, of course we’d be interested in getting your perspective as much as we can,” Sunmi replied to her matter-of-factly, holding her own in the intense power battle that was currently taking place between their gazes.

“On my front lawn? That’s news to me,” Miss Kim leaned back into her chair, throwing her arms into the air, “That’s not our warehouse. The Kim Enterprises don’t own it.”

“Cut the shit, that’s your turf. You want to tell me that someone was murdered on your turf, and you don’t have even the slightest idea? Not even if Mins were involved?” Sunmi snapped back immediately and even I was surprised for a split second before I schooled my expression and watched the two of them attentively.

Miss Kim seemed hardly surprised, she didn’t even blink at Sunmi’s approach, just sat there and stared at her blankly with not even a single hair out of place. Then she smirked lightly, fingers drumming a quick rhythm into the desk.

“I have no idea what Mr. Min is doing, but I can assure you he’s doing it far away from me,” she said diplomatically, “We’re not exactly the bestest of friends.” There was a tense venomous smile on her face and I fought back the scoff. That was some understatement. But she was really good at acting as if her whole clan didn’t almost lose their lives to Yoongi’s six after actively trying to sabotage him several times.

But guess they must have gotten a little mercy from him since most of the conflicts happened while the old Kim, her father, was still in power. Since he has died and his son took over, the relationship between the two powerhouses was still considerably strained, but also much calmer.

There was a moment of silence, Minjoon quietly looing to Sunmi whether she wanted to keep going and when she didn’t stop him, he cleared his throat and turned his full attention to the woman behind the desk.

“It might not be your warehouse, but we know the area is pretty much under your rule,” he said seemingly amicably, a stark difference to Sunmi’s irate approach, “We don’t care about any other stuff that’s happening there. We don’t care about drugs or smuggling right now, this is a murder case.”

To that the woman smirked and rolled her eyes. “So what? If I give you information, you’ll overlook anything else that might be going on? You want me to be a snitch?” she drawled out, clearly mocking us all, then threw her hands out into the air, “Not my warehouse, not my problem. Why would I know what’s going on in a house that doesn’t belong to me?” The answer was pretty clear, to be honest. Even as someone from a rival gang, if she knew something she wouldn’t cooperate with the police. The retaliation would be merciless if Yoongi found out. And he always did.

“Anything you say will be recorded as an anonymous tip, it will only push us in the right direction,” Minjoon told her, in what was supposed to be a comforting manner, but his voice was too hard and matter-of-fact to be friendly. The elegantly dressed woman’s eyes jumped from the two with a slyness that left a bad feeling in the pit of my stomach. In that moment she looked more like a viper about to strike than an heiress to a huge successful family. An ugly smirk curled around her lips and her face took on a certain savageness, suddenly she looked nothing like the graceful lady that greeted us in the foyer.

“Well, detective,” she started in another drawl, now her voice pitching more towards an almost playful hostility, like she was trying to make herself seem less lethal than she truly was, “all I can say is that they were drug dealers. Which is something you already know. So you probably have to ask… why did they lose their lives because of it? Hmmmm, I wonder… wonder who and where does drug deals that has the reputation of killing anyone that just looks at him bad…” She ended that whole spiel with a sharp grin, and promptly stood up and in a grand gesture flicked her wrist towards the door.

“I didn’t really expect that I would have to do the police’s job for them, should have fucking gone to the academy,” she hissed out in a snarl, “Now get the fuck out of my house and don’t bother me again about bullshit that doesn’t concern me.”

The two detectives didn’t seem to be bothered by her words or sudden turn in mood at all, instead they both stood up almost coordinated and without a single word or a glance back turned to leave the room. I scrambled to follow them, the whole thing replaying in my mind as I absent mindedly smacked about the door to catch the handle. The split second I turned to see where it was, I caught Miss Kim’s eye for the first time that evening. Hers were sharp, face a hard grimace of uncaringness and cruelty. She smirked at me in a mocking way, like she would at an insect right before she crushed in under her heel, her pride and ego clearly displayed like trophies in her arrogant stance and upturned head. I shuddered lightly and decided to leave the door be, breaking into a light jog to catch up to my colleagues much to judging looks of the servants. I didn’t care much, I just wanted to be out of there.

Once back on the street, a weighted silence stretched between us as we marinated on what we were told. Really, these interviews always felt so short and so little information would come from them, and then you’d look at the clock and find out it’s been thirty or forty minutes spend just turning in circles. This was one of them.

“Of course we know the drug deal is an important aspect of the case,” Minjoon suddenly bit out, peeved as the last comment clearly got him, “A group of drug dealers doesn’t just get murdered by accident. But Yoongi is self-sufficient, he has ties across the sea to Japan, he doesn’t do deals with small in-Seoul gangs.” We both looked at him, trying to ignore his petulant outburst, trying to be empathising because all of our emotions ran a little wild at the moment. I looked to Sunmi, studying her calm face that was in contrast to her hand tapping her thigh in a quick rhythm, her mind working fast to slot everything together and re-evaluate what we found out till now.

“Well, then the reason must be there,” I voiced out unsurely, getting nervous when their gazes turned to me, “If what she’s insinuating is that they were doing a deal with Yoongi and got killed, then we gotta find out why. If he normally doesn’t do that, then why now?” Sunmi nodded at my words, eyes squinted both against the sun and in thought, mulling over it.

“Yeah, that’s really the only way I see here too,” she stated finally, voice carrying strong, “We were working with theories that they maybe provoked him or split from him and stole some of his cargo, maybe tried to push his turf somewhere, the usual reasons for this brutal of a punishment, but maybe we should explore the option that they were actually partners. Maybe they scammed him with goods, that could get you murdered in this business.”

I pursed my lips tightly, keeping a neutral face to reign in my surprise, as most of those things she said were total news to me. I had known they were looking into their past and that they were drug dealers, that they missed one guy and maybe he got away. Nothing of what she said actually made it to me, and I had to stand there and pretend like I knew what she was talking about. I mean, I wasn’t dumb, these were the usual reasons for murder between gangs, but it would have been nice if someone actually told me we were looking into these options.

I swallowed my bitterness down and kept my eyes trained on Sunmi, nodding along. I didn’t want my negative experience with my team and unit to tamper down the respect that was quickly growing in me towards her, the detective has in the short period of time I’ve known her become something of a model for me, and I knew that it wasn’t her responsibility to keep me updated since she was from a different unit. No, this transgression was on the side of my own colleagues, so I stubbornly kept my eyes from straying towards the officer in question, who was nervously shuffling next to her.

I let out a tired sigh, the disappointment was so constant with them that I barely even found it in me to be properly annoyed, just felt resignation bleed into me slowly. I knew that I would most likely just keep getting fucked over like this, but still, I stubbornly and selfishly wasn’t prepared to give up just yet, and it hurt. But really, what other option did I have.

“We should get back to the station,” I piped in, cutting short the conversation that started up between them while I was spacing out, and I felt Minjoon’s guilty gaze on me, “Get the info to the others and re-evaluate.” Sunmi once again nodded, patting my shoulder and giving me a friendly smile.

“You’re here by car, right? We could definitely squeeze you in if you need a ride,” she offered easily, and I found myself genuinely smiling back. I thanked her and pointed towards my own vehicle, and she patted my shoulder some more, a little more awkwardly, and made her way to her own. Minjoon lingered behind a little, but whatever he wanted to tell me, we didn’t have time for it anyway, so I shot him a polite smile and went my way too.

The day went by surprisingly fast, considering I didn’t speak much for the rest of it, the earlier realisation weighing heavy on me. The briefing was pretty short, with mostly Sunmi making sure the other two detectives were caught up. They split their duties quickly too. Minjoon and Seungcheol were supposed to keep looking into the mysterious third accomplice while Sunmi and Hwang would start looking more sharply into their mob ties, hoping to somehow trace them to Yoongi if they scrutinised them hard enough. I sat there and watched them awkwardly, until Minjoon turned to me and somewhat sheepishly asked whether I wanted to share my findings. So I did.

I recapped to them everything I said to Minjoon a few days earlier before he stepped in and informed the others I agreed to go through the older cases as well and would try to build a new bigger case. I gulped down my own simmering anger, that was admittedly dwindling down with every hit I took from them, and smiled, nodded, agreed. Minjoon kept glancing towards me as if he wanted to say something more, but I ignored it for the moment. Now was not the time. He asked the other team if they would volunteer to have someone tag along with me. Seungcheol agreed. I shook his hand and thanked him. In my head I clung to the promise Minjoon made me, that this would be my own big case, and kept myself in check.

By the evening, I was finally wrapping up with the original task, a huge boulder falling off of my shoulders and then promptly building back up when I curiously checked how many files I would have to pull up come Monday. It was a lot. I did catch myself just sitting at my tiny desk kneading my face in my hands, smushing my features all together and then pulling them again, as my eyes focused and unfocused on the computer screen.

And that’s how Minjoon found me too. He walked up to me quietly, and at first I didn’t even notice him through the existential crisis I was going through, but soon his hip moved into my field of vision and I jerked back, embarrassed at my antics. Minjoon still looked just as apologetic as that morning, and I couldn’t even be annoyed with him after the day I had.

“Dinner?” he asked quietly, unsure of whether I would want to go with him or not. Maybe I shouldn’t have, but instead I just nodded tiredly, pushing the files under the desk and turning off the computer. I was done, done for the day and done with working on this, so I just wordlessly stood up and glanced around. Just like last week we were the last ones around, even Park already long gone from his office where he basically camped out.

Minjoon waited for me patiently, as I gathered my belongings and then just walked out without looking back. We ended up at the same restaurant, ordering the same thing, the lady behind the counter giving us winks and mischievous smiles while I tried my hardest to push the flustered part of myself as deep as possible. That was the last thing I needed, really.

Minjoon launched into his apology as soon as we sat down, stating how tired and overworked he was and pleaded for me to forgive him just this once for forgetting to forward the information to me. How it just slipped his mind and how Hwang just plainly refused to have to keep running to me with every new little thing and always left it to him and he was just so busy. I sat there staring blankly, not even really in the mood to pretend it was fine like I usually would for the man, and he stewed under my intense gaze, stuttering to find a way to make it up to me.

I wanted to be spiteful, wanted to tell him just how tired I was as well, how if they even invited me to these meetings in the first place, we wouldn’t have this problem, but failed to find the reason why I should bother.

“Then how about this? I have an offer to make,” Minjoon said suddenly after a few minutes of awkward small talk, a mischievous smile slowly stretching on his face. I perked up at the sudden change in mood and curiously nodded at him to continue. “I always have the time to tell you everything when we eat here and I can relax at the same time, so it’s pretty obvious you should keep coming to these dinners with me. Just for the work’s sake of course,” the man suggested slyly, eyes colouring with mirth and something else, something a little darker and sweeter. That insufferable flirt.

That time I did blush full force as soon as the meaning of those words hit me, ducking my head shyly as the negative emotions dissolved confusedly into something a little more excited and jittery deep inside my chest, the anger forgotten under the sudden attention. I found myself nodding and Minjoon rewarded me with such a blinding smile it made everything worth it, all the work and the bitterness long pushed from my mind.

That evening, there was plenty more conversation, none of it about murders or crime which was a refreshing change for both of us, and we both seized the opportunity to actually mention anything that didn’t have any tie to Yoongi, who seemed to have become a constant in my life. For a first time in a really long time I laughed freely with another person, nothing holding me back from the amusement and nothing weighing heavy on my mind.

When I made my way home that evening, the hopeful joy making itself known in my heart seemingly erased all the negativity of the day, of the week, of the month. The only thought that fought its way through was the flash of Yoongi in my mind as I passed the street that would eventually lead me to Pied Piper.

I turned my head straight and drove on.

The days quickly bled into weeks, into a month, until I was sweating my ass off in the office towards the end of May, the sudden heatwave hitting right after a week of storms and rains. The heat always seemed to get even more exaggerated inside the building, something about it just had to be cursed. And with how old and rundown the station really was, hoping for a working AC soon turned into a fruitless endeavour.

I spent the month the same way I spent the month before that, buried neck deep in old cold cases that never saw enough evidence or attention, cross-referencing every little thing down to wearing the same-coloured socks. Similarities started quickly adding up, and by the time I opened the 20th case I could confidently say whether it was truly a Min murder or not. I even had bets going on which one were Jungkook’s and which ones were Hoseok’s. There were even few that I suspected belonged to the Kims, but it wasn’t a theory I felt was strong enough to actually present to others. I had become something of an expert on violence.

Truly, throughout the cases, there were few names that kept repeating – names of companies that could be traced back to Yoongi’s umbrella corporation, names of middlemen that were known to hang about him, names from other cases. They all tied together a nice picture of shady business and in the middle of it all sat Yoongi, like the devil himself.

I was able to painstakingly trace some of the new cases to the older ones, fully incorporating them into the agenda after confirming truly that they were most likely victims of bad deals and finicky power dynamics. Then came the gut punch – the man that was linked to most of those cases, Moon Jiwoo, the middleman whose sole occupation seemed to be to link up wealthy influential men with Yoongi, has gone and turned into a cold case himself. This time a missing person.

Damn you, Jung Hoseok, ruining all my fun.

But obviously this was something worth looking into, given the fact that he was “taken care of” as well. So I started rearranging the files into different groups and sub-groups once again, making a pile that was directly connected to Moon Jiwoo, then a pile of cases that was linked to the victims in the first pile and then seemingly unconnected cases that were still most probably carried out by the Min gang. Thus I ended up with thirteen cases – seven that were connected to the middleman, the middleman case itself and five that had a link to the main seven. Ten more cases sat on the side, for now looking rather random, but maybe I would come to find out that they fell into the intricate web of murders I was currently looking at.

These lucky thirteen mostly had quite peculiar history of travelling between units until they ended up here. Some started off as missing persons cases until a body was found, death undetermined or suspicious enough to have the violent crimes look it over, some were first classified as an accident until someone from ours found it and pulled it over to organised crime. There were two cases that made it straight to us as soon as they were reported – the missing Moon Jiwoo, a known associate, and a dock worker that was employed by an affiliated company. Unfortunately, it was much easier to make a poor man working in the docks disappear than a filthy rich magnate, so those few cases that made it to us were mostly thin and under-investigated.

Stepping into this task, I have to admit that at first I was quite surprised that someone as infamously known for being a dangerous silent killer that almost never leaves any evidence as Hoseok had left this many cases for us to look into, but once I started properly going through them I realised that there was a stone wall at every turn and most of these cases went completely cold only a few weeks after happening. And considering it was a pure stroke of luck that even brought them to us, the chance that they would have been eventually completely forgotten was extremely high. I had to give it to him, he was extremely efficient, enough to make me progressively more annoyed every time I hit a dead end, cursing him in my mind four times a day. And I shuddered to think about the number of cases that never made it to us or that didn’t even get reported.

But now at least I had a firm idea of what would have to be investigated more thoroughly and which avenues I would look into. You bet that I was gathering those thirteen files to bring them home and put them on the map wall, silently sighing at the image of the macabre décor in my own bedroom. It was truly unfortunate it was the best room for it in my tiny tiny apartment, but sadly I was getting used to it by now. So much for calming relaxing mornings.

A cup of coffee landed on my desk and I jumped in fright, realising I had been just emptily staring at my computer screen as I went over everything I would have to do at home during the weekend and my plan starting Monday. I looked up with cheeks coloured by embarrassment, catching Cheol’s amused expression before he tipped an imaginary hat in my direction.

“Howdy, partner,” he drawled out and took a sip of his own coffee, leaning back onto a neighbouring desk and making himself as comfortable as he possibly could with the sharp edge digging into him. I chuckled at him and tipped my head in return.

“Howdy,” slipped out of my mouth easily, “thanks for the coffee.” He only smiled as a response and then nodded towards the computer and the mess of files everywhere.

“How’s it looking?” the detective asked. I sent him a faux annoyed looked, but there was a smile tugging on my lips. In the past few weeks Cheol made it his mission to check up on me regularly. He’d usually come with a cup of either coffee or tea and start asking about my progress. Since he had volunteered to be my partner in this, I understood his reasoning, but the first few times I found myself quite annoyed by his incessant questioning. Until I realised he was doing it on purpose and was just pulling my leg. After that I was able to relax and see the interaction for what it really was – an attempt to build some comradery, not an effort to press and humiliate me.

I found out he was actually pretty easy-going, he had a sense of stability and strength around him and yet still managed to be an absolute goofball, which helped me feel less nervous and I even started catching onto some of his jokes. I liked hanging out with him and I already trusted him as a teammate despite the fact that we hadn’t even gone out to the field together.

“Same as yesterday,” I told him finally, pretending to be annoyed with him, “Monday big briefing, then we can kick off.” My voice turned serious in the second half, conveying that it truly was an information he needed to keep in mind.

“Okay, I’ll be there,” he responded to just as seriously, only a small smile on his face as I nodded at him and then gestured to the mountains of files. “In the meantime I’ll have fun organising this for you, so you better not be ungrateful,” I joked right back at him, “I am not above abusing my power.” That got an amused chuckle out of him.

“Sure thing, rookie,” his voice turned slightly jokingly exaggerated, but I heard the genuineness in it, which pulled an honest grin out of me, “we’ll see about that on Monday.” With that he pushed himself off the table and started walking off somewhere, only waving around the cup in lieu of a goodbye.

On his way out, presumably back to his own unit, he passed Minjoon’s table, and I caught the man’s eye as I watched Cheol dramatically take his leave. Immediately I felt a blush spreading and I ducked my head back between the files quickly. There was a slight grin on his face witnessing my reaction, and I chastised myself to behave while at work. We weren’t highschoolers anymore and I could get in serious trouble sending puppy eyes to my colleague. If somebody caught wind of that, they’d disrespect me even more, it would become absolute hell here and I couldn’t afford to make the atmosphere even more hostile when I was barely making it now.

True to his word, Minjoon took me to the little restaurant by the office once or twice a week to eat and gave me the whole rundown of the other team’s plans and findings to keep me updated on everything going on. He would relay everything to me with care, making sure I wasn’t left out and that he wouldn’t have to awkwardly fill me in under Hwang’s hateful eyes. But we would always end up talking about everything and anything, and soon I started anticipating our dinners not because of the information, but because as soon as that was told, we would start chatting and laughing.

One moment I’d be asking about the next step against Yoongi and the next we were trading stories about the most embarrassing things we’ve done in high school or our favourite childhood spots to play in. Minjoon talked a lot about his family, about his older brothers and parents, and while I tried to avoid that topic as much as possible, I ended up also sharing some childhood stories without many details.

Honestly, those evenings became my favourite moments. The weeks and the work were both so hectic lately and I found myself swamped with cases, searching for the tiniest details, and more often than not I was going home totally exhausted with red raw eyes and a migraine that just wouldn’t leave no matter what I did. I almost perfected sleeping in a way that didn’t aggravate my headache to a point I almost threw up (I did throw up once, after I came home and almost passed out not realising I didn’t really eat anything the whole day).

The moments I spent with Minjoon were a beautiful escape, a few hours a week I forgot completely about my responsibilities and didn’t care about murders and gang activity, and only sat back and traded jokes and bashful flirts. We both have long since stopped pretending we weren’t interested in each other, and it made those encounters even more exhilarating as we danced around the attraction with careful teasing smiles and soft flirting. I was still very much nervous about the unit catching on and realising what’s going on, but Minjoon’s warm presence in my life slowly erased those fears and made me more open to the possibility. The last few meetings toed the line of propriety with more ways than one, flirtation straying further than before and Minjoon’s insistence he drives me home leaving us in a few tense charged moments by my door.

It was exciting and terrifying, but I liked the officer. He’d been the only one that went out of his way to actually accept me and treat me as a human, he helped me and pushed me through to give me opportunities to prove myself to others and he continuously cared about my well-being. I liked spending my evenings with him, he was charming and kind and we both seemed very compatible.

The only problem that stood between us and made us both hesitant to cross a line further than friendly dinners was the fact that we were not only coworkers, but team members. That left us awkwardly trying to navigate the sudden tension that arose between us without giving away how close we were getting. Honestly, every day I was nervous that Sunmi or Seungcheol would look at us and see, like it was written all over my face that I was starting to like Minjoon from a wholly unprofessional standpoint.

It was like there was a huge ticking clock hanging over my head just waiting for a disaster to happen, but it didn’t stop me from looking forward to the Friday evening every week. And Minjoon seemed to be in the same boat. But as long as we didn’t cross over to uncharted territory, we were fine.

Thus, we both just sat there in the office and exchanged timid grins, making sure no one saw us making eye contact, like we were two criminals fleeing from the law.

I tried to focus back onto my monitor, but I was absolutely fried. It was still noon, but the whole weight of the last two months just hit me and I was fighting to stay awake, knowing I was done with one of the most annoying boring tasks I’ve ever had to deal with and that from Monday I’ll be even more busy.

There was both panic and excitement coursing through me at what was waiting for me, all the possibilities from actually doing some real investigating and solving cold cases to finally having the chance to put my energy into something productive and not only sneak around Seoul at the ass crack of dawn hoping to catch a sight of a serial killer working for the most annoying man in the existence.

Finally I’d have a chance. And that was just as scary. It felt like I had twice as much to lose, given the fact I was barely tolerated now. I had everything to gain, but everything to lose. If I failed this, if I messed up or got us into trouble, it’d be the end of me on this precinct. Not successfully closing at least one of these cases wasn’t an option, I had to yield results.

For the nth time that day I tried blinking away the tiredness from my eyes and the early onset of another migraine, but as soon as it started being hard to focus through the pain, I decided it was time to give up on trying to achieve anything today.

Already having great experience with gathering my things to leave as fast as possible, I was ready to leave within five minutes of deciding to go home, the relief coursing through my veins like ice cream on a hot day. And it was a very hot today.

Still, I stopped by Minjoon’s desk, surprising him for a moment before he gave a confused smile, the question marks reflected in his eyes without him even having to ask anything. I grinned at him wildly, no doubt looking slightly insane from this angle of him looking up at me.

“You said that you haven’t questioned Yoongi yet, right?” I enquired out of nowhere, confusing him even more as he fully turned to me, and I could see him trying to figure me out. Then he slowly nodded.

“Yeah,” he drawled out, “we decided to go into offensive and start pushing him, so we’ll start questionings in the following weeks.” I nodded quickly, shooting him a rushed smile before I made my way out into the hot noon air and blasting sun, leaving supremely more confused Minjoon behind, not even giving him a chance to really say goodbye.

There’s been a thought playing around in my mind for a few days now. Was it finally time to go see Yoongi again? Now seemed to be the best time to make my grand return, remind them of my existence and cut the suspense. The team was already planning to go talk to him anyway, come June they’ll be hot on his tail, back to their strategy of annoying him. It would be kind of a sweet little treat to find out how much he knows, whether it already made it back to him and he was onto us or whether he was still blissfully unaware of what we were investigating. I was slightly embarrassed by the amount of excitement that flowed through me at the prospect of teasing the man again, of hearing his remarks, now that I fully had a leg up (though the last time I thought that it went spectacularly wrong).

I wanted to try to throw him off his high horse. To unnerve him, in the same way he always did to me. To return the favour of always finding a way to get under my skin and make me mad. I wanted that. I wanted him to know that I would be getting him behind those bars, just as I promised two months ago in The Rose.

Waiting until the evening seemed almost impossible, not even my own exhaustion that tried to lure me into hours long nap could distract me from the slowly ticking clock, and I was restless the whole day. Sitting around, staring off into space, always wanting to pick something up, some chore or an easy task, but unable to focus on anything except for whether it would be better to catch him still in the office or make a grand entrance to the Pied Piper, where he should be today.

And pulling up to said club twenty minutes after 7pm, I did pray that he was there, as I immediately recognised those same bouncers and desperately wished there wouldn’t be a repeat of that whole situation. Though, if I did manage to cockblock Yoongi twice, that would definitely put a smile on my face, that’s how petty we were getting here.

But that hardly mattered, not when I walked up to them and before I could even get a single word out of me, a mean glint present in my eyes to let them know I remembered them and I wasn’t amused by whatever bullshit they would try to pull, they were already opening the doors to me and gesturing for me to enter with smug smirks. My whole actor bit got thrown off and I stared at them shocked for a moment, before I hurried to scramble inside much to the distaste and grumbling of people waiting in the line right behind me. There was some disgruntled shouting, a warning growl and then the door fell shut and I was left in the dark hallway leading deeper into the heart of the club. That was entirely too easy.

From here, I could only sense the loud drums pulsing through the walls, their faint echo thrumming through my very bones, as I mechanically forced a foot in front of the other, pushing myself back into my carefree smug attitude. Stop being stupid, I thought to myself, something like this can’t throw you off. But it did mean that Yoongi was already no doubt alerted to my presence, sitting like a king in that red balcony waiting for me to get there.

Well, I couldn’t let him wait for long, could I? We had a game to play.

Somewhat nervously I shuffled with my clothes, choosing to show up in a little bit more club appropriate attire so I could sell my arrogance and triumph, and flaunt it properly in their face. I had to appear strong, this was a crucial moment between us and I couldn’t fumble here. Though, deep down I felt like this evening, just like all of my other encounters with the man, would inevitably end in disaster. Still, I made sure my skirt and crop top were in place, short heels properly strapped and hair and earrings where I wanted them to be, hoping my makeup still looked as okay as it did when I left my apartment.

This afternoon, as I desperately tried to come up with some sort of a plan, I had realised everyone around Yoongi always walked around in pristine high-end clothes, while I ended up running after them dressed in rags, basically. The encounter with Miss Kim only strengthened this idea within me. I had to step up my game. I had to learn how to play by their rules just enough to get away with it. So, I made sure to dress up a little. Only a tiny bit.

With a deep stabilising inhale and exhale, I set out down the hallway and down the stairs into the main room. I ignored the bar that opened up to my right and went straight for the VIP section entrance. I was anticipating to run into a little more trouble here, as I made my way towards the two unsmiling bouncers all jittery and trying to look more confident than I’ve ever been in my entire life; but upon seeing me, they just stepped to the side, unhooked the red rope and waited for me to walk through.

I did, though my nerves grew with every step I took up those stairs, knees and hands slightly shaking, and I clutched my little handbag until I risked damaging it. The upper floor, the VIP section, was just as intimate and infinitely more pleasant than the downstairs as the last time I was here, and my eyes quickly scanned through the seated guests, trying to make out whether there was someone I recognised, but it was too dark. I caught the barman’s eye and he winked at me cheekily, gesturing at an alcohol bottle he was just fiddling with, attempting to lure me in to buy a drink. My returning smile was apologetic, but it did stop me, and I found myself just awkwardly standing there looking towards the wall where I knew the balcony entrance was.

Trying out the same strategy as before, I loudly inhaled and exhaled, forced my body back into working order, and started moving slowly towards them. With every step I shoved a little more false confidence and condescending attitude to prepare myself, steadily growing surer in those heels and schooling my expression.

Just like downstairs, the bouncer moved out of my way and allowed me to enter the private zone, but as I caught a glimpse of his face, I did a hasty double take. A wry grin made it onto my face, watching the man up and down.

“Good evening, Mr. Choi,” I greeted the bodyguard with a sense of mocking in my tone, a sentiment he gladly returned in his patronising little bow he did towards me, eyes fighting to not roll to the back of his head. I chuckled and moved on, finally climbing those last few stairs.

Coming face to face with the men after such a long time was truly terrifying, especially as I stood there in my ditzy little outfit in front of several of the most dangerous criminals in the city and noted the shock and interest in their eyes as they fully took me in. Several different instincts warred through me – to hide away, to run, to flounder under their attention, to throw my attitude into their face, but all I could really manage was stand there in a manner I hoped that screamed carefully constructed indifference.

Yoongi was spread out on the central sofa, just like last time, comfortably seated in a way that almost made him seem half melted into the soft furnishing, but his eyes were sharp just like his smirk, thoroughly studying me. I could already see the cogs in his head turning, realising this was a beginning of a new game, even more exciting than the last one. I fought the shudder that tried to overtake me under his heavy gaze and instead turned my attention to the sofa next to him.

There was no Jungkook today, his dark sulking mass would be hard to miss, but Taehyung was here, elegantly sitting near the corner of his settee with one arm curling around the top of it and the other gently laid on his crossed legs. Everything about him screamed how comfortable and confident he felt, all the way to the playful smirk and studious eyes. I would have to be more careful around him, he was kind of a whole lot to deal with and I had no idea whether I could take that tonight.

But I couldn’t stop the surprise from displaying clearly on my face as I clocked in the last figure in the room, sitting close next to Taehyung, full body turned to me with a wide smile that had a dangerous edge to it and strangely deep dark eyes that had my fingers trembling in a tinge of fear. It was Hoseok, dressed in a nice suit and comfortably sitting there with a glass of alcohol loosely held in his hand, swirling over his expensive shoes. He was grinning at me like we were old friends, but somehow that made me even more wary of him, an unease setting into my insides that had me reconsidering whether tonight was a good idea.

But I was already here, so. No way but forward.

Gathering my wits back I plastered a smile on my face and regarded the three men with a cheery “Gentlemen” while I made my way towards the little chair sitting straight across from Yoongi. It was my place anyway, we all knew it, he clearly had all the unwelcome guests sitting on it to make them uncomfortable and unsure of themselves, so I had to own it as effortlessly as possible.

“Well, what a pleasant surprise, officer,” Yoongi started with his smooth voice that he only used when he was being intentionally an ass, “Come here to club and destress on a tough Friday night?” His eyes flicked down to my attire and then back to me, the amusement shining through alongside another strange glint to his eyes. He was interested in what my strategy was here, inviting me to set my starting pieces.

I ignored him and turned straight to Hoseok, finding his dark unsettling eyes already on me, but I forced myself to smirk lightly. “Shocked to see you here,” I said with my full voice, a cheeky undertone to my words, “Aren’t there enemies to be murdered? Bones to be buried?” His eyes narrowed slightly, smile turning a bit sharper. I’d never really spoken to him before, and our first exchanged words were a taunt from me? It was as brilliant as it was stupid, but it did throw the man off for a few seconds, his face immediately becoming a little more closed off, the happy smile still dutifully in place.

“Everybody deserves a day off here or there,” he retorted back, drawing an amused smirk to Taehyung’s face. Yoongi was watching us closely, studying the interaction before taking the control back.

“Could I interest you in a drink?” he asked, testing the waters, sharp eyes observing me. I nodded. He smirked. “Perfect,” he hummed, “Finally truly came here on a day off?” I only chuckled in response, watching him wave to someone behind me, presumably to Soobin. I squirmed a little on the tiny seat that simply must have been designed to torture the people sitting on it, always playing a balancing game on the little square with nothing to really lean on. The dark-haired man’s eyes still followed my every movement and he suddenly gestured to the space next to him.

“Of course, if it would be more comfortable for you, you’re welcome to join us on the settee,” Yoongi drawled out with a smirk, Taehyung hungrily watching our interaction with some sort of dark amusement glinting in his eyes. It made me shudder, nerves threatening to swallow me whole under their intense scrutiny, especially since Hoseok was also present. I would have never guessed I’d meet him here, casually drinking with Yoongi. Somehow I gained the idea that he just always crawled around in the dark like some kind of a mythical creature.

I pushed all of the uncomfortableness to the edges of my consciousness and quickly straightened, moving to the sofa in a few confident strides. This suddenly put me much closer to the man than I’ve ever been before, my stomach revolting and filling with lead. I quickly clasped my hands together nonchalantly to hide the slight tremor that started up again in them.

If Yoongi was surprised by my decision, he didn’t let it show and only continued to regard me with rampant curiousness and interest. I felt like a puzzle game that he desperately tried to solve just for fun, and it was increasingly more difficult to not start tensely shifting around; my eyes flitting around the room and lungs seizing until it was hard to consistently breathe.

I figured since I sat like this with Jimin in The Rose when I went there I’d be fine now, but I should have known that Yoongi himself was a completely different ballpark. He shifted around in his seated until he was half turned to me, leisurely lounging on the red velvet with one arm rested on the top and the other playing with a glass of what I assumed was whiskey. He was a picture of aloofness and power, all painted in black and red, and his aura was slowly crushing me like I had found myself at the bottom of the ocean. All I could do was try not to flounder too much and stand firmly.

I had come here to play their little game, to shock them and throw them off, to show them that I can keep up, that I’m not just a stupid little girl that’s in over her head. I needed to be bold, to play with them the same way they play with me. So, I took a few steadying breaths and ignored the way my whole body was screaming at me to leave, instead grinning self-assuredly at the man.

The silence stretched on, the other two men present sat back and watched Yoongi with amusement and something akin to respect in their eyes as he stared me down. For few long moments no one said anything, and Yoongi’s eyes just bored straight deep into my soul, picking me apart and making me squirm uncomfortably in my seat. Unlike the first time he did this to me, I fought to keep myself defiantly staring back but I couldn’t hold the eye contact, every few seconds flitting to something else before I looked at him again, shame creeping into my features. His smile grew larger and more entertained until I couldn’t take it anymore.

Just as I started considering just turning away from him in humiliation the moment was broken by a waiter coming in to serve me a cocktail and I exhaled deeply in relief just as Yoongi chuckled and nodded at the boy. I took the drink eagerly, absolutely ecstatic that I had something to put my attention to instead of those fuckers smiling smugly right next to me. The drink was something very fruity and it tasted sweet, my features immediately perking up in delight as the taste hit my tongue.

Next to me Yoongi chuckled again, and I pointedly ignored him until he spoke. “Your eyes are so genuine,” he muttered, something warmer than just plain amusement creeping into his voice, “Everything’s so clearly written all over your face.” I froze at the tone, my mind transported back into The Rose to the respect he so clearly showed towards me, and I almost fled the club in absolute panic at the reminder of why I distanced myself in the first place.

I wasn’t the only one thrown off though, Hoseok sitting right at the corner of my vision visibly tensed at Yoongi’s words and looked at him in a way that could only be described as a warning glare. Not that the man himself paid him any mind, though I was sure he certainly knew of what Hoseok was doing right to his side.

But even when all of my alarms were going off in my mind and I was so undeniably shown just how much I was losing control of the whole situation (if I even had any from the beginning) and how I got myself into real trouble fraternising with Yoongi and going along with his stupid little whims, trying to outwit him and always managing to play right into his hands, I still stubbornly refused to stop. I still stubbornly refused to back down and admit to myself this was slowly crossing lines I couldn’t afford to cross, I still tried to force myself to believe that it would mean my defeat, my surrender. And I couldn’t surrender, that’s what he wanted. It was pedal to the metal all the way, baby.

I pulled myself back together and shot him a carefully crafted smirk in return. “Don’t try to butter me up with your words, you’re not taking me home tonight,” it took everything in me not to flush at the insinuation, and I cocked my head to the side with a cheekiness I’ve seen from him many times before to sell it properly, giving him back what he always gave me (especially in The Rose with Jimin, those bastards). But the answering grin that immediately spread over Yoongi’s face had me nervous again. He looked like he won the lottery, like I just perfectly played into his cards. The man just leisurely brought his drink to his lips, before a look crossed his eyes.

“Of course I’m not, that police officer is,” he retorted nonchalantly, one eye cheekily looking to me to gauge my reaction over the rim of his whiskey glass. I froze, some spectacular mix of emotions passing through my face, and I had no idea what kind of expression was set there, but it greatly entertained my whole audience, all three of them grinning like wolfs that just stumbled upon a little girl in the middle of the woods. My heart gave a few painful jerks, and I buried my face in the glass again, hoping to regain some composure.

“Been following me too, huh?” I shot back weakly, head still spinning from this particular information coming out his lips. God damn him, god damn them all. The man laughed at that like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Of course, my favourite police officer just suddenly disappeared,” he said in a mock worried voice, “I had to make sure that you were alright. What if you needed help, officer?” Now my whole body trembled as I went over my whereabouts in the past two months. How much did he know? What did he see me do? Does he know what we’re investigating? Is he aware of what we’re trying to spin him into? Did I doom this operation right from the start without even realising it?

Yoongi was blissfully unaware of my inner turmoil and happily continued yapping. “Though I must say you have a rather boring life, somehow I expected a detective’s life to be more interesting,” he mocked some more, but really I didn’t care about what he thought about my life. I needed to know how much he knew about my work.

“Must have been at least a little interesting,” I tried to spin him to talk more, forcing my hands to calmly pick at my skirt to play up my aloofness, “had you interested in why the sudden absence, did I not?” He chuckled lightly, eyes dissecting me carefully with a cheeky look.

“I’m always up to indulging you and your little games, officer,” Yoongi half whispered back to me, leaning lightly forward, “Keeps my life more interesting. At least I have something to do over my lunch break.” I regarded him, spread there on the sofa leisurely like he owned the whole city, smirking himself half to death, and I decided to take a gamble.

“Oh, I have the most interesting game prepared for you,” I whispered too, subconsciously leaning in as well to make sure he heard me, “Trust me, you’re going to love it.” From this distance and under this lighting his eyes looked absolutely consumed in darkness and even as they crinkled in amusement, there was something predatory in them, especially as his lips curled up delightedly. I couldn’t help myself but think he looked almost like a tiger spirit that just managed to catch another poor soul unawares.

But when I searched the black irises for any signs of mockery or knowing, I only found pure interest and eagerness to see how this unfolds. With careful hope I allowed myself to believe that he somehow managed to miss me going to the crime scene or to Miss Kim’s house, for a short moment thanking the unit for not taking me with them as often as it clearly prevented from spoiling Yoongi his surprise.

He probably wasn’t expecting me to push an actual investigation against him at all, and probably also wasn’t warned by the Kims that we were asking around about those warehouse murders. That’s when a true smirk unfurled on my face, all the despicable joy I felt about paying him back surfacing freely onto my face.

There was a new kind of calculation reflected in his gaze, eyes never suspicious but always storing away every little detail about our interaction.

The atmosphere between us grew tense, I almost felt the air crackling, almost tasted the electricity on my tongue. I finally leaned back away from him, mirroring his relaxed posture and took a long sip of my drink.

My eyes flitted to the two other men that have just been silently sitting to the side watching the whole interaction, and suddenly I flushed realising they witnessed my shameless taunting of their boss. Hoping the light would hide any unusual colour on my face, I rather focused on deciphering their expressions.

Taehyung was watching me like a new toy that he couldn’t wait to figure out, like a game that he’s been dying to play and find out how the story ends. It made me shift uncomfortably under such raw curiosity, though I’ve been slowly getting used to the fact that he was just someone that would inevitably always throw me off. The man was basically 85 % deception and 15 % flirting, I’d rather keep myself amused by other means than striking up any kind of conversation with him.

Hoseok on the other hand had during our discussion leaned back into the sofa and he watched me with his face closed off and clean off any smile, only apprehension shining through in his gaze. He watched me with distrust and like I was a problem he wouldn’t hesitate to solve. That sent a wave of shivers and goosebumps down my back, finally giving me the opportunity to see the man behind the mask. This was the man people feared, this was the man the petty criminals respected, or they’d find themselves solved. This was the man that walked amongst the docks, and everybody listened. I fully believed that had Yoongi given the order, he’d be happy to get rid of me right here in the club.

Sitting here, drinking leisurely while these three men grinned at me like hungry wolves, I fully realised just how far deep into shit I shovelled myself with this personal justice route I had taken. Yoongi kept me around only because it amused him to watch me struggle and both Jungkook and Hoseok were firmly against indulging me.

As much as I enjoyed annoying Jungkook cause he was one of the members that always let his anger show, and that was very therapeutic for me, I was aware the reason why I was such a sore in his existence was because he hated how close Yoongi let me. Given the chance he’d prolly kill me even without Yoongi’s orders.

Other than that, Jimin and Namjoon were dangerous to be around and speak with, and Seokjin I haven’t even met, but Jimin insinuated he was also getting a little trigger happy when it came to my meddling. Now gloves were off and I was truly treading thin ice. One misstep and I would turn into a warning, just like any cop that got too close. Up until now it was all fun and games, what’s a little tailing and tracking between friends, but once I put this investigation to life, I’d truly be in danger of retribution.

I once again glanced at the satisfied grin on Yoongi’s face, at his hands gently clasped around a whiskey glass, at his relaxed shoulders and designer suit and shoes, pretty hair curling around a pretty face, and I saw the violence hiding underneath. He was good at masking his, and that made him so dangerous. It was so easy to forget what kind of man you were talking to. And from now on I would risk standing in the direct line of Hoseok’s ire as well.

I threw back the rest of the cocktail I had in my glass, my stomach protesting as I hadn’t eaten much the whole day, and I stood up to leave. I felt their stares on me, all three of them burning through me with those fiery eyes, each of them showing a different kind of craze. The gaze of a puppeteer, the gaze of a honeytrap and the gaze of a killer.

I shuddered and moved away from them, closer to the edge overlooking the rest of the club. Everyone was enjoying just a normal Friday night, having absolutely no idea what was going on just a few metres above them. I envied them a little bit, I envied how carefree they seemed.

“Feel free to enjoy yourself tonight,” Yoongi spoke suddenly into the silent tension, “The drinks are on me.” With his arm he gestured over the railing of the balcony, down to the pit of bodies moving together to the rhythm as one. Suddenly the spell was broken and I once again started to percieve the loud club music blaring throughout the whole space as it reverberated through my bones.

Without me noticing, Yoongi had stood up as well and moved to me, his presence and the warmth radiating off of his body abruptly crowding me in against the railing. I froze in a moment, just sensing him right behind, close enough to make me feel he was there but not enough to touch, as he leaned in close to whisper in my ear.

“You do deserve to let loose and relax once in a while,” he spoke to me in a hypnotising drawl, his voice turning into almost a purr, “So don’t be shy… indulge.” A full body shiver wracked through me, making me jerk in place with the force of it, and for a brief moment I wondered whether this is what it felt like to be sung by sirens into a sure death. Yoongi chuckled again, a low rumbly sound that made me twitch, and then he stepped away from me.

The cool air rushing in broke the spell and I collected my bearings again, throwing a disgruntled stare at him over my shoulder while my knees fought to work again, hands clenching the railing like it was the only thing currently keeping me alive. I just managed to catch a glimpse of the man’s sardonic grin before he turned completely and left.

The two other men stood up as well, both of their faces once again amused by my plight as I was very obviously flustered by Yoongi’s behaviour, before they stepped out right after their boss, leaving me completely alone in the luxurious balcony bathed in red velvet and sin.

Defeatedly I sat down onto the nearest sofa with an ‘oompf’, all bones turned into soup as I decompressed now that the oppressive atmosphere left with them, and blankly stared at a wall for a moment before I was able to process things normally again. My phone started wildly buzzing in my little handbag and I decided that ignoring whatever just happened and taking the distraction it offered me was a better choice than to dwell on it.

Fishing the phone out, I checked the neglected notifications, not much really coming in except for a text from Cheol confirming he read my email about the files and that he’d be ready Monday to go over it once more and some social media pings. And then, a very noticeable slew of messages from Minjoon. The first one was from 19:22, which was around the time I arrived here, asking whether I’d still be up for a dinner. It was currently over 8pm, but there was a few more asking minor questions with the newest one only from a few minutes ago.

I quickly opened the chat and answered an affirmative, my brain just begging for me to distract myself from tonight’s happenings. Minjoon was happy to hear from me and I finally took him up on the offer to drive me, as I couldn’t exactly sit behind a wheel right now.

On my way out I pointedly ignored the bartender’s small smirk, or the bouncer’s curiously raised eyebrows, I ignored Yoongi sitting at the downstairs bar chatting amicably with the guy manning it and sending me very unsubtle mirthful glances, I ignored Taehyung’s flirty wave as I passed him in the hall and most of all I ignored Hoseok leaning against a sleek black car outside of the club with a cigarette between his fingers, icy eyes following my figure for as long as he could.

The second I disappeared behind a corner I half expected him to run after me and grab me, the feeling of being watched slithering along my back in a way that made me shudder in disgust and fear. I hurried towards a bigger road, the Friday evening rush swallowing me and hiding me amidst drunken college kids, foreigners and working folk trying to forget their responsibilities for at least one night. I could relate to that, but no matter how much these meetings took away from me, they always gave me some sick satisfaction in return. And I couldn’t wait for the day I truly bested him.

I waited around for a few minutes, just enough to have the evening chill start setting into me, before a familiar car came into view, slowing down until I could hop in quickly. Minjoon smiled at me warmly, his eyes getting caught on my outfit and he fought for a few moments to keep his eyes on the road. I blushed deeply under his gaze and felt the relief of not having to police my reactions like I did with Yoongi, finally getting the chance to freely feel without fearing his mocking eyes.

“Where were you?” he asked incredulously, voice a little shaky as his glances kept getting caught on my short skirt and exposed legs. There was an electric current going through me at his obvious interest, a fire slowly waking to life right under my skin, and I found myself subconsciously trying to fold my legs in a way that make them look even prettier.

“Just out with some friends,” the lie slipped out of my lips so easily I didn’t even stop to think about feeling guilty about it, too preoccupied with feeling the tension between us slowly cracking, clutching the handbag like a lifeline and revelling in my rising heartbeat. I felt so free, so opposite of how nervous and jittery Yoongi made me. And I wanted.

“I see, I thought you were going home to rest, so I didn’t want to bother you at first,” Minjoon said, lips turning into another warm smile, which I returned tenfold, my whole face lighting up.

“I’m glad you did, I was getting hungry,” I told him teasingly, “It’s always nice with a personal chauffeur, you know?” He went along with my teasing happily, hands attractively flexing on the steering wheel as he shot me a look with one eyebrow raised, lips playing with as subtle smirk. The whole atmosphere shifted; the tension close to overflowing. Suddenly it became very clear to us that we’ve been dancing around the line for too long.

“So where to, your highness?” Minjoon asked, even though he was obviously already driving with some goal in his mind. I only grinned at him and responded: “Wherever you want, sir.”

The place turned out to be a cute little restaurant, the kind that is open at all times of the day and a girl in full club attire in the evening wasn’t a strange sight there. I had to laugh at Minjoon’s choice, as he clearly improvised upon seeing how I was dressed. But the man was watching me with something I could call fondness in eyes and that was all that mattered to me as he placed his hand on the small of my back and led me inside.

Once seated, I found that there wasn’t really even a need for talking about the team, and frankly I wasn’t even in the mood to be discussing Yoongi when I had just met with him and was doing my best to distract myself from that. Minjoon was still watching me with some sort of fascination, his gaze flickering between intrigued and sensual, and I was sure he also wasn’t particularly interested in work related topics.

We exchanged some more flirty grins while we ordered, but politely waited to be alone before starting up any kind of conversation.

“So… outing with friends?” Minjoon started, gaze once again slipping to my attire before jumping back to my face slightly flushed. I only nodded, too spent to come up with something and spend my evening lying. “I wasn’t really feeling it,” I added after slight deliberation. Minjoon grinned.

“Was feeling up to meeting me though,” the man retorted, flirty expression taking over his face, “Gonna make me feel special. Be careful or it might go to my head.” I chuckled at him, leaning over the table to graze our fingers lightly together. Minjoon’s eyes immediately jumped down and zeroed in on the place of contact before he looked back to me, eyes hooded.

Suddenly feeling parched, I licked my lips, rolling my tongue along them slowly and curled them into a sly smirk. “Everybody deserves to feel a little special,” it came out almost on a whisper, the tense atmosphere setting between us and freezing us into our spots with dark eyes and hungry stares.

I still felt jittery from my encounter earlier in the night and it mixed together with the anticipation of what was to come from this, throwing me into a whirlwind of emotions that made my body tremble slightly. My stomach was all knotted up, but it didn’t feel unpleasant, instead there was excitement brewing and slowly spreading through my bloodstream.

Even after the food arrived, the air kept getting tenser, even as we attempted to have regular conversation, it crackled between us like an onsetting storm. Every word, every sentence inlaid with telling mischievous smiles and expressive eyes. Sometimes during the dinner it started dawning on me that this was inevitable, we both were already too far. With all the flirting we’ve been doing this was really only a matter of time, and it just so happened that tonight the tension was going to explode into something that we probably shouldn’t be doing.

I looked over at Minjoon again, properly eyeing him and his expression, and when his gaze met mine and darkened as he sat there with his cheeks dusted with pink, hunched over like he was ready to launch himself over the table, sitting there like he would rather be anywhere else and preferably somewhere where there were no barriers between us, that’s when I realised he also wasn’t as opposed to this as he should have been.

The small talk flew all stilted between us and we mostly just stewed in our own cocktails of emotions and sensations, trying to chew through our food as fast as possible so we could leave; and even though it was already a little chilly outside, there was a heat coming from within that was enough for a thin line of sweat to bead along my hairline. I couldn’t imagine what picture I painted at that moment, if with one look it was obvious how the arousal was steadily rising in my veins with every another second spent just shyly exchanging heated stares.

Every so often my eyes slipped a little lower, eyeing the young man’s collarbones just peeking out from his dark green tee, sliding up and down his arms as he leaned on the table and ate, and I could see from the delighted sparkles glinting in Minjoon’s eyes that he was aware, and very much returned the favour.

God, this was definitely going to end in disaster. There was no way we could avoid this any longer.

And I was right.

Once done with the food, we sat around for a moment just looking at each other silently, before Minjoon finally gestured towards the door. “You wanna go? I’ll drive you home,” he offered immediately, the kind words that I was already used to by now tinged by something a little more tonight. I nodded and after some flirty arguing over who’s going to pay, I finally surrendered and went outside to wait for Minjoon to settle the bill.

The cold air rushed over me and cooled my burning skin a little and I took a few big breaths to ground myself. The night Seoul was loud and lively, I found myself surrounded by joyful groups and couples dressed in their best sitting in restaurants and eating or walking around the sidewalk laughing, clearly aiming for one of the establishments in the area. It was quite refreshing to see, and I lost myself in the rush and buzz, watching others enjoy themselves.

And that’s how Minjoon found me when he came out, sitting on a little wall by the sidewalk dreamily staring off into the distance. He came over, hand going straight to my face, gently catching a strand of my hair and slowly pushing it behind my ear. He lingered there for a moment, fingertips brushing the reddening tip as all the blood rushed to my face in a mighty blush. On instinct I ducked my head being too flustered and broke the contact, but the man just smoothly moved to my shoulder, pushing me up to stand.

He was very natural in his movements, pulling me to his side and wrapping his arm around my shoulders very lightly, and I just went with it, too shy to express it but too happy to go against it. I fought against the instinct to giggle like a schoolgirl and set out to his car, which was quite a short walk, and unfortunately to my apartment it was a quite short drive as well, even in the restless silence that stretched between us.

Our arrival at my doorstep seemed to have come sooner than I was anticipating, sooner than I was ready to end this little outing. I turned to the brown-haired man and studied his face for a moment. We steadily exchanged eye contact, the tension between us back with vengeance, my throat drying up under his dark gaze. I was fluttering on the edge of propriety, in my head still repeating all the reasons why this was such a bad idea, but it didn’t seem to matter when Minjoon watched me with the same longing and desperation. I felt my skin heating up, my insides stirring with something I haven’t properly felt in such a long time it hit me with a ferocity I wasn’t prepared for.

“Aren’t you going to go home?” he whispered so lightly I almost didn’t hear him. He sounded slightly breathless, tone curious and probing.

“Can you walk me to the door?” I shot back immediately, almost unthinking. He licked his lips, his kind face getting twisted with something akin to intense desire before he quickly nodded, and we both scrambled to get out of his car.

The walk was brief, of course it was. I lived on a second floor and my door was accessible from an outside walkway, so all we had to do was clear two stories of stairs and we suddenly found ourselves by my tiny apartment.

I turned to Minjoon, something expectant in the air between us, and each second ticking by felt like a countdown to the inevitable. I wasn’t ready to end this night here. I knew I wasn’t. And judging by Minjoon’s bottomless eyes, I could confidently gamble on his interest and hit jackpot every time.

As the tense silence stretched out a little, neither of really sure how to tackle this situation as we were caught in the ‘will we won’t we’ and ‘should we shouldn’t we’, until I decided to break the curse. Stepping a little closer and looking up at him through my lashes, my hand latching onto the sleeve of his jean jacket that he put on in the car and tugging lightly, I steeled myself and jumped over the line head first.

“Do you want a cup of coffee before you go?” the whispered question escaped my lips and hung for a few moments between us. I watched as if in slow motion as Minjoon took it in and nodded once, then twice, and then his hand caught mine.

I turned hastily towards the door, jabbing the key in and pushing inside without a single thought in my mind. It turned out, there wasn’t even a need for an awkward pretending of drinking anything, because the second the door closed behind us, we were on each other.

It was like dam broke between us and we suddenly couldn’t stop, couldn’t keep our hands off each other. Minjoon kissed me quickly and desperately and I fought to keep up, hands going around his neck immediately while his snaked around my waist. Taking off shoes long forgotten, we stumbled inside and towards the sofa.

In that moment, I didn’t have the mental capacity to think about the huge maps in my bedroom. I didn’t realise how lucky I was we didn’t make it any further, too lost in the way Minjoon’s tongue was finally sliding against mine and how his calloused hands caressing my sides felt a lot like heaven.

And when he inevitably got his hands on my skirt and I inevitably thought of Yoongi’s eyes taking me in when I arrived at the balcony, and when Minjoon pulled me closer and I thought of Yoongi’s presence caging me in with his warmth against the railing, of his lips turning into a smug smirk as Minjoon kissed me, then I just pressed my eyes closed harder and tangled my hands into his short brown hair, banishing all thoughts of curly black locks far away into the deepest corner of my mind.

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[sometimesanalice]

I was wondering if you have a headcanon for the restaurant they went to in "Like I Can" part 3?

I might have one or two! 😊 This was a fun ask to get! I hope you enjoy this!

I Find Myself Wanting

Summary: Bradley has a couple surprises planned for you and one very important question to ask.

Warnings: Pure fluff

Length: 2k

Pairing: Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw X Female Reader

Bradley didn’t like to play up the fact that he was an active member of the Navy. Sure he was proud of what he did, but he didn’t always like the attention that came with it.

He wasn’t one to stand up and wave at baseball games when they celebrated active service members and veterans. He never took advantage of the military discounts when they were offered in stores.

He would rather get noticed for who he was, not what he did.

However, he was not above showing up to your favorite trendy restaurant by the beach with his flight suit half unzipped in order to sweet talk his way into getting a reservation for your six-month anniversary.

The reservations had opened up when he was on a two week training deployment. To no one’s surprise service was shitty on a carrier in the middle of the ocean and he couldn’t get to a computer to snag a table in time.

He might have been flexing a bit and wearing his most winning smile as he yes ma’am-ed, no ma’am-ed, just doing my duty ma’am-ed his way into getting that same table on the luscious outdoor patio where the two of you had had your first date.

The one where he had showed up and surprised you. The one where he told you he didn’t want to be just friends anymore. The one where he’d all but given you his heart, and had been lucky enough to have received yours in return.

He had taken you back there a couple times since then, but he wanted to night to be special.

It was a struggle to sit there and wait. As he tried to not let his leg bounce too much under the table, not wanting to accidentally bump the table and send the finely etched stemware crashing to the ground.

He definitely didn’t want that kind of attention. Not when he was already so anxious to see you.

All he wanted was you.

And you were running late.

Bradley didn’t know why he was so nervous, he already knew what your response would be. Could already imagine the winning smile on your face, could envision the exact spots your dimples would appear in his mind’s eye.

He’d known that smile for years, he loved that smile.

The waiter had stopped by earlier to check on him, and he took the opportunity to order a bottle of champagne to surprise you with once you got there.

Wiping his hands on his pant legs, he touched his pocket for the third time since he’d been seated. Making sure that the item he had tucked in there hadn’t mysteriously vanished since the last time he had checked less than five minutes ago.

There was nothing more he liked than finding little ways to you keep you on your toes.

He’d made sure to grab a change of clothes for himself when he had left his place that morning. And then stayed on base to shower and get ready after they finished training for the day. He didn’t want to risk running into traffic and having you arrive before him.

Bradley wanted to be there to see you as you made your entrance onto the outdoor terrace. To see you as the warm glow from the sunset hit you. He loved seeing the subtle release of your shoulders and the soft sigh that always seemed to leave your body whenever you saw him waiting for you.

He didn’t tell you what he had planned, just that you shouldn’t work late that evening.

During the one hour lunch break they got, he had made his way to your apartment and let himself in using the key you had given him instead of staying and eating there with the rest of the team.

It made his chest warm when he had seen how many boxes that were already lined up along one of the walls in your living room.

You were finally moving in with him.

It had only taken a few months of pleading, some strategic bribery, and a payment plan on his part to finally get you to stop being so practical, so logical. Your lease still technically wasn't up for a couple more months, but he wanted you for himself all the time. And he was lucky enough that you felt the same way about him too.

You never even officially told him of your plans to move in with him. He had been going through his mail one day while you were uncorking some wine in the kitchen, when he saw a letter addressed to you with his home address underneath it.

He thought his eyes might have been playing tricks on him. But when he had held it out to you between two fingers and a questioning raise of his eyebrow, you’d simply given him a teasing smile and a shrug of the shoulder. The gesture was nothing short of ok you win, Bradley.

Damn right he did.

He offered to order a U-Haul right then and there. Although you never got a chance to take him up on it because he had tossed you over his shoulder to celebrate properly in that dark wood canopy bed. The wine completely forgotten on the kitchen counter.

The two of you hardly spent a night apart, but this was the kind of official and permanent he had been longing for since you’d first kissed him against the Bronco all those months ago.

He didn’t let himself get too side tracked as he'd made his way to your mostly packed up bedroom, since he was there on a mission. He was pleased when he didn’t have to search too hard to find what he wanted in your closet. He had laid the garment on top of your bed and topped it with a note for where and when to meet him that night.

You hadn’t worn it since the first time you’d been there, and he wanted to see you in his favorite color again.

However, he couldn’t help himself and ended up grabbing a couple boxes on his way out to put in the Bronco to be unloaded at his place later. He was eager to do whatever it took to speed up the process, he wanted to see your place empty, wanted all your things to be nestled amongst his own.

Bradley knew you were it for him. And he knew you felt the same way too, even if you still were still being infuriatingly pragmatic at times. He saw it in your eyes when you looked at him, he recognized it because it’s the same way he looked at you.

He was about to check his phone to see if you had sent him a message, even though he had turned the ringer of his phone on so that he’d hear of his phone went off, when he felt your presence right before he saw you step out onto the terracotta tile of the oasis that was the restaurant’s outdoor patio.

And it’s like all the air has left his lungs.

You were a vision in emerald green as you made your way to him.

He wanted to feel your curves under the silky floral material. Wanted to unzip you slowly later that evening, to watch as your skin is revealed to him as that pretty dress slides down your body. To lay you out on that bed he bought specifically for you. To show you with his body just how much you meant to him, just how much he loved you.

He loved your pretty hair and how you styled it, just a little different from how he usually saw it. Like you tried something new, just for this date. Just for him. He couldn’t wait to brush aside the little tendrils that had escaped and were framing your face so sweetly. The soft make up you had done for the night really played up your beautiful eyes.

You were stunning. And you were his.

Almost in a daze he stands up and meets you half way to the table. Standing this close to you he can smell your perfume. Can see the little flecks in your eyes.

“Hi, Bradley,” you say with a gentle smile, almost bashfully. But clearly pleased with the effect you’re having on him.

God, he loves you so much.

He gives into the urge to brush away one of those tendrils brushing your cheek, and pulls your face to his.

Your mouth is soft under his. Mindful of your lipstick and the other people seated on the patio, he doesn’t let himself get too carried away as he kisses you in greeting.

“Hi, sweet girl,” he says as he pulls away, having to clearly is throat a bit before continuing, “You look beautiful.” He raises your left hand to his mouth to kiss it.

“Well, someone did pick out a such a nice dress for me to wear,” you tell him as you smooth a hand down his chest, “You look very handsome yourself, I’m a very lucky girl.”

Placing a hand low on your back, finally getting a feel of your warmth and that silky fabric under his palm, he guides you to your perfectly curated table. Pulling out the chair for you to ease yourself into.

He thinks he might have gotten away with the way he checked out your exposed thigh as you sat down, but the knowing smile on your face he sees as he sits across for you tells him that he wasn’t as subtle as he thought he was.

Especially when your foot reaches out to stroke his calf under the table.

“Happy six month anniversary, sweet girl."

Sure, it felt a bit young to be celebrating this kind of milestone. But he has been so incredibly happy with you that he’d enthusiastically find any excuse to celebrate being yours.

He's already learned that Veuve tasted better on a random Tuesday evening with you on his couch than it ever had with anyone else.

The warm grin you give him makes his heart beat a bit faster in his chest. With you in front of him now, gazing at him with such adoration, he has no clue what he was so nervous about.

“Happy six month anniversary, Bradley,” you respond indulgently, still stroking his leg with your foot, “I have to say, this is a very lovely surprise.”

“Yeah?” he asks, feeling very proud of himself.

“Oh yes,” your voice already tinged with a teasing tone, “I can’t say I’ve ever had a boyfriend who has shown up in a flight suit to woo their way into a reservation before.”

“I, uh-" he starts feeling suddenly sheepish, bringing a hand up to rub at the back of his neck.

“The hostess was rather chatty when I arrived. I would have gotten to you sooner, but I was held up at the front as she told me how sweet my American hero boyfriend was when he showed up,” you tell him with a fond smile, reaching across the table for his hand. “And now I feel less guilty about the low cut shirt I wore to score you the Padres-Phillies tickets that I currently have in my purse.”

Still such a little hustler.

The two of you exchanged a look for a moment before breaking out in a fit of laughter. Reminded yet again just how similar the two of you were.

“God, I love you.”

“I love you too, Bradley. Thank you for such a perfect surprise.”

He would never get tired of hearing you say that.

You were moving in with him. You were going to wake up with him everyday. He was going to get to hold you every night as fell asleep. He was going to build a life with you.

He wanted you like this forever. He wanted you forever.

“I’ve got a question for you.”

“Lay it on me.”

Reaching into his pocket he grabs the item he had tucked away in there, sliding it across the table.

He watches as you pick it up, reading the information on the plane tickets he had purchased, watches as you take it in and look up at him eyes wide with disbelief and delight.

“What do you say, kid, want to go home?”

He knew you hadn’t been home since the holidays. Although he couldn’t remember the last time he had gone back. It had stopped feeling like home, rather just the place he had been raised. But now with you, home was wherever you were.

“Yes, Bradley,” you beamed, your dimples appearing just where he expected them to, “Let’s go home.”

Leaning forward he picks up your hand to kiss the back of it, before threading his fingers through yours. As he sees the waiter rounding the corner with the champagne that he had ordered earlier chilling in a bronze bucket.

The tickets were for two months from now. He had orders to ship out soon for a one month deployment, and you had a big project at work that was wrapping up around the time he got back. He had wanted to plan something that both of you could look forward to while you were apart.

Bradley was excited to revisit all the places that had helped form the two of you. He knew where you were going, but he wanted to go back to the place where you had started.

You were telling him about your day, as the waiter worked on uncorking the champagne. And he was trying very hard to pay attention, but his mind was buzzing with everything to come as he let his thumb smooth over the back of your left hand.

He was going home with you.

He wanted to visit the high school you both went to. He wanted to take you to that slightly questionable amusement park and ride the Tilt-A-Whirl with you. He wanted to buy you an ice cream at the shop where he had his first job, where he spent his first paycheck getting you the pair of rollerblades you had wanted for your birthday.

If he was lucky, he might even be able to sneak into your bedroom. He’d be your teenaged dream turned reality.

Bradley already had plans to play golf with your dad. And he had booked spa appointments for you and your mom. He was really excited to see her again in person, she had always made sure he’d felt welcomed in your family.

The timing of it couldn’t have been better. After all, he had a very important question he needed to ask their permission for.

He was looking forward to it, he wanted it all.

I wonder what question he has to ask her parents... 🥰

Here are some aesthetics and headcanons for their favorite restaurant!

This was a drabble for my 'Like I Can' series, you can read it here!

Taglist:

@gretagerwigsmuse @sehnsuchts-trunken @notroosterbradshaw @laracrofted @bradshawsbitch @starryeyedstories @top-hhun-main @itscheybaby @prettylittlelauraa @startrekfangirl2233 @marantha @callsign-viper @teacupsandtopgun @itsizzythebell @shanimallina87 @angelbabyange @boltgirl426 @oneelleandaneye @mizzzpink @cornishkat @torres-espana @uzumegui @dont-talk-me-down @fandomunite2107 @alana4610 @20th-centu-fairy-girl @pariahsparadise @pono-pura-vida @donttouchmycarrots @nina-sj @eg-dr3amer3 @whaledots-blog @a-beaverhausen @misty-inferno @angellwingsss @hangmanscoming @mandolin22 @theweekndhistorybook @lilpeekabooze @high-bi-imgonnacry @ahintofkiwistrawberry @mrsdaamneron @ruewrote @spiderman-stilinski @jayniebop @melllinaa @my-soulmate-is-mycroft @mandolin22 @imaginecrushes @soleilgrec @keyrani @chicomonks 

[alternative-ffa]

In the real world, it's incredibly rare for me to lay eyes on a man fat enough to fulfill my interests. And it's even more rare to meet one and have the honor of spending time with and near him.

Edgar was a friend of a friend. He always showed up at the parties I attended, and I found myself looking forward to his arrival with a level of desire I knew I shouldn't have.

I had arrived early at my friend's house, not on purpose, but due to the lack of traffic that I had anticipated. I sat on the couch as my friend ran to her room to get dressed. I watched the screensaver on the TV - the view of the world from space. How small we were, I thought, as I watched the storms over the continents. The screen door opened at the rear of the house and I heard the familiar huffing and puffing of a man so fat that a regular length staircase winded him.

I wanted to get up immediately to greet him. It was one of two chances to hug him and feel his huge belly pushing against me without any suspicion of ulterior motives. But I waited. He was still winded from the staircase and stayed by the door as he caught his breath. I smiled and waved from the couch, as if he was just any guest who arrived. (He wasn't just any guest to me, he was the highlight of my night). He waved back then went to the kitchen to put his beer in the fridge.

He waddled into the living room, still slightly winded, and I must have been blushing. My foundation covered the redness of my cheeks, to my relief. I stood up and said with my familiar kindness, "Let me give you a real greeting." Referencing my distant wave when he had originally entered the house. He smiled at me and put his arms out as I held him in a quick platonic embrace. I could have stayed in his arms forever - my hands on his thick back, unable to meet due to his girth; his belly pushing up against me. He wore the same thing he always did. No one questioned it, but I knew it was because of the difficulty of finding comfortable clothes in his size. The hug lasted less than 2 seconds, but I soaked up every sensation, knowing I only had the two opportunities to hug him: when he arrived and when I left.

I sat back on the couch, but moved over to the corner, trying to leave enough room for him to sit. It wasn't much room, which caused me to over analyze. If I left too much room, would he think I didn't want to be near him? If I left too little room, would he think I wasn't aware of the space he needed to sit comfortably? I tried to meet somewhere in the middle. He grunted with effort as he sat next to me. His belly touched my arm by accident as he sat and he said jovially, "sorry, I'll have to be a little too close for comfort."

I chuckled kindly and said, "no problem."

I wanted to say, "get as close as possible. Hell, rest the beautiful fat of your belly on my leg." But I knew that wouldn't be received well. Or, at least, I felt that it wouldn't be received well. It's a fine line to walk as an FFA in a world where fat was a bad thing.

At this point, I had known him for about a year. I only saw him at these parties, but neither of us ever missed one, so it was about 6 nights a year that I saw him. With each party he got more social and more comfortable with me. But I tried not to read into it.

I know that my big mouth probably got back to him. After a few drinks, I'd whisper to friends about how gorgeous he was, and how much I enjoyed his size. My silly, but accurate expression of my sexual desire:  "oh the things I'd do to him!" Never when he was in earshot. But I subconsciously knew that my attraction had been expressed to him at some point.

This particular night, he spent most of his time on the couch playing video games with others. I never wanted to leave his side, but I also didn't want to be too obvious, so I socialized with the other guests.

To my enjoyment, every time I returned to the couch, there was always a space for me next to him. I don't believe it was on purpose, but rather, because others didn't want to get too close. So the space next to him always remained unoccupied. I would side-walk by the others on the couch, stepping over feet and squeezing by the center coffee table until I reached the free seat next to Edgar. I'd plop myself down - probably with a little more plop than usual, hoping his belly would jiggle as I landed next to him. But I'd only see it in my periphery. If only my attraction was more mainstream; I'd be able to look at him with more obvious desire.

The night always passed too quickly. He usually stayed the night, and I always thought of that small possibility of drinking just a little too much... being able to stay and falling asleep against him, my arm around his belly, my hand cupping the fat that fell down to his knees. I would do that completely sober, but thought that it would be less awkward if I had the excuse of drunkenness to fall back on. But it could never happen.

Midnight came and went, and I knew it was time to leave. I sighed to myself: just another night with him and another opportunity missed. I hugged all the remaining guests goodbye, and kept him for last. My heels clicked on the hardwood floor towards him. He smiled from the couch and extended his fat arms as I leaned down to hug him. I wanted to bury my face in his neck (or at least the fat that hid his neck), take a deep breath of his smell, kiss him, grab his rolls and tell him how beautiful he was. But, that was not possible. The goodbye hug lasted less than a few seconds. I had to hide my disappointment as I moved away from him.

The party was over - and another opportunity of doting on him and his beauty passed me by.

Now to wait until the next party...

[psychedelic-ink]

𝐖𝐡𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐥𝐞-𝐒𝐭𝐨𝐩 - 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐓𝐰𝐨 𝐨𝐟 𝐈𝐎𝐀𝐃𝐊

Pairing: FEDRA!Javier Peña x firefly!reader

Genre: slice of life, smut, romance, angst, enemies to reluctant friends to lovers, TLOU AU, minors dni

Summary: Javier, a former member of the Federal Disaster Response Agency in Kansas City, is haunted by the guilt and violence he indirectly caused by not taking action when he should have. After fleeing Kansas City in the aftermath of Kathleen's violent overthrow of FEDRA, you and Javier seek refuge in an abandoned train in the middle of a forest.

As you and Javier turn the train into a living space and learn to navigate the dangers of a post-apocalyptic world, you gradually overcome your differences and form an unlikely bond. But when your pasts catch up with you, you must confront the demons that haunt you and make a choice that could mean the difference between life and death. Will you choose to protect each other and find a way to build a new life together, or will the ghosts of your pasts tear you apart?

word count: 4.3k

chapter summary: heavy words are exchanged, and swallowing your pride, you try to make it up to Javier. Scouting for supplies doesn't go as planned.

warnings: canon typical violence, no y/n, mentions of suicide/attempted suicide, heated arguing, mention of side character deaths, angst, mentions of blood

Whistle-Stop - A small station where a train stops only on request, typically for rural or low-traffic areas.

You wonder what this train might’ve looked like when it was up and running. 

The grunts Javier makes while securing the fence fade into the background. You stare at the rusting vehicle. How many people did it used to hold? Where did it go to? When the sun shined through the moving train just right did the people that occupied it felt mesmerized by its beauty? Did they feel like they were in a movie? Were there couples who sat and listened to music together? An old lady sitting with groceries between her legs? 

Is the train happy that it’s only you and Javier who occupies it now?

You will never know the answers to these questions. 

“What are you doing?” Javier hisses between clenched teeth. Your eyes slowly drop down to him. He’s glaring at the rusty chain links. You hear him angrily muttering something in Spanish. “If you don't start holding that properly, I’m going cut myself and get fucking tetanus in the damn apocalypse.”

You hold the chain links higher and he shakes his head, his tongue tight between his lips. “But I guess you’d like that.” 

“Not as much as you think,” you answer. “I would feel obligated to look after you. It wouldn’t be that fun.” 

“Why?” he snorts. “Because I saved you? Just end my misery if I ever get sick. I don’t think you’d make much of a nurse. No offense.” 

“Offense fully taken. I totally could.” 

“Nurses are compassionate,” he emphasizes, rolling his tongue. “They look after you and tell you everything is going to be alright.” 

“So you want me to lie to you?” 

“I want you to make my last moments bearable.” 

Javier stands up, brushing his hands off on his pants. "Just, give me that," he grumbles, taking the chain links from your grip. He walks over to where the posts have already been secured in the ground and starts to attach the links to the posts.

“You’re not actually sick, you know that right?” you ask, following him. Sweat clings to your skin. 

“Hm?” he turns to you briefly before turning his gaze back to the fence. “No, I guess not.”  

He begins by using U-shaped fence staples to secure the links to the posts. He hammers them in with a mallet until they're tight and secure. Once he's finished securing the links to the posts, he stretches the chain links across the length of the fence, making sure they're taut.

And all you do is watch. 

Before the outbreak, you might’ve been mesmerized by his face, his neck. Even now it’s hard not to be entranced, but you feel disoriented with your thoughts. You don’t feel like you’re a part of the world, but you also don’t feel like a part of yourself, your mind churning on its own without a soul in it. It’s like a constant fog in your head. Clouding your judgment. 

Javier uses pliers to twist the links together at the end of each row, connecting them to the next row of links. He repeats this process until the entire fence is complete. Finally, he adds a top rail to the fence, securing it to the posts with brackets.

“That should do it.” he says, turning to you and clapping his hands together. You can tell that he’s proud. “It should at least keep us safe from wandering animals.” 

You look around. The wind blows warm. Surprisingly enough, you don’t feel trapped. You feel free. Safe. Secure. These are emotions you aren’t used to, for years you haven’t felt safe with anyone, not even the fireflies. 

“What about infected?” you ask, meeting his gaze. 

Javier, chewing on his bottom lip, comes closer. The space between you and him is paper-thin, almost non-existent. Your skin prickles as you feel his need to touch. If you just leaned in, move a bit closer, you know that he’ll wrap his arms around you in an instant. The air is heavy with his longing need to comfort you. 

You’re still not sure if this habit of his has something to do with you specifically or if he’s just generally like that with women. 

“We’ll be safe,” he says firmly. He’s trying to convince himself more than you. “Besides, I think the one you ran into was a one-time thing. Just…” he sighs and drags his thumb down the bridge of his nose. “Just don’t go on any late night strolls and you’ll be fine.” 

“I wasn’t strolling,” you say, for some reason defensive. 

Javier’s brows crease, his frown deepening. “Then what the hell were you doing out there?” 

“I don’t know. I guess I couldn’t sleep in the uncomfortable fucking seats.” you shake your head with frustration. He takes a step back, pulls out a cigarette, and stuffs it between his lips. His movements are rigid, yet he’s buzzing. 

You meet his glare and he lights his cigarette. Takes a deep inhale. You watch as his chest expands. 

“I don’t answer to you.” you remind him. “This isn’t some FEDRA mission where you have foot soldiers working under you. I can do what I want.” 

“You almost died.” 

“Yeah? So? What’s it to you?” you lift your chin, relishing in the defiance of his words.

His jaw is set tight, molars grinding together. He takes another inhale of his cigarette. He answers as smoke pours down like a waterfall from between his chapped lips. “You’re a goddamn pain. A thorn in my side ever since—” 

“You met me?” you bark a laugh. “You’re doing the same thing I said I would do if you ever got sick.”

His brows pinch with confusion. “What?” 

“You feel obligated to take care of me,” you explain. “Because I dragged your ass away before Kathleen could hang you. Before she could put a bullet through your head.  Just like she did with your friends.” 

He takes a sudden step forward and you flinch back, your stomach drops. 

Your eyes are round with shock. As if you were burned, your hands move to cover your mouth but upon noticing the instinct, you lower them. You said what you said. Your heart sinks into the dark pits, and your gaze falls to the ground. You don’t want to look at him. He’s right, you are a pain. 

You feel the heat of his anger on your skin like ashes raising with the wind and kissing your cheeks. He’s glowering at you. A bit too long for comfort. You only hear the gravel crunching as he takes a slow step back. A noise vibrates in his throat. 

“We’re going to go and find some mattresses. Rip the seats out, try to modify them.” he suddenly says. You refuse to look at him. “If that’s alright with the righteous rebel?” 

You’re far too stunned to come up with a witty response. 

“Okay.” 

“Okay,” he mimics you, and flicks the end of his cigarette to the ground. He steps on it. You’re positive he’s imagining it’s you when he does it. “Maybe you’ll stop being so fucking unpleasant all the time if you get some sleep.” 

You look back to the train and you wonder. 

Is it happy that it’s you and him occupying its metal walls?

He doesn’t talk to you. 

It’s kind of funny that he’s giving you the silent treatment. Like either of you is close enough for that to have an impact. He walks ahead, you a couple of steps behind. The cabins you came across so far were rummaged to death, only rubble and one can of Chef Boyardee’s ravioli left behind. He wrinkled his nose when you showed it to him. You shrugged and put it in your pack. 

The cabins were basically falling apart, one had a tree going through the roof, and the other had some parts of its wall stolen for—what you assume at least—use. 

Javier suddenly stops and points ahead. Following his finger, you notice another cabin. Nodding, you follow him. 

Is he actually not going to speak to me? 

Oh, the guilt. It comes crawling back. It rakes your skin from your feet to your head, leaving uncomfortable lingering blossoms of pain. He blames you for it. That much you can say with certainty. And to a degree, even if you didn’t know what Kathleen was capable of, it was your fault. 

The soles of your feet ache, burn, every time you take a step. It would be great if you could find some new insoles. Your pretty sure the inside of your boots is filled with blood. 

A soft hiss of pain rattles in your throat. Javier slows— he doesn’t look back, doesn’t say a word, but he does slow down. But you might’ve be imagining it, you have no idea. Maybe you sped up without knowing and it looked like he slowed down. Why would he care anyway? He hates you. You hate him. The silence shouldn’t be bothering you. 

However, you are a decent person, at least in these conditions, and you are grown-up enough to acknowledge that you’ve gone too far with your words. This man isn’t a punching bag. You had no right to vomit your anger at him. 

“Javier,” you speak up and he actually does slow down, leaving only a step or two in between. Still, he doesn’t turn around to look at you. The cabin looms closer now. “I’m…I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. You’re right, I’m just being unpleasant.” 

His steps come to a full halt. Your breath hitches as he turns to you. You think he’s going to come closer, cup your cheeks and whisper that everything is going to be alright—But he doesn’t. He remains rooted just a bit ahead. Observing you, his brown eyes a shade darker. He tilts his head, and a chill settles at the bottom of your spine. 

“I don’t hate you,” you blurt out, his look feeling like an uncomfortable second skin stretching over your body. “But I still can’t fully trust you either. I—” you swallow and close your eyes. “I don’t know what to think of all of this, Javier. One moment I was trying to save the world, and now I’m…playing house with a FEDRA officer. I’m…it’s hard. But it’s not fair of me to put that on you. Especially since—” 

You shake your head, the rest of the words dying on your tongue. You don’t want to think about what happened in Kansas City. You don’t want to even verbalize it. You bury it down. Force yourself to forget what you had unknowingly contributed to. Javier seems to understand that because instead of acknowledging your sudden loss of words, he says something else. 

“We’re not playing house, we’re surviving.” he says bluntly. “The fireflies lied to you. FEDRA lied to me. We were both promised something impossible from the start but believed it anyway. I…I don’t…” he lets out a deep sigh. “I don’t know how to talk to you. There’s this—this fucking ball of fire sitting on my chest, and whenever I think too hard about…everything, I get so fucking angry with you. I shouldn’t.” 

He takes a step forward, you fight the urge to back away like you did earlier today. You raise your brows when he opens his palm, and without much thought, you place your hand on top. Javier gently curls his fingers, sliding them up so he’s holding your wrist. The pad of his thumb lies directly on top of your pulse. He can feel your rapid heartbeat. 

“I don’t want to be mad at you,” he states calmly. “But you need to stop treating me like the enemy. Like every dialogue between us is an ongoing war. It’s not. We’re not on the battlefield anymore. It’s over.” he turns and starts walking again. You’re left behind, staring at him with wide eyes. 

“I trust you, you know.” he calls out. “I might be angry, but I do trust you.” 

Javier has always been good at noticing details. 

Before FEDRA, before the outbreak, he didn’t have much of a life other than his job. He would’ve thought dealing with cartels and working at the DEA would prepare him for all of this. For the violence, for the inhumanity. 

But it didn’t. 

He takes the first step inside the weathered cabin. Details. It’s all in the details. He doesn’t need to look to see. You walk in without a thought, you don’t see it. You don’t see the small armless doll on the floor, the broken shards of glass on the coffee table, the splatters of blood on the window. 

But you do notice the stench. You see the bodies. There are two of them, a woman and a man decaying, their hands still locked together. Javier sees the gun and his skin prickles. 

It smells god awful. His gaze moves towards you. You don’t seem bothered— No— That’s not the right observation. You look like you’re used to it. There’s a difference. However, you’re definitely bothered. He can tell by the way your nostrils flare, by the way your eyes move a beat faster around the room. 

You move closer to him unconsciously. He wants you to feel safe so he gets close enough so that his shoulder is touching yours. You visibly relax. 

“Let’s go upstairs,” he murmurs. “Maybe there’s something there.”  

When they stand at the bottom of the set of stairs, a loud banging echoes. By pure habit Javier slides in front of you, his arms slightly outstretched with the intent to keep you away from whatever lurked in the house. He pulls out his gun, and he notices you doing the same. 

It’s a slow climb. The sound gets louder and louder, screeching and clicking bouncing off the rotting walls. Your breathing is fast and uneven, his probably isn’t that much better. In hindsight maybe leaving the cabin as soon as they noticed there was an infected inside would’ve been a better choice, but where they resided isn’t that far off. It wouldn’t be a stretch for more infected to come this way if they don’t get rid of it. 

They reach the door and Javier’s stomach churns. On top of the molding door is written “ALICE’S ROOM” with stickers covering the rest of the wood. His eyes snap to you, your gaze glued to the writing. 

Bile coats his tongue, his stomach lurching uncomfortably. By looking at you, he’s reminded of the younger FEDRA soldiers. The ones that had nothing to do with anything. They were fresh out of school, orphans, mostly. 

As soon as Javier opens his mouth, the door shakes with a bang, and both of you jerk away. His heart beats in his throat. He meets your gaze, he lifts three fingers. 

“On three,” he mouths without making a sound. You nod. 

For the first time, he’s pleased that you used to be a firefly. He doesn’t want to imagine being in this situation with someone without any experience. This whole thing would be much harder then. 

It all happens in a flash. Javier kicks the door open, you aim and shoot it right between its eyes. The small body drops, the sound of it making his skin crawl. 

“Shit,” you murmur, exhaling a shaky breath. “It’s just a fucking kid.” 

It is. A girl, probably seven or eight. She’s wearing a polka-dot dress and a pink neon slap bracelet around her tiny wrist. Her face is indescribable, the fungus had corrupted her from the inside out, bursting from her skull. 

“I guess they couldn’t…” Javier swallows, his fingers twitch and he goes to feel the outline of his cigarette pack. “They couldn’t. And locked her in here, then took their own lives.” 

“That’s a shitty thing to do.” 

He scowls as he turns to face you, you’re quick to shake your head and raise your hands. 

“That came out wrong. I meant leaving your kid to suffer like this and escape. We…” you close your eyes, hold them like that for a while before opening them again. “We all thought about it, one way or another, to take a way out. That’s not something I judge. But why make her suffer alone?” 

“I imagine it was more complicated than that.” he licks his lips, and follows his jawline with the pad of his thumb. “But…I do agree with what you’re saying. 

We all thought about it, one way or another, to take a way out.

He doesn’t like the images his brain flashes at him. You, with a gun in your hand, aimed at your head with tears flowing down your face. He’s felt the same, tried the same, so it’s hypocritical of him to get angry at you for going through something similar. But he can’t help it. His blood boils, the skin underneath his nails itching. 

“I want to bury them.” he says suddenly. “They were a family. They deserve to be together.” 

He’s not sure if you’re giving him a look of pity or compassion. Your brows are turned upward, lips stretched into an affectionate smile. He expects you to say no. That’s all you’ve done after all. Get angry with him, chew him out. He deserved it. But still, it hurt. He didn’t expect all that to happen, he wasn’t aware he was just a clog in a fucked up machine. Javier grinds his teeth, goosebumps flare over his skin. Unknowingly he had closed his eyes. He was weak. He was—

“Sure.” 

His eyes shoot open but he doesn’t look at you. His gaze glued to the child infected that lays in a puddle of blood, threads curling out of the poor girl’s bloody lips. 

Javier closes his eyes, lets out a deep breath, and answers. 

“Thank you.”

The sun was hell. Javier never actually liked the heat. He was used to it, but that didn’t mean he enjoyed being under it for hours non-end. The fabric of his shirt felt like second skin. 

Images of him peeling it off flashed in his mind. It was a bit gross to think, but he imagined himself feeling relieved after it. Like a snake shedding skin. The cool air would caress his overworked muscles, his body would feel a thousand times lighter. 

Then he would hop into the shower, wash away the residue of the sweat and grime.

Javier's gaze drifted towards his father, Chucho Peña, who was regarded as a pillar of the community. Always willing to lend a helping hand, he was a trusted confidant to many in town. Javier, too, had received his fair share of unsolicited wisdom from his father, who never shied away from imparting his knowledge to his son. It didn’t matter if Javier asked for it or not. His dad was always eager to push his son in the right direction. 

His father came out of the ranchhouse holding two sandwiches and two beers. Javier watched as his father took a seat on the stairs, creaking under the old man’s weight. 

At first glance, the younger Peña could see the similarities between him and his pop. The eyes, the lips, the stubbornness on world views. They never seemed to see eye to eye. A fact of life he grew up knowing, something that made him acutely aware of other sons and their relationships with their dads. 

Their noses were different though, a stark reminder of Chucho’s once other half, his better half, as he liked to put it. 

The thought tugged at his heartstrings. He wondered what his mother would think of him now. Would she be proud? Or would she share a similar disdain for Javier’s choices in life like his father did? Would she be worried? Would she clutch the phone whenever something came up on the news about the cartel? 

Javier's dad grunted, clicked his tongue, then tapped the pre-packaged sandwich against Javier's calf without looking.

“You sure you don’t want one?” 

“I’m good dad, thanks,” he answered. “Those taste like shit by the way. I’m pretty sure they put plastic instead of actual cheese.” 

“Well sorry we can’t accommodate to your taste buds son,” he pushed his sunglasses up and gestured next to him. “Sit.” 

Javier did what he was told and picked up a bottle. The cold condescension chilled his fingertips, made him almost drop the bottle. He cracked it open with his lighter, then opened his father’s beer as well, placing it next to him. 

He took large gulps as Chucho peeled off the plastic of his sandwich. 

“Seriously pop, don’t eat that.” 

Side-eyeing his son, Chucho sunk his teeth into the bread. He winked at Javier when he swallowed. 

Javier let out a low chuckle and shook his head. 

“It’s your funeral.” 

Javier brushes his hand over the beads of sweat forming on his upper lip. His sunglasses, perched on the bridge of his nose, start to pinch uncomfortably and the skin on his nose begins to itch. He takes them off and hangs them over the collar of his shirt.

“What was your family like?” you ask.

Javier stills mid-shovel and looks down to the ground. They had buried the parents first, now it was Alice’s turn. The sight…isn’t pretty, to say the least—not like burying bodies is ever is pretty. He looks over to you, his stomach flipping as you look at him with expectant eyes. He’s not sure what it is that you’re expecting, but he resumes his shoveling, covering the girl’s face first. 

“I lost my mother when I was young,” he answers, matter-of-factly. “I lost my dad on outbreak day. We were just done fixing up the fences. He asked me to come over so I could relax a little,” with a smile, he shakes his head. He hadn’t realized his voice started to tremble. “But of course his understanding of rest was work. Bless him. He ate one of those crappy gas station sandwiches.” 

“Then…you were there when he turned?” 

“Yeah.” 

He doesn’t need to say more. What else can he say? It was obvious what he did. Javier had blacked out and when he came to, the gun was already in his hand, smoke twisting out from the nuzzle, his body acting by instinct. 

Now that he thinks about it, if it wasn’t for his trigger-happy finger, he might’ve rather gotten bitten instead. 

But his dad had probably preferred to go out the way that he did. Still disagreeing with him, even after death. 

“I’m sorry to hear that, Javi.” 

Javi. It’s the first time you called him that. His stomach twists and his muscles tense. You always went the more official route in referring to him, which makes him believe he looks like absolute shit right now. So much so that he was garnering your pity. 

The way you sound reminds him of clouds, a softness that would disappear as soon as he decided to jump into it. He sighs and instinctively touches his sunglasses without the intent to put them back on. 

“Your father’s?”

He jerks at the question, his skin prickling at how intently you’re observing him. 

“How about we keep our histories to ourselves,” he mutters without any real emotion behind his words, his chest heaving as he piles dirt over the tiny body under him. 

He feels you coming closer. The dirt moves under your boots as you take the shovel from him. His fingers twitch at the sudden emptiness, his lips parting with surprise when you look to him. It’s been a while since a woman gazed at him like that. Like he’s more than what he is. You’re seeing him for the first time. The hurt, the helplessness. Or you’re only now choosing to see it, your anger and hatred towards him finally fading. 

Javier’s not sure if he likes that. Some masochistic part of him wants you to treat him the same way that you had for the last couple of days. It’s what he deserves. You’re supposed to be his divine punishment, not a blessing. 

“Sit down,” you say. “I’ll do the rest.” 

He doesn’t argue. He doesn’t snap and say that he can do it himself, or that this was his idea and he should be the one to bury them. He drops down from where he’s standing, crossing his legs and pulling a cigarette to his lips. You’re slower than him. And he notices you struggling with the shovel, your knuckles white as you put more pressure on your fingers so your soft palms don’t chafe against the worn-out wood. 

The sun beats down on them both and he wonders when the autumn chill will start. He desperately craves the caress of cooler weather. 

As he watches you, he takes mental notes of what the two of you would need for the coming winter. Before carrying out the bodies, Javier couldn’t help but check the master bedroom, the bed there was somewhat intact. It should do you good for now. The seats of the train didn’t bother him that much. 

Javier shakes his head, taking a deep inhale, he fills his lungs with nicotine. He’d gotten quite good at lying to himself. His back cracked with protest, but his mind conjured up other reasons why his bones might be aching. 

You’re almost done. He remembers the guilt he had in not being able to bury anyone as he ran away with you. Not that Kathleen left him much time to think it over. Some part of him still wishes he had some fight in him back then. Maybe he could’ve at least found Steve, bury him someplace nearby the city, but it would be impossible to carry someone his size, maybe even heavier. 

You throw the last patch of earth and turn to him, you’re out of breath, your chest moving up and down as you lean against the shovel. 

He glances at the graves, his lids feeling heavy over his eyes. He wonders if they were at peace now. 

Javier muses to himself, he thinks about the daughter running up to her parents in the afterlife, hugging them, crying. 

It’s stupid, but he likes to believe it to be true.

[hyuuukais]

.・゜-: ✧ :- FICTIONAL REALITY .・゜-: ✧ :-

pairing • bang chan x fem reader

synopsis • fiction or reality? y/n preferred the former, escaping into another world, escaping her problems. so what happens when reality takes that away from her; wiping her own story-in-progress off both her laptop and beloved usb? and what happens when she opens the door in the middle of a crisis to none other then the love interest of her novel... and he's holding her usb?

warnings • general, blood, y/n feeling guilty

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CHAPTER TWENTY • EPILOGUE (3.2k)

"Hello? Is this Y/n? I got your note, aha. Cute. Maybe I'm calling a bit soon since you literally just left the shop, but I hope you get this. There's a festival going on tomorrow night for New Year's, would you be interested? Give me a shout if you are, which I really, really hope so. Talk soon?"

Twenty minutes later, you arrived home and discovered the message waiting for you. Your phone had been off vibrate, too anxious for any notifications, and you didn't think he'd call you so soon. Hand shaking with excitement, you let out a small squeal and right as you do, someone joins you on your sofa, yellow and plush.

"What's gotten into you?" Minho puts a mug of coffee down, coaster centimeters away from the photo of you both that sits in the middle of the table. "Did you finally do it?"

"Yes! And I missed his call-"

"You missed his call?"

"Shut up!" You groan, hiding your face with your hands and curling into yourself on the other side of the sofa. He gently moves your hands and you see the sad smile on his face.

"Call him back," he lets go of your hands. "Before he changes his mind."

For a moment, all you can do is stare at the man sitting across from you. "Are you happy?"

He blinks. "What?"

"Are you happy?" You repeat, but he still doesn't answer. "Here, with me? With this new life? Do you ever regret taking that letter seriously?"

"Never," Minho's reply is quick, almost cutting you off. "Y/n, I-" He takes a breath, looking away from you; you wait for him to face you again, wait for him to be ready. "I enjoy being with you, a lot. Too much. You make me comfortable."

"Why do you look so sad then?" You ask, voice soft. "Why do you make this sound like a bad thing?"

Minho looks at you in the eye, looks away, looks back. "Because you make me feel things, good things, and it scares me. It scares me so much, Y/n. The way you feel about Chan, is it scary?"

"Always," you whisper.

"Then you should understand what I'm saying."

"Min," you hold his hand, the other reaching up to cup his face. His eyes are shiny, but he blinks it away. "I'm sorry-"

"Don't apologize," he sighs and shrugs. "I'll get over you."

"Hey! Don't make it sound so easy..." He laughs and you feel more at ease watching his shoulders shake and his smile widen.

"Listen, I saw some things in that white room that made me realize a lot of stuff about myself that didn't relate back to you." He leans back on the sofa with a sigh. "I got a bit wrapped up in your disappearance that I kind of ended up disappearing myself, but now? I feel more myself than ever." Neither of you speak for a moment. "So, you gonna call him, or...?"

"Shit, right!" You get up to grab your phone from where it sits charging on a small table in the corner. "Um, I'm just gonna- I'm gonna take this in my room, okay?"

"Go for it," Minho smirks.

.

You nervously agreed to meet at the festival, waiting under the entrance banner for the man who unknowingly saved you, or at least, helped you save yourself. Looking down at your watch, you see he's five minutes late. No worries, it's only five minutes. But five turns into ten, fifteen, and you're about to give up and leave when a hand is waved in front of your face.

"Sorry I'm late," Chan gives you a guilty smile. "This event caused more traffic at the café than we're used to, so it was hard closing on time."

"You're open New Year's?"

"New Year's Eve, yes. New Year's Day, no. We can spend tomorrow lounging around since it'll be a late night-" he catches himself, shutting his mouth tightly for a moment. "I'm getting ahead of myself, aren't I?"

"Just a bit," you chuckle, then slowly add, "But... I like the sound of that."

"Great!" He nearly shouts but clears his throat to calm down, a huge grin painting his face. You see his dimples pop out and can't help but place a hand over his cheek, thumbing the dip softly. A blush creeps up his neck, warming his face in the cold winter air.

Thick snowflakes come down in waves, covering your hair and getting in your eyelashes. You challenge Chan to see who can catch more in their mouth, but it's hard to keep track as they melt with contact. You're so focused on the snowfall that you don't realize how close you are to each other, backs bumping and causing you to fall to the side of the pathway you were on and into a small snowbank. Chan is quick to apologize, stretching a hand out for you to grab, which you do, but instead of standing up with his help you drag him down next to you. Strangers give you looks as he falls down, snow puffing up as his body hits the pile, but you don't care, you're laughing and having fun.

"You're so beautiful," Chan says, voice loud enough for only you to hear and he gives you a soft smile. "Where have you been all my life?"

"Oh, don't do that," you jokingly cringe away, trying to hold back a laugh.

"What? Do what?" He asks seriously, sitting up on an elbow in the snow, watching you avoid his eye contact because if you look at him, you'll lose it. "Y/n! Do what? Express my love for you-"

You both freeze.

"Oh my god." Now he's the one cringing, face covered by his hands but you can still see a sliver of skin turning bright red underneath. "Pretend I didn't say that? It's just- it feels like I've already known you for so long and we've had what, three interactions?"

He looks at you and you finally sit up, feeling the snow soaking through the backs of your pants. Taking his hands in yours, you remove them from his face. Embarrassment is painted across his features, but you just smile at him because little does he know. It hurts a bit to think that he'll never know how he saved you, as cheesy as it sounds. The ways in which he helped you and gave you the courage you needed to acknowledge your past and look back with resilience instead of away in fear, tearing yourself apart without even realizing it.

"What if I said I feel the same way?" You say carefully, and the grip Chan has on your hands tightens. "Like... you've been with me the whole time, through it all."

"I-" In the background, you can hear people starting to chant down to midnight and you both stand up, brushing the snow off yourselves. "Um, I guess we should join them?"

...5

"I like it over here." There's no one around to disturb you.

...4

"It is a little more... private." He grins.

...3

"This is a pretty good way to start the new year if you ask me."

...2

Wrapping your arms around his neck, his own find your waist.

...1!

Fireworks go off as your lips connect and all the comfort and love Chan has ever shown you comes crashing down on you, almost overwhelming. You think of the first time you met, the confusion and eventual acceptance. You think of the night in the storm, the night with Minho and Jeongin-

Jeongin.

Before you can think, you pull away, thoughts plagued by images of the boy dying in your arms playing over and over again. You don't notice the way your breathing picks up or the tightness in your throat and chest until it's too late, eyes stinging and skin tingling.

"Y/n? Did- did I do something wrong?" Chan is looking you over, worry etched in his face.

"Not you- I'm sorry. I can't even explain-" But when you lock eyes, something in him breaks, you can see the dam burst in his eyes.

He gasps, a hand coming up and tangling in his hair as he steps back from you, eyebrows furrowed in what looks like pain. Dark red liquid drips from his nose and you're quick to be by his side again, cradling his face in your hands.

"Chan?" Your panic is becoming overwhelming. "Talk to me."

"I..." His face relaxes and he wipes his nose. "I remember."

"Remember what?"

"Everything."

.

Something about the kiss, the connection, brought his memories back and he hasn't stopped looking at you in awe since you got back to your apartment. You settled in to make sure Chan was alright, and he was, now cuddling on the sofa and trying to make sense of it all.

"I don't think I'll ever fully understand," you sigh.

"Me either," Chan strokes your hair. "And Minho, he's...?"

His voice trails off in uncertainty and you look up at him. "He's okay."

"Good, good." He breathes in, breathes out. "But Jeongin didn't make it?"

"No," you whisper, guilt holding your heart hostage. "No, he didn't."

He's holding you close and wiping the new tears, his own threatening to fall. All that goes through your head is he was just a kid, he didn't deserve that, he was just a kid. A clawing at your window breaks you out of the beginning of the spiral, sitting up with your hands caging Chan in. At your window is an orange blob pawing at the screen. You get up and walk over, opening the window to discover a kitten sitting right outside. Above its right eye is a rough patch of skin, scar tissue erasing the fur, and the tip of its tail is missing. When you pry the screen off, the kitten jumps inside your apartment.

"Hey- wait!" You spin around to see the kitten rubbing against Chan's leg, purring up a storm. "I didn't say you could come in."

You kneel down and stick a hand out. The kitten pauses what it's doing, hesitantly sniffing your outstretched hand before nudging its nose against you. You can't help but smile at the small creature, a sense of familiarity washing over you. This is the same cat you used to feed in the woods, how did it find you here?

"Guess we have a cat now?" Chan leans down and pats its backside.

"We?" You question, glancing up at him.

His face reddens. "You, sorry. I guess you have a cat now. I don't know why I said we-"

"We have a cat now," you sigh happily. "I like the sound of that better." Looking down at the cat, now uninterested in you both and snuggling up under your coffee table, you tilt your head. "Now, what should we name you?"

After a moment of thinking, Chan clears his throat. "I have an idea, but you can say no."

"What is it?"

"Jeongin?" You focus your attention on Chan, whose eyes won't leave the kitten. "Ayen for short. In memory."

Your heart aches at the suggestion and you look back to the cat under the table resting peacefully and your breath catches. Ayen.

"It's perfect."

-

Not a day went by where Chan didn't remind you that you were loved, whether it was a note left behind or a piece of tiramisu in the fridge with your name on it. You tried hard to reciprocate the loving actions, giving him massages after long work days or sending him off with a goodbye kiss. One day you'd broken down when he wasn't home, thinking you'll never be able to show him love like he shows you no matter how desperately you want to. He came home early that day and took you into his arms, holding you until your sobbing quieted.

"What's wrong, baby?" He whispered into your hair, hand rubbing soothing circles on your back. "Bad day?"

You expressed to him how you felt and he pulled away. The first thing you noticed was the look on his face, his eyes glassy with unshed tears. Ever since then he's made it his mission to let you know he feels just as loved as you, if not more.

Ayen has proved to be quite the troublemaker, and you're sure at this point that the boy's soul lives in the little creature. Minho visited you days after Ayen showed up, feigning anger that you hadn't told him you even planned on getting a cat when he lets you see Soonie, Doongie, and Dori for free. Eventually, he gave up the act and told you all kinds of tips and tricks for taking care of a cat, helping you with your first trip to the vet, and picking out the best cat tree for a little guy like him. Your apartment was starting to look like yours again with all the trinkets you'd started to collect and the cat toys tossed about. Living alone has never felt so good.

Bringing you to present day, sitting on your couch with a movie you've seen a million times on in the background and your laptop keeping your legs warm. Ayen rubs against your calves, ditching you when you absentmindedly reach down to pet him. The document in front of you is almost finished, the ending being the last thing to be done giving you deja vu. For the past few months, you've been working a new passion project, not one of escapism, but of hope and survival. One could almost call your writing obsessive, but you made sure to take breaks and still keep a social life with both Minho and Chan to keep you busy. You don't know what happened to Yeji and Hyunjin, but you hope they're doing well. Part of you is convinced they were created to look after you, and now that you're doing well by yourself, they're off to help another soul. You've befriended Lily through Chan and even started talking to some of Minho's friends again, getting close to Felix and Changbin.

"Still working?" Chan enters the home, slipping his shoes off and dropping his bag to the ground.

You hum in response, not taking your eyes off the document as you type and retype the same line different ways, unable to figure out the end to the boy's journey.

"Stuck on the end," you sigh when he gently takes your laptop away.

"You'll get it when it comes to you," Chan says, content you didn't try to take the device back. "Now, c'mere."

He pulls you into his chest, laying down on the couch and kissing the top of your head. You can't help but giggle, looking up at him with pure adoration on your face.

"Tell me about your day," you say, closing your eyes.

"Not much to say."

"I don't care, I like to hear you talk," you mumble. "Tell me anyway."

Laughing, he starts off with the walk to work, making sure to give every detail no matter how mundane. His voice starts to fade as he gets to lunch and you begin slipping into a state of sleep.

-

The boy sits across from you in what looks like an attic, the bed too small for him. His legs are crossed and he has a smile on his face as you recognize him. It's been a while since you've dreamed of Jeongin, but you suppose he senses you're in a creative rut.

"Long time, no see." Jeongin joins you on the floor. "This is gonna be the last time, actually."

"The last time?" You ask.

"Yeah, I-" he sucks in a breath. "I found them."

"You did?" You nearly shriek, grabbing Jeongin by the shoulders. "Oh my god! Oh my god, what are you still doing here?"

"Stop that!" But he's laughing as he shoves your hands off, eyes turning into crescents at your antics. "I wanted to say goodbye, didn't want to leave you wondering where I went, but you already have a piece of me with you always."

Ayen. "True. I'm really happy for you Jeongin."

"You're so mushy," he complains, but you know he doesn't really mind. "Also, stop stressing about the ending to your story. It'll happen when it happens."

"Shut up," you groan. "You and Chan should have spent more time together, really. Enough about me, when are you leaving?"

"Now, actually." Jeongin stands and helps you up, nodding toward the door. "They're out there. Once I leave, you'll probably wake up since this place won't exist anymore."

Staring at the door, a surge of emotion crashes through you and you throw your arms around his neck, hugging him tightly. "I'm gonna miss you."

"Think of it this way," he hugs you just as tightly. "I'll be living the life I was meant to and although we won't know each other anymore, I know you'll always be a piece of me too."

"Get out of here before you make me cry." You shove him away lightly, wiping your eyes before the tears can fall.

You watch as his hand slides over the doorknob, holding it for a moment before opening the door. Warm light seeps into the bedroom, hot on your skin; it feels like home. Once your eyes adjust, you can see two people in the distance with their arms beckoning Jeongin over. He smiles wide, taking that first step through with confidence, and suddenly he's not the boy you knew. A smaller boy, you're guessing around eight years old, bounds over to the figures and is wrapped up in their loving arms. With one last look at you, they take one of his hands each and begin to walk away, the door shutting slowly the further they get.

-

You know how to end your story when you wake up.

There's a wet patch on Chan's sweater where your face was and you know you were crying, but he's fast asleep. You're careful when you get off him, taking your laptop with you to your bedroom and opening the document labeled "Open Me! - WIP". You still weren't sure about the title, starting to furiously type before the motivation left you. It's far from perfect, but you feel that's fitting as you save it one last time, preparing to send it out for editing and feedback as you notice the orange rays of a rising sun peaking through your curtains.

"Oh, fuck," you laugh, looking at the time. "At least I'll sleep well tonight."

There's a knock on the door and Chan is walking in, a look of disapproval on his face when he notices your laptop. With a dramatized sigh, he drops down next to you, burying his face into your side as you set it aside.

"Baby, I figured out the ending," you say, barely containing your excitement.

Unlike you, he doesn't hold back, pushing himself back up and making a noise of elation.

"What? That's amazing!" He tugs you into him; another way of showing how much he loves you is never not touching you. "We need to celebrate. What about that place a few streets down you like? We can invite your other friends too and-"

You cut him off with a kiss, his lips melting into yours. When you pull away, he's not even mad at what you did. There's no feeling of anxiety with him.

"How about we stay in?" You suggest. "Just the two of us."

"That's all I need," he agrees, pressing another kiss to your forehead. "You. Only you."

●

notes • the end 🥹 thank you to everyone who read, i hope you enjoyed 💙

taglist • @yongbbokkie @chaeryred @tenebrisirae @toplinelix @chansdoll @amaranth-writing @3rachachoo @linosjureumi @thebrownemo @tfshouldidohere @channie-143 @frogieeheart @kangaracharacha @skzswife @hopefulrascalstatesmantoad @palindrome969 @laylasbunbunny @bloomingstay

TAGLIST CLOSED ^^^blue means i can't tag you

[forestshadow-wolf]

Driving tips by someone who doesn't like to drive

These are non-specific things that I have learned in the 4-ish years I've been driving. My qualifications to tell you this is that I drive almost every day and still don't like it

1. Do not, if at all possible, drive with someone who will/does insult your driving. I understand that this is not always possible. Hell, I'm in this situation right now. But if you can, please avoid it.

If you cannot avoid driving around with someone who will or does insult your driving, fight back, argue, but END IT QUICK. DO NOT let it sit, do not let it go. If you have to deal with an angry, silent car ride, then fine. Because if you don't it will TANK your driving confidence, it happened to me, and I'm only now starting to pull myself out of it.

2. Cars, trucks, semi-trucks, even motorcycles weigh A LOT, and they are going very very fast. Please remember that metal and flesh do not mix.

There are some pretty good drivers on the road, but there are also plenty of bad drivers on the road, and it will only ever be the bad drivers that effect you. So DRIVE LIKE EVERYONE ELSE AROUND YOU IS A BAD DRIVER.

3. Be prepared to break at any time. This goes back to the last point.

To anybody who is reading this, and has not started driving yet. The thing is, when driving you are not always pressing on the gas to keep the car going, this si because of momentum and inertia. So when I am not pressing on the gas, my foot is hovering over the break pedal.

4. Four way stops. The driving classes will say whoever gets there first and then the person to the right. The way it usually goes is by order of who arrived.

Keep in mind that not everyone follows either of the rules and will go whenever they have an opening, even if it was "your turn".

5. Roundabouts/traffic circles. They all are singular direction only, usually turning right. They way they work is you enter, and follow until you reach your exit.

The tricky thing is timing. Typically there are 4 entrances/exits. My rule is they if they are at before (have not reached) the exit that is behind you, you are safe to go.

For example if I'm waiting to get in, and the traffic is going right. There is an entrance/exit on my left. If an car has not reached that exit, I may go.

Most of they time they are only 1 lane, but sometimes they are 2/2.5, meaning you have a lane that will take you to exit 3 (the one on your left) which is usually the inside lane, one that will take you to the 1st or 2nd exit (the one across from you) which will be the outside or middle lane. And occasionally there will be a lane that takes you to the 1st exit which is the outside most lane

(I know this was confusing, feel free to ends asks and I'll give a better answer)

6. The classes will say to drive by the speedlimit or 2/3 miles under. Ex: 45mph is the limit, drive 42/43mph.

For the class do as you're told, as well as if you have to take a dmv driving test. But otherwise follow traffic if you can. If you don't feel comfortable driving as fast as traffic, the stick to as fast as you are comfortable.

7. You will not be a good driver 100% of the time. You will not be a bad driver 100% of the time.

8. Blinking yellow arrow at turn lanes. This is basically a yield sign. Aka you can turn as long as there are no cars coming.

9. Turning on a red. You MUST make a full stop to check that there are no cars coming before you can go. These ONLY happen at turns where you are NOT crossing lanes of traffic.

10. Construction zones. You need to SLOW DOWN when passing road Construction. Sometimes they are working very close to where you are driving, and remember, FLESH AND METAL DO NOT MIX.

Sometimes they will "move" the lane, by this I mean they will make a path with traffic cones. Sometimes they have someone holding a stop sign. This is why we slow down.

11. Emergency vehicle. Wheb you hear the sirens, check your rear mirror, then ahead of you, then your side mirrors. Remember emergency vehicles can so against the flow of traffic if they have to.

Move to the side of the road. This means to the left OR the right in order to open up a space for them to pass by.

12. It's okay to take the longer route, or avoid highways, or any other road feature(s) if you don't feel comfortable enough

13. Space cushions. This is basically "the space around your car" your side mirrors, if positioned correctly, should show you the lines on the road. Usually you can't control the space behind you.

The space in front it what you'll pay attention to most of the time. The rule is 2/3 seconds of space. That means pick a spot, the car infront passes you, then 1. 2. 3 seconds, You pass. Or another good rule is if you can see about 1/1.5 car lengths between you and the car infront of you.

14. DO NOT drive while intoxicated (drunk/high/whatever), extremely tired, or otherwise impaired. This includes things such as if you went to the eye doctor and got your eyes dilated, if you are in debilitating pain, crying for any reason and you can't see through the tears, or some other reason.

If you are planning to go to a party or a bar or get intoxicated in any way, MAKE SURE you have a designated driver. ONE YOU CAN TRUST not to also get intoxicated.

Please ask me any questions you have at all about driving. I will do my best to answer them. Anon asks are on if you don't want to do it publicly. There are no stupid questions, especially on this topic.

[bookshelf-in-progress]

The Waters of Time

The waters of the canal swirled violet and blue around Iadra. She swam up toward the surface, and emerged with a splash of water into a glorious city—bridges, boats, canals, palazzos—at the height of its power. The buildings were beautiful—the mosaics bright, the carvings crisp. Nothing like the water-logged ruins they’d be in a few centuries’ time.

The humans walking alongside the canals, draped in embroidered robes, dripping with jewels and expensive fabrics—seemed another species altogether from the humans Iadra knew. Not one of them glanced at the canals, all too busy in this bustling city to notice one out-of-place mermaid among the ever-moving boat traffic.

Iadra swam to the edge of the canal, waited for her fins to shift into land-worthy feet, then pulled herself onto the cobblestone pathway. Her dress dried instantly, and merrow fashion was, fortunately, timeless. Iadra shook out the sleek wine-red skirts until they brushed her newly-formed ankles, put a pair of matching soft-soled shoes, and walked among the crowds just as if she belonged to this century.

She instantly spotted her destination among the domes and balconies of the grand buildings arrayed along the canals. The palazzo stood not far from where the first Great Library would stand in a few dozen years’ time. It was grand, but not opulent, belonging to a wealthy, but not one of the wealthiest lords. Which meant, in this time period, that his ambition would be fearsome to behold.

Iadra lingered near the palazzo for most of the afternoon, watching the comings and goings of visitors and servants, scoping out possible entrances, noting that the location of the library matched what she knew from the plans she’d found of the building.

When Iadra had determined her course of action, she slipped into the canal and pressed the wide, flat bangles on her wrist until they glowed purple in the water. Above her, the light shifted and faded, turning from golden to silver as the shadows of boats floated above her almost too quickly to see.

When she emerged a few minutes later, it was the middle of the night. The streets were silent, the waters still. With her skirts girded around her knees, Iadra approached the palazzo, and swiftly climbed up the bricks and trellises until she landed lightly on the chosen balcony. A quick tap of the window with her bangles aged the latch until it crumbled into a pile of rust, and she silently opened the window and slipped through.

The library held three shelves full of books—all hand-written and hand-bound, except for one, which had been designed to have a similar appearance, but whose glossier, modern materials stood out sharply in this moonlit room. Iadra grabbed the book and flipped through the pages, which detailed future events and diagrammed war machines that no one should know about in this era. Dangerous knowledge stolen from the Great Library in the hopes of changing history. Now, she could put everything right.

She tucked the book beneath her arm and turned toward the window. Just as she stepped into the beam of moonlight, a deep voice spoke from the shadows.

“You Great Librarians really ought to read some of those books you keep locked away.” A human man, with dark hair and a face like flint, dressed in the height of this era’s opulence, stepped into the moonlight, a pistol leveled at Iadra’s heart. “If you did, you might know about something called hubris.”

With two long strides, he crossed the room and snatched the book from Iadra’s grip. “Were you really arrogant enough to think you could just come in here and take it? That after I’d gone through all the trouble of taking this book back through centuries, establishing myself into a position to make use of the knowledge in it, that I’d just leave it sitting on an open shelf?”

The book thieves that Iadra had dealt with hadn’t exactly been intelligent. They tended to assume that taking the books into the past made them untraceable. She’d been on countless missions that had gone just as easily as this one had seemed to, especially with the appropriate preparations.

Nothing could have prepared her for this.

The man laughed at her astonishment. “You came with no back-up. No weapons. Typical merrow arrogance. You thought you were on a routine retrieval mission, but little mermaid, you have stumbled into a war.”

He placed the book on a nearby desk, then, with the gun still pointed at Iadra, he used his free hand to snatch the bangle from her nearest wrist.

Seeing the bangle—the most powerful time travel device in existence—in his hand made everything fall into place. “The book was bait.”

The man examined the bangle with a grin. “And I've caught a lovely prize. You merrows hoard all the knowledge in the world. Even travel through history to shape it to your liking.”

“We don’t change history.”

“You don’t need to. You already conquered this city. Established the library. Kept all knowledge—all power—for yourselves. We humans have the time travel capability to change little things—but with this? The world can be ours again.

He dove for her other wrist, but now Iadra was ready to act. She had a duty to the Great Library, no matter the danger to herself. She ducked, spun, and moved toward the gun—toward the desk, toward the book—and placed her remaining bangle against the book's cover. With a quick flare of light, the pages faded, yellowed, decayed, and at last crumbled into unreadable fragments.

With a deafening bang, the gun went off, but the bullet sank harmlessly into the wood. Iadra ducked through the window and then dove off the balcony into the waters of the canal. In an instant, her feet became fins again, and she swam like lightning through the still waters.

When she reached the other end of the city—knowing no human could have traced her so far—she emerged from the canal, and stood shivering in the shadowed recesses beneath a bridge, as she calculated her position.

It wasn’t as bleak as it first looked. Without her second bangle, she couldn’t travel through time—but neither could he. Though she’d lost a powerful tool, this human had given her something more valuable—knowledge. He’d revealed his part in this war, which meant she could now play hers.

At dawn, she made her way to a low building in an insignificant part of town, where a handful of books, chained down, were kept available for the public’s use. A precursor to the Great Library, whose books would one day be taken up into its shelves, preserved for the centuries.

She found the sturdiest-looking of the books, which fortunately had a few blank pages at the end of its final signature. Then, in an ink that would only be readable by book-restoration machines that wouldn’t be developed for centuries, Iadra wrote down everything she knew, and prayed her colleagues in the future would get the message.

[fadingdaggerr]

rose infusion - l.w.

pairing: (college) larissa weems x gn/fem!reader (reads more fem but no gendered terms/pronouns for r)

summary: larissa smoking weed for the first time with a “good friend” (and r practically foaming at the mouth over her the whole time)

warnings: marijuana use, smoking, shotgunning smoke for the plot, rolling tutorial, discussion of drug use, making out, references to drinking, friends to lovers <3

note: this was fun to write considering smoking is one of my very few talents /lh. i also based a lot of the background on stuff that’s i’ve done or seen when i lived on campus lol

after probably breaking several traffic laws, i finally got to my destination. amir’s house was up the street a little ways, but i desperately had to change my clothes. putting my car in park, i fling my upper half into the backseat in search of the spare clothes i left there to change into. after a delightful struggle to remove my work uniform of khakis and a black button up, i finally got my jeans and long sleeve on. the black converse sneakers could stay, they were only part of the uniform that i had any say in.

opening the glove compartment to my right, i fish around until my hand knocks against a heavy piece of metal and a sandwich bag. grinder, check. weed, check. i look in my middle console, blindly moving the napkins and random plastic utensils until i find my prize, slowly raising it out like a claw machine. baby blue lighter, check. papers were the only thing missing.

i drive up the road, praying they remembered, then clapping to myself when they did, i see the spot in the driveway they left open for me. once in park again, i grabbed the grey, oversized zip up from my backseat, wrapping it tightly around me as i began to make my way to the house. finally making it to the door, i open to a sea of people. dancing, talking, yelling, oddly dangerous making out on top of the oven, beer cans littering the floor, and loud music blasting through the speakers. this was definitely an ‘amir and co. party,’ as it had been coined by himself, and himself only.

i find him by the makeshift pong table, a bookcase that has been brought face down, balancing on milk crates placed at each corner. incredibly stupid, but inventive, so i let this one slide.

“oi, you got papers?” i say loudly as i stand to his left, trying to be heard over the music.

he yelps, “you scared the shit out of me, you god damn ghoul,” he sinks a ball into a cup, followed by a happy fist bump to his partner, tomas.

“nice one. now, papers?”

“nah. go check out back i’m sure one of them has a pack of ‘em. if you can’t find any, sneak to my room and use one of my glass pieces. i don’t need you cranky at my party,” he smiles to me, before groaning at mikal when he lands a ball in a cup.

“you’re the best,” i say, turning and walking towards the back porch. i had opened at work, and been asked to stay later, and i wanted, no needed, was to sit and smoke in peace.

i get outside, and find my usual smoking buddies. i greeted them, gladly accepting a hit off of one of their pipes. after asking, more like begging” for only one or two papers, i was gifted five little sheets, and a couple spare filters dominic had prepared before the party.

“if i wasn’t gay, i’d so kiss you for this,” i joke.

“if we’re both gay, does it cancel out?” he jokes back, and we talk back and forth for a bit. i move to sit down to finally roll for myself, my very own joint. all i had been thinking about since leaving work.

i put some weed in the grinder, turning and turning the cover. grabbing one of the papers, i gently fold it in half to create a crease for the bud to sit. just as i reach for the grinder, the seat next to me dips down. i almost made a comment telling them to get lost, thinking it was amir coming to fiend off of me. every cell in my body thanked me for looking before i spoke.

when i looked to see who sat next to me, i’m greeted by the greatest sight for sore eyes the gods have ever created. larissa weems. ever since freshman year move in day when i first spoke to her in the hallway, she’s been the only thing on my mind. we had somehow been in the same english class every semester for the last three years, and i always had admired her from afar. she was always top of the class, peer reviews showed her masterful writing, and sitting close to her let me see her kindness up close.

we had become friends. most of first year we were just ‘school friends’ mostly, only sharing the one class each semester and sitting close to each other. second year the ongoing classes together became funny coincidences, now sitting directly next to her and coming in early to talk with her in the longue. this year, third year, andrea started crushing on tomas, so they both were becoming frequent guests of amir’s house, and larissa and i would just sit and talk the whole time.

i took her in, still not used to her outside of a school setting, or with her hair down for that matter. she had her long legs covered by light blue jeans, a fitted, white university t-shirt, and a golden necklace with a sun pendant. she finally looked back at me, realizing she had sat with someone.

“oh, hey,” she said shyly, eyes only looking in mine for a second, like she was checking to see if i was bothered by her presence. i was most definitely not.

“hey, larissa. i didn’t know you’d be here tonight, how are you?” i pray to every god that could hear me that i sounded normal.

“i’m good, i guess. and i’m here because andrea dragged me here. tomas asked her to come by and she ‘had to say yes’ because finds him ‘yummy in eight languages.’ her words, not mine,” she shakes her head at the thought. i fake gag muttering ‘straight people’ with a shiver, making her bark out a laugh.

“i definitely wouldn’t word it that way, not even if i was held at gun point, but tomas is a sweetheart. andrea’s in good hands, a little stupid, but good,” she laughs at this, tomas wasn’t known for being the brightest student, but he was the kindest kid out there.

“anyways…” wanting to get away from the topic of andrea and her conquests, i change the subject. “you decided to join us here in the smoking lounge. can’t say i’m not surprised, you never mentioned that you smoked,” i say lightheartedly.

“i don’t. well, i guess it’s more that i haven’t. this is the first year i haven’t lived in a dorm since before high school. never really got the chance,” she looks almost embarrassed by her confession.

“that’s totally fine. did you… did you want to? you can smoke with me, if you want. if you don’t want to, you don’t have to. i don’t want you to feel pressured into doing anything,” i make eye contact with her to try and prove my honesty, wanting her to know she’s not going to be judged.

“i want to… i just have a dumb question first,” she says in a small voice.

“no such thing as a dumb question, i’ll tell you anything you want to know,” i give her a assuring smile.

“is there a way… to make it, i don’t know. is there a way to make it not taste as gross as it smells?” she asks unsurely.

i think for a second. when we were in high school amir and i would take mint and lavender from his mom’s garden to lessen the smell. this wasn’t an option now, seeing as amir’s apartment was closer to growing blue cheese than mint, but mr. cho next door had a rose bush. i close up my grinder, and put the papers and baggie of weed under it, using it’s weight to secure them there. i stand up, offering my hand to larissa. she slowly reaches out, placing her warm hand in mine. her hand is so soft, and the weight of it in mine grounds me.

i pull her in the direction of the fence that lines the yard, stopping when i reach the hole that brings you to the other yard. i drop her hand, and get lower to slide through the opening, but before i can, she grabs my elbow.

“what in fresh hell do you think you’re doing?” she whisper yells at me, not letting go of my arm.

“getting something to help with the taste, you asked if there was a way. i’m getting the way,” i say, trying and failing to loosen her grip by shaking my arm.

“that is someone’s yard, you’re gonna be trespassing,” she said, making it clear that she was not coming with me.

“you’re worth it,” i say, and she goes to say something but i cut her off, “plus, i’m barely going into the yard, just to the side of the house to grab one little, tiny thing. he’s asleep i’m sure, he’s like a thousand years old and he only has a cat,” and with that, i drop down, finally losing her grip. i carefully go through the fence, trying not to get dirt on my clothes.

i look back, seeing larissa staring back at me. i wave to her, she lets out an breathy laugh before waving back. i run low and quick across the yard, coming up next to a rose bush. i stick my hand just a little, a few thorns digging into the top of my hand and wrist, but i pluck the head off of one rose. looking around, i make sure i’m in the clear, before grabbing swiss army knife from the pocket of my sweatshirt, detaching a perfect rose from the rest of the bush, closing and sliding the knife back in my pocket. i turn and head back to the fence, sliding under it. i pop back up into standing position, the head of the rose in my palm, the full one hidden by my sleeves.

“tada!” i say with a smile, “this should help a bit with the taste, and the smell.”

“you trespassed, on a man old man’s property, for a rose bud.”

“yes, now let’s go,” and with that, i begin making my way back to the porch. larissa follows after a second, walking by my side. she walks around the table, i follow her with my eyes as she moves to sit back down, a little shiver going up her spine as she does.

i grab and open the grinder, tearing up little pieces of the rose and adding it to the already grinded weed. ideally this would be dried rose, also ideally not from mr. cho’s yard, but the fact that i would be smoking with larissa made both of those facts mean nothing to me.

“i’m guessing you don’t know how to roll,” i state, looking larissa as she nervously plays with her hands, she shakes her head, confirming my assumptions. “that’s okay, i’ll show you. come here,” i motion her to come closer, and she immediately does, making me blush just as fast.

“you do it, i’ll talk you through. sound good?” i ask her, she nods, “okay, gently hold the paper in half the long way,” she does. “good, now reopen it, and put a filter in at the end,” i pass her a filter, my skin tingling at the short brush of our fingers. she lays the filter against the end closest to her left hand, “now, we just add the weed and rose, then the hard part.”

she looks at me desperately at the mention of ‘the hard part,’ i place my hand on her knee and caress the skin with my thumb, “nothing you can’t handle.” i don’t miss the blush that creeps up her neck, but i hope she missed mine.

i watch as she sprinkles the weed and rose mixture into the paper. long fingers grabbing small bundles of the plants, distributing it evenly. her rings make little noises as her hands move, and i can’t help but watch. she looks at me for confirmation each time before adding more, i only stop her by putting the cover back on the grinder.

“alright, now we roll it, get it all packed and into the right shape. it doesn’t have to be perfect, most of the time they look quite sad,” she giggles at the last bit, and my heart flutters, my smile growing.

i adjust her hands, showing her the motion to make, but when she gets frustrated and mutters something about “should be smart enough to figure it out,” i stop. i grab her hands, moving them manually, showing her the motion myself. she initially freezes, and my hands drop from hers with an apology ready on my lips, but she pulls them back with a ‘it’s okay, i’m just jumpy.’

my eyes go back to her hands, my own coming to help her again. she takes a deep breath, before focusing on the motion harder than before. after i see that she had gotten used to it, i moved away, watching the small smile on her face grow from pride.

“now, we seal it up. tuck, roll, lick, twist, done,” i say quickly, she chuckles warmly. “okay, for real this time. wrap this around the weed, start by the filter,” i start the tuck for her to show her, she quickly understands what to do next, beginning to finish rolling it up. she looks at me for the next direction.

“you have to lick it,” i say, barely being able to look her in the eyes, “ya know, to seal it.”

“is that really necessary?”

“what did you want a little water dish to dip your fingers in? that’s marijuana not a spring roll there, babe,” her eyes widen at the pet name, mine do too. i was not expecting myself to call her that either.

she looks at me before asking, “can you do it? i don’t want to mess it up.”

“you wouldn’t,” i say quickly, not liking how she talked down on herself twice now, “but i can do it, if you want,” she quickly passes her little creation to me, “this looks much better than the first joint i ever rolled, you should be very impressed.”

“i’ve had a pretty great teacher,” she says with a smile, but i’m frozen because her hands hadn’t left mine yet, both our hands cradling the almost finished joint.

with all my strength, i move my hands away from hers. i make eye contact with larissa, raise the joint to my mouth, poke my tongue out, and drag it alone the paper. her eyes are not subtle as they watch my tongue with intent, instead of my eyes. sealing it, i grab a twig off the ground to pack it down, then twist the end. i hold the joint by the filter and hold it up.

“our marijuana and rose mixture, m’lady,” i say with a smile that she matches instantly. i hold it out to her, offering the first hit, but she shakes her head.

“you first, it’s your stuff and you were patient enough to help me. plus you trespassed on someone’s lawn, lots of hard work,” she quips, making me laugh. i was not going to live down the rose bush, was i?

placing the joint between my lips, i look around for my lighter. it had just been on the table, i was sure of it. my head whips around a couple times before i hear a little click, click click.

larissa hold up the lighter, flame glowing. the orange hue lights up her face, her pale skin warmed by the fire. she was so close to me, faces only about a foot apart, knees touching as we faced each other on the couch. the shadows of her face and hands accentuated, her lipgloss shining, eyes reflecting the light. i knew in that moment that nothing more beautiful had ever existed.

she brought the flame to the twisted end of the joint, lighting it gently. no words between us, eyes on each other. i inhale for a few seconds, hoping to get it started as well as calm myself, before my hand rises to my lips to allow myself to exhale. i hold it out for her to grab, but she doesn’t move.

i lower my hand, “you don’t have to if you don’t want to, i’ll put it out if you want.”

“it’s not that, i just don’t want to make a fool of myself. you know, like cough my lungs out in front of you,” she looks at her lap the whole time, twisting her rings around her beautiful fingers. goosebumps grow on her arms as the wind picks up, the sun now past the horizon.

i sit up as i start talking, “you will not make a fool out of yourself,” i slip off my zip up, “everyone coughs when they smoke, if they make you feel bad about they’re idiots,” i hold out the sweatshirt for her, “and i most definitely will never think anything bad of you.”

she accepts the sweatshirt with a hesitant grasp, but once she puts her arm through one sleeve, she’s rushing to pull it fully on. she wraps it around her, i’m giddy at her in my clothing, but i try to remain calm.

“i mean, there is a way that might make you cough less. but it’s a little different and i’d be in your personal space,” i say, not wanting to pressure her or scare her away.

“what is it?” her eyes perk up, looking into mine.

“it’s called shotgunning. basically i’d take the hit, then exhale it into your mouth while you inhale, like passing it along. you can say no, i know it’s weird.”

“i wouldn’t mind you in my personal space,” she whispers, “i’ll try.”

i look at her quickly, making sure she’s serious, and she definitely was. i mumbled ‘okay’ before bringing myself closer to her. i stand on my knees, straddling one of her thighs. one hand on her shoulder, the other holding the joint. i slowly get closer, but she seems to be more impatient. her hands move to my waist, pulling me closer quickly. now fully straddling her, i decide to stay standing on me knees, my hand now around the back of her neck.

i bring her face closer to mine, she tilts her head back just in the slightest while her hands slide down to hold my thighs. i lean over her, moving my hand up to cup her face, stroking her jaw. i look into her eyes, asking permission once again, and she nods.

smoke fills my lungs and mouth, the joint resting between my lips, pulled away a couple seconds later. the smell of weed and a hint of rose surrounds us, but it’s nothing compared to her perfume. i raise my eyebrows while looking at her, letting her know to start inhaling.

i exhale slowly, my lips puckered so no smoke is wasted. smoke smoothly starts to flow my from mouth to hers, her hands grip was steady the entire time, my thumb never stopping the slow, circular motion against the bottom of her jaw. when all the smoke cleared my lungs, i watched her exhale a paler cloud. still perched over her lap, i take a hit from the joint again, this time for myself. i exhale slowly again, blowing the smoke up and away from her, not only to be polite but as to not cover her face.

her hand grabs my wrist, pulling it towards her mouth, this time taking a hit on her own. my eyes never leave her lips, watching as they wrap around the filter and how they leave a shiny print of her lips from her lipgloss. how the smoke leaves her mouth, swirling and dancing around her. her and i just look at each other for a minute before she squeezes my thigh and speaks up.

“i prefer your way,” she whispers, a tiny smile toying at her lips. my heart races.

“i think i do too,” i say back, though i wasn’t just thinking it, i’m fully in love with the idea. i never wanted her fo smoke another way ever again, always like this, me in her lap and her hands on me. i would be content living as her personal cigarette holder. taking another hit, i tap my thumb against her jaw, telling her to inhale once again.

by the time the joint is halfway down, she tells me she ‘believes it’s starting to kick in’ with a slightly more dopey smile, eyes now lightly tinted red. thighs beginning to tire from holding myself up on the cushions, i decide to sit down on her thighs. her stiffens, only for a moment, until her hands comfortingly rub my own thighs, before her hands slide up to my waist, pinching my side playfully.

she takes a hit herself again, choking on the smoke a bit when i bend away from her. i crawl off her lap, grabbing the rose i had plucked for her. i guarded the rose from her sight, i use my knife to remove the thorns so they wouldn’t hurt her.

“what is that you’ve got?” she asks through a giggle, trying to peek over my shoulder. her efforts unsuccessful as i practically fold myself in half to block her view.

“none of you business, now just sit there and look pretty,” i laugh, then wince as i jab my ring finger into a thorn. once the last thorn is removed, i look over my shoulder to look at her. her eyes are already on me, big, blue, and beautiful. “close your eyes,” she does so without hesitation.

i grab the joint from her hand, placing it in my lips, “okay, pretty. open,” i let smoke come out between my words. i had the rose held out to her, nervous smile on.

her eyes open, first focusing on my face then the rose. her smile grows instantly, eyes now flicking between the flower and i. i held it out a little more, urging her to take it.

she tentatively reaches out, hand grazing mine. her fingers wrap around the stem, eyes watering a little, “for me?” her voice was so small.

i nod, letting go of the flower so she can inspect it. her smile makes me heart race and stomach fill with butterflies, but the way she looks at the flower is what makes me weak. she looks at it like it’s precious, like i have gifted her the first rose to ever grow. her arms move around my shoulders within seconds.

“thank you,” she whispers into my ear, my arms wind around her waist, squeezing tightly. i mumble an ‘of course’ into her hair, i nuzzle my nose into her. when we part, she stays close to me. i roll another joint while she rests her head on my shoulder, her eyes watching my actions closely.

with the joint in my mouth, bringing the lighter up to the end. before the flame can reach, a pale hand swipes the lighter from my hand. she lights it in her own, lighting the joint for me. her eyes stay on mine as i inhale, hold, and exhale, still making the point to exhale away from her face. she stays facing me, an expectant look on her face.

with her face held in my hand again, i take another drag, exhaling slowly into her mouth again. she smiles, i smile back. the slider door opens, and larissa nearly jumps out of her skin, but doesn’t move from my side. andrea peeks her head out, grinning largely when she sees larissa. as she makes her way over, she grabs the joint from me, taking a hit, and puts it back between my fingers.

“okay, so on a scale of one to ten, how mad would you be if i stayed the night here?” andrea asks larissa, begging hands in front of her.

a sigh leaves larissa, “solid 8. you’re going to make me walk back to the apartment alone?”

andrea is practically pleading, larissa is irritated. i turn and see tomas in the window trying to see the outcome of this conversation. i shake my head at his antics. i take a long pull off the joint, breaking the ash off and putting it out, then cutting andrea off.

“alright! you have fun with tomas, just don’t use the bathroom in the hallway. boys live here,” they both look at me weird, “larissa, i’ll walk you home, if you want,” she smiles softly. andrea squeals loudly, running inside, no doubt to tomas.

“you don’t have to walk me home,” is all larissa says.

“i know i don’t have to, i want to. i would offer to drive you but,” i pointedly hold up the joint and take a drag, “so i will gladly be walk you home.”

— — — — — — —

the party had died down, the only people left were amir and his three roommates, some ‘too drunk to leave’ stragglers, larissa, andrea, and i. sitting on the couch inside, larissa’s head was resting on my shoulder, an arm wrapped lightly around mine. andrea and tomas slowly disappeared from the living room, larissa and i both chuckling at the clumsy duo sneaking away.

i lean my head onto hers, speaking into her hair, “want to head home?” the only response i receive in a gentle nod against my shoulder.

i begin to stand, saying my goodbyes, then give mikal and amir hugs. larissa finally stands, wobbly for a moment. she makes her way to stand by my side, polite goodbye and thank you’s sent to the guys. after grabbing my grinder and weed bag, i pick around the pockets of my sweatshirt, which was still on larissa. finally getting a hold of my keys, i pull her gently along to start the leave.

the air had gotten much colder during our time inside, my arms wrap around myself tightly. there was no way i was going to ask for my sweatshirt back, the view of her wearing it was enough to keep the cold from consuming me. always observant, larissa notices my shivering and wraps an arm around my shoulders, pulling me into her side. my own arm goes beneath the sweatshirt, hand now resting on her waist.

i pull the remainder of the joint from earlier, it’s a little bent but can still do the job. i hand larissa the lighter, and she takes the hint, lighting it for me as she had previously tonight. we pass the joint back and forth as we walk.

“thank you, for tonight,” she says when we’re about half way to her apartment, she’s gently playing with the rose between her fingers.

“of course. i wanted to make sure you got home safe. and you’re welcome over to smoke, or not, whenev- i mean if you want,” i say, hoping that she’ll take me up on my offer to at least hang out. i just needed her presence, she was too beautiful to lose.

“be careful with that offer, you may never get rid of me,” she chuckles, smile bright and eyes glowing. she was a star plucked from the heavens and placed here on earth, just for me.

“maybe that was the plan all along,” my voice is quiet, i’m stuck in a trance by her beauty.

we arrive at her building, climbing shaky stairs to her door. she opens the door, motioning for me to come inside with her, and i follow with no hesitation. she walks quickly down the hall, to what i assume is her room, before coming back out with a sweatshirt. with an amused smile, she hands me her own cream colored zip up to wear.

we sit crisscross on the couch facing each other, my arm resting on the back of the couch to hold my head up. larissa just sat up, playing with her hands in her lap as we spoke.

“why did you give me that rose?” she asks, her eyes back on my face.

i can only be honest with her, “because it’s pretty, and so are you. i didn’t really think much before cut it, just that i wanted to give you a flower.”

she presses her lips together to hide her smile, but the blush on she cheek betrays her. when she finally allowed herself to look at me, she whispers, “do you actually think i’m pretty, or are you just high?”

i’m taken back by the question, my heart cracking at her thinking i wouldn’t find her beautiful. i reach for her hands, leaning close to her, “i think you’re beautiful. i always do, sober included,” i tilt my head to catch her eyes that dropped to our hands, “i gave you the rose because i like you. like a lot, like so much that amir has banned me from talking about you when we’re in the car because it’s ‘too tempting to kick me out while moving’ in his words,” this both shock and amuses her, so i go on, “i was sober when i picked the rose for you, i wasn’t when i have it to you, but the rose was always for you, larissa.”

she looks me in the eye, probably in search of a lie, but she won’t find one and she didn’t. her hands tighten their grip on my own, “i really like you too, incredibly so. and not just because i’m high. i’ve liked you ever since freshman year in that intro writing seminar, you lived right down the hall and i never got the courage to just knock on the door.”

i have no words to offer her, only an awestruck stare. my heart was frantically beating in my chest, my hands frozen in hers. in a sudden rush, i throw myself at her, and wrap my arms around her shoulders, back on her lap after hours away. her strong arms wrap around my waist, pulling me in further, her head burying in my neck. god, she was just so warm and she was so close, this was what heaven felt like, i’m sure.

her head picks up, now only an inch from my face, “can i kiss you?” her voice is so small, but the grip on my waist is confident. my arms slide from her shoulders, hand coming up to cup her jaw on both sides

“please,” and she does. her lips are so soft, gently dancing with my own. i pull her face in more, needing her closer, closer, closer. my hands slide into her hair, gently threading through soft tresses. her hands grasping my back, gripping my clothes. sliding down, her hands are on my ass, pulling my body in as much as she can. and i let her, and i’ll keep letting her. her tongue asks for entry, and i allow her in immediately, moaning into her mouth at the contact. the high from the marijuana mixing with the high of her touch was creating an addicting feeling, one i didn’t want to live without ever again.

she pulls away slightly, and i whine as i pull her in again. she gives in, laughter lightly vibrating in her chest. i pull away this time, breathing becoming necessary. i rest my forehead against hers, not daring to open my eyes so i can’t ruin this perfect moment. lips press against my cheek, gently moving up to my temple, before she’s back resting on the crook of my neck.

“stay,” she says into my neck, arms wrapping around me tightly. i definitely didn’t want to walk back to amir’s alone, and i most definitely didn’t want to leave her. i just hug her tighter, pressing kisses to her hair.

we stayed like this for a little while, wrapped in each other’s arms and mumbling to each other. i could feel her relaxing against me, likely ready to fall asleep, and i wasn’t far behind her. i pull away from our hug, holding her face in my hands. big blue eyes, soft from sleepiness were staring back at me, a barely-there smile on her lips.

“bed time?” i whisper, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

“you have to stay with me,” her voice is like honey, eyes never leaving mine.

“i wouldn’t dream of leaving,” pressing a kiss to her lips, i move off her lap and stand in front of her with my hand out for her. she grabs my hand so gently, as if she’s afraid she’ll hurt me, and lacing our fingers together. she leads the way down to her room.

with the lamp turned on, i could see her room is impeccably clean, only mess is her unmade bed. she lets go of my hand to walk over to her dresser, and i walk around looking at the photos and decorations. a photo of her and a girl with long black hair stand out, arms wrapped around each other, wearing matching uniforms. ‘cute,’ i think to myself. a little rainbow flag rests amongst pencils and pens on a desk in the corner, a matching little lesbian flag with the makeup brushes in the cart next to the desk. these make me smile, knowing she’s proud of herself had my heart melting.

she taps my shoulder, presenting me with sweatpants and a t-shirt of hers when i turn around. we both move to stand on different sides of her bed, she turns away and i copy her. we get changed quickly, or at least i did, wanting to be able to have my eyes on her again. she throws an ‘okay?’ over her shoulder, which i only respond to my picking up my clothes and folding them neatly, moving to put them on top of her dresser. she busies her self with pulling back the comforters and sheets, fixing her many pillows.

settling into bed proves a little awkward at first, both of us laying side by side, not speaking, lamp still on. she moves first, turning the lamp off before settling back in, now on her side, facing me. opening my arms, i motion for her to move closer. she scoots into my side, head resting on my chest as my arm wraps around her at her shoulders, our legs wrap around each other.

“larissa?” i whisper out, she nods against my chest, “i really like you,” i say quietly, my free hand grabbing hers and playing with her fingers. i’m fully aware she can feel my heart beating quicker.

she squeezes my hand, “i really like you too.” she places a kiss to my clothed chest before resting her chin there. “can we get breakfast tomorrow?”

i laugh at her sudden change in conversation, “of course we can, we can go get my car and we’ll go wherever you want, and you can get whatever you like.”

“french toast from the diner on dawson street?” she bites her lip with a smile, and my own smile grows huge on my face. she’s so impossibly adorable, and i get to witness it.

“it’s a date,” i say, relishing in the excited look on her face. she stretches up and presses a long kiss to my lips, then a short one right after, then gets settled back on my chest.

once i hear her breathing even out, her grip on my shirt loosen, i finally allow myself to close my eyes. i thank my lucky stars for this moment. to be holding larissa, falling asleep in her bed, wearing her clothes. heaven has got nothing on this, nothing on her.

hope y’all like this one, i actually really loved writing this and how it turned out. all feedback is appreciated <3

[harukaprism]

Playing for Marius

Pairing: Marius Von Hagen x F!Rreaader

Warnings: None just pure fluff

Word Count: 671

Dawn's notes: You will need to listen to this song as I got struck by the inspiration bug when I heard it and thought about Marius (can you tell I play the violin?)

Marius had it up to here with everything going on right now, too many board meetings, his father was on his case about everything, he didn't even have the time to paint. His only saving grace was you, his beautiful girlfriend. 

Recently the only time the two of you saw each other was through video calls, you were busy working on a big case with Wing, it's not like he hated Artem! He was a good guy, he trusted him with you but he was jealous of all the time he was spending with you lately. 

The second he stepped foot into the house his father joined him in the fourier. "Marius, how did the meeting go?" 

Weren't you supposed to be retired? Marius thought glumly as he slipped his shoes off. "It went fine, I still have some work to do. If you'll excuse me." As he walked past the older man he couldn't help but hear the sigh that left his old lips. "Is there something else you would like to say father?" 

Turning around the two men met eyes, it was not a father and son look, it was a ceo vs ceo look, one that Marius knew very well and a look that Austin Von Hagen gave very well. "I know this stress has put a strain on your relationship with that lawyer…" 

"She has a name." Marius snapped interrupting, close to bursting at the seams he couldn't think further with his actions. 

"Yes, you are right I apologize." Taking a deep breath his father sighed. "This stress has put you two in a bad situation. I left a summary of the trial in your room, she should be home now. You should go see her." Blinking his deep purple eyes he watched as his father walked past him with a small smile tugging his lips. "She really is one helluva lawyer." 

With that he was out the door keys to his sports car in hand, he didn’t even think to call you first but he couldn’t think about that now, all he could think of was getting to you. Weaving in and out of traffic he quickly pulled up to your apartment and booked it up the stairs. 

Marius had no idea why he needed to see you so badly after the comment his dad made but it was clear that he needed all the time he could have with you. As he approached the door he could hear the faint melody of a violin playing, of course he only assumed it was your radio playing but he was sorely mistaken as he entered your apartment about to call out your name; there you were standing in the middle of your apartment, chin sitting perfectly on the chin rest, a black sponge resting between your shoulder and the wood of the instrument, the bow flowing perfectly against the taught strings as your fingers shifted to pull out the beautiful song. 

Stunned to complete silence all he could do was watch as you skillfully played the violin, very impressed when you moved your wrist to make the note last longer making it waive in the air. He swore that he could see the notes flying around your body as the song repeated itself, but he didn’t care, you looked like a dream.

The evening light filtering in through your big window casting you in a glorious shade of purple and pinks with gold mixed in. If he wasn’t already planning to marry you he would have proposed right here. 

He kept his silence as you lowered the instrument excitedly. “I think I have it down now, Marius will love this!” 

You were practicing to play for him? Oh god how he loved you. “Was that the whole piece or is there more?” He watched as the panic set through your body as you turned around. “Sorry, I let myself in.” Holding up his keys he let a grin pull his lips letting you jump into his arms. 

[tomfoolies]

selfshiptober: tomja edition days 25-27

in the home stretch now!!!! just as i promised, here's some more fluff, just because i can and i want to. this month sure has been great for opening the fluff floodgates, even if it still feels too self-indulgent and silly at times i just keep writing it nevertheless and i love that for myself <3

25. rest 

Crawling along the avenues and boulevards, one car amongst the others, mindlessly blending into the traffic, into the evermoving crowd of commuters and tourists. A relieving feeling of complete insignificance surrounds Tom, but he'll rather have that than the usual numb exhaustion after a day like this.

His rumination is disturbed when he feels Sonja lean against him.

He lifts his arm and she shuffles ever so closer, sighs deeply when he wraps his arm around her. Her slow, steady breathing indicates genuine unwinding — she's dozing off, giving into her tiredness in such earnest fashion that he can't help but be slightly envious.

Looking out the window into the city, her body warm against his, an evening of leisure ahead of them, he feels strange clarity overtake him. He's struck by the infrequent but familiar feeling of having lived this moment before.

If that is the case, he thinks to himself as he presses a kiss on top of her head and breathes her in, he's just content he gets to experience it again.

26. beautiful 

Sonja doesn't even bother to knock, so he has no time to react. The door opens and he's being witnessed in the act faster than life can flash before his eyes.

She puts her hands on her hips and takes in the scene; him knelt down in the middle of his office, almost a comical amount of papers spread out in front of him. A frantic energy in the air.

"Huh. An actually valid reason to miss our briefing. What's going on?"

Taking a few careful steps over the papers, she comes to stand next to him before sitting down on the floor.

"I really don't think you should—"

The rest of the sentence gets lost somewhere in his chest and replaced with an unexpected, warm flutter. The distance between them has been rendered short, her focus in the papers he should be deterring her from reading — yet he find himself looking at her instead. Her hair, longest he's ever seen it on her, falling like a curtain, obscuring her profile before she tucks some of it behind her ear. Her brow furrows and a half-hearted smirk of concentration tugs the corner of her mouth as she tries to make sense of the mess.

Her unmistakable presence radiating off of her in a way that he thinks others must be able to see it, too. Or is he the only one? Would he be that lucky?

Staring down right at the edge of the death pit, the gravity of the situation dawning on her. And all he can think about is how blind he has been, this entire time.

27. decorations

Her movements are certain, almost automatic — despite not having tied his tie that often she's learned it quickly, and now does it without much though — but they slow down once she tightens the knot for the final time.

She tugs on the tie to straighten it, very gently, but his breath is caught short nevertheless. Her mischievious expression tells him her move was deliberate, successful.

She reaches her hand towards the dresser and then presses her necklaces into his palm; his turn begins.

Once he's done and she turns back around, he fixes the collar of her (well, technically his) dress shirt so that it peeks nicely beneath the sweater vest. Complementary shades of blue both in her and his attire; their unconscious, not-so-subtle way of connection.

She blinks at him in unspoken gratitude, reaches up to pat his cheek with a smile, eliciting one from him as well.

Both all set and ready for the day.

[cleverwordsandotherstuffilike]

"The day my father died, I was at the grocery store buying bananas. I remember thinking to myself, “This is insane. Your dad just died. Why the h*** are you buying bananas?” But we needed bananas. We’d be waking up for breakfast tomorrow morning, and there wouldn’t be any bananas—so there I was. And lots of other stuff still needed doing too, so over the coming days I would navigate parking lots, wait in restaurant lines, and sit on park benches; pushing back tears, fighting to stay upright, and in general always being seconds from a total, blubbering, room-clearing freak out. I wanted to wear a sign that said: I JUST LOST MY DAD. PLEASE GO EASY. Unless anyone passing by looked deeply into my bloodshot eyes or noticed the occasional break in my voice and thought enough to ask, it’s not like they’d have known what’s happening inside me or around me. They wouldn’t have had any idea of the gaping sinkhole that had just opened up and swallowed the normal life of the guy next to them in the produce section. And while I didn’t want to physically wear my actual circumstances on my chest, it probably would have caused people around me to give me space or speak softer or move more carefully,—and it might have made the impossible, almost bearable.  Everyone around you; the people you share the grocery store line with, pass in traffic, sit next to at work, encounter on social media, and see across the kitchen table—are all experiencing the collateral damage of living. They are all grieving someone, missing someone, worried about someone. Their marriages are crumbling or their mortgage payment is late or they’re waiting on their child’s test results, or they’re getting bananas five years after a death and still pushing back tears because the loss feels as real as it did that first day. Every single human being you pass by today is fighting to find peace and to push back fear; to get through their daily tasks without breaking down in front of the bananas or in the carpool line or at the post office. Maybe they aren’t mourning the sudden, tragic passing of a parent, but wounded, exhausted, pain-ravaged people are everywhere, everyday stumbling all around us—and yet most of the time we’re fairly oblivious to them: - Parents whose children are terminally ill. - Couples in the middle of divorce. - People grieving loss of loved ones and relationships. - Kids being bullied at school. - Teenagers who want to end their lives. - People marking the anniversary of a death. - Parents worried about their depressed teenager. - Spouses whose partners are deployed in combat. - Families with no idea how to keep the lights on. - Single parents with little help and little sleep. Everyone is grieving and worried and fearful, and yet none of them wear the signs, none of them have labels, and none of them come with written warnings reading, I’M STRUGGLING. GO EASY. And since they don’t, it’s up to you and me to look more closely and more deeply at everyone around us: at work or at the gas station or in the produce section, and to never assume they aren’t all just hanging by a thread. Because most people are hanging by a thread—and our simple kindness can be that thread. We need to remind ourselves  just how hard the hidden stories around us might be, and to approach each person as a delicate, breakable, invaluable treasure—and to handle them with care.  As you make your way through the world today, people won’t be wearing signs to announce their mourning or to alert you to the attrition or to broadcast how terrified they are—but if you look with the right eyes, you’ll see the signs. There are grieving people all around you. Go easy."

John Pavlovitz

[coffyao]

all a blurr

link to my a03: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lalaloopsyland

---

"...seungbae."

"...what?" seungbae said, mentally preparing himself for another invasive question. They had at least fifteen minutes left in the breakroom and he already spent the other fifteen dodging question after question from his co-workers.

"Where the hell did u disappear to on saturday??" "...not this again," seungbae grumbled, ripping the lid off his instant ramen. He'd much rather feed his own stomach than be subject to more interrogation. "well, don't be shy," lee winked, and nudged seungbae's shoulder, "you can say its because of a woman." "Stop speaking loudly, your embarrassing me," seungbae said, looking around the room watchfully. "Come on, just tell me all the dirty deets." "...Its not dirty." "Dirty deets, not dirty deets. Whatever. I want to hear about it right now." "I..." ___ I wasn't the type of person to go out much. The only exceptions that I had made were for work and obligatory gatherings. However, jeong lee was in my ear, reminding me of the promise that I had made him many conversations ago. He told me that if I was a man of my word, I would do this.

And i was, but only on the things that truly mattered to me. Nonetheless, on a clear, Saturday night, I had left my apartment to pick up the guys at a certain spot, where they "pre-prepared" for the ladies. It was a semi-derelict bar at the rough side of town, where it consisted of broken, flickering lights, chipped stools and the strong aroma of middle age crisis. Unsurprisingly, the loudest one there was lee himself, drinking shot after shot, and proclaiming drinking king status, despite him being a pathetic light-weight.  dragged him by the wrist and threw him into the front seat, giving him a bottle of water that i saved especially for him just in case things went wry. Once we arrived at this club, the regret that pressed against the back of my mind fluctuated when we waited at the que, smelt the stench of vomit and paid a hefty entry fee. Annoying. Once we barely managed to get in, the lights were immediately dizzying, and the amount of people that i pass through felt like a endless sea of traffic. Once we made it to the bar counter, one of the guys decided to make a disparaging remark about my social skills, and how I was more likely going to sit in a corner and keep to myself all night. So annoying. And because lee thought he knew what was good for me, he bought me a drink so I could let loose and leave my boring persona for the night. i didn't have the energy to refute his very misguided intentions.

So i drank it all. It was dully bitter.

He gave me a heavy pat on the back, and told me to buy another. So i did.

It was still bitter. Shortly after, they left to disappear within the growing swarm to do hell knows what, and I was alone, just as they said i was going to be, and i stewed in my own anger. I need a distraction. And since i had no way of letting this anger go, i took a leap and decided to go into the swarm, to desperately find the release that I was looking for. then, i stopped.

She caught my sleeve with her hand, and when I turned, her soft, siren-like voice spoke to me.

"let's dance together."

Her command was like a soothing song to my soul.

So I awkwardly followed her lead, and as she swayed her body, she allowed me to move in close, my mind being swept away by her smell, drawn into a trap I didn't want to escape.

She giggled, and like someone who had their prey right where they wanted it, she slyfully took my hand with hers, leading me out of the crowd and into a unoccupied bathroom.

She locked it, and when she started to approach, her sweetness became wolfish, even aggressive, as her slender hands led me towards the wall, and she sank her lips against my neck.

"Does this feel good for you?" she muttered between each kiss, each rougher than the last, and my words were lost in my throat, unable to comprehend how I got myself into such a compromising position. As much as I was meant to be a professional, I was submerged by the look she gave me, and my body was at her will, for her own personal entertainment.

so, I decided to do what is unlike me. just like they said I should do.

I kissed her, pulling the straps off her dress as I let her rip the buttons of my collared shirt, and when I exerted the same force she gave me and held her legs so our skin was stuck against each other, I was turned on.

and when I used my thumb to make circular movements around her clit, and she bit on my shoulder as she held in her gasps, I was close.

I was very close to forgetting everything and having sex with her.

It had been a long time since having such a feeling.

but I stopped myself once I realised the implications of having sex in a public space, and I slowly set her down, unable to look at her face.

but she took off my glasses, wiped the steam that had built up off my lenses, and gave it back to me.

"...just in case we do see each other again, make sure you remember my face properly."

In a peculiar way, it seemed that she understood.

but, when would I even see her again?

once we got dressed, she told me to leave first. But, before I did, I looked at her one more time.

long, wavy hair. soft cheeks...

"...see you soon," she said.

and a pretty smile.

I did want to see her again.

---

"...I went outside for fresh air," seungbae finishes, and leaves the breakroom before lee could start picking apart his sentence.

--

"hey. is everything okay with you?"

"..."

"alright. I'll see you when we go to the aquarium then."

--

[tordenvejr]

hi, this may be a bit too much to ask for advice on so please ignore if it is too upsetting. Today I was a witness of a really horrific car wreck, me and my partner had to wait and see the victims body (she was thrown into the middle of the highway) for thirty minutes until the ambulance finally covered her with a sheet and the traffic cleared enough we were we escorted around the scene so we could leave after giving statements . I cannot get her image out of my mind and I feel so bad for her. What would you do in this situation? Again if this is too much I totally understand.

i would 1) first and foremost seek out trauma release therapy from the initial shock of this experience, then i would 2) go into uncovering anything else that the situation might have brought up and deal with that from there, ie. any fears or worries you may have picked up from this. though therapy administered by a professional, especially for such an intense experience like this, is the best, that isn't always possible, and there are still ways to care for yourself after such a traumatic experience if in-person therapy isn't available to you.

some simple ways to help your body process and come back to safety and regulation:

• butterfly hug: crossing your arms so that your left palm is on the right side of your chest and your right palm is on the left side of your chest, tap in the rhythm of a heartbeat while you sit with the feeling that you're left with, keep going until it lessens or disappears. this is a form of emdr that can be self administered.

• moving from dorsal vagal to ventral vagal by singing, dancing (i know it doesn't seem like the time to do either but they are effective ways to shake and release stress from your body), the 4-7-8 breathing method, looking up all the way to your top right vision field, holding for 30, then repeating on the other side - i usually repeat until i yawn because that's a clear sign that your vagus nerve is stimulated.

• eft, tapping all points (you can set a certain number for each, like 15) while saying the sentence "even though i can't get the victims body out of my head/even though it makes me feel so bad that i can't get the victims body out of my head/etc > i deeply love and accept myself" is how traditional eft goes, i find it helpful to be creative about the end of the sentence though, such as: "i allow myself to feel safe/i allow myself to be well and alive/i allow myself to breathe/i allow myself to be free/i completely forgive myself (often there can be feelings of guilt even though we didn't do anything and it's important to process 'irrational' feelings as well)/i allow myself to move on when i'm ready/etc" whatever makes the most sense for you, feel free to structure it like that.

and do all of these not only when the waves of shock and pain hit you, but consistently throughout the day so that your body can regulate as much as possible.

i wish you and your partner healing 💛